New Year's in London Baby!

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(December 27th - January 9th) Its been one month and two days since Brian and I returned home, and today the bracelet my mom made for me before we left to keep me safe on our travels broke. I considered it a sign. You see, for weeks now I’ve been trying to write London and haven’t been able to. I figured I was just too busy with work (Only a month home and I already have four jobs) and moving into our new place in Novato, to actually sit down and sort out my thoughts from one of the cities we spent the most time in. That wasn’t it at all. This week, Ed and I were holding auditions for “Beauty and the Beast” which we’re putting on at Mary Silveira and he asked me, “When are you going to write London?” I told him I was having trouble writing it, but I wasn’t sure why. The next day I walked into the audition room and stated that I’d figured out why I hadn’t written London. Ed said, “So did I” with a coy smile. We both agreed that the reason I hadn’t written London was then the trip would be over. After London, Brian and I went back to Dublin for the weekend before flying home. If I write London, the trip will truly be over. There will be no more train rides, no more mysterious countries, no more spur of the moment adventures. But, I figured, if I make the effort to finish the story, then maybe a new story will unfold sooner than I originally imagined. So . . . here it goes . . .

Arriving in London was one of those moments that will forever stay locked in my mind. After the treacherous journey from Rome, arriving in London was a breath of fresh air. I made sure I slept throughout the part in which we were actually going under water in the Chunnel (I was fairly certain that realizing we were IN a tunnel UNDER a body of water would send me into a few claustrophobic-induced dizzy spells), but pretty quickly we arrived in London. Now, I spent one summer living in London studying Shakespeare with girl Cory. It was fantastic because we lived about two blocks from the Globe and our professor, John Boe, believed that Shakespeare was meant to be seen and not read. So we went to every play possible and watched many on videos in order to further educate ourselves that summer. It was one of the greatest summers of my life and it was my first big chunk of time in another country, so needless to say I was thrilled to be back and actually get to show everyone around.

We met up with boy Cory and Danger Bob down in the tube right out of the train station and immediately I knew London was going to be one of the best cities of all! Seeing two of my best friends lifted my spirits and made home feel not so far away at all. I don’t think I’ve hugged people that hard and for that long since I graduated from college. What’s funny is Cory told me he was bringing a “special surprise,” and since Matt had called so late a few nights prior, I figured it was Matt showing up early. It was peanut butter. Just as special but much more delicious. Don’t worry though, Matt shows up on time a few days into London. The arrival got even better as soon as we landed at Nicole’s house and I exhaled knowing we had a home to stay in for the next ten days. No more waking up and getting on the next train every two days, we were actually on the relaxing part of the vacation. The humorous thing about Nicole’s house is that it’s right next to the Brixton Prison. So in actuality, its probably one of the safest places in London, but it’s a little odd to wait for the bus driver to yell “Brixton Prison” before you know its your stop. You wonder if all those gazing at you as you exit are thinking if you live in the area or are just going for a quick family visit. Nicole’s house definitely has some quirks to it. The shower kind of dribbles out water rather than spurting it, so ¾ of your body remains cold while you attempt to rinse the soap suds from the day prior off your still itchy body. One of Nicole’s roommates is deaf and has an electronic bed that shakes when the fire alarm goes off. Since she was out of town we plotted to put Matt in there the first night and then “accidentally” burn some 4AM bacon. It never happened but we can always imagine. The boys did however notice the plethora of otter memorabilia around the house as Nicole and all of her roommates play for a water polo team called the Otters. So of course they thought it would be totally appropriate to fill a Tupperware full of pate and place it right at eye level in the fridge labeled “otter meat.” I think we laughed much harder than the girls. Needless to say, my life for the week and a half in London was full to the brim with testosterone, and it was quite refreshing when Nicole came home from our two former homes (California and Ireland) to show us around.

Whilst Brian and I were staying at Nicole’s house, Danger Bob and Cory were staying in a hostel. Now, throughout the trip, Brian and I stayed in hostels more often than not, but not wanting to sleep in a gigantic room with bunk beds full of strangers, we always forked over the extra five bucks to have a private room. Because of it being only a few days before New Year’s Eve, Danger Bob and Cory were allowed no such luxury. Cory and Danger were put in a room fit for sixteen that included several loud, snoring, techno-loving French men and a French family next door that constantly critiqued their son, “Louie” in disturbingly loud accents. Although they didn’t get much sleep, they always arrived each day with wonderful horror stories from the night prior.

