London - day 1

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Sunday I flew to London on no sleep thanks to a group of Austin, TX based flight attendants I met Friday night. Well, I should say I got some sleep between Friday and Saturday, but the hangover and physical exhaustion really set in at the airport on Sunday morning. The flight to London felt like it went quickly (all airlines need to pick up the habit of putting complimentary movie screens in the back of their seats regardless of ticket class). Heathrow is an easy airport to navigate, but I had some helpful advice from a friend of the family on how to get through the Underground quickly and hit the right stops to cross London and get to my hostel in the London Bridge area. The Underground ride was long and annoying after my flight, but it was still far superior to the subway / train system in New York. London definitely has their shit together when it comes to the subway system. Their bus system is pretty simple too, but since I don’t have a data plan for my phone over here it’s a little cumbersome to utilize the schedules. (They have a great app that does all the heavy lifting for the route questions, but it’s a data hog.)

I stepped out from London Bridge Station to find myself on the bank of the Themes within sight of Tower Bridge and the Tower of London. It hit me hard, “Holy shit I am in London!” It was exactly 2 months from the day I decided to extend my visit to see Thomas into a full on backpacking trip across Europe. I have a backpack and a laptop... and a bunch of loose ends at home that dad is apparently keeping off of my back (it seems unusually silent in my email - how cool is that?) 60 days later I can’t help but wonder what my former colleagues, employees, and bosses are doing with their spring. It makes me giddy to think that I could be sitting behind a desk right now, but for the grace of... a zombie jesus. (Happy late Easter!)

Finding the St. Christopher’s Village Hostel was pretty easy. On the other hand, checking in was frustrating. After making me wait about 15 minutes at the reception desk while they fiddled with stuff on the computer, they informed me that they would have to move me after one night. As of this morning they remained adamant that me moving beds/rooms was necessary. Tonight (4/1), now that the move is complete, I have literally moved to a different bed in the same room 10 feet away. Disorganized doesn’t begin to describe this operation. Maybe this was an April fools joke without a punchline. Hassle factor aside, the only other thing that is a bit of a bummer is the condition of the showers. They are moldy and lukewarm, or at least inconsistently warm while the timer is working. The rest of the facility is what you’d expect from a hostel (KEX was definitely a much better facility/operation).

After a brief pub crawl to sample the nearby ambiance, I came home and did laundry for most of the evening. I woke up early this morning to hit the big sites. I started at Westminster Station and got some good shots of Big Ben and Parliament. I considered going into Westminster Abbey, but decided some exterior photos would be sufficient, especially since the line was quite long and it was cold. (Still haven’t bought a hat.) I made a quick walk over to the Churchill War Room.

If you are interested in World War II, the Churchill War Room is a must-see experience (17 pound admittance). It’s a little over the top with the Churchill glorification, especially since they claim it is an “objective view” of his life and contributions. Nevertheless, he was an amazing man in a time when amazing men were required for the challenges they faced. His words would be fine on their own without the interactive screens explaining how brilliant he was for choosing those words. I will admit I was nearly brought to tears several times, as I imagined the pressures he and his staff faced. Some of his correspondence to Clementine was very moving. Listening to original recordings of some of his most famous speeches was humbling. To think in that very building, in that very room, he wrote and transmitted those speeches under six feet of the concrete (still in place), with air raids overhead and the pressure of millions of lives weighing on his shoulders - I touched the stones of the war that reshaped the world. Many original Churchill recordings are available on Youtube, if you feel the need to be transported to a time when politicians didn’t lie to people about the success of operations - its a sobering comparison the current generation of political speech writers. I could have burnt up three or four hours in this museum, but when I saw that I was only a third of the way through and I had already spent an hour I decided to speed things up.

I hit the National Gallery next. If I thought Churchill’s museum was moving, seeing the impressionist wing of the National Gallery was simply tearful. If it wasn’t for the screaming kids I would have sat there and stared at the various Monets and Pissaros for the rest of the day. (Do the kids really appreciate what they are seeing, do they need to be there?) I didn’t realize paintings could be so expressive. Modern artists (such as I have seen) do not have skills worthy of comparison to these individuals. I wasn’t as impressed with the religious paintings; nevertheless, I had to set aside my distaste for the subject matter and acknowledge the masterful works. Raphael’s Portrait of Pope Julius II is haunting. The pope’s essence feels burnt into that painting. It has immortal life. The works from Michelangelo that are on display were all incomplete. While even his unfinished work is masterful, I felt if they had been finished they would have meant more to me than the mere observations of technique and skill. The blank spaces were distracting. I hope to see more from Leonardo da Vinci in Italy and France, because the pieces they had on display didn’t move me. I could go on about the Goghs, the Picassos, Turner, etc., but Monet and Pissaro stole the show for me.

Onto the British National Museum.

Egypt, wow. I tried to avoid thinking about how so many of these artifacts must have been plundered by the Empire, but the collection is impressive. The sculptures from the Greeks and Romans are so fluid and life like. I stood in the halls and thought about how these artifacts range from 2,000 - 4,000 years old, some older... how many millions of eyes have looked upon these snapshots of humanity’s accomplishments? Does that 15 year old kid climbing on ancient granite sculptures know how much of an asshole he is? Do his parents know how badly I want to punch them for not telling him to get off and show some respect? I appreciate what the United Kingdom is giving the world by making these priceless pieces available for everyone free of charge, but having seen them face-to-face, I can’t help but feel they are doing a disservice to generations in the future as the stones are slowly worn by the oils of children’s palms.

I attempted to survey the entire museum, but quickly found it to be impossible. I hit the big areas and a few of the smaller ones. The display on clocks is nifty. By the time I was done with the audio guide I was on information overload.

I hit the subway to run an errand and pick up a gift from a store on Baker Street. Fortunately, this provided a quick glance at 221b Baker St. as I went to the only store in town that carries what I was looking for... still haven’t found a good hat. As I walked, it occurred to me that I saw pieces of sculpture and art that are among the most valuable items in the world. Many of these pieces would be impossible to value, or perhaps there simply isn’t enough money in the world to properly price these relics. Compared to the population of the world, only a small percentage will ever be able to see what I just spent eight hours glancing through. I have never been a fanatic art fiend, but I think I know what I will be spending my day doing tomorrow - one look through these collections isn’t enough.

Wait, I still have to hit all the monarchy stuff... damn. Good thing I don’t have any place to be at any particular time. I am definitely going to need to spend some more time in London (especially if I waste any of this week hungover).

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