Farewell London


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April 17th 2008
Published: June 25th 2008
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My HouseMy HouseMy House

Just kidding, it was only my hotel. That was a lie as well.

The World’s Most Dependable Alarm Clock



Isn’t it great to sleep in on the weekend? To relax and loll around sleepily while you make up for all the early starts between Monday and Friday is something that we all like to do every now and then, and when you are indulging yourself in a few extra winks the absolute last thing that you want to happen is for that pesky alarm clock to go off.

For me the weekend alarm used to be the neighbour’s kids running, screaming into the swimming pool immediately outside my window. I was constantly in awe of their lack of understanding about how I chose to stay up late and sleep in later on most Saturdays; to them 8am was a perfect time to be waking the entire suburb up. However, as I discovered one morning in London, my paltry complaints are as nothing compared to some. I am not referring to people who work on their weekends and I am not talking of people who prefer to make the most of their time off, as these people are beyond hope, I am instead talking about that one family that ought to be able
Don Jon ParkDon Jon ParkDon Jon Park

That mound of dirt was the original Motte and Bailey Castle built in Canterbury by the invading Normans in 1066. William the Conqueror himself could have lived in there.
to do whatever they want and sleep in whenever they feel like it.

This unfortunate family, despite being one of the most influential, important, wealthy and powerful families in the world, is subjected to pure torture on most days of the year. Each morning they must assuredly be thrown from their beds by the sound of two full marching bands and a regiment of soldiers parading around on their front lawn. Not to mention the thousands of tourists shouting and clambering all over the place. That morning I had gone along to witness the famous changing of the guard ceremony at Buckingham Palace; that most loud and pompous alarm clock for the royal family. I was expecting a very serious, classical, and old-worldly ceremony, what I saw was something ever so slightly different.

I arrived at the palace gates, slightly later than planned but still before the show started, and found myself in the midst of thousands of camera happy tourists all crammed into pre-defined areas where they jostled for position. For rather obvious reasons the palace’s forecourt had not been transformed into stadium seating so actually getting a decent view of anything was proving to be a
One Last Authentic PubOne Last Authentic PubOne Last Authentic Pub

Where Ben and I enjoyed a quiet beer while we watched the cricket.
touch difficult, through a crack in the crowd I could see a small section of the palace, occasionally a guard would be in view, and behind me I could see noting but the crowd. Over the course of five minutes I struggled to see what, if anything, was going on until I realised that only two guards were actually in the area. I vaguely mused on how impossible such a scene would be in China, over there you’d never get a thousand excited and camera laden people to stand in such a neat order.

Finally, and only a little late, the show started and the entire crowd perked up, quieted down, and attentively tried to figure out what the weird ceremony was on about. Here’s what I thought happened:

First of all the old guard arranged themselves in formation on the palace grounds. Some of them were guarding key points across the entrance, however, most of them simply formed a few rows and got shouted at a lot by their commander. Then, from some distance away a band marched up the road and into the palace forecourt while playing traditional English marching music, and following them came a
Crowds at the PalaceCrowds at the PalaceCrowds at the Palace

Look at them all! Neatly keeping themselves inside the designated areas while still managing to push and shove like mad.
troop of soldiers who were presumably the new guard (they weren’t). The band moved off to the side and the two groups of soldiers now present faced off against one another, shouted a lot, did lots of very small foot shuffling, and finally merged themselves into one contiguous unit.

So much for a changing of the guards I thought; this was more like an addition to the guards as every day a new group of 30 young soldiers adds itself to the guard. Where do they all fit inside the palace? There must be millions of them by now.

After a short delay more things started happening. This time the mounted guard appeared from somewhere down the road, dressed up in the military costumes of times past. Red coats emblazoned with gold buttons and frills, tall bronze and brass helmets with even taller feathers and fur sticking towards the sky on top of their heads, and even the horses were decked out in “period” costume. Startlingly the mounted guards didn’t stop in to see the Queen that day, they presumably decided that the newly enlarged guard (which was still busy shuffling their feet an inch at a time
The Band ArriveThe Band ArriveThe Band Arrive

Beginnings of the ceremony.
and shouting at each other) was enough to keep out the crowds of terrorists, and they rode off as quickly as they had come. It was quite a cameo indeed.

