“You know, travel does broaden the mind.” Elisabeth Sladen as Sarah Jane Smith

Last post I provided a complete list of all the sites we really, truly saw while in England and Paris. And I provided a rating for each of those sites. I dubbed items on that list as the “Grown-Ups Table List.” The requirement to be on that list were that they were sites that met at least one of the following descriptions: (1) we spent money at the place or paid tickets to go; (2) the site wasn’t part of something larger (i.e. the Golden Gallery would not count as a site because it’s a part of St. Paul’s Cathedral; and (3) we interacted with the site in a meaningful or purposeful way (meaningful and purposeful meant that all four of the following requirements were met: (a) walked by it/across it; (b) were on foot and stared it it for awhile without calling it dumb; (c) took at least two pictures of it; and (d) made a conscious decision to go out of our way to interact with it).

So, now let’s continue on with what we could call the “Kiddy Table List”: all the other sites that we saw but were sites that we more or less stumbled upon or would have seen regardless of how much we tried to avoid them (ahem, London Eye). The ratings for these will be more of an up or down vote to indicate (1) yes, it was cool to see and I wouldn’t mind seeing again; (2) yes, it was cool to see but I don’t need to see again, (3) no, it wasn’t cool to see and I don’t need to see it again, (4) impossible to miss no matter how hard you try, or (5) totally indifferent.

Here we go!

20th Century Landmarks

BT Telecom Tower (impossible to miss)
Canary Wharf skyline (impossible to miss)
The City of London’s skyline (impossible to miss)
H.M.S. Belfast (yes, cool; want to go back)
Leake Street Arches (yes, cool; want to go back)
London Eye (impossible to miss)

Abbeys, Cathedrals, Churches, etc.

Holy Trinity Church (Hastings) (yes, cool; don’t need to go back)
Notre Dame (yes, cool; want to go back)
Southwark Cathedral (London) (yes, cool; don’t need to go back)
St. Mark’s Church (London) (totally indifferent)

Bridges

Golden Jubilee Bridge (impossible to miss)
Pont Royal (yes, cool; don’t need to go back)
Water Meeting Bridge (totally indifferent)

Historical Sites

America Ground (Hastings) (yes, cool; don’t need to go back)
Assemblée Nationale (yes, cool; don’t need to go back)
Dover House/Horse Guards Parade/Old Admiralty Building (yes, cool; don’t need to go back)
Gare du Nord (totally indifferent)
Grand Palais (yes, cool; want to go back)
Greenwich Market (totally indifferent)
Greenwich Pier/Cutty Sark (yes, cool; want to go back)
Les Invalides (yes, cool; want to go back)
Oxford University (totally indifferent)
Royal Pavillion (yes, cool; don’t need to go back)
St. James’s Palace (yes, cool; don’t need to go back)
St. Pancras International (yes, cool; don’t need to go back)

Monuments

Bela Bartok Statue (South Kensington, London) (totally indifferent)
Nelson’s Column (totally indifferent)
Women of World War II Monument (yes, cool; don’t need to go back)

Parks, Natural Landmarks, Squares

Old Royal Observatory Garden (yes, cool; don’t need to go back)
Primrose Hill (yes, cool; don’t need to go back)
Regent’s Canal (yes, cool; don’t need to go back)
Regent’s Park (yes, cool; wanna go back)
River Avon (yes, cool; don’t need to go back)
River Thames (impossible to miss)
Seine (impossible to miss)
Shottery Fields (Stratford) (not cool, don’t need to go back)
St. James’s Park (yes cool, want to go back)

 

“Things end. That’s all. Everything ends, and it’s always sad. But everything begins again too, and that’s always happy. Be happy.” Peter Capaldi as the Doctor

Alas, our final day in London has come. Departing from this lovely, lovely city is always so hard, and I felt that pain of leaving London behind so profoundly on this final day. Marie and Shawn elected to leave one day early in order to have the whole weekend to recuperate, so we had to say our farewells to them in the morning. It was so sad to see them off, and their departure was an agonizing reminder that my time would come the next morning along with Amy’s and Aaron’s. Still, we had much we wanted to see on our final day…

Much of what we had done thus far in London involved visiting lots of very touristy destinations. On our last day, we wanted to get out of the city centre and spend more time with parts of the city that tourists don’t necessarily see. Our first stop was a visit to the Maida Vale Studios, primarily because I wanted to see where the BBC Radiophonic Workshop used to call home (the workshop officially closed in 1998). It’s a large complex dating from 1909 (when it was the Maida Vale Roller Skating Palace and Club), and it was repurposed as recording studios by 1934, becoming one of the BBC’s earliest recording facilities. Not only was this where the BBC broadcasted the news during WWII, this also became home to the BBC Symphony Orchestra. Sadly, the BBC announced in 2018 that the facility would be closed altogether as constant maintenance and its location in a residential area aren’t factors conducive to 21st century recording needs. Even still, it was wonderful to see this large complex, the main entrance alone a lovely sight: an arched passageway with ornate molding.

Our next stop involved a leisurely 20 minute walk northeast along the nearby Sutherland Avenue and then Hall Road to Abbey Road Studios. (Yes, obviously those studios that the Beatles made famous in 1969.) Approaching the crossing, we were all struck by how dissimilar it looked compared to the original photo. And while earlier I had mentioned that we were seeking out less touristy locations, this zebra crossing (while not as busy as crossing, for example, Westminster Bridge) definitely attracted a fair share of tourists who wanted to re-create that famous photo. I overheard a local Londoner exclaim as we neared the site, “I never stop for this bloody crossing!” Motorists generally take zebra crossings very seriously, always stopping to allow pedestrians to pass. The rules for this zebra crossing, however, were all thrown out the window, as frequently pedestrians held up traffic in order to take the damn photo. Everyone was acutely aware of this, so they did the best they could to hurry the photo along, but at the same time, there were also everyday pedestrians trying to cross to get to wherever they needed to go, which in turn frustrated them as it’s unclear if motorists will actually stop as they legitimately cross. Of course, if you go to the Abbey Road zebra crossing, do make sure to see Abbey Road studios as well. It’s a modest building that would normally go unnoticed if it weren’t for its iconic history. Nearby the studios is the Abbey Road Shop (a standard gift shop that sells the usual fridge magnets, ornaments, and T-shirts along with, naturally, studio albums), and visitors are greeted with a brief walkway into the shop that has on its left side a short brick wall painted black that has plaques that recount a concise timeline of the studio’s history.

Following Abbey Road, we wanted to pay a visit to Camden Market, upon the suggestion of Marie and Shawn who had visited it twice during their time in London. Abbey Road lies northwest of the city centre and Camden Market is 2 miles away in the northeast, so we almost took the bus to get there (on account of there being no good Underground route which will undoubtedly happen when you visit outside the touristy hub of the city centre), but we decided to walk instead. (This final day in London we ended up walking a record of over 30,000 steps, the most in any single day on our journeys!) The route took us along Prince Albert Road which runs along the north side of Regent’s Park (one of the five large green spaces in London along with St. James’s Park, Green Park, Kensington Gardens, and Hyde Park) and the south side of Primrose Hill, segmenting the two green spaces in two. I had visited Regent’s Park on my previous visit to London but didn’t quite have time to see Primrose Hill, so it was lovely to have accidentally wandered past it on our journey to Camden Town. As the name suggests, the park has a hill that allows for lovely views of not only the city but also the glassy and cylindrical BT Telecom Tower, which still looks somewhat futuristic today (or perhaps futuristic for a Stanley Kubrick film) despite having been built in 1964. Our walk continued by St. Mark’s Church (which had a churchyard full of Christmas trees waiting to be purchased and brought to someone’s home), as well as across Water Meeting Bridge (a modest brick bridge that spans Regent’s Canal).

As we neared Camden Town, the streets became slowly more and more busy with pedestrian and automobile traffic, which was actually a little dismaying on account of having just visited the quiet Maida Vale district. If there’s one thing I want to prioritize on my next visit to London it’s that I want to stay away from touristy hubs and visit less well known areas of the city. I don’t want to exclude touristy spots altogether, of course, but rather try to see more of “weird” London, as it were. Visiting Camden Market was a reminder of how many of the things we saw that were popular destinations for lots of people. But I also must admit that Camden Market just wasn’t for us. (Sorry, Marie and Shawn.) It was, indeed, a bustling collection of markets (the Lock Market, Stables Market, Lock Village, Electric Ballroom, and Inverness Street Market are all in close vicinity to each other on the Camden High Street), selling anything from scarves and jackets to jewelry and trinkets, and we barely scratched the surface of the Lock Market (where I did happen to find the perfect messenger bag for myself to help me courier back all the ornaments, books, and teas I purchased while in England; so there’s that, at least) when we all decided that we had enough and made our way back down the high street to the Camden Town Underground station (but not before stopping at an average placed called Dingwalls, where we all had ales with our lunch). In short, if you love shopping, you’ll love Camden Market and you should go out of your way to visit. If you don’t love shopping, you won’t love Camden Market and you shouldn’t go out of your way to visit.

