Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

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I realize it's been quite some time since I was actually in London. Almost three weeks actually. Somehow though, many of you seemed to have liked reading this, so I thought for all of you, my adoring readers/fans, and really for myself as well, I would write about the last four days of my trip. I have put it off for a reason I guess, you know "living in the now" and such--but I feel like I can write about it now and not feel depressed about it. Well I'll feel a little bit depressed. On the other hand, 20 years from now, when I'm menopausal, coloring my hair not for fun but to cover up the grey, and am known as the crazy bunny lady from down the street who does performance art that involves pouring coke on herself while wearing only underwear while speaking exclusively in rhyme, I will probably want to remember the details of this trip that I failed to write in my paper journal. My paper journal contains all the things that are not for the eyes of parents or grandmothers, this however, is where I actually wrote what I did and saw. Although I know that some of you would rather get your hands on the paper journal. For the low low price of $100,000, you can have that journal. I'll take cash or certified checks.

Off we go...

After the brutal travel day, I was exhausted and managed to pass out rather quickly on my bed. Again, considering it was about 4:30 and I can't turn on the light, I am grateful that I have been placed in a bottom bunk. I pitty the fool who gets placed in the top bunk in that situation. I probably would have just slept on the floor beside my things. My rest did not last long thought. Around 6:30am the first person in my room woke up, then about an hour later the next person, and about half an hour after that the next. I couldn't tell if I was in a room full of gung-ho travelers or a seniors' home where everyone feels compelled to be up by the crack of dawn. My favorite person that morning was the third woman who got up. She saw that the girl in the bed on top of me was awake and proceeded to have a conversation at full voice about her new job. I could tell by the way my bunk sharing friend was responding (and by her whisper) that she was conscious of the fact that there were about two other people trying to sleep--but Talky-Talky Queen of the Midwest was oblivious, so I got to hear all about her awesome new job at 8:30am. I was really happy for her. I hope that's going well.

The weather was actually nice, so I took a walk around my old English neighborhood that I hadn't seen in 2.5 months and attempted to find some breakfast. It felt weird to be back. So much had happened since I was last there. I landed there and it was the very first European city I saw. I was alone, and had virtually no plans. I had no idea what I was going to do for the next 2.5 months, or what it was going to be like. I didn't know if I'd love it or hate it, or if after 1 week I would want to come home. I had no idea that my wallet would be stolen or that I'd lose my camera to the cleaning stuff of Condor. I had no idea I'd fall in love with Paris, feel my roots in Ireland, or dance the night away in a Latin Club in Munich. I had no idea that I would actually really love traveling alone. The first time I was there I was also so stressed about money, that I had a hard time relaxing. I was also jet lagged and unsure if I could manage there alone. Everything was new. Now however, being there a second time, everything did feel different. I felt confident and happy, and I liked London much better the second time. I'd already lost everything there was to lose (save my passport--thank goodness), I had already been lost in a foreign city, ran for trains/planes/buses.. and done all those "first time" scary traveling things. And, I'd done much of them alone. Now London seemed easy. So I no longer considered about doing anything "wrong", and just easily and confidently did whatever I wanted.

Laundry was a bit of a problem in Greece (by problem I mean we should have realized that everything would be closed on Sunday, and not have waited until Sunday to visit a laundry-mat) so I bought my expensive tokens from the hostel, took my french fabric softener and did a very large (and very needed) load of laundry. I only had three days left really, but I washed everything anyway. When you're backpacking and everything is clean it's almost like you have a real wardrobe to chose from. Almost. While waiting for my laundry to be done, I found the book swap in the hostel which I hadn't noticed my first time there because it was hidden in this little corner in this little loft. (I'm not sure if I mentioned back in the day but this hostel in London is very clean and kind of neat because it's an old English house that's been converted. I sort of feel like Elizabeth Bennet herself may have stayed there when visiting someone--except for the fact that Elizabeth Bennet isn't a real person. Although it's not a very "social" hostel and it's really hard to meet people there as a solo traveler). Somehow this was like the jackpot of a book swap. I found not one, but four books that I really wanted to take. All I had to exchange was Into the Wild, which I refused to give up, and a John Grisham novel i swapped for in Paris but never had any interest in reading. I felt bad leaving just the JG novel, and taking four books (plus I didn't think I don't think GG would have liked if I had made her hold three extra books)--so I took two. Fingersmith by Sarah Waters (an author I studied in one of my women's studies classes) and Huckleberry Fin.