Each day in London we would set out on our adventures with out lovely tube passes, and although we encountered a few mishaps including going the wrong direction, finding out that someone had fallen “under” a train and the rail was delayed, or Cory once again getting his head caught in the doors as they were closing (three times this happened, three times), we still loved riding the tube (no pun intended) as our main mode of transportation. We should never have strayed from the tube, but unfortunately it would not take us all the way to Manchester and there was football (soccer, not American football) to be watched. So as you recall, I gave Brian tickets to see Manchester United as part of his Christmas present, and in order to get up to Old Trafford, we decided the four of us would rent a car. After warnings from Nicole of good and bad rental agencies as well as numerous emails between various car companies, we finally settled on Thrifty and we all eagerly woke up early the morning of the 28th ready to see our beloved Manchester United. Little did we know. Now, you should know, Thrifty emailed me the morning of the 28th to let me know that they didn’t have the car I requested, but that they did have a different vehicle for us, so not to worry. Arriving at Thrifty, not only was there no car for us, but no one was working there, and a worker from the car garage next door was in their office checking his email. Apparently they were closed until after the New Year and we were SOL for a car. After several minutes of arguing with the non-Thrifty worker man occupying their office on his break, we sprinted to the nearest internet café to search for a new car facility. Luckily Hertz was twenty minutes away and had a car with our name on it, so once again we were off. So two hours later, deflated, exhausted, and a little irritated, we were on our left-side-of-the-road-driving way to Manchester.

One Chinese fire drill, one pit stop, one shady ticket pick-up, and three drivers later, we had made it! Old Trafford and the home of Manchester United! I don’t remember many firsts in my life like most people do, but I do remember the first time I had a milkshake (it was peach flavored and my great uncle Poppy John made it for me), I remember my first kiss with Brian (we were sitting in my big leather chair and I was pretty sure my heart was going to beat right out of my chest), and I will always remember the moment I laid eyes upon Old Trafford. After battling lines to acquire a Manchester United patch for my ever-growing collection, we walked through the narrowly gated hallway entrance and up the cement stairs towards the glowing lights from above. And there it was, the most beautiful field I’d ever seen smelling of fresh cut grass, sweat, and tears from so many days of glorious triumphs and heart-wrenching defeats. It was magnificent! Our seats were about ten rows back from the pitch, but since the place was still practically empty when we arrived, we ran right up to the front to wait for the players. I’m not going to recount all the details of the game, so just know this . . . we watched all the players walk in and warm up including my favorite Rafael and Shelly and Becca’s beloved Rinaldo, we witnessed brilliant kicks and maneuvers from all the players at spitting distance from our seats, and we crooned along with all the other Man U. fans as they sang for each and every player at each and every play. The best part? They won! They won! We screamed until our throats were raw and the seats were empty once again. And then we got back in the car with out scarves and flags and recounted all of our favorite plays of the game (I still loved when Rafael smacked a guy twice his size after a close header). It was unbelievable. And although driving back through London we realized that the signs were actually in miles instead of kilometers (no wonder it was taking so long), and we circumnavigated the city trying to once again find Brixton, we all slept that night dreaming of football once more.

New Year’s Eve in London brought many new and exciting events. Matt arrived early that morning so now the group was complete. Although there were several possible pub parties and a party at our friend Chung’s house, we still decided we wanted to see the fireworks over the London Eye. We figured we might never be in London again for New Year’s, and missing this would be like going to New York and not watching the ball drop on New Year’s. On New Year’s Eve in London, they do massive crowd control. So in order to not overwhelm the areas right near the Thames, Big Ben, and the Eye, they begin systematically closing tube stations. Although we strategized about crossing over by Blackfriars Bridge, we ended up just hopping off at the last possible exit and hoped for the best. Coming out of the tube station was the sight of more people than I’ve ever seen in one area in my entire life. Thousands of people coming out of the tube stations in waves, milling down the streets attempting to connect with friends, get a closer view of the Eye, and hopefully stand close to someone cute enough that might kiss them at midnight. It was unreal! We spent the remaining hour prior to midnight meeting the people around us, seeing how far away we actually were, and trying to pick up a large chunk of the sidewalk that we were pretty certain we could break loose. And then it happened. It wasn’t a big countdown like we’re used to in the states, there wasn’t one simultaneous cheer indicating that 2009 had come, and there wasn’t one magic movie cue that signaled everyone to turn to their neighbor and start smooching. It just happened. We were all talking and looking at cell phones trying to figure out how close we were when the fireworks began. In my life, the KFOG Kaboom concert is the only other firework show that’s even come close to what we witnessed over the Eye. There was something so magical as I stood there with the man I love and my three best guy friends. We all kept hugging, laughing, and hugging some more. I’ll never forget it. We never made it to Chung’s party (it took an hour and a half before the tube was even open again), and somehow we didn’t make it home until 4 in the morning after tottering along in a crowd of drunken strangers united by the mystique of the moment all attempting to make their ways home. What a night.

