23 July, 2013 London/York

We’re on our way to York, after a rather eventful day yesterday.  But first…

Speaker’s Corner.  Remember my goal?  To give a speech. 

 

Here I am giving Hannah a speech on proper Speaker’s Corner etiquette.  She was not happy, but who cares?  I met another goal.  Afterwards we headed east, back toward the boat, but on the way decided to hop into Spitafield’s Market. 

We found this pretty street, I hope the pictures do it justice.

Yesterday was THE BIG DAY!  The royal baby was coming.  Was I called to deliver the baby?  Here’s the thing.  Today, Monday, we had planned to go to York, and considering this was her first baby, the labour could have lasted more than a day.  Because we made reservations, and paid a deposit, and all that other stuff, I told Kate I wouldn’t be able to make it.  Sorry Kate and Will, but I knew you were in good hands.  Failed Goal.

We did look for the muffin man, but didn't see him.

Yesterday was more of riding trains and buses.  We paid a visit to the post office, which is a 20 minute walk, or a five minute bus ride.  I just had way too much stuff in my bags, and had to mail some of it home.  After I got to the post office I realized that I didn’t bring it all with me.   The clerk casually asked if I had anything more to ship and he explained I could save quite a bit of money if I returned to the boat to get those things, and then back to the post office, then if I just shipped them off on a different day.  

The thing is we walked in a huge circle, just to get back to the dock, where we were to catch the bus.  There is a tube station right near the post office, and I figured we could just take that somewhere, but I learned it goes in the opposite direction of anything I wanted to see.  We took a bus instead, heading to a particular tube station, but we missed it.  We got off and found a different station, the marquee said our train was next, it arrived, we got on, and I soon learned it was the wrong train.  We got off at the next station, got on the right train, and continued on our way.  

This was kind of how our whole day went, but it wasn’t a wasted day, because I found this really cool, No Disco Dancing sign.

  At least that’s what I think it means, with that cool 70’s-style suit.

This morning, around 1:00 I woke up when someone started tapping on the window of the boat, then more and more tapping, faster and faster, as I slowly woke from my foggy sleep, and realized it was the promised rain, accompanied by the promised thunder and lightning.  It suddenly went from a hard drizzle to a downpour and I had to quickly close all the windows.  “All the windows” being six windows, but BUT those six windows are in different places and I had to hop over wires, and climb over a sleeping girl, and limbo under the web of the resident spider, who lives in the  kitchen, so don’t be so quick to think I’m making too big a deal out of it.

We woke up around six, finished packing, and headed to The Kitchen, where we discovered that Andrew, the friendly waiter, is from York and he gave us some places to visit including Clifford’s Tower, site of the largest massacre in the UK, and Whitby, where the fictional Count Dracula landed once he arrived in the UK.  Sound like my kind of places.  Poor Hannah.

Now we are on the train to York, and Hannah has enlisted a brother and sister to play card games with her.  They remind me of Jacob and Hannah because of the age difference.  The little girl was reluctant when Hannah asked if she wanted to play Madlibs, but like most kids, didn’t take too long to warm up.

Once safely in York we started walking toward the house.  I had the directions on my phone, but I had memorized the first few steps.  Once we had completed those I looked at my phone and... THE DIRECTIONS WERE GONE!!! I had printed them, but before we left the boat I looked and couldn't find them.  We stopped on the side of the road, I emptied the contents of my suitcase, and found them, but don't think I wasn't completely panicking.

We met our host, the roommate, and settled in.  We are exhausted.

dianaforman-friedman.blogspot.com

21 July, 2013 London

Friday we met up with Jane and Dennis, after eating at The Kitchen again.  This time the friendly waiter, Andrew, came over and introduced himself since we are, "no longer tourists.  Now you're friends."  He suggested some good places to see, such as the Hunterian Museum, and even said Hannah would enjoy herself there.  Later she said, "Oh yeah, because I would enjoy a museum with a bunch of dead body parts!" 