After a ride on the Northern line followed by the Central line, we arrived at Marble Arch on the northeast side of Hyde Park. This arch is comparatively modest after visiting Paris’s Arc de Triomphe, but it’s still worth the trek to view it, as you can combine a visit here with a visit to the nearby Speakers’ Corner. There are several Speakers’ Corners, but the one by Hyde Park is the most famous on account of it being the first such location. It has also been graced by the presence of such notable speakers as Lenin, Carl Marx, and George Orwell. Also nearby is the Animals in War Memorial, a touching monument to animals who served alongside their human soldiers, a solemn stone wall in the shape of an arc that depicts struggling animals with bronze statues of a horse and donkey marching with heavy heads towards a space in the wall.

The sun was already low on the horizon at 2pm as we made our way through Hyde Park. We gazed upon Magazine Cottage, a small, luxurious, brick, two-storey home and for over £1.5 million you too can live right in the middle of Hyde Park; marveled at the Serpentine, a 40 acre lake created in 1730 for Queen Caroline, now home to countless varieties of ducks, geese, swans, and other birds; visited the Holocaust Memorial Garden, a sobering moment as we observed two boulders of differing heights situated amongst silver birch trees, one boulder inscribed with a quotation from the Book of Lamentations; and viewed the Princess Diana Memorial Fountain, a large 50×80 meter oval stream bed constructed of Cornish granite, the water sadly turned off during our visit. We next crossed over into the adjacent Kensington Gardens where we admired the Long Water, technically a western extension of the Serpentine, the two bodies of water separated by the Serpentine Bridge; gazed upon Henry Moore’s stone sculpture, The Arch, a tall marble artwork dating from 1979-1980, designed in a way that makes me think of large human bones; discovered near the Peter Pan statue a tree of flashy green parakeets that might just land on your hand if you’re patient and have food with you; and admired the Italian Gardens, a gift from Prince Albert to Queen Victoria dating from the 1860s that features four shallow but stately fountains surrounded by elegant stonework and decorative urns.

Deciding we had enough of all these serious gardens, we made our way to Fleet Street to do some pub hopping. As I’m writing this post almost a month removed from our final day in London, I can’t for the life of me remember or figure out why we didn’t just take the Central line from Lancaster Gate (a station situation just north of the Italian Gardens) all the way to Chancery Lane (Fleet Street then just a short 10 minute walk south from that station). Somehow we ended up at the Embankment station (which means we would have taken the Central line to Oxford Circus and then caught a Bakerloo line from there to Embankment) and then walked 15 minutes or so to Fleet Street. Regardless, going out of our way to Embankment did allow us one final walk along the Thames. As we made our way toward Fleet Street, we stumbled across a Twinings tea shop on the Strand, where you can purchase any variety of tea that you want. I opted to purchase a large box of strong English breakfast and a tin with a loose leaf Christmas blend of black tea, orange peel, and spices. I know we can get Twinings tea in the U.S., but the quality really is just not the same. I swear, I think they send us bags filled with tea dust that’s been swept off the floor. Amy and I have decided that the only tea worth drinking is the tea directly from England, and we were happy to discover that Twinings ships internationally.

Our evening concluded with some ales at Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese (a pub dating from shortly after 1666 when it was rebuilt following the Great Fire of London), more ales and steak pies at the Old Bell (also dating from the 17th century, built by Christopher Wren who used it to house his freemasons as they were re-building St. Brides Church following the fire), one last glimpse of St. Paul’s Cathedral (which happened to have at the time William Blake’s final work projected on its dome), and then one last walk through Soho to gaze upon London’s magnificent, colorful, bright, creative Christmas displays.

We all keenly felt the pain of leaving London behind as we headed back to our flat in South Kensington for one last night in England. Our adventures here were so absolutely fantastic. We saw so many things, tasted so much food, enjoyed (for the most part) some of the best theatre I’ve ever known, walked over 200,000 steps in just under two weeks, drove hundreds of miles in the countryside, and traveled hundreds of miles by train. Most specifically, however, I miss this city so much as I write this. It is so hard to leave London behind. The sickness I feel when I think about London (the Germans call it fernveh or far sickness, the opposite of home sickness) is sometimes so profound that I become consumed in grief. At the same time, I’ve visited the city three times now, and each of those times are filled with such brilliant and vivid memories of such delightful times that the joy of visiting overcomes the grief of departing. I shall never forget those times, and I’ll cherish them always.

I’ll be writing one last time to provide a brief overview of our adventures, listing everything we did in England and Paris over 13 days (complete with my own personal ratings of all the experiences). I might come up with some interesting statistics as well and also try to compare and contrast my blog posts that covered my visit in 2014 with the posts from this most recent trip, but we’ll see about that.

In the meantime, my dear London: “One day, I shall come back. Yes, I shall come back. Until then, there must be no regrets, no tears, no anxieties. Just go forward in all your beliefs and prove to me that I am not mistaken in mine. Goodbye, London. Goodbye, my dear.”

“You’ll find there’s so much else to think about, to remember.” Patrick Troughton as Dr. Who

Following a very full day in Paris, we allowed ourselves to sleep in a bit. But only a bit, as we still had things we wanted to see (as if I needed to remind anyone of that). We elected to spend our morning at the Churchill War Rooms and Churchill Museum (an Imperial War Museum). This came highly recommended by my cousin Ava, although I must admit that as we made our way to the museum, it felt more like we were taking our required dose of bitter medicine in the form of a history field trip. (I could hear someone’s parent scolding their child, “You gotta know your history!”) While I much agree with knowing history, of course, sometimes history museums can be a bit, well, drab (like the Fusilier Museum at the Tower of London that we visited two days previously). However, the Churchill War Rooms were anything but drab, and I highly recommend a visit! We originally thought we could zip through the whole thing in about 90 minutes, but we ended up spending two-and-a-half hours at the place. And (dare I do it?) I gladly award the Churchill War Rooms that coveted rating of five stars out of five. It really is that good. Like the Tower of London and St. Paul’s Cathedral, I could go to the War Rooms again and again and again and never tire of visiting. Indeed, even the two-and-a-half hours we spent at the museum felt rushed, and I wished we could’ve had more time to explore (but Westminster Abbey was awaiting us in the afternoon).

Upon entering the War Rooms, the first room we got to see was the room that frequently appears in film dramatizations: the War Cabinet Room, a large square-shaped room with tables arranged in–naturally–a square, seats enough for 21 people (I think), Churchill’s wooden chair at the head of the tables in the center behind a map, cigarette trays dotted about (I can’t imagine how smokey it must’ve gotten in these rooms). This room (along with the Map Room, Transatlantic Telephone Room, Churchill’s bedroom, and others) was left undisturbed when the lights were turned off on August 16, 1945, as early on people saw the historical significance of this space, so visitors get to see exactly how this room would’ve looked in 1945. Following the Cabinet Room, a hallway took us to the Transatlantic Telephone Room, the room where Churchill would’ve had conversations with President Roosevelt, a room with space enough for a desk and a shelf and a scrambling phone (codenamed “Sigsaly”).

After a small exhibit (featuring blown up photos of women operating telephones in the rooms and Churchill looking forlorn as he surveyed a bombed London; artifacts including a noiseless typewriter that Churchill insisted everyone use as he hated noise and a chemical toilet that would’ve been used since the nearest flushing toilet was two stories above; and various plaques that described what life was like in the rooms, including a small paragraph about Smoky, a fluffy Persian cat who belonged to the kitchen staff and who Churchill adored and allowed to sleep on his bed), the Churchill Museum came next. This was the section of our visit that I thought we would’ve rushed through, but the museum was so engaging and so expertly prepared that it was actually quite difficult to leave. The museum was broken up into five sections (in this order): 1940-45 when he served his first term as prime minister; 1945-65 when he was defeated in the 1945 election, published his six-volume history of The Second World War, dubbed the rise of Communism as an “iron curtain” descending Europe, was re-elected prime minister in 1951; 1874-1900 when he was packed off to boarding school, became a cavalry officer and later a journalist for the Morning Post, was elected for the first time to public office in 1900; then 1900-1929 when he switched from Conservative to Liberal and helped create Labour Exchanges to help people find work, served as Minister of Munitions and then Secretary of State for War and Air, returned to the Conservative party in 1924; and lastly 1929-1939 when he was in political exile as a backbench MP, supported Edward VIII during the turmoil of the abdication, opposed India’s independence. We learned so much about the man in such a short span of time, all the while viewing artifacts from his life: a maroon siren suit (designed to be worn in air raid shelters), a grey RAF greatcoat, a 9mm submachine gun, a mould of his face for Madame Tussaud’s, his Nobel Prize for literature, the original oak door to 10 Downing Street, his famous Homburg hat and bow tie, and so much more. Even some of Churchill’s original paintings were on display, but I had irritatingly missed these entirely by accident.