Now, up until this point on the trip, Brian and I have gone to each country very aware that we are guests there and need to be respectful of the language, culture, and the people. Now joined by three of our best friends, we suddenly became, the “Americans” we’d seen in each country that we’d criticized for not blending in better. We were loud, we were boisterous, and although we stayed incredibly respectful, we were definitely NOT blending in. After a few days of mayhem with the boys, Cory and Danger Bob made there merry ways back across the pond, and Matt, Brian, and I began to really see more of London as we became the tourists we all loathed being. We ventured on two separate self-guided tub crawls (pub crawls on which you use the tube to get around) and acquired a shirt each for our successful drinking (we only got one shirt because on the second tub crawl, half the bars were closed earlier than our thirsts diminished). We walked across Abbey Road (Brian took off his shoes to make it more authentic before I yelled at him that he already had enough feet issues as is). We explored the Tower of London (I’m still fascinated by the story of Richard the III and the mystery behind the murdered princes whose bones were found in the Tower of London . . . so cool!) We went to the Prime Meridian and laughed at the fact that they had spelt Honolulu wrong up there (Honolulo . . . what were they thinking!) We went searching for Karl Marxx’s grave which turned out to be another vampire rape walk. What was even worse was we were actually LOOKING for a cemetery! I actually uttered the phrase, “I don’t like this movie,” as Brian and Matt lead me down the trail before we promptly turned around. And we ventured to the Sherlock Holmes museum where we re-created our own murder scenes in each room while trying not to be frightened when determining which mannequins were real and which were actual human beings. Along the way we were joined by Sanam and Katie from New York, Chung whom we met in Galway and her friends who are getting married in the Caribbean this summer, and Nicole whom I’ve known since 7th grade and her flatmate Bronwin.

The days whisked by as Nicole tried to hire us as personal chefs at the house for our fabulous taco making abilities. We watched episode after episode of “Joey” trying to prove that the show actually was funny. We rode around on the top of the double decker buses, sitting in the very front so it looked like you were running people over and smashing into cars as you rode along (I highly recommend it if you ever have the opportunity). We had a fabulous dinner with the twin sister of the mom of one of my former students whose family has quickly become one of my “lifers” as I know they will always be there for me as I will be there for them. Katy (sister of Amy who is the mother to Sasha), and her husband Tom took us in after only one brief meeting in California and cooked us when of the greatest home-cooked meals we’d had on the entire trip. Its amazing how kind people are, even when they barely know you. And of course we tried to forget the sour cream incident from the first day’s lunch in London (the story is much too awful and gruesome to recount here). Oh the horror!
The last thing to do to make London complete was to return to my old stomping ground across Blackfriars Bridge in an area known as Bankside where girl Cory and I had lived and studied Shakespeare so many years ago. Surprisingly, (although I’m still working on not being so directionally challenged,) I was able to navigate us straight to my old dorm, home of so many memories, and the Belching Beaver bar. Ah the Belching Beaver. There is still video footage of girl Cory singing a particular song at that bar that I’m saving for a particularly special occasion. Oh that’s right my friend, I’m biding my time 😊 We walked around to the Globe where I had spent countless hours watching Shakespeare plays and imagining what it would have been like to be born in a different era. And for a moment I had the incredible feeling of being at home once again. It was then, staring at the underside of Blackfriars Bridge deep into the Thames that I realized “home” was going to be many places for me, and that returning to the states wouldn’t really be going “home” but returning to the people who have lived all this while in my heart.

So after two weeks of giggling every time anyone uttered the word “pants,” trying to figure out what it meant exactly to “que up,” and still being disappointed that we had somehow managed to miss “Lord of the Rings, the Musical,” we bid London farewell and let in the realization that it was time to return to Dublin and most certainly return back to California. But one last note before this seemingly neverending story comes to completion. Nicole has always been a person I have held deep respect and love for. She is a brilliant, beautiful, strong-willed, self-assured woman whose smile lights the hearts of all those around her. Nicole said something to me in London, something that she probably didn’t even realize how much of an impact it would have on me, and that little thing coming from such a wonderful women made my year. At times in my life I look back and wonder if I made the right decisions along the way. I barely remember my frame of mind growing up and I always hope I was kind to people, I listened to them, and I earned their respect in one way or another. You really never know who you are going to effect at one point in time or another, and you can only hope that you have the opportunity to knowingly impact someone who has done so much for you. So Nicole, thank you. Thank you for always being so kind to me. And thank you for reassuring me that past Tara held her end of this lifetime.

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