We met up with Jane and Dennis at the Diana, Princess of Wales, Memorial Playground.  They have a strict, "No Adults Admitted Without A Child" policy.  The Blanchards had arrived before us and were escorted into the playground to see if we were there already.  As we walked up we saw them right away.  We spent some time chatting away while Hannah played, but just like the old saying, "It's all fun and games until somebody gets hurt..." Hannah fell.  The poor child was instantly immobilized by her wounded knee.  She could no longer play; she could no longer run; her trip was ruined, that is until Jane spotted a first-aid office and Hannah got a band-aid (plaster in Brit English).  Is there anything a band-aid can't fix?

We decided to grab some lunch afterwards, and as luck would have it... I spotted some royal horses to hitch a ride on the back of.  This playground is located in Kensington Park which houses the Kensington Palace, and I think any reasonable person would agree that horses that are permanent fixtures so close to a palace must be royal horses.  First goal down, Hitch a ride on a royal horse.

No sooner did I tell Hannah to ride with wild abandon that my skirt flew up!  Ah, what an example I am for my children.  We had some lunch and since they were going to the Tower of London we just travelled back together and parted ways close to the boat.  Hannah and I were so exhausted we collapsed until evening, ate some dinner, and went back to bed.

We agreed ahead of time we would have Hannah days, Mommy days, and Us days.  Yesterday started out as a Mommy day.  Dead body parts, here we come!  But first I needed to take a trip to the post office.  Jane had suggested I try a latte.  I did, and I think that will be my go-to coffee while I'm here.  It's pretty close to American coffee.  While waiting for my coffee to be made, a friendly English woman struck up a conversation with me about America and Florida.  I asked if she could direct me toward a post office, and then she and her husband got into an argument about which post office would make the most sense for me to go to.  It was really comical.  "Why on earth would she go east, when she really plans to go west?  That doesn't make any sense at all."  "Yes, but this post office is only right around the corner, where that one is half way across the city."  Then they argued about giving me directions, should I use the A-Z (a book of maps of London) or should they just tell me?  They finally agreed to just tell me, but remember what I said about Londoners giving me directions?

Believe it or not, the directions were spot on.  I was so surprised at how helpful they were.  Everyone seems to be helpful, but this couple even drove up along side us a little later and assured us that we were still on the right path.  The elderly couple confirmed it too, with a smile.  The police officer/constable also had a pleasant smile for me, as well as the man who casually walked behind us.  All the way to the post office everyone was so friendly and polite, as well as the postal worker.  Then I learned why.  Yep, I got a good look at my ridiculousness in the reflection of a window. 

 It was pity, pure and simple.  They thought any woman destined to go through life looking like Gilda Radner needs all the help she can get.   My hair straightener won't work here, and I look like I have a pile of frizz on my head.  Right about now my friend/hair stylist, Joann is groaning.  (I love you Joann.  Please forgive me.)

After the post office we headed off to the museum.  Gosh what a weird place.  In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries there was a fascination with dead people.  Wealthy people collected them for all sorts of reasons and some of those collections were purchased by, or donated to, the museum.  It wasn't just humans though, it was alligators, hog hearts, snakes with fertilized eggs, a four-legged duck, a two-tailed lizard, a horse's tongue, and a skeleton of a man who was 7'7" and had paid to have his body buried at sea, so he wouldn't be purchased by some weird collector.  We see how well that plan worked out.  I just know this is what's going to happen to me.  No one is going to buy my dead body.  What I mean is that, I know that my husband, and friends Robert and Sharon, amuse me when they say they are keeping track of what I want at my funeral, but really are deleting those emails faster than spam for male enhancers.

Oh look what I saw on the way to the museum.

It says:

Keats,  (1795-1821) trained as a surgeon-apothecary at Guy's Hospital Medical School in 1815-16 but renounced medicine in favour of poetry soon afterwards.

'...Sure a poet is a sage; A humanist, physician to all men',

he wrote in The Fall of Hyperion (1819). 

When I read this all I could think was, for as long as universities have existed parents having been regretting allowing their kid that damn liberal arts education.  Imagine his mother, "A POET?  A POET?  I wanted a doctor.  What will I tell my friends next time we get together for bridge? You know that Feinstein boy, he's going to be a lawyer!  A poet?"

