London, Baby! (or something like that)

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Here goes. Since I wrote, I've also been all over Scotland on a last minute trip (coming soon to a blog near you!), so I've got lots to catch up on... Also, the travelblog website had a huge crash and failure and deleted all my blogs. Recent privacy controversy aside, bless Google for keeping cached versions of things for way too long. I was able to find all but one of my blogs and recreate them on the web. (Apologies to those of you who get emails every time I add a journal entry - I know you got about ten yesterday as I added them back on.) So, as for the one - if anyone can find a version of “Cutesy Quiet Villages… Overrun by Japanese Tourists” and can send the text and let me know which pictures I had on there… I’d really, really appreciate it.

So, back to London.

As I mentioned last time, I grabbed a sandwich on the way out of the Tower and headed on foot towards St. Paul's. I had never been there before, but I wanted to complete my collection of giant domed churches (I already had St. Peter's in Rome and St. Isaac's in St. Petersburg). On the way, I came across a towering monument next to a metro helpfully named "Monument." Fortunately, there was a plaque - it was designed by Sir Christopher Wren as a memorial to all who died in the Great Fire of London in 1666. After that Wren warmup, I was ready for St. Paul's. The original St. Paul's also burned down in 1666, and Wren designed the version that exists today.

As I walked around the outside, two things kept running through my mind - Princess Diana and the Birdwoman from Mary Poppins. (Mary Poppins will show up again very soon...) Unfortunately, they wouldn’t let me (or anyone else) take pictures inside, so if you want to know what the interior looks like, a virtual tour can be found here. The inside is covered with beautiful mosaics and stunning ceilings… but all in all, I think I prefer Westminster Abbey, crammed full of who’s who in British history. The view from the Whispering Gallery, high up inside the dome, was nice. After that, I descended to the crypt, where… my cell phone rang. It was my future mother-in-law, who commented that she couldn’t hear me and that I was breaking up. I stage whispered, “I’m in the crypt at St. Paul’s!” so the next thing I heard from the phone was peals of laughter. The crypt has several nice monuments and plaques to people like Florence Nightingale and Lawrence of Arabia. Also, the actual tombs of the Duke of Wellington and Horatio, Lord Nelson, are down there. There is a monument to the only other non-royal allowed a full state funeral in St. Paul’s, as well - Winston Churchill. However, Churchill is buried in Bladon, less than one mile from where he was born. (Winston Churchill will show up again very soon…)

I left the church to find it was raining. Again. I decided to head to Covent Garden and did a little souvenir and gift shopping in the stalls there. I also had a snack of a waffle, where the batter had large sugar chunks in it that caramelized when cooked. It burned the tips of my fingers and tasted heavenly in the drizzle. Now if only I'd had one of my souvenirs in its original form - I bought myself a bracelet made out of a fork. I have a spoon ring and now a fork bracelet. Maybe some knife earrings and a tiara made of tongs can be found, and I can be the cutlery queen.

The rain was down to a light drizzle, so I aimed myself towards Leicester Square to visit the big half-price theater (“theatre”) tickets booth. I had decided that I wanted to see a big budget musical. It’s not just the quality of the actors - I wanted all the lights and sets and glitz that you can only get in a big city. I asked which show had the best seats, and they told me that all were great, and that I should go see what I really wanted to see. So, I picked Mary Poppins, of course.

Theater (“the-a-tuh”) tickets for that evening in hand, I got on the Tube and headed to the British Library. (I’m always a fan of places that are free.) They have a “Treasures of the British Library” room that I just couldn’t wrap my brain around. So many priceless, priceless items in one room. You gotta wonder what security they have, how the fire system works, what the insurance premiums are on a place like that… or if they don’t bother with insurance at all, because it would be just laughable to try to replace any of it. They had a first folio of Shakespeare, Shakespeare’s lease (with one of six Shakespeare signatures known to exist), Leonardo Da Vinci’s diaries, the Lindisfarne Gospels, ancient Hindu and Buddhist texts, charts of Chinese acupuncture, beautifully illuminated Korans, a Gutenberg Bible, Lady Jane Grey’s prayer book, personal correspondence from Charles Darwin, Jane Austen, and Lord Nelson, Charlotte Bronte’s handwritten text of Jane Eyre, Lewis Carroll’s handwritten text of Alice in Wonderland, Handel’s “Messiah” with Handel’s notes in the margins, Mozart’s music, handwritten lyrics by Paul McCartney and John Lennon (with cross-outs and revisions), oh, and the MAGNA CARTA, etc., etc., etc. This place was ridiculous!! Every time I came across a new case, my jaw just dropped again and again.