When all my clothes were clean and GG was packed full again--I decided to head out and see if I could a) explore Old London a little bit and b) find a play to see that night. I also wanted to get some groceries to last my time there. My fascination with international grocery stores never died down. I love them. I think they are magical, and I could spend hours roaming the isles looking at what they have and what we don't. I spent my entire childhood (thanks to tv commercials) wishing for the cereal called Cookie Crisp--of course they have that. I forgot to buy a box with me to take home. There's probably some sort of rule against taking them over seas though because terrorists have developed a new way to turn chocolate into bombs that carry diseases that kill babies.

After shopping I made my way to the famous South Bank. Home of the Globe, the Tate, and the National Theatre. It's actually a big area, and part of it feels like it's straight out of Sweeney Todd. Probably because it is. There's a couple of (I think) giant haunted houses/theme park style houses, that look really creepy. I was tempted to walk through, but that's something I don't feel confident doing alone. I need someone to hide behind if a blade wielding maniac is going to charge at me in a confined space. In addition to creepiness, there is also a beautiful market there where I bought two of the best apples I've ever tasted. Which is weird really because British people like everything deep fried, which would lead one to assume that they have crappy produce---not true!

I walked through narrow cobble stoned alley ways, out in the open air by the Thames and eventually came across the Globe theatre. After taking loads of theatre history, reading plenty of Shakespeare and even performing it, I thought seeing the Globe would be sort of like "not a big deal" and in that second.. it really wasn't much of one really. I had looked around the city before that a bit and couldn't find any theatre that interested me (I was looking for something contemporary/weird)--so, for lack of anything else, I bought a ticket to see Merry Wives of Windsor at the Globe. I felt like, as a theatre artist, it was my duty to see something in this replica. I suppose, the theatre would be a very different place if it hadn't been for Shakespeare and the Globe--so it seemed like an opportunity I had to take. I bought the cheapest sitting tickets I could get. For 15 pounds, I sat on the first level on the side and because every single seat in the Globe is blocked by one pillar or another--it was a pretty good deal.

I ran back to the hostel (which was quite a hike away really), and on the way finally saw St. Paul's Cathedral up close--but didn't have the time to go in. The rest of my couple of days there, I would walk by it numerous times, never going in, but always singing songs from Mary Poppins--usually in my head. (Sidebar: I'm very disappointed to report I did not see either Julie Andrews or Kate Winslet during my time in England.) By the time I got back to my room, ate, changed/showered and talked with the English girl who was sharing my bunk (she apologized for Talky-Talky Queen of the Midwest without any prompting or me bringing it up)--I had about 50 minutes to make it across London and find the Globe--although I wasn't really certain if I remembered which tiny streets I had walked along to get there. This my friends was night #1 of three where I was RUNNING across London to make it to the theatre on time. Magically, I did actually make it and for the first time crossed the threshold into .. The Globe.

It was at that very moment where my rather apathetic attitude about the whole thing took a serious shift. The second I walked in I'm pretty sure I said "whoa" out loud. It's one thing to read about it in text books, how it was built and why it was built and by whom, and all those things--and even though this is a replica and not the real thing--it is pretty spectacular. Mostly, the energy in there is AMAZING. It is certainly hard to vocalize--but the best I can do is say that it was like all the passion and excited theatre tingles that I've ever felt coming from an audience were all rolled into a giant ball, and that ball was radiating inside that space.... even before the play started. So I was impressed with the space---but Merry Wives of Windsor? Sort of feels like the Doll's House of Shakespeare, but again, my "newly" developed theatre artist cynisism shifted--the play was actually great. I laughed so hard at points I was crying. Plus who can complain when a show starts with a "PLEASE SHUT OFF YOUR EFFIN CELLPHONE" statement that's done in iambic pentameter and rhymes? It was a really great play. I felt completely invigorated and inspired after/during. I loved every second of it--even when the pillar was blocking my view.
I also learned, that just like in the real Globe, the audience can come and go as they please--so there really was no need for me to run at all---especially because I had bought a seat and not just a place to stand on the floor.

