Yorkshire, Day 5 (Saturday)

I'd like to say it was my stellar planning and forethought, but we arrived in York on the only train that made it on time from London that evening, thanks to the person who chucked it all in and ended it on the London-York train line. But it was really just dumb luck, and our train happened to be the cheapest at the time of the booking. Anyway, we easily found a taxi and showed up at Elly's house...a twee Victorian-era terraced brick house. Jo and Elly greeted us with mugs of tea, we flopped on the couch, and ordered pizza. It was a relief to be in a house with friends rather than a small hotel room.

Saturday morning we were off to York city center to pick up our rental -- erm, hire -- car, then to explore the city. First stop, my favorite cathedral ever, Yorkminster Cathedral, and that's saying a lot from a girl who avoids churches and any mention of g*d. I'd promised Matt that it would be more impressive than Westminster Abbey, and he agreed. There's something about the light through its windows and the soaring height and openness of the ceiling that is more peaceful and gothically breathtaking.


The steps to the top of the cathedral had never been open during my previous visits, so we decided to make the climb. Despite the hilarious (sorry, Jo!) story of Jo's paralyzing fear of heights angering the tour leader and the signs warning us to stay down if we suffered any tiny little hint of any kind of health issue, we joined the next group going up. The narrow stone winding staircase opened up to path across the roof about halfway up, which I didn't realize, so at this point I breathed a sigh of relief and started snapping pictures of the view below..."Ah! That wasn't too bad. 275 steps? Piffle!" Then Matt nudged me ahead and through another door, and lo, there were the remaining half of the steps to the top. Even narrower and windier. But anyway, we made it, took the photos, then wound our way down.

We explored the narrow Tudor and Victorian shopping streets of York, "oohing and aahing" over centuries-old cobblestoned alleys and stucco/tudor buildings that were sagging and crooked from age. We had tasty sandwiches in Swinegate at a place called Piglets, then headed back to our car for a trip into the Yorkshire countryside. But first, Matt happened across the birthplace of one of York's infamous Guy Fawkes, which completed his impromptu 48-hour tour of the life of Guy Fawkes, from the site in the Tower of London where he was hung, drawn and quartered, to his birthplace on a humble cobbled street in old roman York.

After apologizing profusely for the smell of the car and realizing that the gear I had believed to be first was actually third (you can imagine the hilarity that ensued. Uhm, it will be hilarious tomorrow when the smell and cloud of blue exhaust has faded from memory) we were smoothly on our way to Scarborough. I didn't have too much trouble driving on the other side of the road...to be honest, it's easier than trying to navigate the crowded sidewalks of London because at least the roadways have lines and you just kinda follow the other cars. Mostly. Heh. Just gotta pay attention to those right turns.

Scarborough the city is a seaside resort, and like most British seaside towns it's gaudy and bright and tacky and depressingly decaying between the cracks. They all had their heyday in the Victorian era but once Brits started going abroad for their hols, these places lost their allure. We avoided the main touristy drag of the city and headed up a steep hill (more steps? more climbing? srsly?!) towards Scarborough castle. It was built in the 12th century to protect against Viking invaders and is of course strategically located high atop the cliffs overlooking the North Sea. Cliffs and sea aside, the steep climb to the top would be enough to deter me from invading. Perhaps I would not have made a successful invader. A moany and whiny one, definitely. The castle was mostly in ruins, but I loved the views of the sea and the surrounding town, and it was eerily quiet and still atop the cliff.


After the castle...as per usual, we were exhausted after our long day. We scrapped our initial plans to eat fish and chips in Scarborough and just drove straight back to York, content to have leftover pizza and falafel. Hey, the combo worked. Elly and Jo treated us to a tear-jerking history of Ireland via The Wind That Shakes the Barley (I give it 5 stars, highly recommend it, moving, informative, and very well done...hey, you get movie reviews on at travel blog! Lucky you.)

London, Day 4 (Friday)

O London my love, ye are a harsh mistress. I love this city, but our love affair is wild and intense and passionate and after three days the city has sucked the life from me and overstimulated and exhausted, mentally and physically weary. It's definitely time to go for now, although I know I'll be, as always. I think Matt's at the same place I am, I can see it in his far-away glazed-over stare as we navigate the crowds and try to comprehend just how old that rock is. We sit silently over our pub lunches, shell-shocked and worn down.


We finally had our full English on Friday morning, at our local pub, and it was greasy and filling and all I had imagined. Then we checked out of our hotel, leaving our luggage there, and decided to wander over to the Natural History Museum which was somewhat nearby in Kensington. I'd never been there, only walked past it in Cromwell Road previously, but the building itself is beautiful, Victorian sand and blue brickwork.


Inside, we were greeted by an towering dinosaur skeleton. We visited all the dinosaurs and checked out the taxidermies of extinct mammals and birds. More than the impressive dinosaur bones, to me, was the setting that they were displayed in, the Romanesque architecture was a perfect contrast for the prehistoric remains. But after a few hours, we were even more tired and are feet were achier so back to the pub, then to collect our bags.