After the museum we went to Neil's Yard.  Elizabeth told me that if I was going to go there I needed to take pictures and I decided I WOULD go there and I did take pictures.

Hannah and I each got a ten minute massage.  My shoulders are still upset that I made them carry my bags all the way from the airport.  We also ordered a coconut that didn't take nearly as long to prepare as it did for the two young wait staffers to stop arguing and give it me.  

That was it.  That was our day.  We returned to the boat and collapsed.

Oh my gosh I almost forgot:

NO FOULING. Please refrain from allowing your dog to foul on the footpaths.  Legal action will be taken against any dog owner allowing their animal to foul the footpaths.

That's it.  That's all I got for you today, and I'm not fouling you.

19 July, 2013 London

Hannah woke me bright and early 6:00 AM London time, that's 1:00 AM Florida time.  I was able to successfully ignore her pleas for me to get up only for a short while.  Then she was dismayed when I grabbed my computer to email all of you.  I reminded her of the "talk" we had before we left.  "I will email my friends almost every day while we are there..." She stopped nagging.

I don't know if it's me, or if it's Londoners, but I just can't seem to follow any directions anyone gives me.  We stumbled across Ron, the man who showed us to the boat on the first day, the one whom I was sure was going to turn us into fish food.  I asked him to recommend a breakfast place.  These are the directions he gave me, "Go across the bridge, make a left, and it's right there. Oh, stay on our side."  I swear THAT is what he said.  

I crossed the bridge, made the first left, and... nothing.  Not only was there no breakfast place, but it was a residential neighbourhood.  Then it occurred to me that maybe by "stay on our side" he meant, don't cross the bridge to the other side of the Thames, but rather go from the west side of the bridge to the east side of bridge, staying north of the River.  So... we back-tracked across the Tower Bridge, went down the stairs, walked along the Tower of London, stared a bit at Traitors Gate and pondered what it must have been like for those unfortunate souls who entered through there.

Despite going the only other way Ron could have meant, we still didn't find the place.  So we approached a group of guards outside the Tower of London and asked them to recommend someplace.  The recommended "The Kitchen" and said it had a Full English Breakfast.  Seeing as how close we were to Traitor's Gate, I refrained from making any disparaging comments about beans and black pudding.  Off we went.                            

I really enjoyed The Kitchen.  It's a bright and cheery restaurant where the wait staff (two people) were friendly and helpful.  Hannah ordered the Kitchen Sink, only without the black pudding, tomatoes, beans, and mushrooms.  He said he would charge us a la carte because that made more sense, I ordered the vegetarian full English breakfast. It came with something they called vegetarian sausage, and I expected something like a veggie burger in sausage shape, but it wasn't.  It was more like an egg roll full of veggies closer to their original veggie-form.  I loved it.

Years ago I remodelled my kitchen.  I ordered counter tops that were a burnt-sienna colour, kind of like brick.  After I ordered them, but before the re-modellers ordered them from the manufacturer, they became discontinued.  The owner came back with a bunch of samples for me to choose from and I chose one that was close to my first choice.  This was a valuable lesson.  Don't ever go with "close", just start all over again.  My kitchen counter tops look more like pink than brick.  Sigh.  Fast forward to today, as I sat in that restaurant, contemplating what I would drink.  Should I get the coffee, hoping it's similar to my beloved American coffee?  Or should I forgo any delusions that I will find something like American coffee and order tea?  I went with tea, and really really missed my coffee.

On the way back to the boat I spotted a coffee stand.  Any chance they would have something palatable?  I looked at the sign and there was a long list of things like espresso, cappuccino, Americano, but no plain cup of coffee.  I said, "I just want a flipping cup of coffee!"  He said he could make that for me.  HE LIED!!!!!

After returning to the boat, Hannah played with the little girl next door.  I told her that if she makes some friends here, she could very well go home with an accent.  She's trying.  I responded to my friend Dennis' email.  Dennis and his wife Jane are here in London for a few more days and we are hoping to meet up.  They are walking and cycling their way across Europe, and you can read about their journey here.

