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.

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.

Ride-Share

I have to find a way for the two of us to get from London to York and back again.  The simplest way seems like the train, right?  The problem with the train is that... well why take the train if we can catch a ride with a stranger?  Seems logical.  Now before you all start freaking out, don't worry.  I don't plan on hooking up a ride with some whack-job through Craig's list.  There are people who do this sort of thing regularly.  They have to drive somewhere far and would enjoy the company, the companionship, the conversation, or maybe just the shared expenses.

First I looked up trains from London to York and then had the brilliant idea to look up rideshares.  I found one site that has all sorts of people looking for a ride or looking for someone who needs a ride.  I came across one ad that says, My filing cabinet needs a lift from Torquey to London. and this got me thinking about all those movies we've seen where someone ends up riding in the back of the truck with the herd of sheep, or the tons of potatoes, or the piles of fertilizer, or worse...

photo from http://www.rewards-insiders.marriott.com/people/razorbackfan/blog/2012/10

Maybe a train is a better idea.

Contest

I'm having a contest.  Each time you comment (up to once a day) you are entered into a drawing for a gift from London. . Who knows, it could be a vat of Marmite, a postcard of dead body parts, a picture of my mugshot, or something else equally fun.

To be sure you get all the most recent content you can subscribe by clicking the "Subscribe" button on the right of this page and enter your email address.

The contest will run from today, June 17, 2013 through July 9, 2013.  That is one full week before I leave.

Summer 2013 plans

This summer I am taking Hannah to Europe for a month.  Originally it was going to be the whole family.  Hannah and I were going to London for two weeks, then head to Zurich via ferry and train, where we would meet the rest of the family.  Then it was going to be Bob, Ariel, and Jacob joining us.  Then it was going to be Ariel joining us.  Now it's just the two of us.

We'll be staying on a boat that I rented via Airbnb.  This is the company we used when we went to San Francisco and Seattle.  We will be there for a few days, head north (far north) to York where we will be staying here:

After getting gluttonously full on York Chocolate we will return to London where we will stay on a different boat.  Then on 1 August (European style) we will head to Amsterdam via ferry.  We will be staying here:

We will stay here for a few days and then head to Zurich where we haven't found accommodations just yet.

I bet  you can't wait.

London 17 August 2011

Today is our last day.  There are some things that should be clarified before I leave this small island.  I came here with a few misconceptions.

Myth #1: European portions are smaller.  They are NOT.  I have not been able to finish one single meal out since we arrived except for the appetizer I ate in Paris.

Myth #2: The English love their queues. I have not seen one yet.  I've looked, believe me.  While in McDonald's, standing in a zig-zaggity undefined line, I commented to the woman in front of me, "I keep waiting to see the queues the English are so famous for."  She responded, "It's a fallacy."

Myth #3: There is a girth dearth.  No there isn't.  The percentage of big people isn't as great, but England has no lack of them.

Myth #4: English people are quiet and reserved.  I found lots of people who not only talked to me, but were friendly and laughed and smiled.  I was not able to get any to spill any secrets, except for the couple who told me how many children they hope to have, but I think it's from lack of time.  Bob even got invited out to a pub by a bunch of construction workers working next door.

Myth #5: English food is all bad.  I really enjoyed Steak and Ale pie.  Mushy peas, not so much, but no one can be all things to all people.

Myth #6: The English are polite.  I have heard some of the foulest language from cell phone (that's "mobile" here, pronounced moh-byle) users.  "You tell that f#cking b$tch that next time I see her I am going to spit right at her!  Do you hear me?  I am going to spit right on that f#cking b$tch, bl@h, bl@h, bl@h!"

Myth #7: (This one mostly applies to a friend of mine back home was concerned that my Birkenstocks would make me stand out here) European women's shoes are more fashionable.  I'll let you decide:

These truly were fashionable, too bad the band-aids detracted from it.

Of all of the shoes I saw, these were my favourites.  Oh...wait...these were mine, standing beside a German woman who was wearing the EXACT same shoes.  I said, "I like your shoes,"  she said, "Thanks,"  then looked down and said, "Oh, you have the same ones, ha ha ha".  Well, she didn't really SAY ha ha ha, she laughed instead.  I will tell you though, I was disheartened to learn that Europeans have the same sad attitude about Birkenstock wearers as Americans.  We are not all a bunch of hippie vegans, okay?  Some of us are normal people who just like comfortable shoes!  We eat meat, we vote, we shave our legs, and even work real jobs, it's time to put that stereotype to bed.  (We might be a tad sensitive though.)