Following the museum and a quick lunch at the cafe in the War Rooms, we finished touring the rest of rooms, but it all felt so rushed on account of having to get to Westminster Abbey in time before it closed at 3:30. Regardless, we still got to see so much in our visit to these rooms. But, next time I want to return and allow more time to really take everything in: the BBC Broadcasting Room; the Map Room; the Chiefs of Staff meeting room; Churchill’s bedroom and the bedrooms of so many other important people like Churchill’s wife and his various advisers; and so much more. As I said, it was so informative, so well curated, and just such an engaging visit overall. The guidebook wasn’t a disappointing purchase nor was the audio guide unwelcome. The whole experience was just incredible. Do go!

We had to make our way to Westminster Abbey next, as it closed for visitors at 3:30. We arrived at about 2:00 (it’s only a short walk between the War Rooms and the Abbey) and I was terribly worried that we wouldn’t have enough time to fully see everything, but I was surprised to discover that 90 minutes really actually is plenty of time to see everything there is to see at the abbey. Unlike St Paul’s where you get to visit the main floor, climb all those stairs to the galleries, climb all the way down those stairs to the crypt, visitors at Westminster all stay on the main floor. Despite this, however, there still is so much to see.

What always strikes me about Westminster is how cluttered the whole place is. (I wish I could share a photo with you, but there’s no photography on the inside of the abbey.) But this place really is jam packed with statues and monuments and tombs and vaults in every nook and cranny. If there’s space for it, there will be a tomb. But what tombs! An especially striking moment is when you enter the Lady Chapel and visit the tombs of Elizabeth I and Mary I, two sisters who hated each other in life but who are buried side by side forever in death. There are 30 other kings and queens buried in the abbey, including Edward the Confessor, Edward VI, and Queen Anne. The floor is equally overcrowded with graves. As you enter, for example, you’ll just happen to walk over the grave of Ralph Vaughn Williams and Henry Purcell, among others. Poet’s Corner in the South Transept is another sobering moment where individuals from C.S. Lewis to Charles Dickens to George Handel are interred within the floor. Also, make sure not to miss the nave where you can find the grave of Stephen Hawking who is buried appropriately next to Isaac Newton.

Westminster is also just such an architectural marvel. The bulk of the structure was built from the 13th to 16th centuries in that classic gothic style, and everything is just so ornate and so opulent. As the abbey’s website describes: “The architect [Henry of Reyns] was greatly influenced by the new cathedrals at Reims, Amiens, and Chartres, borrowing the ideas of an apse with radiating chapels and using the characteristic Gothic features of pointed arches, ribbed vaulting, rose windows, and flying buttresses.” Indeed, all of that is on display, and the radiating chapels filled with tombs of kings and queens is where this cluttered feeling really sets in. The whole abbey isn’t cluttered, of course; the quire is a wide open space where that iconic black-and-white chessboard tile is on full display, three rows of elegant wooden stalls on the north and south walls run the length of the quire from east to west, red lamps spaced evenly amongst the stalls like rows of soldiers.

In addition to the inside of Westminster, there are other areas to explore as well: the Cloister Garth, a large outdoor green space with a solitary and unassuming fountain commemorating Lancelot Capability Brown, a famous landscape gardener and architect who died in 1783; the Pyx Chamber, an old stone vaulted room, one of the oldest parts of the abbey, entered via heavy oak doors dating from the 14th century; the Chapter House, a tall octagonal space with an elaborate vaulted ceiling and an impressive central column, elaborate stained glass windows on most of the eight walls, wall paintings dating from the 14th century depicting events from Revelations; the College Garden and Little Abbey Garden, stately green spaces that have been cultivated continuously for 900 years (only open to the public on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, so plan accordingly). And, on your way out of the abbey, don’t forget to marvel at the Coronation Chair, which has been used at the coronations of all the English monarchs since 1308.

We had just a bit of time to grab a quick tea at a Caffe Nero (getting caught in a small rainstorm en route) before we wanted to return back to Westminster Abbey for Evensong, which happens every day (except Wednesdays, for some reason) at 5:00pm. As we were making our way back to the abbey, we were actually quite interested in the event, looking forward to whatever gorgeous music the choir and organist would perform. After Evensong was over, however, we all felt a little bit underwhelmed, I must admit. We were all surprised how much talking there actually was and how much the whole show, er, “service” felt like a, well, service. The audience, er, “congregation” was invited to do that thing where they recite those long recitations, er, “prayers” (that one about, “Our Father, who art in heaven,” and all that, and later on that other one about, “I believe in God the Father almighty,” and so forth). Meanwhile, listening to the music, I became hyper aware of how boring the psalms are and how difficult it is to set the bible’s text to music: composer Ivor Atkins’s setting of Psalm 72 was all very syllabic, and he had to set real clunkers like, “[h]is enemies shall lick the dust,” and, “There shall be an [sic] heap of corn in the earth.” (I must admit, I had to suppress some laughter with all my will.) Generally speaking, Evensong was just all really very underwhelming. I’ll probably never attend another service ever again. (It was somewhat fascinating and different listening to how much they pray to the Queen, though.)

And so, with that, we made our way back to South Kensington to our flat to begin our penultimate night in London. Before we retired for the night, however, we stopped by a Waitrose so I could stock up on these fantastic biscuits they have here that are generously coated in chocolate; visited an Odd Bins so Amy and Aaron could purchase a fine bottle of gin (they really love their gin over here); and then made a quick stop outside Earl’s Court station to admire one of the few police boxes still standing in England. Heading to bed on this night, I began to feel that pain of having to leave London behind again. But not before one last final fantastic day in what I still do believe is the greatest city in the world.

“What Paris has, it has an ethos, a life; it has a spirit all of its own. Like a wine, it has a bouquet. You have to choose one of the vintage years, of course.” -Tom Baker as Doctor Who

There are quite a few things I simply adore about traveling in Europe, and one of the things I adore is how easy it is to travel by train. In 2006, I was in Europe for three and a half weeks, and my friend Kari and I traveled only by train–no cars–from England to France to Germany to Denmark to Sweden to the Czech Republic to the Netherlands. And it was absolutely wonderful. What’s also wonderful is the fact that London and Paris are connected to each other by the Eurostar train, and if you book far enough in advance (as we did), you can get round trip tickets for $96. (However, if you wait until the very last minute to book, you’d be paying $258 just for one way.) So, it’s really quite remarkable that with a little bit of planning, you can have a lovely day trip to Paris from London for really very cheap.

We elected to maximize our time in the City of Light (I actually never really liked that moniker) as much as we could, so we got tickets for the 5:40am train from St. Pancras International to Gare du Nord in order to arrive in Paris by 9:22am. Be warned: this means you have to arrive at the station by about 4:40am in order to go through all of the security. Our excitement was so high, however, that it was difficult to actually notice any feelings of tiredness. (I also still did manage to get six hours of sleep on top of it all, so it all worked out really well, all things considered.) And once the train is off, you can expect to be in Paris in under three hours. Simply remarkable!

Since we wanted to see the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower and enjoy a lovely meal and walk around Paris’s boulevards in a single day, we had to plan things down to the hour. We arrived at Gare du Nord right on time at 9:22am and needed to navigate to the Louvre right away in order to arrive on time to make use of our 10:30am tickets to the museum. (Even with advance tickets, there was still a line to get through the Louvre’s security, but do buy your tickets to the Louvre ahead of time to save time standing in another line just to get a ticket.) Getting to the museum was really quite fun, as we got to ride on Paris’s Metropolitain (Paris’s version of the London Underground, of course), gazing upon those iconic art nouveau entrances (designed by Hector Guimard in the early 20th century) with their double lamp posts holding that classic Metropolitain sign, like two flower stems gracefully caressing a shard of pale springtime sun. We took the oh-so-creatively named 7 train (why Parisians didn’t take a note from the London Underground and name their Metro lines something more whimsical) from the Poissonnière station to the Palais Royal Musée du Louvre station, electing to buy a day pass for unlimited rides on the Metro for only 6 euros a piece (having inadvertently purchased day passes for children rather than adults, which would have been 12 euros a piece… please don’t tell anyone).

When we planned our visit to the Louvre back in the summer, we were so excited to learn that the museum was presenting a special exhibit featuring the work of Leonardo da Vinci (marking the fifth centenary of the artist’s death). So, naturally we purchased tickets for the exhibit, which also gave us access to the permanent collection. (You’re out of luck if you would like to go to the da Vinci exhibit, as there are no tickets available for the rest of its run, last I looked.) When we arrived (and I should have been expecting this) the exhibit was jam packed full of patrons, which made the whole experience appreciating Leonardo’s work all the more difficult, as there were no opportunities to have private moments with, for example, the Vitruvian Man. Rather, people crowded around the drawing, looking at it not through their own eyes but through their phones as they tried to take a photo of the damn thing. (Admittedly, I was doing the exact same thing, which made me realize how much we spend our days looking down a phone. It’s kind of horrible.)

