Thursday, November 30, 2006

The Legend of England: The Mask of Thanksgiving

Location: London, England
Chips Status: Actually French Fries

November 21

After a truly bangin' 3 hours of sleep, I'm up at the ass-crack of dawn to catch the shuttle to Ciampino airport. While checking out, I discover that Rich, the Canadian guy I'd been partying with a bit, is not only going to Ciampino as well, but he has the exact same flight to London that I do. Fancy that. With a traveling buddy now successfully aquired, we set off on our quest of cityhopping. Ding! RICH has joined the party!

The shuttle ride to the airport is expensive at 8 Euro and long at 45 minutes. Stupid far away airports. When we get there I'm famished, so I grab a quick panini before jumping into the swirling mess that is the check in and security lines. Ever seen a school of carp feasting on Dorito crumbs? This setup is much the same. It takes a full hour to get through the check in line, capped by a minor victory as I have managed to get my pack down to 15.1 kilograms (anything over 15 kilos and Ryanair rips your wallet out through your anus, and no way was I about to let them overcharge me for a tenth of a friggin' kilo). Security takes about another hour and a half, but actually passing through goes off without incident.

There is an almost inaudible announcement over the airport intercom: "Due to security reasons, all flights are delayed." Huh. Oh, well. Rich and I bust out a deck of cards and throw down with some Rummy, prison style, yo. After another 2 hours of delays we hop on the shuttle to the plane, then the plane itself, and we're in for an eventful, 2-hour flight to London. Upon disembarking, we learn that the "security reasons" mentioned in the very unthreatening announcement were in fact a bomb threat at the Ryanair terminal at Ciampino airport. I am not even kidding. We were boarding a plane that someone had threatened minutes ago to terminate by means of high explosives, and no one had seen fit to tell us of the fact. Thanks, dicks.

Let me tell you about British passport control. I had heard from various other Americans that, while British border control agents present a kind and reasonable face to the rest of the world, when presented with an American traveler they morph into a hideous beast that most clearly resembles a hunchbacked, colicky Medusa. Rich and I stepped up to the counter at the same time. He was away in about 45 seconds after a routine, cursory questioning. I, on the other hand, was interrogated in a manner that Jack Bauer would have deemed excessive. "Where are you coming from? Where are you going? Where are you staying here? Do you have an address for that? Where are you staying in Ireland? Do you have an address for that? How much money do you have? What kinds of account is that in? Do you touch yourself at night? What types of woodland creatures do you enjoy torturing most? Do you believe yourself to be Thor, Lord of Thunder and Commander of Storms?" It took me 20 minutes to get through the stupid thing, and even then it was a near thing. I'm now taken of the fact that the purpose of British border control is to keep the Colonials out.

After making it through, Rich and I make our way to the city bus lines, seeing as how Stansted airport is actually about an hour's drive outside of the city and walking would be troublesome. Here we must part ways, for he is going to Victoria and I to Liverpool Street. Dong! RICH has left the party! The bus ride there is like all English transport: overpriced and lengthy. When I finally get into the city, famished, I grab some cheap chicken to settle the rumbly stomach and check out the Tube.

The London Underground (or "tube," since calling it a "metro" or "subway" like everyone else would be simple and easily understood, and thus inherently un-English) was clearly designed by a psychotic child who used his own ulcer-ridden intestines as a guideline. After staring at the map and instructions for about 15 minutes, I come to the conclusion that the whole thing is far too complex and expensive for me to bother with right now, so I settle into the business of walking from Liverpool Street Station to my hostel in Camden town, a trek about halfway across downtown London, or (in English measurements) 72 furlongs. Walking over hilly terrain for an hour with 50 pounds on my back jacks up my badass-o-meter to comfortable levels, especially since I managed to do it without a decent map. Truly I am well on my way to becoming a wandering kung-fu master.

The hostel is 7 pounds for the night and worth every penny. Cramped, dirty, and poorly furnished. Perfect. The night is a simple one. I grab some fish and chips and chill around. The only other guests I meet are a couple of girls from Liverpool who are in town for the Modest Mouse concert a few blocks away (which is sold out already, sadly). They are quite cool, especially since they bought me more fish and chips at 1:30 in the morning because I jokingly asked them to. God bless friendly, good-natured girls. They are far too rare.

November 22

I'm out the door early this morning to meet Colleen at Heathrow airport. It's a bit of a late start, and due to the peculiarities (i.e. tortures) of the Tube, I arrive there slightly after I would have hoped. I manage, though, to get to the Lufthansa arrival gate in time. I am thus confused when Colleen fails to appear at the designated time, and upon inquiry at the information desk I find that this Luftansa flight is arriving at the British Air terminal. Of course! How silly of me not to have known that. A blazing walk to the other terminal and I have located Colleen!

Ding! COLLEEN has joined the party!

Colleen, for those of you who don't know, is another of my friends from Australia. She and I have been trying to get our paths to cross for some time, and ironically (ironic because we both live on the eastern seaboard of the United States) it seems that England is where it was to happen. We will be touring around the British Isles for the next 20 days, so she's an important figure for the next bit. Colleen is the ultimate devil's advocate. She possesses a remarkably sharp wit, tempered by one of the fairest capacities for judgement I've ever seen. In many ways she is a conundrum to me. She drinks but does not dance, laughs but does not sing, jokes and ridicules but is never harsh. She is extremely organized and capable in a way that often makes me look like an idiot child in need of its mother, and affable in a way that makes me feel like an autistic hermit. I feel much of the time that she is the brains of our little operation and I am the heart. It's a good balance. Perhaps most important for this trip, she has a remarkable immunity for the veritable tide of crap that pours forth from my vocal cords. She'll need it.