Hot on the heels of the mounted guards marched a severe case of déjà vu for another marching band and group of soldiers was arriving. Another old marching song, another 60 soldiers, another commander who liked shouting orders and making people shuffle their feet minute distances. The two groups of soldiers now on the parade ground faced each other and started the real ceremony. Swords were shown, words shared, the troops were inspected and a whole lot of foot shuffling was commanded. Finally, after a lot of pomp and ceremony, actual change-over began. But, of course, it couldn’t be as simple as that.

The bands had obviously realised many years ago that the ceremony was rather dull so they began entertaining the crowd while the soldiers did their thing. One of the bands set themselves up right in front of the soldiers (obscuring the view and all) and played a very famous and very English marching band tune. Then, the second band countered with a tune of their
The Best View in the HouseThe Best View in the HouseThe Best View in the House

I'm a pretty tall guy and even I struggled to see anything at the changing of the guards, until it started snowing that is.
own; I can’t recall if it they played a Beatles tune or something more modern, but either way it certainly wasn’t traditional in any way. The two bands continued to battle one another for twenty minutes or so, one with the old staples and one with the Top 40 charts, until I realised that during all of this the guards had swapped themselves.

Amidst the distraction of popular music I had all but ignored the new guard slowly dissipating itself to the guard posts around the palace where they very formally swapped with other soldiers who had (quite clearly) been standing there for many hours. One soldier seemed to be having difficulty walking after his stint as a guard!

So, after all the pomp and ceremony (and a rendition of Pomp and Circumstance to boot) the old guard marched out accompanied by the first band, the remaining half of the new guard also marched out with the second band, and 15 or so soldiers marched off around the corner of the palace to their break room.

I thought back on the whole affair and realised that it was quite the most ludicrous sight I had ever seen. It had taken a whole hour, required more than one hundred people, had left the palace largely unguarded during the entire procedure, and had resulted in only three visible guards! Also, most of the spectators - who are surely the only reason for such a ceremony - had left half-way through when it had started snowing. Plus it means that no-one will ever want to sleep in that half of the palace. I walked off and enjoyed the more sensible side of London by taking out a mortgage so that I could buy a sandwich.


A Canterbury City Getaway



I found myself with some time to kill in England as I had to wait a week before I could meet a couple of friends. So, with little else to do I found my way to the bus station and within two hours I found myself in the ancient city of Canterbury. This city is one of intrigue and history as it was founded a very, very long time ago. Even before the Romans moved in during the 1st century there was a town here, and what’s more impressive is how much of the history is still visible.

Walking through the center of the city, within the walls that is, I found myself on cobbled streets surrounded by either old buildings or new ones that are made in the old style. Within just a few streets I managed to find four museums, a library (which had an art exhibition from outback Australia; the artist had collected “typical” bush attire from the locals of a small town in WA which he had used while working on his art there and had somehow decided that the clothes were art in their own right. I was just amused to notice how many of them I owned myself), too many traditional English restaurants to count, oh, and a gigantic Cathedral.

Someone was smiling on me that day as it was fantastically warm (the first warm day of the year in my books) and I actually managed to take my jacket off as I walked through the parks and gardens near the wall. I walked past ancient gates (500 years or so), a Norman castle from around 1068 AD which had later been used as a gas storage tank, a mound of dirt which used to be the original castle here in 1066, and the bubbling brook which casually flows through the city. It was a great day to be out and about.

The main attraction though, amidst all of the above that is, is the Cathedral. As the centre of the Anglican world it is a rather important place, as a piece of architecture it is simply stunning, as a large pile of stone it is ludicrously huge, and as a historical landmark it is the centre of the greatest Christian pilgrimage thanks to St. Thomas Becket in 1170. Oh, and just in case it wasn’t famous enough already, Chaucer used the pilgrimage to the cathedral as the underlying premise to his Canterbury Tales. Frankly, the cathedral is pretty damn important, and as a bonus it’s cool to look at.