Too many people in one space aside, it was really quite lovely to see so much of Leonardo’s work in one place. The whole exhibit was organized into four sections, and the first section highlighted Leonardo’s skill at painting light and shade. On display was a series of paintings of figures draped in fabric. Such an image may seem like nothing today, but in Leonardo’s time, no one really had yet been able to bring such drama to some elegantly draped fabric in such a realistic and enchanting way. (Plus these paintings are over 500 years old!) The second section was titled “Freedom,” which highlighted what Leonardo called componimento inculto or intuitive composition. There are a couple of examples you can look at that help demonstrate this kind of composition (his Madonna with a Fruit Bowl and his Madonna of the Cat), and you can see a frenetic energy behind the pen strokes that captures deliberate and graceful movements within the drawing. It was in this section of the exhibit where I also got to view La belle ferronnière, which is possibly a portrait of Beatrice d’Este or Lucrezia Crivelli or Isabella of Aragon. I prefer to think that it’s Beatrice (wife to the Duke of Milan), as I had recently performed an arrangement (violin, viola, piano) of a dance from a ballet by composer Reynaldo Hahn, Le bal de Beatrice d’Este–a work of music about what a ball might have been like at the Duke and Duchess’s palace (and who were both quite the patrons of the arts, having funded Leonardo’s work on The Last Supper). The image of Beatrice d’Este is so striking because, as the guidebook to the exhibit explained, “This work revolutionised [sic] the female portrait genre, introducing dynamic movement, more accurately rendered articulations, and an elusive gaze.” Certainly, Leonardo’s interest in intuitive composition, which helped him understand movement, deeply informed this (and other) paintings.

The third section (“Science”) highlighted Leonardo’s insatiable appetite to understand and question, so on display were various drawings of water gushing from a duct, human bones, and–of course–The Virtruvian Man. The whole exhibit closed with a fourth and final section called “Life,” which highlighted how his componimento inculto gave way to sfumato, that painting technique exemplified by lineless images where objects and spaces slowly blend into one another creating softened and misty forms. I got to view some real classics in this section, including Head of a Woman, The Virgin and Child with Saint Anne, and Saint John the Baptist.

If it feels like I’ve rushed through these last two sections of the exhibit, it’s because we rather had to keep on moving if we were to fit everything in that we had planned for the day. (Plus, my attention span in museums–no matter how dull or how great the place is–is about 43 minutes long, 62 minutes if something is really engaging.) Since we had access to the permanent collection with our da Vinci tickets, we did that oh-so-touristy thing of quickly finding the Mona Lisa (rushing past Liberty Leading the People totally on accident) and quickly finding the Venus de Milo, and then quickly rushing out of the Louvre altogether (where some young boys wanted to scalp our tickets). I must admit that the next time I’m in Paris I will probably not be going to the Louvre. I had been to this place once before, and I enjoyed my time immensely. But, this time around the museum was much more busy than I remembered it: droves and droves of people staring at incredible art through their phones as they take 17 pictures of whatever it is they’re not actually looking at; lines and lines of people queuing up to take a selfie with the Mona Lisa; hoards and hoards of people obscuring the view of something you yourself are trying to view. It was actually a somewhat unpleasant experience. (That said, I’m still glad I went, I suppose. Humans have got to put their phones down, though.)

Following the Louvre, we made our way to a restaurant called La Calèche (“The Carriage,” but it sounds so dumb in English) via the Pont Royal (one of the many bridges spanning the Seine from which we were allowed a momentary glimpse of a distant Notre Dame). The meal at La Calèche was improbably exquisite. Really. Some of the best food I have ever had. (It really is true what they say about the French and their food: c’est magnifique!) We started with sharing foie gras and chutney served with bread. Before you judge me for eating foie gras (not that anything I say can really excuse me), please know this was the first time I’ve ever had the sinful dish (and I’ll probably only have it maybe 3 more times in my entire life… well, maybe 23 more times). I’ve long been curious about foie gras, and I’m so happy that the first time I had it was in Paris (despite the grief I felt of indulging in such an unethical food). It was so creamy and so flavorful and just so, so good. For my main dish I had onglet de bœuf mariné, purée de patate douce et chimichurri, which was the tenderest slice of beef I have ever had, each piece just melting in my mouth and floating away in a celebration of euphoric ecstasy, delicate aromas, and transcendent flavors. And the sweet potato puree (everything sounds so dumb in English) was a cloud of sweet, buttery, self-indulgent bliss. For dessert I had my very own gâteau au chocolat with crème fraiche, and it was just so indescribably good. Seriously, I don’t know how to describe it. Each bite was an elegant triumph dancing about my mouth, a ballet of chocolate, a festival of sinful lust.

So, you simply must go to La Calèche, so conveniently located near the Louvre. Not only was the food just so, so good, the service was equally lovely and so, so friendly. I had quite the crush on our waiter, too, who was so warm and friendly as he helped translate the menu for us. And he was just so, so happy when I said what very little French I knew: “Oui! C’est magnifique! Merci beaucoup! Je voudrais boeuf! Je voudrais thé au lait! Au revoir!” I’m sure later on he spoke to his friends about how horribly I pronounced everything, but in the moment he seemed genuinely pleased I was able to say anything at all. Perhaps it was because I never once inquired, “Parlez vous anglais?”

Following dinner, we enjoyed a walk towards the Eiffel Tower along the Seine, catching glimpses of the Assemblée Nationale (home to the lower house of the French Parliament, a Greco Roman style building complete with twelve Corinthian columns); Les Invalides (a complex of museums and churches that also is home to Napoleon’s tomb, the golden Dôme des Invalides rising elegantly above the 17th century classical facade of the Musée de l’Armée); and the Grand Palais (home of the Universal Exhibition of 1900, a graceful structure of steel, stone, and glass, like a giant greenhouse, built in the Beaux-Arts style). Arriving right on schedule for our 4:30pm tickets to ascend the Eiffel Tower (do make sure to buy your tickets ahead of time, as we did), we made our way all the way to the top for some lovely, lovely views of the city. Last time I was in Paris, I didn’t prioritize ascending the tower, and I’m so glad that I finally did this time around. Viewing Paris from above is really quite a sight, as the city seems to have been planned with an ornate symmetry: wide boulevards segmenting grand buildings in a perfect geometry of triangles and trapezoids; the still-green-in-November Champ du Mars reaching towards the horizon; bridges crisscrossing the Seine in a masterful choreography. Even though I’m terribly afraid of heights (the lifts shake and the wind buffets the tower), it was really very exhilarating going all the way to the very top, and I highly recommend you carve time out of your visit to do the same. I also highly recommend that you time your visit to coincide with the setting sun, so that you can see this gorgeous city slowly light up in a soft, luminous glow as the sun disappears. It also allows you views within the tower as it, too, lights up.

By this point, we had to start making our way back to Gare du Nord to catch our 9:13pm train back to London (keeping in mind that we had to be back to the station by 8:13pm on account of security), but we were still able to move at a leisurely pace. We made our way to the Bir-Hakeim station (the walk allowed us views of the Eiffel Tower all aglow in light, even catching the top of the hour when it shimmered and sparkled for five minutes like a Christmas tree), so we could catch a 6 train to the Arc de Triomphe, that famous monument to those who fought and died for France in the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars. Obviously, the Arc de Triomphe is a marvelous, well, triumph in 19th century neoclassical architecture, and I always forget that it’s so big, standing at 50 meters tall. (Next time we shall have to carve out enough time to actually ascend all of its 280 stairs to allow ourselves even more breathtaking views of the city.) What’s perhaps not so much of a triumph, however, is the ridiculous Place Charles de Gaulle, that insane roundabout that totally surrounds the Arc. Historically called Place de l’Étoile because twelve avenues radiate away from the roundabout like a giant star, the roundabout must have had at least ten lanes of discordant traffic, angry drivers honking horns, brave souls weaving in an out of lanes that were constantly shifting and changing. At one point, Marie joked, “The Arc de Triomphe is lovely, but my god, would you look at this roundabout?”

We still had a spare few minutes, so we took a stroll down the famous Avenue des Champs-Élysées, one of those twelve avenues that converge on the Place Charles de Gaulle. Amy remarked that every city has a “Times Square” (in other words, a place so famous that so many people flock to the place just to flock to the place that it becomes overrun with people just flocking to a place because of the place’s reputation as a place to flock to); London has Picadilly Circus, for example, and Paris has Champs-Élysées. It was fine seeing this wide, busy street, its trees all lit up in tiny, gorgeous, red lights, the Arc de Triomphe standing majestically at one end, traffic slowly and inexplicably making its way towards the most ridiculous roundabout ever, but it’s not an avenue I’d probably deliberately seek out again. We did, however, enjoy some lovely hot chocolates at a little place called Jeff de Bruges, a French chain known for its chocolates and confections, and I also bought some Kusmi brand tea (from a drug store, of all places).

And just like that, our time in Paris came to a close. To get back to Gare du Nord, we got to ride on two of Paris’s RER trains (that’s Réseau Express Régionale or Regional Express Network), the A train and then the B train. These trains are slightly comfier than the regular trains on account of the greater distances they travel, but the train passes we bought were used interchangeably between the two systems.

Our adventures continue for two more days back in London. When I next write, I’ll regale you of stories of how pleasantly surprised we were how much we enjoyed visiting the Churchill War Rooms and then how unpleasantly surprised we were to learn that Evensong at Westminster isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.