As I was walking home I felt really---awesome. I suppose you could say that that was one of many moments I had in my last couple of days in London where I realized how much this trip was for me. About me. Or however hippy way you want to put it. I also realized after seeing another couple of plays which I'll talk about in a minute that some of my best moments, the moments where I got tingles and felt really content and complete or full or happy or something--was when I was in the theatre, or just leaving the theatre. I guess you could say, that in a large way, this trip justified my "life choice". I know that I'm doing theatre for the right reason--and somehow I learned that in London--I suppose that validating your (current) life choice is a bonus to any trip around the world--you know, if you're into that sort of thing.

I took a long and slow walk across the Thames, and walked through some of the night life of Piccadilly. Listened to beautiful accents and watched as people stumbled out of pubs. When I got back to the hostel I experienced my first of two slightly disturbing moments that I had in this room. Apparently, as I learned from my bunk-mate, the reason people were getting up so early in our room is that two girls have jobs, and one girl has been getting up early to look for work (aka Talky Talky Queen of the Midwest). So this means that they actually shut the main light off in the room to sleep around 9:30pm (something I also learned from my bunk mate). It was around midnight when I got back to my room--and I wasn't ready to sleep yet, so I was just going to sneak in, and grab a book or my journal and go and sit in one of the common rooms for a while. Talky Talky Queen of the Midwest happened to have the bed that faced the door, so when you opened it, the first person you saw on the bottom bunk was her. As I quietly opened the door the light from the hallway shone on her, and not just on her, but on her naked butt/v-jay jay. That's right my friends apparently Talky Talky Queen of the Midwest is actually Talky Talky Queen of the Comando (or Pantless) Midwest. Now being a good feminist and women's studies minor, I have no problem with women's bodies--I don't judge you for topless sunbathing, or your center fold spread for Playboy--but it's in these situations that you know you're being looked at. But this is different, I'm fairly certain she had no idea her butt was exposed to all who dared to enter-- because I think her her sleepiness Talky Talky of the Comando Midwest had no idea she was flashing everyone who was entering and exiting the room, it all felt very intrusive and made me feel both guilty and embarrassed for her somehow. That was not the first thing I expected to see while riding high off my validating Globe experience. Now if TTOTCM had put up some sort of sign that said "I sleep naked", that would have been okay, at least then we would have known what we were getting in for. Needless to say, I quietly grabbed my book, and tried my best not to look at her bunk for the rest of our time together.
Even though the next morning Ms. TTOTCM was loud again and I was compelled to yell, "I LIKE YOU BETTER WHEN YOUR QUIET AND SLEEPING AND YOUR BUTT IS HANGING OUT!". But thought that might not be funny to anyone but me and may result in me getting kicked out of the hostel.

The next day I decided to go on my favorite walking tour... My very last New Europe Free Walking Tour. This one was called Royal London. This guide was actually my least favorite of all the ones I'd had (no one can replace the beautiful George), but she was, like the rest, very well informed, funny and full of energy. We saw things like Buckingham Palace, and all the other palaces, and other major royal/political sites in that general area. It was also the first one where we didn't get a lunch break. So after saying goodbye to my new friends from New Zealand (again with me and the NZ!) and some American girls--I decided to go to Covent Garden, and find some food and check out the market. I paid too much money (mostly because of the conversion) for some sushi, that I ate on the curb while watching street performers--then did a bit of shopping. And by that I mean I mostly window shopped but ended up by buying three beautiful hand made glass necklaces for Amber, Nicole and I from a charming English girl who was a photographer also. They were slightly over priced, but I sort of feel in love with them...