To get inside the Cathedral requires a rather hefty payment and at first this put me off but then I was informed of a glorious loophole. If I was willing to consider becoming Anglican I could simply go along to one of the services there for free as the cathedral is still an active place of worship. Ethics aside, I arrived at the cathedral in time for the evensong and I was ushered into the building where I was invited to sit in the pews, however, out of respect I chose to sit in the more rudimentary guest area next to the pews where I would be less obvious.

As the only person in said seats I was awfully obvious for quite some time, until some other inquisitive minds joined me that is.

As the evensong began the choir (yes, the famous one) entered and arranged themselves before flying into song for our devotional attention. I had not been prepared for this; I was expecting a much more plain service for this weekday afternoon. The sounds lifted up from the choir, gradually finding the roof and edifices where they reverberated and grew, building upon each other as the song grew in character. The sounds were everywhere, in front of me, behind me, all around me. It was like sitting in the very center of a one hundred piece orchestra. The melodies intermingled, intertwined, and played off of one another. It was magical, marvelous, and inspiring. Religion made sense to me at that moment as the song reached levels of magnificence which I had never heard before.
Trafalgar SquareTrafalgar SquareTrafalgar Square

Home of all things weird and wonderful.


My setting alone would have been inspiring as I looked around me at the ancient stained glass windows showering the room with their multicoloured lights. The walls of the cathedral were covered in tombs, plaques, memorials, tapestries, paintings, and various religious paraphernalia, but unlike Westminster everything here seemed ordered and stately. The massive vaulted ceiling seemed an infinity away and the gigantic pillars supporting it seemed to fade into each other as they disappeared in the distance above me.

The service continued for some time and I never found it even remotely dull or repetitive. It was marvelous to sit there and witness something that has been occurring daily for centuries in the most sacred building of its kind.

The following day I paid the admission fee just to get a chance to wander around the old building and explore each and every nook and cranny. It wasn’t as magical when the choir was replaced by tourists, nevertheless I still found it simply stunning. I was able to explore the crypt, to learn about the Martyrdom of St. Thomas Becket (he was archbishop here in the 12th century and was murdered at the behest of the King
The Weird and WonderfulThe Weird and WonderfulThe Weird and Wonderful

A not-too-unusual sight in Trafalgar Square.
over a political dispute) and I could gaze freely on each and every relic in the Cathedral.

As an aside on another day I ventured out to St Augustine’s Abbey. This abbey was created by a missionary from the Pope sent to England to convert the country to Catholicism in 597 AD. That sounds like a very long time ago, and to be true it was so very little of the abbey remains in its original form (only a few graves). However, the Normans reconstructed the abbey in the 12th century and the ruins (for it was demolished by Henry VIII) of this great institution have been excavated for all to see and explore.


Catching Up on Old Times



It only took me a month and a half but I did it in the end, I finally managed to meet two old friends of mine that I’d been trying to chase down the entire time I was in the UK. I met Jen and Mandy (and Anna who unfortunately I didn’t get to see this time around) three years ago in Thailand when I first traveled overseas. That month of craziness was what hooked me on
Lewes CastleLewes CastleLewes Castle

A small portion of it at least.
travel in the first place so it holds a special place in my memory, but I was apprehensive to see how such a long time apart would affect our relationships.

True friends last forever they say, and true to that adage my relationship with friends back home doesn’t seem to have changed after a year and a half; they still call me Fatty Matty, the only difference is that I’m now out of touch when it comes to making comebacks, but Jen and Mandy are in a different category. Firstly, unlike the majority of my friends they’re women and, more importantly, we only met very briefly in the first place and that was while on holiday. Many people say that things are always different while on holiday (“so much better on holiday” to use the exact words) so this was going to be an interesting get together.

Thinking back on it though, I was still on holiday so it was only going to be half as weird as it could have been, and my get together with all of my Beijing friends in London had gone down pretty well so there wasn’t much to worry about.