“I don’t know where to begin.” -Paul McGann as the Doctor

On account of the fact that the following day involved an early, early train for a day to trip to Paris (the train departing at 5:40am from St. Pancras International), we needed to take things slowly and had to plan for an early return trip back to our flat in South Kensington to try to get to sleep a little earlier than normal. Somehow, however, we still managed to see quite a bit, as it was on this day that we got to see another one of those Big Unmissables and Must-Sees, as I like to call them: the Tower of London. I cautioned my fellow travelers that I could spend hours and hours at the Tower, but they didn’t at first believe me how that could be at all entirely possible. I had warned them that I had already visited the Tower twice before, but I still had yet to see every single corner of the place. (For the uninitiated, the Tower of London isn’t just a single tower. It’s a collection of towers and other buildings on a 12-acre site, all enclosed within two imposing concentric walls.) I was determined to finally, at last, check off all the things there are to see on a third visit.

The Tower of London is located right on the north bank of the River Thames right by Tower Bridge. In its long, long history dating all the way back to 1066 (that all important year when the Normans invaded England and ended 600 years of Saxon rule), the Tower has been a prison, royal palace, and fortress. (In many ways, it’s still a fortress, as the Tower still houses and protects the Crown Jewels. More on that later.) Its status as royal palace is immediately clear if you start your visit by exploring Wakefield Tower, St. Thomas’s Tower, and Lanthorn Tower–three towers that are collectively known as the Medieval Palace. (I’d recommend starting with these three towers, as they are all located along the southern wall right as you enter, and you can plan your explorations by following the outer walls in an anti-clockwise direction.) The inside of St. Thomas’s Tower has been carefully reconstructed to look like what it might have looked like in the 13th century when this tower would have been used by Edward I as his bedchamber: an elegant bed adorned with maroon bed curtains; a stately fireplace brightened with colorful coats of arms; and in the corner a small chamber with a tiled floor of maroons and greens with a modest altar that Edward would have used for prayer. Wakefield Tower, on the other hand, is slightly more sparsely furnished, but in this open space you can gaze upon a recreation of Henry III’s throne; marvel at the stately vaulted ceiling; and pause at the private chapel (a small space sectioned off by a modest wooden screen painted in patterns of gold, green, and red) where Henry VI was murdered (his opponents contrarily insist he actually died of melancholy upon news of the death of his son). Lastly, Lanthorn Tower (which would have been the royal chambers for Eleanor, Queen Consort of England during the reign of Henry III) today houses a small exhibit containing artifacts (coins, trinkets, chalices) that help reveal what courtly life would have been like in the 13th century.

We carried onwards along the eastern wall, visiting the Salt Tower (so-named probably because this is where salt was stored, salt requiring incredible security as it was once very expensive; I can’t even image how bland soup for peasants might have once tasted) where you can view graffiti carved into the walls by countless individuals who were imprisoned in this particular tower. Our walk along the eastern wall continued north with a visit to the Broad Arrow Tower (where you can take part in an interactive exhibit, learn about how medieval garrisons would have protected the Tower, and wield a crossbow) and then a visit to Martin Tower (which used to house the Crown Jewels but now houses the Crowns and Diamonds exhibit, which details the history of the royal crowns and the various jewels that were used to adorn them). It’s near the Martin Tower where you can also view metallic wire sculptures of baboons scaling a wall. The baboons are one part of a collection of artworks by Kendra Haste who was commissioned to create a total of 13 sculptures (also including lions, a polar bear, and an elephant) that recreate the menagerie of animals that would have once lived at the Tower.

Following an actually somewhat surprisingly pleasant lunch at the New Armouries Cafe located within the Tower (one of four places to grab a bite to eat on your visit), we visited the Fusilier Museum, something I had missed on my first two previous visits to the Tower. If there’s anything that I’d recommend you skip if you are short on time, it’s this museum. Unless you have an interest in military history, you won’t find this part very engaging, but the exhibit itself is very expertly prepared. In addition to a display of a collection of various military medals awarded to distinguished individuals, there’s an informative exhibit detailing the history of the Royal Regiment of Fusiliers, created by James II in 1685 to protect the guns at the Tower, but who went on to fight in many important wars from the American War of Independence to the Second World War. On display are uniforms, photos, documents, and various other artifacts that tell the story of the fusiliers extensive involvement in Britain’s military history.

Following the museum, we made our way to the White Tower, which is the main tower that was built during the 1080s. While technically a rectangle (its base measures at 32×36 meters and stands 27 meters high), it’s an impressive square-shaped structure of stones in shades of whites, greys, and light browns with square towers on three of its corners and a round one on its fourth. Inside is the Line of Kings (a collection of suits of armor worn by long-dead monarchs, including Henry VIII, Charles I, and James II), an exhibit called Torture at the Tower (where you can view, among other things, an executioner’s block used at the last public execution in 1747), and the modest St. John’s Chapel (which we had totally bypassed by accident on account of rushing through the White Tower due to lack of time, but which I had already visited twice before and which I highly recommend you make sure to also visit).

Following the White Tower, we enjoyed a real highlight from our visit to the Tower, something I highly recommend you take part in: a Yeoman Warder tour. These tours begin by the main visitors’ entrance at the southwest corner every half hour, and they last about 30 minutes. The Yeoman Warders (also called Beefeaters, possibly because they used to be paid in chunks of beef) will be sure to entertain, as they inhabit gruff characters who demand your rapt attention and brisk walking pace. The tour will always be sightly different depending on how the weather cooperates. Ours took us from the entrance to the Tower Green to the Chapel Royal of St. Peter ad Vincula, taking note of the Jewel House in the Waterloo Block on our way. In the Chapel Royal, we learned about the beheading of Anne Boleyn at the nearby Tower Green and her resting place in the Chapel Royal. The Chapel Royal was also one of the buildings I finally got to visit after having missed it twice before, so it was so lovely to finally have completed this particular pilgrimage.

There’s really just so much to see at the Tower, which is why it’s so easy to spend hours and hours here and write paragraphs and paragraphs about it. We tried to see as much as we could, and I’m shortchanging so many of the details: the Crown Jewels (including coronation regalia, crowns and crowns and crowns, swords, maces, banqueting plates, sceptres, that one spoon); the Bloody Tower (where Sir Walter Raleigh, among others, was imprisoned first for secretly marrying his lover Elizabeth Throckmorton and later for a false accusation regarding his involvement in dethroning James I); the Beauchamp Tower (where you can see even more elaborate graffiti carved into its walls by various prisoners); and a few more locations that we didn’t have time for (the Tower’s Mint, for example). Ideally, if you have the time and if you have a deep fascination for English history, plan on spending a whole day here from open until close. It really is possible to get lost in all the Tower’s expansiveness. Fortunately, however, after three visits across thirteen years, I finally managed to see every single nook and cranny of this place!

Following the Tower of London, we needed to make our way to the Globe Theatre. So, we made our way on foot via Tower Bridge. (Do go out of your way to at least walk across the bridge, but I also must highly recommend you purchase tickets to visit the inside as well. We didn’t have time to do that this time around, but I had explored Tower Bridge more thoroughly on my last visit to London, and it was all very well worth it.) After the bridge our stroll continued west along the south bank of the Thames (which also provided us views of the docked H.M.S. Belfast, currently an Imperial War Museum that I should like to visit on a future return adventure to London). Soon, we were back at the Globe, which we had seen only from the outside on Friday when we visited the nearby Sam Wanamaker Playhouse to attend an absolutely exquisite production of Richard III, but this time around we had tickets for a guided tour of the inside of the Globe Theatre itself. We were guided by a young gentleman called Sam Veck (himself and actor), who was quite knowledgeable about Shakespeare and the history of theatre in London, telling us with just enough humor about the Globe of old (how it was conveniently located just right outside the City of London where Puritans didn’t have any power in shutting it down) and the Globe of now (how American actor Sam Wanamaker was so dismayed to discover that no physical structure existed at the site where the Globe once stood and so made it his mission to change that, and by 1997 the Globe as it stands today opened to audiences with a production of Henry V).

I do recommend a guided tour of the Globe, as it allows you to really take in the whole structure: the elaborately painted ceiling above the stage that depicts the moon and the Zodiac; the open air design of the 20-sided circular building with its thatched roof and three tiers of seating; the small attic space above the theatre where lots of the sound effects would be performed. The tour also allows you to hear little gems like how the two great pillars that hold up the canopy above the stage (painted in a way to suggest they are made of red marble) are made of oak trees–one from England and one from Scotland–to represent the two monarchs who lived during Shakepeare’s time, Elizabeth I and James I. Sadly, we didn’t get to watch a play at the Globe, as they don’t perform from November to March on account of how cold it would be, so we shall just have to again return to London sometime during their season!