Then we headed out to Shepherd's Bush, where we stayed last time we were in London.  I had something I needed to get for my husband.  On the way we passed just the store I was looking for.  This was the store I knew I would find the prize for my friend, Dawn, winner of the drawing.  First I considered this gigantic Paddington Bear Mug.

 Or maybe...

Ooh!  I found it, the PERFECT gift for any woman.  Union Jack leggings!

 Or maybe...

A selection of war animal figurines?

 Or maybe...

A Bard rubber-ducky?

 Or maybe...

OH MY GOSH!!! This is it.  A solar powered waving queen.

  Hannah calls it a bobble-hand.  Her hand waves back and forth.

We made it to Shepherd's Bush, stopped in the mall for a little bit, just to use a restroom, sit in the a/c, and relax a little before heading back.  Remember I said that Hannah won't sit next to strangers?  She couldn't bring herself to sit in the empty seat, beside the young man in the green shirt.

Here is the prize.  It will sent out in the mail tomorrow.

18 July, 2013 London

Because there have been no reports of plane crashes you all know we have arrived, but beyond that I'm sure all of you were wondering if we had become victims of a Jack the Ripper copycat.  Rest assured, we are safe and sound.  My phone has absolutely no Internet, and since all the photos I've taken so far were with my phone, I have none to show you.  I'll be taking them with my camera from here on out.

We left Tampa at 1:30 on Tuesday, and I sat beside a pleasant-enough looking woman who reeked of alcohol.  She continued to drink during our short journey to North Carolina, but there was no ruckus from her, no fights with the flight attendants, no storming of the cock-pit, so all was well.

Our connecting flight to England was delayed by an hour, stretching our four hour layover to a five hour layover.  I was thankful for the extra time though, because they kept moving our gate.  The first move was across the airport.  Hannah kept begging me to take her on an escalator, but there weren't any, save the "moving sidewalks", so we took three of them.  I wouldn't have minded, but Hannah wouldn't walk on them, and I felt lazy just standing on this silly moving sidewalk, while people whizzed past me walking the old fashioned way.

Hannah doesn't like to sit next to strangers.  For those of you who know her, this is probably a shock to read, because she's one of the most gregarious kids I've ever known, and I've known a lot of kids, but really, she doesn't.  Once we got on the plane I had to sit beside our neighbour, which wouldn't have been such a big deal, except that he kept squishing into my seat (he was a normal sized man who is oblivious to the idea of personal space), and AND he kept making this gross snorting noise.  Yep, you got it, 7 1/2 hours of being squished and grossed out.  As if those two things weren't bad enough, he didn't laugh at even one of my jokes!  His wife laughed at them and I kept hoping they would switch seats, but that never happened.  All through the night they kept spilling drinks.  I think it was only water but all night I'd hear, SPLASH, "Oh (expletive redacted)!"

The woman sitting across from us had a constant smile on her face and it was so nice to look at her.  Every time I glanced in her direction I would see her smiling.  About five hours into the trip I realized that her face is just always in that position.  She wasn't smiling at all.  For all I know she could've been grimacing, thinking, "Again with the flipping kids!  How do I always get stuck sitting near noisy kids?"

We finally landed, and honestly, that was the smoothest landing I've ever experienced.  Really, for a second I actually wondered if we had landed, but the people around me were all saying the same thing.  We got through customs quickly, because an employee opened a second line just as we walked up, and there were only two families in front of us.  Then realized that she only let families with children, and seniors into the line.  The family of six, in front of us, seemed to be taking FOREVER, and I had expected something similar, but our turn was lickety split.  I think the other people must have been better looking, and the agent just wanted to keep them around longer.