After that my plan was to do the OTHER free New City walking tour of Old London (which I think I would have found more interesting) but because of the shopping I wouldn't have made it on time--so again I went in search of some interesting theatre to see that night. I asked the photographer, who said to go to the National theatre because they had cheap tickets and had a smaller theatre where they did more contemporary stuff. Seeing as I couldn't find anything else I made my way there. They were playing some Marlow (ew/painful), another one that didn't have cheap tickets, and then something called Harper Reagan. The lovely lady assured me it was a bit more contemporary (I believe I walked up to the counter asking for anything BUT the Marlow), so I believed her and bought my ticket.
Here is a lovely link: http://www.nationaltheatre.org.uk/harperregan (if you feel inclined and watch the video, the bridge behind them would be one bridge i RAN across.. the other was the pedestrian one). Also, for those of you who know me well enough, the fact that it was called HARPER Regan seemed a little serendipitous--making it a no brainer.

Again I had to go back to my hostel (the National Theatre and the Globe are almost neighbors... so again it was a long journey involving at least one Tube ride depending on how far I wanted to walk), so I wandered around a little, then went back ate and cleaned up. This time I was going to leave on time, but RIGHT as I was leaving the hostel i ran into .. well okay.. I don't remember her name.... let's call her... Australian Fish N' Chips!! I will call her that because this is the girl I met there when I was staying at that hostel 2.5 months earlier, and on my last night in London the two of us had gone to a pub to have Fish N' Chips. She was moving to London, but in that city they have a rule where you can only spend 2 weeks in the same hostel or something--so she had cycled through many and just happened to be back there again while still trying to find a flat. So obviously I had to talk to Fish N' Chips (who's from Australia--duh) for a while, which then made me late. THEN, there was a problem with the trains (there had been all day, I got stuck on one for 45 minutes on my way back to the hostel) and so again.. there was running. This time I decided to get off on the North side of the Thames, instead of switching trains again, and I assumed that me running like crazy across the bridge and a few blocks west would be faster than changing trains and then having to navigate my way around the strangely constructed Tube station that was "closest" (there aren't any that are really close to the south bank weirdly) to the theatre. So I ran and ran and ran. Oh, it's 7:50 and I'm still running. Where's my manslave Jono when you need him? He could have picked me up and ran for me. But I was running alone like Ben Johnson high on cold syrup, over the pedestrian bridge, weaving in and out of a skate board park, around buskers, and in front of an art installation that I LOVED that was GIANT livingroom set made of astro-turf that you were allowed to climb on and sit on (that was a moment I really missed my camera). Right as I ran by a film crew filming by said art piece, I realized I hadn't really paid attention when the woman told me where the theatre was in the building.. as there are three.. and I did recall something about having to go outside and around. So at 7:55 I just ran straight into the main building and asked the first person I saw with a name tag which way to go--then there was more running... and I managed to make it to my set just as the bell was being rung for everyone to take their seats. Take that London. Amazing Race here I come!

The play was a wonderful surprise. It was pretty traditional in terms of story telling (mostly realistic) but the sound design was amazing, the set was amazing, the acting was amazing, and the directing was amazing. So it was.. in fact... amazing. I was really happy that I had gone. After I even wanted to buy the script. I'm sort of sad I didn't, but I think I can get it cheaper online. Although Merry Wives of Windsor was really great and I loved the energy, it didn't really make me want to act or create, it just made me blissful about my art---this on the other hand made me want to act (desperately so, as there was three great female parts) and also made me want to write and direct. It was well worth the 10 pounds, even though the view was a little awkward (I spent most of the show looking sideways leaning up on the railing). I happened to be sitting next to some young artists types, and so I asked them if they knew of anything "weird" I could see the next night--my last night in the city--but they said that the one thing they could think of was totally sold out...

Again I left the theatre feeling wonderful, this time even more so. I spent a long time just standing on the bridge staring at the water and the skyline. Walking home more slowly... taking my time as I had little time left. Obviously, everyone in my room was asleep long before I got there.

The next day I had planned on going to the Tate, buying theatre tickets, and just walking around a bit. It was my last day.. i felt like it should be important. I thought I would even splurge for a good meal. The day before I had met another one of my roomies, an older woman from South Africa who was there to work. She was killing time because her job didn't start for a couple of days, and as she'd already been to London a couple of times, spent a lot of time just hanging out at the hostel reading and stuff. Well that morning AGAIN I was met with more pantlessness. Her bunk faced mine, and both being on the bottom---well if I rolled over and opened my eyes she is who/what I would see. And again more butt and v-jayjay! Seriously. If I ever open a hostel I'm going to institute some sort of signage requirement for those who want to sleep without underwear/pants.

