Mittwoch, 17. Okt. 2007, 12:30 GMT

 

That's right, GMT baby! I almost forgot to change my watch as I came across the "Chunnel", and for a moment I thought my train was even later than it actually was.

This entire trip has been a lesson for me in BOOKING AHEAD. For my Eurostar train from Paris to London, I had to charge 231€ which I really could have put to better use, but what could I do? I certainly couldn't stay in Paris. I was out of cash already, and Woodstock didn't take credit cards. The train from London to Edinburgh also cost me triple what it could have, had I booked ahead. Well, as always, I'll know for next time.

London is so huge that I couldn't have even thought about traversing it on foot. Luckily, though expensive, it's quite easy to get around by public transport. From any underground station you purchase an "Oyster" card for a 3 pound refundable deposit, and you load it with any amount. I started with 10 pounds (15€ or $20 USD). Charging everything to my visa card, it didn't seem so expensive, but...that's a LOT of money for a 2-day stay, and it didn't even last me the whole time.

You swipe your Oyster card at any tube station or on any bus and it automatically calculates the cheapest fare for your days journeys. Granted, the "cheapest fare" for a tourist usually ends up being a day pass which costs over 5 pounds, but I do still appreciate the convenience of it. However, you've got to make absolutely certain you swipe it at the correct machine. I found that out the hard way when I accidentally swiped it at a rail station instead of the underground, and I got charged 5 pounds. That's a lot of money for a stupid mistake, but since the system is totally automated, there was literally NOTHING that the sympathetic people at the station could do to reverse the charge.

London was the saddest city to visit by myself. I was able to stay with Madison and Danika who are studying at Roehampton University, but during the day I was by myself, thinking about how Rendy has always wanted to live in London.

In Paris, every couple of blocks is a station where one can rent a bicycle using a credit card, and I didn't take advantage of it because I was able to get around so easily on foot. By the time I got to London, however, I was having a very difficult time walking, even through bus and tube stations, so renting a bike seemed like a natural thing to do. London, however, has no convenient public bike rental stations, so I had to ask two different tourist offices before I found a bike shop by London Bridge station. It cost 12 pounds for the day, which was of course more than I wanted to spend, but my choices were either that or not be able to get around at all. It was still cheaper than it would have been to wait and plan a second trip to London when I'm not injured.

It felt great to be on a bike...for about ten seconds until I almost got hit by a bus.

There are signs all over advertising a minimum 20 pound fine for riding on sidewalks. Fine, I thought, I'll just ride on this convenient little bike path....wait, where did it go???

I had  to keep reminding myself to ride on the left side of the road, and every once in a while there would be a friendly green path clearly marked for cyclists, but these had a nasty habit of ending right in the middle of a busy city block. Not only that, there are numerous one-way streets which are not clearly marked as such, and most of the parks I wanted to explore were no-cycling zones, so I ended up having to chain my bike to the rail and still limp around.

The bike shop was on the south side of the Thames, between London Bridge and Tower Bridge, but with the streets being so poory marked, it took me forever to actually get across a bridge to where all the things were that I wanted to see.

I wanted to start with Big Ben. I had spotted him the night before, and thought he would make a good landmark, but for whatever reason, this time I couldn't find him. It would have been much easier to hop on a tube (I had only an underground map, not a street map), but I had yet to see anyone riding a bike on the tube, so I could only assume it wasn't allowed. Finally, something LA has figured out better than London!

Quite by accident, I found myself at Buckingham Palace, and found that I had missed the changing of the guard by several hours. The sign said that except in summer months, the changing of the guard happens only once a day. What does that mean? That those boys stay there 24 hours until the next change?? How does one get started as a royal guard anyway? "Jack, what do you want to be when you grow up?" "Oh, I don't know, I think I'd like to hold a rifle in front of Buckingham Palace." What does the royal guard do, anyway?? I mean, if someone tries to break into the palace. All anyone ever hears about them is how they ignore the public. I never hear about them actually guarding anything.