The lovely hotel receptionist phoned a minicab for us, and despite notorious London traffic we were deposited at Kings' Cross in about 35 minutes. The cabbie ominously asked us, "Have you been to Kings' Cross before?"
"Well, I haven't, but she has," said Matt.
"Hmm. Ok, at least she has," he replied. I remember it as a big and crazy, but was it really that bad?!

Kings' Cross was batshit crazy. There's a central waiting area, where everyone stands around staring at a main announcement board, willing their train to appear so the platform would be announced. Finally our train appeared with the designation "QC" under platform, that I somehow figured out meant "queue behind C." We found a queue of people who collectively agreed they were "queueing behind C" and we fell in line behind them. Despite the announcement of a "fatality" near Retford and threats of delays and cancellations, and a cheeky text from Elly ("Someone just killed themselves on your line! You may be delayed...") we actually boarded our train only 12 minutes late.

Two hours later, we arrived in York uneventfully.

London, Day 3 (Thursday)

Thursday morning we had grand plans to head to our local pub in the morning for a "full English" (big fried up breakfast) but we woke up late so we had to be satisfied with a sausage rolls and coffee from the pasty shop on the way to the tube. That was the first walk on the way to the tube, we had to do it twice because I forgot my tube pass the first time. My bad.



First stop of the day: The Tower of London, to revel in centuries of bloody history. Mmm my favorite kind! We attempted to join a tour group but after ten minutes of that, despite the entertaining Beefeater guide, we both remember that we don't like large groups of people and we dislike obnoxious tourists even more. Fortunately, those handy-dandy audio guides were available so we ditched the tour group, plugged in and put our headphones on, and off we went...through centuries of Norman invasion, medieval times, royal imprisonments and executions, even to the Jewel House. In the Jewel House you are moving-walkwayed (is that a word? I just made a new verb) past the crown jewels, which I always try really hard to be impressed by but have a hard time getting past how gaudy and tacky they look. Ah well. I guess I wouldn't be saying that if I were wearing the Koh-i-Noor on my annointed head.




After hours of walking around old cobbled roads inside the tower and dodging and tolerating other tourists, we were exhausted so we headed back to our neighborhood of Earl's Court, had a pub lunch, and ended up back in our hotel for an afternoon rest. (And uploading of photos, and checking emails, and planning of next adventures, a traveller's work is never done!)

On Thursday and Friday nights the British Museum is open late, till 8:30, so we took advantage of an opportunity to avoid the (although adorably-uniformed) noisy school groups and went in the evening. You could spend days and days in the British Museum seeing all of the treasures from looting and nearly every continent, but we hit my favorite highlights: The Assyrian room, the Egyptian mummies and artifacts, Greek and Roman sculptures, and Egyptian sculptures.



And finally, as the sun set over Bloomsbury, we (more exactly, our exhausted feet) were ready to call it a day. I was thrilled to see the shining beacon of Pret-a-Manger across from the tube station, so we grabbed some takeaway sandwiches and settled back in to our hotel room.

London, Day 2 (Wednesday)

Our second day, or first full day, in London dawned bright and sunny with a rare blue sky and fluffy white clouds. Our clothes were finally dried out from being caught in the deluge the night before (LOVE LOVE heated towel racks!) so we went off to explore.



Here's one reason I love London: it's never the same city twice. We did stuff today that I haven't done yet, and even if I'd seen it before, maybe I hadn't seen it under bright blue skies or from this angle or that. Anyway...first we headed over to Westminster to gape at the imposing gothic Houses of Parliament. I had investigated the possibility of getting in to Question Time but alas, parliament is not in session at the moment. The Abbey was closed for the morning so we stopped in the check out the Cabinet War Rooms and the Churchill Museum. The War Rooms are sets of fortified basement rooms used as a command center during WWII, and they're fully restored to look as they did during the war. It's a fascinating bit of history, and difficult to imagine a time when your own country is under seige...just hearing the air raid sirens gave me chills. I bought a postcard of a propaganda poster from the time which stated "Children are safer in the country...leave them there." I also bought one of my favorite poster: Keep Calm and Carry On.



After all that learnin' and thinkin', we relaxed and strolled through St. James Park to take a peek at Buckingham Palace. We stopped to recline in a couple of stripey beach chairs and people watch, but our snark and reveries were cut short but some fellow in an official-looking yellow vest demanding a pound fifty per chair for their use. We put on our best American accents and played the ignorant card, then quickly left.



I admit I'd not seen the palace in any of my previous London visits before, except from the back as my view from my Saudi-financed Hyde Park hotel suite, but that's another story (and another blog). The Palace happens to be one of the newer buildings in these parts (around 300 years old) and in itself isn't terribly impressive. The Russian tourists in velour track suits taking photos of their girlfriends in stiletto heels posing in every possible contortion in front of the palace were kind of distracting, although a bit more interesting and amusing than the palace.