We have our greetings and then head out to our hostel, one that she has stayed at in her previous trips to England. It's on the west-central side of the city, near Ravenscourt Park, and is one of the most upscale hostels I've ever stayed at (reflected in the price, believe me). We get settled and then try to do some exploring, but are cut short by miserable, rainy weather. Never to be discouraged, we manage to pop into a local movie theatre to take in "Borat." After laughing hysterically for an hour and half, we head back to the hostel, hoping for better weather tomorrow. On the way, I finally manage to get my hands on an English-French dictionary and grammer book. I'm going to need it.

November 23

Happy Thanksgiving! Our first stop on this most American of holidays is a free walking tour of downtown London. This deal seems too good to be true, but it really is just that good. The tour is run by an American chap who is in the habit of jumping European cities every few months and setting himself up as a tour guide, always working for the same company. He happens to have been the one who designed the London tour quite recently, so he's on the absolute top of his game.

There was a lot contained on this tour, but let's see if I can successfully bullet-point the highlights:

-The Monument. Full name "The Monument to the Great Fire of London," it's a giant pillar topped with a golden flame. Erected in remembrance of the entire city going up like a malnourished Salem girl in 1666.
-Church of St. Magnus the Martyr. Mainly notable for the 2000 year old wooden beam from the Roman occupation of the city that sits across the entrance. Emphasis placed on the fact that this is Europe. Where the history comes from.
-London Bridge. Stupid-looking, normal bridge. Great view of the Tower Bridge, though, which is actually interesting.
-Banking District. Rich guys with expensive suits everywhere. Colleen practically salivating over how well English guys wear suits. They're still ugly, though, so my American ego avoids bruising. Statue of Wellington in a banking square on anatomically correct horse. Give finger.
-Millenium Bridge. Very modern bridge that came close to being a lethal architectural disaster. Very shiny. Stare for several minutes.
-Globe Theatre. Seen from a distance. Less wooden than watching "Shakespeare in Love" had led me to believe. Stupid Hollywood.
-Blackfriar's Bridge. Actually 3 bridges built at different times, one of which had to be dismantled due to poor construction and is now just a collection of giant pillars in the Thames. Aren't the English supposed to be good engineers? Did I make that up?
-London Eye. Giant ferris wheel, only not. Shameless money-grubbing scheme from the city. Kinda cute, though.
-St. Paul's Cathedral. Big, pretty church. Epic story about how it escaped bombing and was a (the?) main priority for British firefighters during the blitz. Flip off.
-Covent Garden. Pretty square. Busker central. Eat lunch here, pork and apple pasty (sandwich). Lots of kamikaze pidgeons.
-Temple Church. Home of the Knights Templar in England. Suitably fortressy. Disappointed that no knights are still around wreaking havoc in the name of God. Flip off. Shed lone tear.
-Trafalgar Square. Badass. Big square containing numerous embassies and houses of other nations in the Commonwealth. Also home of National Gallery. Dominated by huge pillar monument to Lord Nelson, surrounded by 30-foot lions. When I die, I want a monument erected to me that has a statue of me at the top in a manly pose, surrounded by fierce giant hunting mammals. Like this guy. I don't suppose being really good at Soul Caliber qualifies me for that, huh?
-Buckingham Palace and St. James Park. Standard palace, really. Kinda lackluster, though. Nothing special about it except that the Queen lives there. The guards aren't even out in splendor. Do get to see the horse guards, though, who are neat in their own right. Even if they do walk like they're drunk.
-Big Ben, Parliament, and Westminster Abbey. All right next to each other. Just like you would imagine they look. A bit of flipping off here. Sit in front of the church for a few minutes as tour guide recounts the tale of Guy Falkes.

And that's the end of the tour. We managed to see most of London in four and a half hours, and I'm freakin' tired. On our way home, we stumble upon a statue of Abraham Lincoln not far from Westminster Abbey. Does this seem weird to anyone else? Why is our president immortalized in stone in England? Huh.

We now embark upon the quest for all of the foodstuffs that we'll need for a bitchin' Thanksgiving dinner. It's a long quest, involving no fewer than 3 supermarkets, but we get the job done. There's also several hours of cooking, but that goes off moderate well also. I don't have a reliable recipe for candied yams, so I kinda have to fake it, and there are apparently no pie crusts for sale in England (proving my theory that the English are seriously desert deficient) so we are forced to use the much shallower and sweeter tart crusts we find with some difficulty. All in all, though, it turns out delicious, and we have a very pleasant dinner, a sort of centerpiece for the American cultural pride that is sure to surface like a mighty serpent of the deep when we are reunited with our foreign colleagues of old.

Tastiness complete. London, we'll be back.

Progress Thus Far:
Countries Visted: 10
Stupid Tourist Moments: 87
Monuments Flipped Off: 69
Free Food Ganked: 14
Free Booze Ganked: 34

so go on
if this'll make you happier
it got you this far
do what you have to
-Guster

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home