We gathered our bags, and transferred some stuff from our backpacks into our luggage.  I had, what I thought, was a well thought-out plan.  We were taking the tube/underground/subway to the boat, so I needed to lighten our backpacks, for what promised to be at least an hour's journey.  Here was the problem I had failed to anticipate:  before the transfer of contents, my bag weighed 25 pounds.  Afterwards it probably weighed 30, and I had to lug it up and down multiple flights of stairs, while Hannah lugged hers.  Most times a friendly man would approach and ask if I would like some help, MOST times.  One time there was no one around, so Hannah just had to lug hers up and I had to lug mine up, about thirty long steps.  Why is it that stairs suddenly become longer when you're carrying something?

When one enters the underground system they use a pass called the Oyster Card.  It lets them into and out of the station.  You cannot leave without the card, and they have turn-styles preventing people from going through without paying.  Hannah does not need one because of her age, so we have to go through quickly, but I knew we were never going to make it out with our bags.  I was right.  My bag got stuck.  I was tempted to leave it, but I didn't want to wear dirty clothes for a month, and it wasn't fair to the people behind me, who would have to climb over my bag to get out.  So, I stuck around trying to get that damn thing out.  The woman behind me lifted it and passed it to me. Then I turned to discover that Hannah had left.  She took her bag and high-tailed it out of there leaving me in her wake of dust.  I think she was embarrassed to be seen with the woman who couldn't get her bag out.  I called her, and she just happened to walk back in at the very moment.  

The woman whose boat we are renting sent me THIRTEEN pages of directions, replete with pictures.  "Turn right here, go past the medieval restaurant, skip across the hop scotch board chanting mother-may-I, make an immediate left, spin three quarters of a turn clockwise, you're almost there..." kind of directions.  Except without the spinning, hop scotch, kind of stuff.  I thought we had arrived, but I was wrong.  I saw a man who looked like he knew what he was doing and asked if he knew where the Lady Three lives.  He said indeed he did and would gladly escort us there. When he opened the gate for us to leave the marina, I thought surely he was going to lure us into a dark alley and hack us up into fish food.  I was wrong.  There is a west and east marina, and we were in the wrong one.  We met up with the owner of the boat just as we approached the west marina, and he passed us off onto her.  Our boat wasn't ready, but she rents out the one beside it as well, and that one was empty. so we slept in it for a little while.

We have spent our first full day here in jolly ol' England, and today we are ready to see some of the sights, complete some of our goals, make a few waves, and have a good time.  I'll keep you posted.  One more thing; it was hot yesterday, cool last night.  It promises to be hot again today.  I packed for cooler weather.

Suggestions for England and Contest Results

Here are the suggestions some of you sent me for  my England goals that were not left in the comment section.  I promise, I will try my hardest to complete them all, except maybe for Suzii's ideas.  

From Andy: 

Have a cup of tea with the queen

Meet the 3rd in line to the throne (not the current 3rd in line)

Help Julian get a safe passage out of the country

Play tennis with Andy Murray

From Suzii:

wear a sign around your neck that faces forwards to read “(expletive deleted) for smiles”

I suggest you only wear it in front of Buckingham Palace in front of the guards, btw...

I got some tips for the Netherlands too, but I'm saving them.

And here are the results of the contest...

Just 7 more days

In the 7 days left before I go, I am trying to make a list of goals.  There will be three lists: one for England, a small one for Amsterdam, and one for Zurich.  Any ideas or suggestions?  To get an idea for the types of goals I usually create for myself here's a list I made for San Francisco: save a jumper on the Golden Gate Bridge, hang off a trolley singing Rice-a-Roni, the San Francisco Treat, and escape from Alcatraz.  In Seattle I planned to Hang from the Space Needle, Catch a flying fish, and Drink some coffee.

Now I'm not looking for the ordinary, anyone-can-do-this, type goal.  I'm looking for the different, the amazing, the extraordinary.  Before anyone suggests something like, "Climb Stonehenge," or "Swim the English Channel," you should know I'm not going to either of those places, or they would surely be on my list.

I was thinking maybe:
Lose my head at London Tower
Drown in a sea of York Chocolate
Deliver Will and Kate's baby (I've had a lot of my own, I know how to do that).
Give a speech at Speaker's Corner
Buy a sheep at Shepherd's Bush Market
Catch a ride on the back of a royal horse at Buckingham Palace.