I
The Rest of Lewes CastleThe Rest of Lewes CastleThe Rest of Lewes Castle

For a town that regularly lets their most valuable asset - a brewery - get washed away Lewes certainly has a lot of high ground available.
met Jen first, on a sunny and warm London day (it was so warm and sunny that I took off my jacket as I was walking around until I read a sign saying that it was only 12 degrees centigrade. When did 12 degrees become warm for me? What is wrong with me? For those who aren’t familiar with where I come from, the average minimum temperature for the middle of winter is 13.6 degrees in my home town), when we went to Brick Lane for a curry. Brick Lane is exactly like India in everyway except for the Indian bits of India. Ok, well that’s not entirely fair, I’ll try harder to describe the street:

Brick Lane is nothing like India or Asia in any way except for the hawkers, and even then the hawkers on the backstreets of Bangkok make better propositions. Second only to the “loudly clapping to get you into our restaurant” hawkers of Kunming in terms of uselessness, the Brick Lane hawkers stand out in front of their stores practically ordering you to enter their restaurant. It’s a great example of how Superliminal messaging doesn’t work in any way at all. In the end
Ben Loves LewesBen Loves LewesBen Loves Lewes

He was probably thirsty.
we chose our restaurant based upon the gaudy artwork of Princess Diana inside. The food was really good though.

It was great to catch up with Jen, and to hear what she’s been up to, but this was only a preliminary for a few days later when we managed to organise to have Mandy present as well. We all met up and went to lunch, drinks and dinner together one day and tried our best to catch up on everything and anything that we could.

It was very strange to talk at first, to feel out where things stood between us, but eventually we fell back into our old ways. I’m not suggesting that nothing at all had changed, but I do feel that we still understood each other. We managed to wile away the entire afternoon (with the aid of some nice drinks), joking and talking, so I think that although time most certainly can dim friendships it can not annul them. Even though we had drifted along our different paths over the last few years, making choices which change our directions, we could still relate to one another on some level. It was a refreshing realisation.

The City of London Says Its Goodbyes By Finally Putting on Some Real Weather Just As I Leave



Time flies when you are having fun or if you are Salvador Dali (who I discovered to be a complete loony during a visit to his exhibition in London, but that is a story for another time) and I eventually had to leave the UK. I’m not going to say that my decision was entirely budgetary but it came close to that. Despite being a brilliant city, London is just altogether too expensive to bum around in. Aside from that though, I had a hankering to see the continent across the channel and I had a date at a guesthouse in Bulgaria.

On my very last day in London I headed out west to Richmond where I met Ben again. Our aim on this particular adventure was to explore the vast and largely charted (ok, entirely charted, but it doesn’t sound very piratical when you say it that way) Kew Gardens; the Royal Botanical Gardens as they are alternatively known. Richmond is just another little suburb of London which straddles the Thames a good twenty minutes west of Kensington.
The South Gate of CanterburyThe South Gate of CanterburyThe South Gate of Canterbury

A very old gate which was first a part of the original city walls although it has been improved and repaired over the centuries.


To spite me, London put on the best weather yet just to show me how good England can be in summer (as opposed to how miserable it had been for most of my stay, it was still snowing occasionally). It was sunny, clear skied, warm and with only a hint of a breeze, it was simply a perfect day to be out and about. Ben and I met and decided to delay the gardens temporarily and instead wander through the center of Richmond as it was supposed to be a nice spot, a good decision as it turned out.

In town we found a small row of shops and restaurants, and the occasional pub facing a sunny cricket pitch serving cold ales, but unlike our normal selves we didn’t stop to partake. Instead we kept wandering past everyone out on their bikes or in their summer clothes until we came to the Thames. Here, along the bank, we found a small collection of establishments with tables out by the river, the sun shining down on the outdoor setting where everyone was trying their hardest to make a tan out of the pitifully weak sunshine (although it was sunny
Finally I Get Some Good Weather!Finally I Get Some Good Weather!Finally I Get Some Good Weather!