By this point our feet were sore and we were hungry and exhausted and over-touristed (knackered, as they say over here), so we hopped back on the tube and headed for Brick Lane and a curry. The street was in stark contrast to the gaudy, loud, whitey touristy streets we had just come from. It's the home to a huge and lively Bangladeshi community, and our senses were assailed with the delicious smells of curry, the brightly colored fabric and sari shops, the gorgeous little sweets in the windows of the bakeries. Men in prayer caps poured out of a mosque. I would say that we didn't hear any English spoken on the street but that's pretty true for every London street. Anyway, we finally chose a restaurant and stuffed ourselves with papadom, chutneys, onion bhaji, and curries.



At this point I was well past ready for a nap (a kip, as they say over here) but Matt wanted to press on and head back to Westminster Abbey. I'm glad we did, although my aching feet tell a different story. The cathedral is impressive, but my favorite is still Yorkminster...more on that soon to come. I was most thrilled and moved to stand near the burial memorial to Queen Elizabeth I, being the Tudor history nut that I am. Matt experienced his religious moment at the graves for Isaac Newton, Charles Darwin, and some Faraday and Dirac dudes who are apparently pretty important. Literally standing on the shoulders of giants, I quipped.

Finally...back to our Earl's Court hotel room for a rest, then we ventured out later for some delicious Lebanese shwarma then a pint at our local. And shortly thereafter we both passed out.

Oof. Samuel Johnson said, "Why, Sir, you find no man, at all intellectual, who is willing to leave London. No, Sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life." I do agree with him, but perhaps I it would be more appropriate to say "bored," because man alive, are we tired.

In the puddles, across the puddle

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Originally uploaded by rosebuttons

We safely made to London, the flight was easy and uneventful and on time. In Heathrow, we grabbed our bags, sailed through immigration and customs, hopped on the tube, and found our hotel. Yep, it really was that easy. I love this place.

Our hotel is in South Kensington, closest to the Earl's Court tube stop, I'll post a link to it later when I'm not blogging from Flickr. We found our "local," and Matt had his first pint in a real English pub. "It's cool, like the Elephant and Castle but not actually really lame." Keep in mind he was sleep-deprived and jet-lagged when he said it, but he really was quite pleased. I even had some sips of his beer and didn't make the "Grody, I'm going to gag" involuntary beer face that I always do. To use an annoying and over-used trite cliche, it really does taste different on tap over here. Is that actually a cliche? Keep in mind I'm probably sleep-deprived and jet-lagged too.

Anyway, we braved the rain (not just rain, it was chucking it down. Tipping it down. Pissing it down). I'd like to say it was because we have hardy and stalwart Pacific Northwest constitutions and a bit of rain doesn't bother us, but in truth we had to get out of the hotel and walk around or we'd risk passing out at 5pm and that is NOT how to reset your time zone clock. I must say, I don't feel a bit silly for packing my brightly-striped rain boots however, they have already been a lifesaver.

We tubed over to Tower Hill and joined the Jack the Ripper tour through the City and the East End. Because you know, there are probably actually lots of things to do in London and places to go where you might avoid the rain, but we needed to do something that would leave us completely drenched and chilled to the bone. But that aside, it was great fun. Especially watching the Australians turn interesting shades of gray at the slaying descriptions and have to drop out of the tour early. Eh, wimps.

We were quite chuffed when we were stopped by some suits in the City and asked for directions...I was pleased that they mistook us for locals, or at the very least people who knew where they were going (we were a bit lost ourselves at the time) but once we apologized and said we weren't from around here, the men nodded knowingly and smiled, "Ah! Canadians." That made our day. Well, that and being in London. And having a pub lunch and a pint. And packets of crisps. And a kettle in our room for tea.

Hoppin' across the pond

Two weeks in the UK: We're ready! Above, my luggage.


And above: Matt's luggage. I have no defense, I guess I just need a lot of stuff.

I am beyond excited, London is my favorite city in the world. And I am even more excited to go there with Matt. I have usually been alone while traveling in London, except for those few days with Hedgehog, (but I wished I was alone and walked a few steps ahead of him the whole time, have you met Hedgehog? Then you'd understand) and a few excellent days with Elly (see previous blog posts, am too lazy to link to it at the moment). Anyway, when I think of being in London, I think of long solitary walks, turning up my iPod on the tube, people-watching through my camera lens, eating Pret-a-Manger sandwiches on my hotel beds. This time I'll get to share it all with someone, and I can't think of anyone I'd rather share it with. *end schmaltziness*

Don't worry, there will be plenty of snark and witty observations as I blog from this trip!

...more to come!

This is just a test post, a little check to make sure this blog still exists somewhere in cyberspace, and a little teaser that there are soon more adventures to come soon! Matt and I will be heading across the pond in just over two weeks for a tour of the motherland...a week in England and a week in Scotland. Matt's first time there, my seventh. AND I have a new camera (thanks, Matt!) that I can't wait to use so hopefully I'll have some good travel pics to share with you guys.

In the meantime, there is cleaning and packing and cleaning and packing and planning and stuff to do, but it'll get done and in no time we'll be landing at Heathrow. So...see you soon, from the UK!