What do you think?  Any thing I should plan to do while in England?

Before I head to a different country, I always like to check out the US State Department website for info.  I learned some shocking (SHOCKING!!! I tell you) things about the Netherlands.

In recent years, U.S. citizens in the Netherlands have suffered death and injuries stemming from the use of marijuana, hashish, and other substances. Marijuana is a controlled substance in the Netherlands, and possession is a misdemeanor that can result in a fine. Historically, use of illegal substances has been tolerated when bought at licensed “coffee shops.” A new Dutch law, meant to prevent foreigners’ access to “coffee shops” and hence reduce drug tourism, was implemented in three southern provinces beginning in May 2012, and will be implemented nationwide in 2013. The law required the use of a “special pass,” available only to Dutch nationals, to access “coffee shops.” This law was later amended to allow local jurisdictions to develop their own enforcement plans and implementation time lines to prevent foreigner use of “coffee shops.”

”Coffee shops” are a haven for petty criminals who prey on tourists and other individuals under the influence of drugs. Persons who visit “coffee shops” have become victims of pickpocketing, identity theft, sexual assault, and other crimes. Visitors are warned that marijuana sold in the Netherlands may contain higher levels of THC, the active chemical in marijuana, which may exacerbate the drug’s effects and a user’s impairment. The U.S. Surgeon General has issued a warning against marijuana use. “Coffee shops” and other locations are known for selling other illegal substances, such as psychotropic mushrooms; visitors are cautioned against using such drugs, as they are dangerous. It is illegal to take any controlled substance, such as marijuana, into or out of the Netherlands.

WOWZA!!  In recent years US citizens have suffered death from the use of marijuana and hashish?  Seriously?  These coffee shops are "haven" for petty criminals, unlike the malls, train stations, and dark alleys.  Those places are still safe from petty criminals.  And since the US Surgeon General has issued a warning against marijuana use, well you better believe I'll be staying far away from those "coffee shops".  Don't you like how the State Department puts quotation marks around "Coffee Shops"?

Today is the last day of the contest. If you wish to be entered you need leave a comment.  The drawing will be held tomorrow and I will record it (thanks for the idea, Andy) so no one suspects me of cheating.

What not to steal while in England

Today I read an article about strange things thieves steal. Nutella is on the list.  For those of you outside the "know" about this delicious chocolate hazelnut spread, it is a... well... a delicious chocolate hazelnut spread.

This got me thinking.  What kinds of foods may come across my path in England, that might be in the list of things frequently stolen?  After the brief nano-second spent on that list, I pondered for hours on the food that's would NEVER make that list.


Mushy Peas-  This one might be on the list unfairly, because in truth, they taste just like un-mushy peas.  But what I don't understand about mushy peas is the color.  Someone, at some point, decided to add food coloring to them.  Why?  Yeah, I don't know either.  They are an almost-fluorescent green color.

Haggis- Haggis is sheep organs mixed with oatmeal and animal fat, and then stuffed into a sheep's stomach before being boiled for hours.

Blood/Black pudding- This English delicacy (cough,cough) is made of animal's blood mixed with oats, stuffed into the intestinal casing.





Kidney Pie- This is not the kidney beans kidney, but the organ meat.  Chopping up animal organs and stuffing them into a crust and calling it "pie" doesn't make them sound more appealing.


Full English Breakfast- This traditional breakfast includes eggs, tomatoes, sausage, bacon and beans.  Beans?  For breakfast?  Oh yeah, they're not just beans but crunchy cold beans.




So what does one eat while in England?  If you're like me you eat Indian Food.  Last I heard London has more Indian restaurants than any other city outside New Delhi.

Last time I was there I had a steak and ale pie twice.  I loved it.  While on vacation, I rarely eat what I can eat at home.  Why bother?  I'm not afraid to eat strange looking named foods, and I hope to try some new things while I'm there.  There is a weekly farmer's market at the dock we'll be staying at.  I can't wait to try some of the local foods.