I watched them walk back and forth a couple of times, then pulled out my map and found that I'd actually overshot Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, and Westminster Cathedral. It's a good thing Buckingham Palace is so big, because otherwise I probably would have missed it too.

I headed back down to the river and found (surprise, surprise) that the beautiful Thames path is also closed to cyclists. So frustrating.

I somehow missed the Cathedral again, but finally found the Abbey and Big Ben. It's not called that on tourist maps, by the way. You have to look for the Houses of Parliament, which, I suppose, are more important than the clock tower over them, but all I really wanted was a picture of Ben.

It was about 4:15, and Westminster Abbey was closed to tourists. However, there was an "Evensong" service at 5:00, which sounded a lot more interesting than touristing anyway, so I commenced the search for a place to park my bike. The "bobby" in front of the Houses of Parliament was no help at all. "You can't park it here," was all he would say.

Finally, I found a place about a block away and limped back to the Abbey, just in time to be seated for the service. The Abbey choir was on tour in Australia, so they had a special appearance from the King's College School Choir. It was a beautiful service, and I wished I could have kept a copy of it.

I'm so used to "messes" and "misas" of which I can't understand all the vocab, so it was pretty crazy to hear a traditional service like that in English. I'm also pretty certain it was my first time ever in an Anglican church. Gosh I love doing stuff for free.

Exiting the abbey, I saw a long queue of people outside the Houses of Parliament.

"How much does it cost to get inside?" I asked Mr. Bobby.

He probably thought I was a stupid American, but he was actually quite polite about it. "It doesn't cost to get it. It's not a guided tour; these people are queuing to  hear a debate in the House of Commons. The wait is about 45 minutes right now."

A debate in the House of Commons! That sounded....important! I had to get back to the bike shop by 7, but afterwards I was DEFINITELY going to check this out.

IF I ever have kids (notice the big IF), I don't think I'm ever going to take them traveling. I remember what it was like to be a kid. If my mother had dragged me to church and then to a political debate IN THE SAME NIGHT, I don't think I could have forgiven her. Thank goodness I grew out of that!

The debate was about whether or not to increase funding for the armed forces. It was fascinating to hear the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan from a different perspective, and the U.S. being referred to in the 3rd person. I really wished I knew more of the background, because I really didn't understand most of the debate. But still, I felt as though I was observing something..."monumental", according to Danika. Probably not, judging by the  sparcity of people in the visitor's chamber with me, and honestly, the Parliament chamber wasn't much fuller. The MPs ("Members of Parliament") who were there, however, had the most thrilling assortment of English accents I've ever heard in one place. I could have stayed for hours just observing the different dialects. Yes, yes I am a linguist.

I stayed lnoger than anyone in the visitor's chamber, and longer even than some of the MPs. I wanted to stay and see how something like that ends, but it was already almost 9, and I had told Madison to expect me around 6 or 7, so finally I tore myself away.

Back at the dorm, Madison and Danika were reading Harry Potter out loud. Danika has read them all, so we compared notes on book 7 while Mad was out of the room, but then it was back to the final chapters of book 5. It's so interesting, rehearing it now, knowing how it ends. That woman is a genius of a storyteller. I can't wait to see what she comes up with, now that Harry is done.

Wednesday was a GORGEOUS day to be on a train. The sky was impossibly blue, and the sun shone warm through the windows. England (Scotland too) is a very WET landscape. It seemed like every time I looked out the window I was seeing a creek, a pond, or a marsh. There were also SHEEP, with fluffy beige wool and black faces and feet.

We had just passed through Newcastle, and I had such an urge to get off the train and explore. If I were in Germany, I could do that, and then board the next train to Edinburgh with the same ticket. Oh well. At least I'm finally learning.

I love big cities, and for a moment as I was writing this the first time, I had a moment of uncertainty when considering that my chosen career path almost certainly involves living in a village. Could a city girl like me survive so far from civilization? And then I had to laugh at myself. Even if the answer were "no", what is my alternative? Nickel and dime it in a big city with a desk job? Now that I KNOW I couldn't do the rest of my life.