Following the Globe, we concluded our day by having dinner at a restaurant called Goat, located near our flat in South Kensington and billed as a “New York-Italian” restaurant. I enjoyed their smoked aubergine and tomato risotto, and–having had risotto in New York at an Italian restaurant a couple years ago–I must say it really did impress. If you happen to find yourself in South Kensington, do seek out this place, as it was really quite fine dining. (Our server was quite friendly as well!) And with that, it was off to bed, much earlier than normal, as Paris awaited early the next morning…

“Are you trying to be funny?” -Colin Baker as the Doctor

After a slow start to the morning (sometimes you have to have a slow start), Amy and I headed off to the British Library via the Victoria line to the King’s Cross St. Pancras station (where we’ll return to again very early on Wednesday morning in order to depart via the Eurostar for a day trip to Paris). St. Pancras is a large international railway station, and it’s worth going out of the way for just to marvel at the architecture alone: a large red brick Victorian gothic building with a tall, elegant clock tower at its southeast corner. Irritatingly, during the 1960s, plans surfaced to demolish the building, but opposition was so fierce that a huge renovation project was undertaken instead. And thank goodness for that, as it’s a gorgeous, gorgeous building, and it would’ve been a crime to tear it down.

The nearby British Library, on the other hand, deserves to be torn down because it’s actually really ugly, a building that wouldn’t look out of place on a United States college campus: red brick arranged in stark lines of no character, a series of imposing black mono-pitched roofs, a courtyard of more red brick and cement arranged in boring and uninspiring squares. The fact that it’s right next to the supremely exquisite St. Pancras International building only magnifies how utterly grotesque and hideous the British Library building is. And to think that the largest library in the world (by number of items in the catalogue) is honored with this monstrosity frankly boggles my mind. But oh well, I don’t have to look at it every day.

Anyway, the point of our visit was to view the Treasures of the British Library exhibit, which has on display quite a few items I’ve wanted to see for quite some time: original manuscripts by Handel, Britten, Bach, Mozart, Schoenberg, and more; a copy of Shakespeare’s First Folio (we had previously seen another copy at his house in Stratford); a Gutenberg Bible; handwritten lyrics by the Beatles; and a copy of the Magna Carta, which was a real inspiring moment in particular. I’ve long wanted to make this pilgrimage to the British Library to view these incredible items in their collection, and I’m so happy I finally have. I’ll have to return again some day to explore more of the library, as its a vast, vast collection and the Treasures exhibit is only a small, small (albeit significant) part of the whole collection. Perhaps next time, however, I’ll wear a blindfold on my approach to the library, so as to prevent damage to my retina should I gaze on its hideous exterior again.

Following the library, we made our way back to the City of Westminster to attend a guided tour of the Palace of Westminster. With some time to spare before the tour and feeling a need for some tea and a bite to eat, we discovered a cafe in the nearby Supreme Court building called, er, the Supreme Court Cafe, where a large stately bust of Edward VII surveyed all the cafe tables with a commanding stare. Near the cafe, we passed by a mini exhibit highlighting the history of the court where we learned that the British hilariously didn’t have a Supreme Court until 2009, created by Parliament with a 2005 act that declared that the new court would inherit the judicial duties of the House of Lords, thereby creating a clearer separation of powers between legislative and judicial duties of the government. (I wonder where they got this idea from. Sounds familiar somehow.)

Following an average tea I wouldn’t label supreme in any way, we headed over to Parliament to attend what ended up being a really engaging and informative tour of the Palace of Westminster. I highly recommend prioritizing a guided tour of the building, and make sure you buy your tickets at least a couple days in advance (maybe even further in advance depending on the time of year) as they do sell out.

The tour includes visits to quite a few important rooms. We were allowed to gaze upon Westminster Hall, which is the oldest part of all of Parliament dating from 1097 (yes, 1097) when the palace was used as a royal residence. Today, its stone walls, elegant and ornate ceiling, and hammer beam roof is used for the U.K.’s lying-in-state ceremony, reserved for deceased monarchs and—on rare occasions—particularly prominent individuals like Winston Churchill. We also got to see the Central Lobby, the main area for traffic between the House of Lords and the House of Commons and also the space where the BBC would broadcast from should they be reporting on news from Parliament. It’s an opulent space of elaborate mosaics of patron saints; a golden ornate domed ceiling; decorative floor tiles of slate, cream, blue, and red; and statues upon statues of kings and queens.

A visit to Parliament wouldn’t be complete without a visit to the House of Commons chamber, the large room lined with the iconic green benches and which is the room that seems to get most of the attention on the news: MPs yelling at each other to defend their position; the speaker of the house screaming, “Order!” to calm the robust dialogue; the opposition booing the Prime Minister at every chance. The visit to the House of Lords chamber, on the other hand, highlights some stark differences between the two chambers. It was grander because this is the room where the queen sits at the state opening of Parliament in a large ornate wooden throne placed prominently beneath an equally ornate golden canopy at the head of the chamber. There were also elegant golden arches framing tall stained glass windows depicting various coats of arms, and, of course, the four rows of red cushioned benches running parallel to the long chamber walls.

The tour guide was also so, so knowledgeable, regaling us with stories about how no one can touch the statue of Winston Churchill anymore  because his foot has worn down due to MPs rubbing it for good luck before a vote; how Margaret Thatcher was disappointed to learn that that her statue was made of bronze rather than iron as befitted her nickname, the Iron Lady; how MPs have eight minutes to return to Parliament after the Division Bell has rung in the case where a vote needs to be taken by MPs filing into either a yay or nay chamber; how one MP was in the toilet on the nay side when the bell was rung and couldn’t leave the toilet until the vote was over because then he’d’ve cast a nay vote thereby also missing his chance to vote yay; how at the state opening of Parliament there is a senior officer called the Black Rod, who uses a staff to knock on the door to the House of Commons after it has been slammed in their face as a symbol of the independence of the House of Commons from the House of Lords, a section of the door worn down because of decades of knocking; the doors are then opened and then the MPs in the Commons are led to the Lords so they can hear the queen’s speech.

Following a simply marvelous and informative visit to Parliament, Amy and I made our way to the Old Vic (discovering the Leake Street Arches on the way: an old disused tunnel that has been reimagined with vibrantly colorful graffiti art; various businesses also repurposing the space for their use, where we had the most mediocre and bland pho while listening to horrible, horrible music at Banh Boa Brothers) to meet up with Aaron to enjoy a production of A Christmas Carol.

This production was—shall we say—different. Describing something in that way (especially when exclaimed as, “Well, that’s different!”) is Minnesotan for, “Not very good at all.” Like the Leake Street Arches, this production was also a reimagining, except that sometimes a story is so, so great and so, so classic, and so, so iconic, that any reimagining just simply will not work no matter how skilled the artists. And this is the Old Vic, we’re talking about here, an icon in its own right.

Something was off from the very start. It was all very monochrome, carolers and musicians singing jolly Christmas tunes but dressed in long black coats and black top hats as if they were attending a funeral. And this one-note aesthetic bled through the entire production. While it was exciting to see Patterson Joseph (of Peep Show acclaim) on stage, I don’t think the part works for him. Whether it was due to the actor’s choices or Matthew Warchus’s direction, I felt that all Joseph did was scream and yell. Scrooge is, of course, an unpleasant fellow who should scream and yell from time to time, but the character should also be terribly unpleasant with his scornful whispered remarks (“I wish to be left alone”), terribly sympathetic when a tear roles down his cheek at the site of his younger self sitting all alone at school reading a book (“I was a boy here”), and terribly relatable when he’s a reformed new man (“I will honor Christmas in my heart and try to keep it all the year”). None of those shades were present in this production. It was all, well, monochromatic.

I think much blame lies at Jack Thorne’s adaptation as well. He got rid of iconic moments like the bells ringing in Scrooge’s home before Marley’s ghost appears. He made curious narrative choices, adding a chorus of actors that essentially read from the book to describe what’s happening rather than just showing us what’s happening. He supplanted Scrooge’s dead sister Fan for the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. He even got rid of Tiny Tim’s use of crutches and an iron frame! By the end of the first act, Scrooge was still just yelling and screaming with no hint of his transformation to come. The entire arc of Scrooge’s character was totally ignored.

The list of sins is endless: the Ghosts of Past and Present were dressed identically in ugly, ugly dresses of a patchwork of maroons and creams while inexplicably pushing a trolley with a lantern on it; Fezziwig inexplicably managed a funeral home; Tiny Tim died during the present rather than the future. Worst of all, however, was when the whole play devolved into a pantomime when Scrooge was preparing to bring a feast to the Cratchit house: potatoes sliding down long white chutes of fabric into wooden harvesting buckets; Brussels sprouts literally parachuting into the audience; Scrooge almost being knocked off stage when a giant turkey on a platter came swinging in on a rope like a ridiculous chandelier. (Pantomime is, of course, uniquely British, Ian McKellen himself remarking during last night’s show, “[Pantomime] doesn’t travel well.”)

But the most confusing thing of all? The audience LOVED this shit! For real! I couldn’t believe it. They were clapping and whistling and laughing and whooping and eating all this idiocy up like it was going out of style! It was so strange. I do love the British, but there are some things I will never understand: their monarchy; their resistance to embracing the EU; and their love of pantomime, to name a few. I just don’t get it.

And so, on that note (and with apologies for the length of this post; I try to keep them at 1000-1200 words, this one clocking in at over 2000), a rather manic day filled with such rewarding moments at the British Library and Parliament and such angering moments at the Old Vic. We can’t always win.