By the time I left, it had started raining again. )I just realized that none of my pictures show you the downpour. Trust me. There was one. Or two. Or eight.) It seemed like the British Museum wasn’t that far on the map, so I headed towards it… the distance was much further than it looked, and I was getting soaked and more and more tired. Finally I got there at 5 pm, and there were tons of people huddled on the front steps, making me worry that it was closed. Turns out there was still a half-hour left, so I didn’t bother to sit down, took a deep breath, and headed for the Rosetta Stone. After that I ran to the room with all the carved panels and statues from the Parthenon in Athens (which my future father-in-law calls “the world’s largest collection of stolen goods.”) I took a quick run by all the Egyptian mummies before being kicked out. At least it had stopped raining.

At this point, it was 5:30, and I had been on my feet all day, since 8:00 am, without even sitting down for lunch. I collapsed in the first restaurant I saw and had shepherd’s pie (my recipe I got from Holly is much better) and a dark chocolate orange sponge cake covered in chocolate sauce… ahh, sweet sustenance.

Thoroughly worn out and feeling extravagant, I hailed one of the famous London taxi cabs. Unfortunately, my driver wasn’t all that talkative. Maybe he was annoyed that I didn’t want to go that far, but I don’t know that I could’ve made it on foot at that point.

I was ridiculously excited to go to the show. My seat was in the third row towards the left. The place was packed. The show was absolutely phenomenal. The story line followed the books more than the movies, but it used some of the familiar songs with some new ones thrown in. The actors were amazing, and the sets were so clever - it reminded me of a giant Victorian doll house. They had a downstairs constructed with a library and sitting room and stairs that went up. Mary Poppins and the children would climb the stairs to the childrens’ room, and the entire downstairs box would slide back and the upstairs would descend from the ceiling to rest on the stage. The dancing was great, and as clichéd as it sounds, the entire thing was absolutely magical. Mary Poppins even flew over the audience! (I thought she was going to graze the balcony at one point, and one kid tried to grab her ankles and ride along.) If you want in on the action (no flying, though, unfortunately), you can watch a video clip from the show here.

When I see plays, at the end, I usually debate, “Hmm, that was pretty good, I guess I’ll give them a standing ovation.” I had absolutely no control over it. I leapt out of my seat with a ridiculous smile and clapped frantically until they turned on the lights and made me leave. It was amazing. I’d see it again in a heartbeat. Or maybe I’ll go for Spamalot next time.

Now that my feet had had a few hours rest, I was able to go back to Waterloo. On the way, I came across an outdoor Indian music concert with people clapping and dancing to the beat. Very Bollywood. I tried to add the video, but the website seems to be having trouble, so you'll have to content yourself with the photo. I continued on to meet Tom and his friend for a drink. Almost by accident, I ended up with some silly strawberry beer that got on my tastebuds' nerves fast. Then I went home and collapsed into bed.

So, one more London day left… and plenty of miles still to cover on foot. Whew!

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Photos

"Monument"
Sir Christopher Wren's monument to the victims of the fire of 1666

St. Paul's and some pretty flowers
I'm such a girl.

Parthenon Bits
"the world's largest collection of stolen goods"

British Museum Mummy
You gotta wonder what this poor person would have said if told that he would not rest in his native Egypt but instead spend eternity in a glass case in London, being gawked at and photographed by idiot tourists like me.

Dark Chocolate Orange Sponge Cake
Mmm... I want another one...