I got up and had a lazy slow breakfast, chatting with a traveling family (three boys and a dad) from New Zealand (again). I guess the sons had gone on the pub crawl (like the one I did in France) and two of them were "recovering". I am happy to report I did not get drunk in London. Not once. I think they should now make a national holiday in my honor. You would think with all the pantsless girls I saw, I would have been drinking a lot--but both those experience were completely sober!

After that my plan was to make my way to the Tate--so I headed, again, in the direction of the Globe. When I got to the Globe, I thought to myself I might as well check out the tour of the place--hoping to see the backstage and some of the production stuff. Well for the low low price of 10.50 pounds (so like 28 dollars) the 45 MINUTE tour basically involved sitting in the theatre where our guide told us all things I already knew about the stage and plays during that time. That tour was a bad investment. So should you ever find yourself there--don't do that tour. But while I was there, I decided that I would buy the five pound ticket to stand in the pit and watch the production that night of King Lear.

After that I walked through more of old London deciding not to do the Tate because now that I had theatre tickets (and with the 7:30 start time) I didn't really want to rush through it. Plus after 2.5 months--I was a little museumed out.
So instead I walked through the old city and tried to find an interesting restaurant. You know what we don't have in Edmonton, but does seemingly exist every where else? Sushi restaurants where the sushi goes around on a conveyor belt. So when I came across one, I decided that was my place. So I paid way too much for good sushi, and was constantly amused as it whizzed by me on multi-coloured plates.

Because I had standing room only tickets, I want to be at the theatre when the doors opened so that I could get a good standing spot where I could lean up against the stage. Of course that meant that I left late and had to run through London AGAIN! But because I'm magical at this, I managed to get there in time to get a good spot on the right side of the stage. Again the energy in that place almost blew me over. It felt even stronger this time because basically from down there everyone is sort of looking at you, so all their energy is focused in your general direction. Standing for all of Kind Lear was... long. Luckily, there were a lot of very attractive and very talented men to look at. The play was good though--although it probably would have made more sense to sit for that one and stand for Merry Wives. They always stick to the traditional Shakespearian curtain call of a song/dance, and that was actually really cool for both shows. Plus when you're a groundling, standing there during curtain call is pretty amazing if you just look up...

I was happy that that's what I did with my last night. I spent the rest of the night walking around, by the river, and then later by my hostel. I really didn't want to go to bed. I really didn't want to leave. It was a beautiful night, clear sky and the city seemed wonderfully peaceful. I walked by loud pubs and through quiet residential areas and pretty much tried not to replay every moment of my trip--focusing on where I was then. Again with the hippy logic of being in the now.

Eventually though, I made my way back to la hostel hotel, grabbed my journal from my quiet room and wrote for a while before crawling into bed. Laying there was weird. All I could think was how many bunk bed's I'd been--how hostel rooms often felt like camp but without the matching t-shirts. Crying in a hostel room late at night when you're surrounded by strangers is not cool--so I didn't, even though I wanted to.

My flight was leaving at 2pm, and I was taking the Tube, which is about a 45 minute ride. For some reason airports are the only place I refuse to run to and get there obscenely early. After getting up, packing saying goodbye to my lovely Irish bunk-mate and the pantless South African, and eating a last bowl of my over-priced British cereal, GG and I made our last international walk together. GG felt lighter, even though she was heavier, and her and I got on our last Tube ride.

As per usual I got to the airport extremely early, and had nothing to do for a very long time. So to console myself, I did want I didn't do in London most of the time, eat stuff. First I fould a Crispy Cream. I'd never had one, so I paid the equivalent to 4 dollars for one donut. Then I bought a starbucks coffee, the only sbux I bought the entire trip. Then ladies and gentlemen, a miracle... ANOTHER sushi restaurant with a conveyor belt. Right there in the airport. Europe really is like a whole new world! So obviously I had that too. Now to put that into context I basically got to the airport at 11am, they didn't even release the number of my gate until about 1:45pm--so I had a lot of time to kill. I didn't eat that much sushi--it wasn't making me feel better. I was drinking in the accents though.