Our adventures continue the next day with the Tower of London and the Globe Theatre…

“I think you’re forgetting something. If there’s one thing I can do is talk.” Christopher Eccleston as Doctor Who

Last post I wrote at length about how much I adore visiting St. Paul’s Cathedral. I consistently rate the experience of visiting the marvel five out of five stars. Buckingham Palace, on the other hand, isn’t as special an experience. I still recommend going for a visit, especially on a Sunday when traffic to the Mall (the street that runs west to east from the palace all the way to Trafalgar Square, St. James’s Park bordering the Mall on the south) is closed, so pedestrians can enjoy views of the palace and the nearby Victoria Monument without all the hustle and bustle of cars and busses circling about. That said, I don’t think I’ll go out of my way to see Buckingham Palace on future visits, especially now that I’ve also witnessed the Changing of the Guard. (I never got to see the ceremony during my first two visits to London.)

The Changing of the Guard is, well, fine. It’s exactly as you’d expect, I suppose. The new guard gets ready at Wellington Barracks by St. James’s Park; the old guard stationed at St. James’s Palace will leave the palace in formation and march down the Mall towards Buckingham Palace while the old guard at Buckingham Palace will line up and wait at the nearby gates; the new guard will then march in formation from the barracks to Buckingham Palace; then both old and new will present arms and exchange keys; once everyone’s inspected and counted, the old guard goes to the barracks and the new guard goes to their stations at the two palaces; and through most of this, the band plays a selection of tunes to entertain the hoards viewing all this ridiculous pageantry, tunes ranging from patriotic to popular. (I believe they played ABBA at one point).

So, it’s fine. Go if you want. (Or don’t.) Whatever you do is fine. I honestly don’t care what you do. If navigating a packed crowd (everyone’s mouths agape, children asking ridiculous questions when the answer is right in front of their eyes) and standing on tip-toes to (maybe) catch a glimpse of the proceedings sounds interesting to you (try to be at least six feet tall, if you can) then by all means go ahead. Have a blast.

After Buckingham Palace, we made our way east on the Mall and then north through various streets (discovering St. James’s Palace on accident, a red brick Tudor building built during the reign of Henry VIII) to visit and explore the Soho area of the City of Westminster in the West End, a major entertainment hub for theatres, restaurants, pubs, and shops. It was really quite lovely to get out of the more touristy zones for a change in favor of neighborhoods like Soho. It was also really quite lovely to just walk around to see what we might discover, no real plan in hand.

As it was lunchtime, we elected to try out a place called the Blue Posts, but not before stopping at a Caffe Nero on the way, a coffee and tea chain this side of the Atlantic that actually makes quite good coffee and tea (which I generally don’t expect from chains). Blue Posts, on the other hand, is a “traditional corner pub with basic menu,” as Google describes it, and that’s basically what it was. Amy, Aaron, and I decided to have a traditional Sunday roast that came with roast beef, roasted potatoes and carrots, Yorkshire pudding, gravy, cheesy cauliflower, and something else, I think. It was actually somewhat unmemorable and clearly didn’t leave a lasting impression. (The Sunday roast I had outside Oxford at a pub called the Bear and Ragged Staff on our first day in England was far, far better.)

Following our mediocre Sunday roast, we decided to make our way on foot to the London County Hall to enjoy an afternoon production of Agatha Christie’s Witness for the Prosecution, stopping by Trafalgar Square (where we noticed a pedestrian crosswalk signal that used the “double male” symbol signifying gay men rather than the more usual “walking man” symbol), the Women of World War II monument on Whitehall (a rather tall, ominous, austere, black monument depicting the various roles women had during the war), and, naturally (because it’s hard to miss) Elizabeth Tower and Westminster Bridge.

As Witness is performed at County Hall, it is conveniently staged in a real courtroom within the hall, which was once the headquarters for the local London government but is now occupied by businesses and (probably boring) attractions like Sea Life London Aquarium and London Dungeon. The whole structure is a large six-storey building designed in an Edwardian Baroque style, a stately crescent in the middle flanked by two rectangular wings on each side.

Originally a short story written by Christie in 1925 and then adapted by her into a play and premiered at the Winter Garden Theatre in 1953, this current production of Witness for the Prosecution was simply astonishing and gripping, superb and transcendent, an absolute marvel, a real gem, an incredible performance! Really, truly, deeply, a must-see event! The cast features such powerhouses as Jeffrey Kissoon as Mr. Justice Wainwright, Jane Lambert as Janet MacKenzie, Kevin McMonagle as Mr. Myers QC, Owen Oakeshott as Inspector Hearne, and Crispin Redman as Mr. Mayhew, but also relative newcomers making their West End debut: Taz Skylar as Leonard Vole, Amelia Annowska as the Woman, Craig Talbot as the Detective/Policeman, and George Howard as the Clerk of the Court. But despite different levels of experience, the entire case was rock solid (a testament to the work of director Lucy Bailey), each and every one of them delivering riveting, captivating, engrossing performances. And everything else was equally superb and magnificent: the lighting by Chris Davey, the sound by Mic Pool, the set design by William Dudley. And to everyone else I left out in interest of space: bravo, bravo, bravo!

But lastly, we have much to be thankful for in Christie’s writing. I had read the short story ahead of attending this show, and I had also read about how she had changed the ending for the play. (I won’t spoil it for you.) But it is all really quite ingenious the tale she weaves of multiple characters’ perceptions of the murder that was committed, the lies and truths that were told, the memories of individuals that flit between fickle and reliable. It’s really quite remarkable. Her ability as a writer is simply astonishing: to persuade readers that any one of the disparate stories told could be the truth, that any one of the characters’ beliefs in what is true could be the correct belief.

I could keep gushing and gushing about how much I loved this production! Simply spectacular! Definitely the greatest performance I’ve seen of any show in quite some time! Just go see it! You must!

Anyway, onwards. As Witness was a 3:00 show, we had plenty of time for post show ales at a lovely little pub dating from the 18th century, tucked away on Rose Street in Covent Garden, called the Lamb and Flag. Over ales, we realized we hadn’t yet had any proper Indian food on our adventures, so we made 8:00 reservations at a place called Farzi Cafe. There, we enjoyed salmon tikka, braised lamb shank (“nihari”), and wagyu beef boti kebab with, naturally, an assortment of cocktails. Both places were quite lovely, and both places provided an excellent way to end such a fantastic afternoon of theatre.

Our evening then came to a close, but not before we enjoyed some nighttime views of Christmas displays near Picadilly Circus on our way home to South Kensington. The next day, we continued to have more adventures in London, but it was on this day that we learned that even the British can (patron me) fuck up a Charles Dickens classic.

“Come on, then! Places to go!” -Jodie Whittaker as the Doctor

London has a few sites that I’d call the Big Unmissables and Must-Sees. I count St. Paul’s Cathedral in that list. It’s one of those places to visit that I’d give the whole experience the full five stars out of five, meaning that I enjoy visiting the cathedral so, so much, the whole experience is so perfect, I could go again and again and again and never tire of seeing it. (As opposed to Shakespeare’s house, which I’d give a solid three stars: I’m glad I went but I probably won’t ever go back.)

I don’t know what I can really say about this place beyond how gorgeous this masterpiece of Christoper Wren’s is! I could keep gushing about how much I love coming here, but I don’t know how many times I can say that before I run out of superlatives. The architecture is the most gorgeous; the dome is the most impressive; the black and white tiles of the floor are the most iconic; the elaborate tile work in the apses below the dome depicting the death and resurrection of Jesus is the most stunning; visiting the final resting places in the crypt of so many great men and women is the most humbling.

But I think what really tops everything off is climbing all 528 stairs to the topmost gallery that visitors are allowed to go. The stair count might sound daunting, but I often find the trek up all those stairs very manageable. (I am young and bike a minimum of 16 miles a day, however.) But, if you are even just in moderately good condition, you simply must visit the galleries for some of the most impressive views of the city. The Stone Gallery is 53 meters from the cathedral floor and provides a midway break to rest up while enjoying lovely, lovely views, while the Golden Gallery is 85 meters above the floor and provides what I really think are the best views of the entire city. Beat that, London Eye! (You can’t.)

So, if it’s still not clear: do go to St. Paul’s Cathedral. And then return again and again and again. A visit here never disappoints.

Following St. Paul’s, we made our way to Greenwich via a walk across the Millennium Bridge. We really wanted to take a Thames Link river boat to Greenwich from Bankside Pier, but our Oyster cards didn’t work, and none of the staff were very helpful getting us a one-way ticket. So, we just decided to hop on the ever reliable Underground at London Bridge (but not before accidentally discovering the gorgeous Southwark Cathedral, a modest gothic style cathedral situated near Pickford Wharf), taking the Jubilee line to Canary Wharf (where we got to take in views of the tallest building in this particular district, One Canada Square) and then the DLR to Greenwich. It was lovely taking the DLR, as I had yet to ride the Overground light rails in this city, and they’re just as lovely as their Underground counterparts.