England in general and London in particular have taken quite a ribbing from me, but the truth is that I love this place and I will be coming back.  I don't know when, but you can count on it.

I think I may leave a little piece of myself here, just so I have an excuse to come back...

16 August, 2011

Monday we headed to the Southbank of the Thames.  There are many bridges to cross the River and that Australian woman who led us to believe that an hour is within walking distance told us to use the pedestrian "wobbly bridge".  It didn't take long for us to learn that it hasn't been wobbly in a very long time.  We stopped some police officers to ask them which was the best way to cross.  It was nice.  There were cute little shacks set up as an art exhibit, each one was decorated differently, by different local artists.  Then we came across a large book sale.  

Bob and Jacob had to be at the mall by 5.  We got Jacob a "flight" on a simulated air plane that he was going to pilot and the appointment was at 5. 

Bob took all three boys plus Hannah, leaving Ariel and I to wander the city.  We decided to just hop on and off some buses, seeing different things.  A police officer saw us looking at the map and walked over to see if we needed some assistance.  I explained that we weren't really looking for anything in particular.  He asked what we had already seen and said (honestly) "Well, you've seen just about everything there is to see."  Really?  How is that possible?  I started laughing and said, "Oh...well then I think we will go home now." 

When we finally decided to head back to the house we found the bus we needed on the map, but had to walk all over various intersections looking for the actual bus stop.  We found it, the bus arrived, we boarded, then a few minutes later I realized that it was headed in the wrong direction.  It really wasn't a big deal because it just meant hopping off, crossing the street, and getting on the next one heading in the opposite direction.  The problem was that we were in an area with lots of traffic circles and there was no such thing as simply crossing the street so we had to wait until we got far enough away from the circles.  Eventually we made it home and Ariel and I had a nice time, just the two of us.

Yesterday was Bob's birthday.  We started the day by having a big breakfast then heading out to the London Eye.  The London Eye is a great big ferris wheel, 443 feet high.  We rode in a "pod" like thing along with about 20 other people and we could walk around inside of it, take pictures, laugh, sing Happy Birthday to Bob and even get the other passengers to join in (Great job, Ariel).  It takes about a half hour to go a full revolution.  Hannah, Jacob, Ariel, Bob and I went.  It was two trains and a ten minute walk from the house. 

Afterwards we went to a department store called John Lewis.  (They have some great yarn and crochet hooks that have been impossible for me to find in Sarasota). 

Then we had to go to another department store called,  Selfridges to replace the coffee I used for the special coffee machine, a Nespresso machine, that our fellow exchangers use.  There are only two stores that sell it, Selfridges and Harrod's.  We walked in the store and there was literally a line of people waiting to get into the Loius Vuitton section.  A security person only allowed a small, limited number of people in at a time.  I didn't have the heart to tell them that sometimes you can find Loius Vuitton at Goodwill in the states.  The coffee section is like its own boutique.  There was another queue (line) and when it was my turn I told the salesperson what kind of coffee I wanted and how many.  He got them for me and put them in their very own Nespresso bag.  It was almost special.

By now everyone was fairly hungry so we found a spot in a train station that had a number of eateries.  Hannah had to go to the bathroom so I took her and approached two men who worked there and asked them where the restroom is.  They said, "There is no restroom here, but if you go out those doors, cross the street, walk down the alley, blah, blah, blah..."  I took her outside with all intentions of crossing the street but there was road construction right outside the doors- it was not possible to cross the street.  We walked a little bit and I saw a Subway, went inside but there was no bathroom.  Then I asked a salesperson who was hanging outside of a store who pointed to a large department store across the street.  We crossed the street, went into the store, where we were nearly asphyxiated but the perfume salespeople, went up three flights of stairs, found the bathroom, washed our hands in the same weird double fauceted sink, went down three flights of stairs, crossed the street, passed the bathroom-less Subway, got into the train station and found our family just the way we left them.  It was time for us to head back.  Bob and I had a VERY important meeting to get to.