The sun came out, it wasn't freezing cold, for a moment I even thought I had left England.
and warm I still don’t believe I could get a tan in England if I oiled myself up every day and stood in the tanning equivalent of a mirror-maze, and there are 60 million completely tan-less residents to prove this theory).

We found ourselves a nice old pub which was serving an English Roast, Ben got two beers and I got two servings of the roast. It was while I was doing this that my most memorable experience with Polish immigrants occurred. It is a widely stated complaint by English people that there are too many Polish immigrants and, whether the complaint is fair or not, you do tend to see a lot of immigrants working in the service industry (thus they are fairly visible even if there aren’t that many of them). While I was picking up our lunches the lady behind the counter turned around to the kitchen and in the thickest, soupiest, roughest, east-European accent imaginable (think of a stereotypical “Russian” accent from any of your favourite Cold War themed movies) yelled “we need more Yorkshire Pudd!” It’s not everyday that you get to enjoy multicultural mixing on such a profoundly comical level. You just don’t expect to hear something so stereotypically English said in such a stereotypically non-English way.

We sat down on the rear patio and looked out across the river as scores of families rode by on their bicycles (not in the Vietnamese way but with a bike for each person). Everyone seemed to be outside enjoying the great weather, people were even out on the water.

After lunch we walked to the gardens and discovered that the entrance fee was something in the order of twenty pounds so we decided to try and sneak in until we discovered that the whole place was surrounded by a moat. It was like a castle’s defenses! Apart from one precariously placed plank of wood, which seemed more likely to have been put there specifically to tempt people like us into falling into the moat, there was no way inside the garden without paying the fee. Disheartened but ultimately nonchalant, we ended up throwing in the towel and instead opted to spend our time in an old pub next to a cricket pitch where we sat and enjoyed one last English ale in the sun.

London is one of those amazing cities in
Dilapidated and DisusedDilapidated and DisusedDilapidated and Disused

The almost 1000 year old Canterbury castle.
this world which never seems to get boring. Although there were often days when I did very little I was left feeling unsatisfied that afternoon. As Ben and I parted way, near Leicester Square of all places I sadly noticed that I really didn’t want to leave. Something about London made me want to stay. I think perhaps that I fitted in rather well there, that the things which I like doing exist there in plenty. Even though everything is ridiculously expensive and the majority of the population wouldn’t so much as raise an eyebrow to say hello to a stranger, even though the weather is generally miserable and the sight of anything which isn’t black comes as a relief, and even though the hostels there are the worst value anywhere in the world, I had really found something that I liked about London. It simply felt like a place I could call home.

London is a place where you can do anything and find everything, it has a transport system which you can make sense of, it has every culture imaginable, it has curries beyond counting, beers beyond sampling, and more sights than you could hope to see in a lifetime (I still have a list of things to see longer than my arm). It’s like a world in its own right; you can feel like a traveler in London even if you’re only ten minutes from your home, perhaps that’s why I like it so much.

The following day as my bus boarded the ferry at Dover (which in itself was a pretty sight) I promised myself that I would return. I had spent a fantastic month or two in the UK and I had enjoyed every minute. London is definitely going to feature again somewhere on these pages of mine.


Additional photos below
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A Grand CathedralA Grand Cathedral
A Grand Cathedral

A thousand years ago there stood a gigantic wooden cathedral on this ground. It's almost impossible to imagine what that would have looked like.
The Big Guy's GraveThe Big Guy's Grave
The Big Guy's Grave

It's not often that you get to see the grave of a saint (or so I thought...)
More of the AbbeyMore of the Abbey
More of the Abbey

These buildings are not ancient, they were only built a few centuries ago.
As Close As I Got to Kew GardensAs Close As I Got to Kew Gardens
As Close As I Got to Kew Gardens

Looking into the gardens from the other side of the fence and moat.


25th June 2008

Great blog!
A very amusing blog! I love your descriptions of the changing of the guard, and it appears you were in England for our freak Spring snow! Well April is still early spring and the weather can be unpredictable. Come to England in June- September and I assure you sunbathing is possible! (It is honestly!) I look forward to reading your further travels.

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