We were due for lunch, so Amy’s Lonely Planet guide of London suggested a place called Rivington Grill, where we enjoyed a decadent, decadent meal, spending more money than I care to remember, but it was so worth it: Irish oysters and deviled kidneys on toast to start; battered haddock, chips, and mushy peas for Aaron and me; monkfish and prawn masala for Amy; and one or three gin cocktails. If you find yourself in Greenwich, do seek out Rivington Grill. So, so good!

Following our late lunch, it was already getting dark at 3:30, so we had to make our way to Greenwich Park with what little daylight hours we had left. Next time I return to London, I want to carve out more time for a proper trip to the park and actually visit the insides of the various buildings here. Walking around and enjoying only the outside, however, did provide a tantalizing glimpse of what there is to discover: a time ball sitting atop the modest tower of the Royal Observatory; the dome of the Great Equatorial Telescope; a statue of General James Wolfe who helped secure Canada from the French in the 18th century; the Old Royal Observatory Garden; and, of course, the Prime Meridian itself, marked by an unassuming line indented into a walk that wraps around the observatory.

The observatory sits atop a really tall hill (the trek up the steep grade of the walk will get your blood flowing) that provides magnificent views of Canary Wharf. Visiting the site of the observatory for this view alone was well worth the journey even though we missed out on a more thorough tour of the observatory itself. Next time, indeed, we will prioritize Greenwich a little better.

What we did prioritize, though, was a really, really special night of theatre. We made our way to the West End (but not before making some unplanned hit-and-run visits to Greenwich Market, an old world clipper ship preserved as a museum on the south bank of the Thames at Greenwich Pier called Cutty Sark, the Tower of London, and Tower Bridge) met up with Marie and Shawn, and arrived at the Harold Pinter Theatre to enjoy the one man show, Ian McKellen on Stage with Tolkien, Shakespeare, Others, and YOU featuring, naturally, Sir Ian himself—a show celebrating his 80th birthday with proceeds benefiting a particular charity unique to each venue.

He began the show reciting the passage from The Fellowship of the Ring where Gandalf commands, “You shall not pass!” in the face of the giant Balrog demon. Naturally, this pleased the audience to no end. The show wasn’t all recitations, of course, large sections of Sir Ian sharing his memories of his incredible life: from the personal and funny (how much he adored beautiful Orlando Bloom; how the Queen was wearing lime green when he was knighted) to the serious and disturbing (how his boyfriend could have lost his teaching job during an era when it was illegal for two people of the same gender to be lovers; how as late as 1988, Parliament passed Section 28 which declared that no teacher may intentionally promote homosexuality). He also managed to make jabs at Brexit (throwing a small, small carrot into the audience during a pantomime skit, exclaiming, “Stick that up Brexit!”) and people who are isolationists and anti-immigration.

During the interval (i.e. intermission), Sir Ian actually entered the audience, shaking hands and saying hello to people. At one point, he was a mere four feet from me. How surreal that was to stand so close to such a person of his prestige.

The second half was more of a game, Sir Ian taking out copies of all of Shakespeare’s plays in several stacks, the audience guessing the titles from memory (we managed to list them all), and he would either regale us with a story about a production he might’ve been in (or not been in) or he would recite a passage from the play in question. We all marveled at how he was able to remember all these passages, Sir Ian himself remarking that at one time everyone needed to remember everything, but today only actors need to remember things since now we have books and the internet.

So, a simply transcendent night of theatre! (Although I must admit that clocking in at 3 hours and combine that with uncomfortable seats and a warm theatre, it did feel a bit long.) However, it was Sir Ian! How cool is that! Happy 80th birthday, Sir Ian McKellen!

And with that, we headed back to South Kensington to our flat, high off of the fact that we all got to see Sir Ian McKellen live at the Harold Pinter. What could possibly top this?

 

“There’s always something to look at if you open your eyes!” Peter Davison as the Doctor

Oh, London! I’ve fallen in love with you all over again! And oh, how I fear that we will break each other’s hearts all over again in a week’s time when we have to leave each other for separate ways. But don’t let’s think of such matters while we still have each other presently. Here’s to our grand old times!

Before we arrived in my favorite city, we had to negotiate some very heavy traffic the closer and closer we got to Heathrow from Hastings. The nearer and nearer we got to the city, the happier and happier I was to leave the car behind in favor of traveling by train. And, at last, arrived we finally did, leaving the car behind and jumping on my favorite Underground line of them all: the Piccadilly line with complete service to Cockfosters. I had long talked to my traveling companions about how much I adore the Underground because of how reliable, user friendly, and timely it is. Unusually, however, we were let down twice on our journey to the city centre: once because the Picadilly train we were on unexpectedly had to terminate early; and twice because a signal was down causing the same line to run slowly. Fortunately, we were able to switch to a District line train at Acton Town, which brought us all the way to Victoria Station without any further fusses. Then, at last, after dropping our bags at the Victoria station temporarily since we couldn’t check in to our Air B&B in London until 3:00, we could enjoy London on foot, taking a walk down Victoria Street (stopping at a pub called the Greencoat Boy, which ended up being our first disappointing meal on our whole holiday) and eventually enjoying views of Westminster Abbey and the Palace of Westminster and Elizabeth Tower (er, “Big Ben,” and all that).

Whenever I think of London, I always think of this part of the city first, especially the view of the Palace of Westminster from the south bank of the Thames, Westminster Bridge reaching towards the north bank of the Thames on the right, which is why it was just so distracting to see Elizabeth Tower wrapped in scaffolding due to a restoration project started in 2017, to be completed in 2021. It’s all necessary work, of course, in order to ensure the tower’s continued existence for future generations, but it’s still frustrating in the moment. And I felt bad for Aaron, Amy, Marie, and Shawn who had never seen the tower before, only to come all this way and still not see it. We’ll have to just come back another time!

After lamenting the state of the tower for a bit, our walk continued north on Belvedere Road past the London County Hall (where we will return to again on Sunday to enjoy an Agatha Christie play, Witness for the Presecution), then past the London Eye (I told everyone they could ride it if they want but that I wouldn’t because I’d already done it, it’s expensive, it’s not really all that exciting, and that better views will come from atop St. Paul’s Cathedral anyway), and then eventually past Southbank Centre (a concrete brutalist structure that I’ve long wanted to visit on account of the BBC using the location in the Doctor Who serial Frontier in Space.)

At this point, it was time to head back towards Victoria Station to pick up our luggage and check in to our Air B&B. Our journey brought us along the Golden Jubilee Bridge (where we met, shall we say, a rather colorful young woman with missing teeth and who, with a breath of booze and meth, asked us if we knew where the connections were), then through the arched passageway of the neoclassic Dover House (which houses Scotland Office, the U.K. government department that handles all affairs between Scotland and the U.K. government), past the Horse Guards Parade and Old Admiralty Building (a large four storey red brick building with an eggshell-hued facade of classical columns that was once until 1964 the official residence of the First Lords of the Admiralty), then by St. James’s Park, and eventually back down Victoria Street to Victoria Station.

By the time we got to South Kensington where our flat was (after a much less eventful ride on the Circle Line), it felt so, so good to have a place to stay for an entire week. Amy, Aaron, and I continued carrying on, however, as we had tickets to see Richard III at the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse (the playhouse next to the Globe). But we first went to the connecting Swan where we treated ourselves to cocktails (take note, America, the simplicity of their cocktails, created with fewer ingredients and minimal fuss, allowing imbibers the ability to predict what the cocktail will be like without having to weigh the tastes of 18 ingredients) and a board of cheeses, meats, hummus, lightly deep fried vegetables, and pickled onions.

The production of Richard III that followed was just simply and utterly fantastic. Just absolutely fantastic! “Six thumbs up!” Amy exclaimed. The play featured some inspired casting (Sophie Russell as Richard; Steffan Donnelly as Margaret; and Sarah Amankwah as Edward, to name only a few), but the whole entire cast was absolutely faultless. In fact, everything was faultless. I just can’t stop gushing about how absolutely perfect this production was!

The whole show was lit by candlelight, six candelabras overhead that were raised and lowered throughout the play as the action required (at one point, Richard was able to give each candelabra a gentle push so all six of them swing slowly like ancient pendulums). Musicians sat upstage on a raised platform above an elegant archway that was, at times, boarded up with particle board or draped in heavy sheets of plastic. Richard began the show dressed like a tennis player who might’ve fallen down a muddy ditch, but who—as they grabbed more and more power—would dress in flashy, sparkling, white suits. And the show wasn’t afraid to indulge in some dark humor, Richard often appearing onstage when the various characters were killed off, indulging in—at one point—a mariachi dance and singing a happy celebratory tune. Nor did the show shy away from showing lots of blood, Richard at one point killing a character like a vampire, drinking the blood of the victim, both characters drenched in blood when the task was completed.

And, I’m not embarrassed to admit, that I have a really hard time comprehending Shakespeare. However, the program had a really detailed summary of the play, so I was able to follow along with the summary as the action happened, and—for once in my life—I was able to comprehend Shakespeare as it happened in real time. I might suggest more companies do this very thing. I found it very helpful, and I enjoyed the work so much more.

And there it is. First day back in London in the books. We have so much more to do in the week to come, and it’s going to be fantastic!