Got back this evening from a very enjoyable day and a half or so in London. I took the bus down there on Thursday afternoon after a really good trombone lesson. Instead of taking the bus all the way into central London, I decided to get off at Golders Green, which is a more suburban area north of the city, but within about a half hour walk from my hostel. One of the smartest decisions I've made this year. I walked through leafy suburbs, quaint homes, neighborhood shops, etc, etc, etc. I decided I could definitely live there. On the way to check in, I found a Yo! sushi and finally sucked it up and ate there. Had some very good sushi and some fried Japanese noodles, plus a Kirin. Checked in to the hostel, went to a pub for some ale (I couldn't bear the though of going to bed at 10:00), wrote in my travel journal thing, hit the sack.
I must say, hostels have generally treated me okay this year. I mean, I don't like them, but I haven't typically had any major problems with them. No longer. My two nights at Palmer's Lodge in Swiss Cottage were hellish. I stayed in a large dormitory that echoed of Auschwitz, with floor to ceiling wooden bunks, stifling heat, and no circulation. Plus, the hostel double booked my bed, so both nights I went to try to sleep only to find random men sleeping in what was supposed to be my bed. Most unpleasant.
Friday, I got up, took the tube to Leicester Square to get coffee at my favorite London coffeeshop, then strolled down Whitehall and across the Thames to hit up the touring Star Wars exhibition now in London. Although the price was steep, I'm very glad I went. I was fortunate to be able to go on the 30th anniversary of the original film, so that was cool. A little prequel heavy, but whatever. I couldn't have with good conscience gone to London and not seen it. I have a reputation to live up to. Anyways, after that, I considered going into St. Paul's, but couldn't bear to part with the necessary £8, so I ate lunch on the steps instead. Marks and Spencer food outlets, you provide the culinary foodtrack to my life. Headed over to the British Museum and saw a really great special exhibition on Sir Walter Raleigh's first expeditions to America through an artist's original 1585 watercolours of Virginia Indians and wildlife. I seemingly milled about the museum for quite a while, drinking tea and buying a magnet until I met Emily (just arrived from Nottingham) at Trafalgar Square. Her and I went to a Belgian restaurant for dinner in Covent Garden, then did our first ever pub crawl. Can you believe that, I've been here over 8 months, and still no real pub crawl. We only hit about 4 places, but that's a start, right? Like I've mentioned before, I am not skilled at doing an English accent, but it got pretty good as the night wore on. Ask Emily. Anyways, we eventually got on the tube and headed back to the hostel where I passed another miserable night. Some obese Polish man was sleeping half naked in what was supposed to be my bed. Obviously, I slept somewhere else, in yet more sweltering heat. I'm sort of surprised I didn't contract malaria or some other tropical disease.
Sunday morning was pretty chill as well. We got up, took the tube to Knightsbridge, hit up Starbucks, and went to Harrods, London's venerable department store. It was extravagent, opulent, uber-expensive, and sort of lost its charm quick. Went back to the south bank area, where Emily was gracious enough to take my picture with a stormtrooper who was advertising the big Star Wars exhibition I saw the previous day. We ate lunch, and then parted. I had 2 hours to kill before I left, whereas she was staying until 7:30, when she was attending a play at Shakespeare's Globe. I thought about going to the Imperial War Museum, but had a bit of a crisis of conscience. I asked myself, "How can you have lived in England for over 8 months, and not seen Westminster Abbey?" So I caught a bus, forked over £7, and went. And I was not disappointed. The Abbey is like a pleasant junk heap of English history, chock full of tombs and memorials. It was fun to see the Poet's Corner, seeing the memorials to all the writers we've talked about this year. From Wordsworth to Dickens, they're all there. There was also a very moving tomb of the unknown soldier. There's just something about adding the words "for King and Country" to anything that adds a touch of regality and nobility that we don't get back home. In any case, I was very glad I went. I sat for a while while the choir practiced for the evensong service. The Church of England is a very funny institution, sort of an Anglicized Catholic Church. But its real legacy lies in the beauty of its liturgy and its strong musical tradition. The English language is the greatest cultural achievement of this small island, which accounts for all the literary greats that Britain has produced. The Church in turn, utilizes eloquent speech in liturgy in song that more than makes up for the typically flat sermons and such. I guess there's just something sublime about hearing a choir sing in a cathedral that really seems to represent the best of England to me.
Speaking of the English language, we've had to read a multitude of books for the various British Novel, Paideia, and International Studies classes this year. One such book is the following. "Notes from a Small Island," by Bill Bryson.
I, along with most of the flat, read it over Christmas break for our IS 135 class. Bryson is a chap who was born and raised in Des Moines, Iowa, and ended up emigrating to England in the 70's. He married an English woman, had kids, and worked as a journalist for The Times. Anyways, he decided to move his family back to America in the mid 90's after living in England for some 20 years. As a sort of final farewell, he took a grand tour around Britain, with this book as the result. He is an extremely funny writer, so funny that I laughed out loud while I read the book. He obviously loves the English people and the country in general, but he shows it through an extremely good natured ridicule of all the quirkiness of this very unique island nation. If you want to better understand England, my experiences living in England, or just want a good laugh, read this book immediately. I own a copy, I'll lend it to you in 2 weeks or whatever.
What does this have to do with me going to London? As I was running out the door on Thursday, I grabbed a book out of the flat library to read on the 3.5 hour bus ride. I ended up with this.
As you may have guessed, this is the more or less "sequel" to "Notes from a Small Island." Bryson wrote a newspaper column for 2 years for a British magazine about life back in America as he struggled to readjust. This book is the compilation of those columns. See my last post to refresh yourself on my ongoing fear with "hobbit syndrome" and coming home. I don't know, it's just been really fun reading this book, hearing Bill's very humorous take on American life in the late 1990's. He's in the same place we are, I think. Stuck between two nations that (most of us) find more or less equally pulling in our hearts. Some sort of therapy for the inevitable difficulty, I suppose.
So, that's goodbye to London, at least for the time being. It's too depressing to think that I'll never be back. I'm confident I'll find my way though. I don't really anticipate jumping back across the pond and living in London, but if there's a city in England besides Nottingham I could happily live in, it's London. Everyone knows I love Paris like no other, but I have to be honest with myself and say that London is on equal terms with the City of Light, maybe even edging it out. There's an energy and excitement about it that is intoxicating. Now, Minneapolis is a splendid town. It's the cultural capital of the Midwest, home to the two-time World Series champion Minnesota Twins, and contains the greatest burger joint in the civilized world. But let's be honest here, it was never the capital of the world's largest empire. I don't know, I love the idea that I am less than 2 hours (by train) away from one of the world's truly great cities. To get to New York, which I would argue is probably the world's greatest modern city, it's however much in airfare, plus 2 hours flying. I have been so spoiled, just being able to pop down to London for the weekend. I'm going to miss it. Getting on that bus to leave was bittersweet. Minneapolis, you have a hard act to follow, that's all I've got to say.
Well, it's 1:40 A.M., my empty tea mug is depressingly staring at me, I haven't slept well in 2 nights, and I need to be ready by 9:45 for a Sunday morning excursion to Southall Minster with some of the flat folks. Time to go to bed, I suppose.
Cheers.
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