Eventually, I made my way to the gate and struck up a conversation with a random man. He'd been visiting his family some where in the Middle East, and somehow we started talking about Greece. Note to self: when feeling emotional don't talk about the most sensitive issue possible with strangers. I got a little teary eyed (no i didn't cry), and we both talked about our love for the islands for a while. After everyone had to go through round 2 of security, and more passport flashing and such, we sat in another room and waited as they announced who could get on the plane. They called my row, and I just sat there and waited. I waited and waited and waited. May have cried a wee bit. Waited and waited. When my new friend walked by and saw me sitting there he said, "Maybe if we pay the pilot a lot of money he will take you back to greece." I waited until the final boarding call and eventually got on the plane. Somehow I befriended the two people sitting in front of me, and the person across the isle (I had the window though) from me--as well as the person sitting beside me. So as I tried to keep it together during take off, I was distracted a little by a lot of nice people to talk to, and trying not to focus on what I was leaving behind, and trying to think of the positive things I was going toward.
The workshop, which made it hard to leave, now seemed eons away, and didn't seem like a concrete thing anymore.

The flight was good. I didn't sleep at all though, for 9 hours I was wide awake thinking. Did more writing, watched pieces of movies but never finished a whole one. Talked with the people around me. When I got my dinner, I asked for a glass of red wine. Earlier I had told the guy in front of me the story of the crazy Irish woman who had made my flight there so interesting, and had allowed me to sit in first class. So our joke was that I would get drunk so he could sit in first class this time. We told this to the flight attendant and she thought this was the best story ever, and proceeded to pour me wine EVERY time she walked by. So I had one of those little bottles and then three full glasses (every once and a while I just got a "top up"). Even with all that wine, I still didn't sleep.
When we landed and I was getting off the flight attendant apologized that it wasn't a more exciting flight. I told her next time I would dance in the isle for her (everyone in my section wanted me to do it.. i thought about it. Maybe I would have made a couple of of extra bucks).

I was grateful that it was warm and sunny here when I landed. It took me forever to get through security. GG was having a fun time riding the baggage carousel. I grabbed her, strapped her on, had to go through ANOTHER security check, and eventually came out of two big doors to the smiley faces of Modge (aka MERGE) and Dodge (and BERGE). They cried when the saw me. If my dad says he didn't then he is a liar.

For a couple of days, especially the first night, everything felt weird. My room seemed HUGE, the house seemed white, and big. The air felt still and dry. There was concrete every where. I'm still missing the green spaces and public transport of Europe. I think I always will. Nicole came over my first night, and then later Amber. Amber didn't leave until almost 3am--meaning I had been awake for about 30 hours. My bed felt ginormous, and I woke up in around 4:30am and had NO idea where I was. There was too much space, too quiet--it was also about 1pm for me.. so I was a sea of confusion. Once i calmed down and realized I was home, I slept for another few hours--but jet lag got its revenge this time, and for my first three days home I couldn't sleep for more than a few hours at a time.

This entry is very long, but I guess this is only the 27th one, and I was gone for 2.5 months. I did a lot and saw a lot--and as cheesy as it sounds it was the trip of a life time. I do look forward to doing something like it again. I will. I think now that I've done it once, I have to do it again. In the last two weeks for some reason I've been thinking about Japan a lot.
But then again I really want to go to the Gaulier School in Paris... so I might be back in my favorite city before long.

Those are my stories and the places I've been. Thanks for reading! Just for kicks I might write some sort of wrap up. Top five lists, favorites, and dislikes. I promise you it won't be this long!
Thanks for coming a lot with me on my journey. I wish I had photos to show you that were my own--but luckily I've managed to steal some from people I met along the way who posted them on facebook.

Maybe in the wrap up I'll post some. If you like that sort of thing.

Peace, love and drunken Irish women,
Lana

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