I was unable to post via computer on my trip, but did try to keep notes as we bounced along in the "coach", as the Brits call buses. The Burt-man and I planned a Great Britain/Ireland trip about 8 months ago which finally occurred May 10 to May 27. I say finally occurred as it was paid for about six months ago. Between world terrorism events, disastrous election results and universal hacking It was questionable whether the trip would ever come to fruition. But soundly back in the US, I can try to recap the madcap.
Of course the final "cheeky monkey" moment occurred as we arrived at the Heathrow for our return trip. The airport is massive, duty free shops including Cartier, Gucci, Harrods, Hermes, Chanel, etc. line the terminals. It was also massively filled with passengers who were now without a flight due to a universal hacking of British airlines. Fortunately we were on Delta/KLM. Controlled chaos punctuated with frustrated travelers and sulky children who were frantically trying to book alternate flights or hotels. We clutched our tickets tightly and formed a protective buffer to assure our escape.
But I ask you, who is buying expensive jewelry, handbags, clothing at the airport shopping center? Really, "I just had to pick up these diamond earrings-they go so well with my tee shirt and flip flops." Weird. Also odd, is the lack of restrooms and eating areas besides the inevitable Nero Coffee shop and "artisan" sandwiches in a couple of locations. Never did get the point of the artisan sandwiches. Also there seems to be a British fascination with mayonnaise with occurs with every sandwich without asking - right up there with "rocket" the spicy greens they put on cooked pizzas and brown sauce, lots of brown sauce which as far as I can tell is basically gravy. And this was rather odd. The first time I asked for an "iced tea" I was greeted with a blank stare. This is a country who loves its tea and has a tea/coffee shop every 100 feet or so. Just add ice. Oh well, I enjoyed my hot teas and coffee though they in turn thought me odd when I always refused the inevitable little pot of cream that is standard with your tea order.
DAY ONE - of the UK adventure began with me totally nailing my to do list including four loads of laundry (a task I repeated upon return). Sheets on beds changed. Kristen and Joseph took us to the airport and when Joe heard we were going on a plane on vacation, he said he wanted to go on vacation too. He settled on a string of cherry licorice from the airport snack bar instead.
It was a little awkward connecting with the senior flight attendant (or purser) who needed to meet and greet each and every First and Business class passenger. They of the fluffy, comforters, reclining seats and hot and cold running attention. Jealously watched by those of us in steerage who made do with mystery filled pillows and a handy bulkhead to lean against. We alternated between slouching, twisting and the floor to get a few winks as we flew overnight. Though like a hospital interruptions are frequent. Lights out at 10:30 pm followed by a water bottle and hot towel about 1/2 hour later; then a full lights on to enjoy a full course lasagna dinner at 11:30 pm. Then peanuts thrust at us about 2 a.m. followed by breakfast at 5:30 am or so. All of which was delicious if not conducive to any sleep on the flight. First class passengers of course had their meals chewed and digested by staff so as not to disturb their comfortable sleep. But I digress.
When the purser finished her good will tour of 1st class she "popped" by my seat. I greeted her with a 2 lb. bag of M&Ms that I said was a reward for her difficult role she could keep for herself or share. Within minutes I was overwhelmed with grateful thanks punctuated by M&M candy smiles from the rest of the staff. One charming steward with a British accent thanked me for "the lovely chocolates". (Yep straight guys do say lovely over there). I felt good, they felt good. Everybody on board received a mellow trip. However, like the tooth fairy who works her magic under cover of darkness, the purser slipped a full bottle of Chardonnay (from 1st class) into my sleepy lap in quiet thanks.
The happy feeling lasted through the, oh approximately 1/2 mile walk to Customs. Welcome to the UK along with roughly 500 other arrivals in a stifling hall (as the trip progressed I learned that the UK is not big on air conditioning or screens on windows actually) filled with Disney-like rope channels designed to make you feel you're progressing when really you're just rotating in massive circles back and forth, back and forth. You eventually recognized your "line buddies" as you made your way around each turn. I resorted to dragging our strangely heavier (remember the bottle of wine I was now carrying) bag by its strap.
However there was not major noise, bickering, loud voices. The saving grace for British customs is we all just survived a multi-hour plane trip at night sitting bolt upright in teeny, tiny airplane seats No one had any fight left in them. Even small children followed zombie like with no happy attraction at the end of the endless line.
When it was our turn, I felt strangely guilty of what I don't know. Such is the solemnity of customs officials who determine whether you just popped a fortune and a plane ride from hell to be told "nope can't come in". Course I was sweating the bottle of wine. (Reverse that feeling coming back through US Customs) Nope, our officer's major concern was whether we were returning to the States at the end of our trip. Yes Ma'am. She seemed oddly relieved as did we.
Another 1/2 mile to the round robin of men and women holding signs hoping to see my name as one of the privileged who "had a driver waiting". Nope, no such luck, no desk or office marking the name of our travel group as promised -poop. After asking three people I was finally directed to the Information desk marked strangely enough with a BIG I, duhhh. He directed us back to the driver circle in a particular location. Yes, there was the dude - 3rd row back with OUR NAME ON A SIGN! Cool. even if it was third tier.
After a breakneck ride through much of downtown London, we finally arrived at our hotel. Now I have seen some crowded down towns and on-street parking situations but this driver's skills were either professional level or foolhardy. Since no one died, I pick number one. He knew to the inch how much room he needed and I was forced to squeeze in my seat to be sure he made the turns and missed the hordes of motorcycles and bikes who dodge in and out of traffic including giant double deck buses at every corner. Couple that with the fact that they drive on the opposite side of the road I kept looking the wrong way. I kept braking sympathetically and turning throughout the 30 minute ride only I went the wrong way every single time.
It was quite amusing, based on the number of dead end streets, one way streets, round-abouts and curving roads that each intersection is marked LOOK RIGHT or LOOK LEFT. It was dizzying, but like any confident city dweller, they just roll with it. After a little confusion we just waited and crossed when the herd did - always looking the wrong way of course.
Exhausted and reaching our room we got a call from our travel group rep saying come on down, I'm only here until 3:30. It was 2:30 groannnn. We hit the "facilities" and headed back down. Her advice was keep moving until 8 or 9 o'clock if you can. We did and promptly got lost going outside and around the block. Apparently they are not real fond of the "grid" system and straight streets. But we did see the walls of Buckingham Palace before losing my bearings. However we discovered the grandeur of Victoria train station before stumbling on the back door of our hotel which, how humorous is connected to the train station. Another fun fact, could not figure out how to turn on the lights. I think there was some instruction at check-in, but brain atrophy had set in at that point. Finally understood that you plug your room key into a slot to get any electricity. Great energy saver especially when the "foreigners" don't figure it out. Quite a clever idea actually.
Through the lobby and back out to the street to try this again and score some grub. The first stop was a place called Meat- appetizing. However after being seated we decided the "smell of Meat" was not anything appetizing and bolted. Next stop a pub where you either drink downstairs or go upstairs for food which comes up from downstairs on a dumb waiter. Burt's lst fish and chips and my first meat pie. The upstairs by the way was labeled the "Ladie's Parlor". I guess that leaves the downstairs to the dedicated drinking and carousing. We ordered what sounded like an interesting foreign beer only to read "American Pale Ale" on the label, oh well. Back to the room about 6:30 where we both promptly fell asleep waking at 8 to unpack. First tour tomorrow at 8. Tower of London here I come. To be Continued
