A friend of mine, after a visit to Paris, was in London this weekend, getting ready to head back to the states. She asked my to join her for some sight-seeing. Since I like sites, and seeing them, this sounded like a good plan.
So I boarded the Megabus 7AM Saturday morning, and arrived at Victoria Station promptly 3 hours later. Of course things couldn't go smoothly. Not yet. The Northern Line was down, and that caused her to get lost. So, rather that have her try again, we met up at Embankment, and began our journey. Of course, like most women I know, she had 53 things on our "agenda" and only one day to hit them all. Talking a woman out of something she wants to do is alot like talking a jumper down off a ledge. It's not always pretty, but the alternative is always worse.
We decided to start with St. Paul's Cathedral. After grabbing some grub we went inside. Side note: if you have to ask someone else if you like something, you probably don't, so maybe you shouldn't get that ham and coleslaw sandwich. Anyway, the inside of this place is gorgeous! By far the best one I've seen. I even stole a shot or two of the inside. I mean, besides the stairwell that you see here. I just thought that one had some interesting perspective. Florence Nightingale is buried there, too, along with many others. 530 stairs to the very top of the cathedral. That's like 259 to the Whispering Gallery, 109 more to the Stone Gallery, and 152 after that to the Golden Gallery (no relation to me). That's alot of steps! But it was worth it. The Stone and Golden Galleries are outside and look out over all of London. What a view. As for the Whispering Gallery, it is said you can whisper into the wall and someone on the other side, 30 meters away, will be able to hear you. Well, it didn't work for me. I think it was because it was too loud in the cathedral (there was a sermon of some sort going on). Better luck next time. Either way, I'd strongly recommend this cathedral.
Much better than the Tate Modern museum. I discovered I don't really like modern art. I was there all of 15 minutes. For starters, the ADD-like symptoms often prevent me from really enjoying museums in the first place, except for the ones where you can play with things, but I often look out of place in the ball pit. And, secondly, I think anyone can paint a canvas blue. Why would you hang that on your wall, call it art, and call me famous? Weird.
We continued along the water, down past the Globe Theater, a clipper ship, the London Dungeon, the buried treasure, and up and over the Tower Bridge, which I love. From there we walked down along the water on the north side, flanked by the Tower of London. I sent her to tour the tower, since I'd already been, and plopped down to read a bit. It was awesome looking over the top of my book, across the water, and right at the Tower Bridge. Man, she took FOREVER! After a few chapters, 2 magazines, tons of people-watching, and goofy practice with my camera, I got a little antsy. And hungry. But not horny, and that was a good thing. So, just as I grabbed some food, she showed up and we were off to the tube to head to the hotel.
Her hotel was at Tottenham Court, which is a short walk to Leicester Square and Piccadilly Circus. Not too shabby. I let her do all her girly stuff while I rested my eyes. Then I treated her to Yo! Sushi. I think I talked about this place before, but basically you belly up to the bar and grab your food off the conveyer. Good food, and good saki.
Trying to find a bar you went to over a month ago AFTER drinking a bit for your birthday isn't easy. So, after 20 minutes of trying, my saki buzz fading, and her patience wearing thin, we rolled into some other pub. I'm so glad we did. We scored a table next to 3 Scottish couples visiting from, well, Scotland. Apparently a lot of Scottish people live there. Who'd have thought? After striking up a conversation about the ashtray, we hit it off. It was eerily similar to the night of my birthday, with barbs flying, and drinks materializing out of nowhere. After telling them why the music in England was crap (I think that was b/c she said that Robbie Williams should be the next Bond, and not Daniel Craig), we learned all about the cow, tiger, and zebra purses the girls had. These things were little stuffed animal purses. Cute. And that, along with my cursing lorry drivers, lead into a conversation about how the one guy was a lorry driver and hauled cows (amongst other animals) for a living. Of course, he hauled DEAD cows. I had to ask him if he was a roadkill hunter. He wasn't. Anyway, the conversation progressed rapidly like this, featuring talks of gay sex, threesomes, and tattoos. What a blast. I was very sad at last call to hear the bouncer tell us we had to leave. For the third time. What a great time.
I was nicely hungover this morning when I had to escort her back to Leicester Square and Piccadilly Circus to grab some more souvenirs. Her bags were already full, yet she insisted. Then it was a journey on the tube to Victoria Station. Her for the Gatwick Express, and I for the bus. It was a great little trip to London. And I got all the Toblerone that she couldn't fit into her bags! Good times.
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