Many of you know that every Friday night, come hell or high water (or even holidays if I had my way) I attend Toastmasters.  I couldn't imagine going two whole weeks without a meeting.  There was a meeting only 20 minutes from the house.  We bid the children fair well and off we went.  This club, the London Athenians, is a big club.  They have 70 members.  I was not invited to participate in Table Topics.  It may be the size of the club, but I suspect that one of my fellow TM members tipped them off about my obsessive need to win the ribbon and that I am willing to do almost anything to get it.  The club meets in a pub and after the meeting many of us went downstairs for a drink and to chat.  Not nearly as cosy as meeting at Panera, but there may be something there for us to consider. 

Bob and I laughed most of the way back to the house.  Where we collapsed into bed after a long, long day.

Speaker's Corner

Wow, what a day of walking we had today.  Our plan was to go to Speaker's Corner.  It is a spot where people go to speak about whatever they like on the corner of Hyde Park.  Yesterday the Australian woman we met told us it is within walking distance of where we are staying.  I guess it is if we consider that "walking distance" is open to interpretation.  Along the way we got lost and asked a woman for directions who said "You're walking to Hyde Park?  That's quite a distance.  It's at least a half hour's walk.  But...go that way, turn left at your first stop then head right then blah, blah, blah."  We headed in that direction (whatever direction that was).  We  got confused again and asked a couple who said, "You're walking to Hyde Park?  That's quite a distance.  It's at least a half hour's walk.  Then it is another half hour just to walk across the park. Well, if you go through Holland Park and then take a left down this little alley then head blah, blah, blah.  We're going to Holland Park."  I said, "Oh, then we will follow you.  Don't be afraid."  We followed them and then when we got to Holland Park they gave us more directions that sounded mostly like "blah, blah, blah."  We finally found our way to the park and they were right, it really was at least a half hour's walk across the park.  On the way we found a fellow American who was headed there so we walked with her. Yes, we even needed directions through the park.  When I tell you this is the largest park I have ever been in I am not exaggerating.  It is 625 acres.   Technically it is two different parks, but they are connected, so who cares about technicalities when you are trying to walk across it/them.

You might be wondering how on earth two adults could get so lost in a city.  Here is a map of London... Anyone would get lost.

Don't be confused by the fork and knife, this is not a plate of spaghetti, this is a map of London. 

While walking through the park we came across a gift from the Norwegian people to the English.  Now, I am not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but this gift did seem a bit silly, especially to the people who can claim Stonehenge as their own. 

It says "This stone was erected by the Royal Norwegian Navy and the Norwegian Merchant Fleet in the year 1978.  We thank the British people for friendship and hospitality during the Second World War.  You gave us a safe haven in our common struggle for freedom and peace."

A rock?  Seriously?  Of all of the gifts to give...a rock?  How do you think that conversation went?

"What should we give them?" 

"I don't know, what do we have that they don't?" 

"Fish?"

"No, they have plenty of that and after just a couple of days it will start to stink anyway." 

"Ooh, I've got it... a rock.  Not just any rock though, a giant rock."

"A giant rock?  Where will we get one of those?"

"I've got one in my yard the wife's been nagging me to get rid of.  We can give it to them.  We'll even engrave it for them."

Speaker's corner was great.  There were about seven or eight men, all standing on step ladders, and shouting about whatever they wanted.  Some were religious and they turned into debates about God, vs. Allah, vs. atheism.  Quite a few were about the riots.  We stayed for a while listening to one man in particular talk about the hypocrisy of the prime minister and the mayor of London who both admitted to rioting and setting things on fire while they were in university.  After the hour's walk (at least) and the hour standing around listening to the various speakers a good American cup of coffee was in order.  Of course that was  not going to happen so I settled on something called a "white Americano".  Then it was time to head back home.

Here's a picture of the crowd...

When we arrived home we got directions to a steak house in another neighbourhood that we promised to take Jacob to for his birthday.  We took two buses and walked, asked some police for directions, and finally found the place. We enjoyed our  meal and got lots of funny looks from people who were trying to figure out "if they were all ours".  In America people simply ask, here they try not to appear as if they are staring and just wonder.  We quietly sang Happy Birthday to Jacob.

On the way out I approached one of the couples who kept trying not to stare and told them, "Yes, they are all ours."  Then they told me of their own family planning ideas.  I didn't have the heart to tell them that six kids is not family planning, but rather lack of family planning. 

On our way back we caught the wrong bus, but it was okay because the people on the bus were helpful and friendly and where they suggested we get off was well within walking distance of the house.  

There is a continued heavy police presence all over the city, and very little continued concern of more rioting.  I am sure it's all over.  (Unless one of you lets this email out).