Down and Out in London

Another airplane post, this time from South Africa airlines—an airline that has thus far thoroughly impressed me with adorable coca cola cans and cleverly compact trays. Since the last post, Ani and I have had a whirlwind tour of London that began with us not finding each other at the airport. Thankfully, we had prepared for this situation and both eventually found our way to the hotel. Fun fact: either the entire UK or just our hotel isn’t too fussed about security because, despite the fact that I had no proof that I belonged in the hotel room (it being booked under Ani’s name), they let me check in and go upstairs. That evening Ani and I were knackered, as the British would say, so we contented ourselves by wandering into the nearest town area and buying tomorrow’s breakfast from a small general store—prepackaged, cheap croissants, true British cuisine. We then spent the evening watching British television which was everything we hoped for with the added bonus of hardly any commercials!

Day Two was London, baby! (to quote “Friends”). We road in on the Piccadilly Line (which ends, for those interested, at a stop called Cockfosters—Ani, myself, and a group of pubescent British soccer boys found this amusing). First we just wandered, posing with statues of important people like this man:

Unknown Man

And important UK icons like this double-decker bus:

Traditional UK Sights

Most importantly, we managed to find the Ministry of Magic via the visitor’s entrance – a lovely telephone booth that smelled vaguely of liquor and urine. I believe this is to detract Muggles.

"One badge for MoM, please!"

Then we hit Trafalgar Square. We had a (free!) visit to the National Gallery and appreciate the Christmas tree in the square, which is a gift Norway has been giving out of gratitude for UK help in WWII since 1947. Ani and I suspect that, as the years went on, the Norwegians have gotten less enthusiastic about the tree, because the one we saw was somewhat bedraggled.

Norwegian Thank You Tree

London apparently has a street light climbing problem because the entire city is covered in signs like this:

(this small a picture makes the sign unclear, it says: "Beware Anti-Climb Paint")

After a rather long discussion, Ani and I are still unclear as to how exactly the paint deters climbing. Ani’s suggestion was lead—presumably as a means of, if not preventing climbers, then at least poisoning them so that they never attempt such a feat again. Then we reached Parliament (partially under “improvements”—the upbeat British description of construction. Some of our tube lines were closed for improvements as well).

Classic London Shot

Ani and Parliament: Pointier than she expected

Kaija and Sir Oliver Cromwell

Night apparently comes quickly around this season in London because by the time Ani and I had stopped for some chips and tea and continued to Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre it was quite dark. Nevertheless, that would not prevent us from getting our picture in front of the thing (we were too cheap to go in, a running theme for our time in London that, as you will see, proved fortuitous). Here great acts of theater occurred, here the Bard himself did play!

Ani and Shakespeare’s Lobe—a lesser known site ;)

We then re-crossed the Thames to Saint Paul’s Cathedral, which in addition to being FREE! was finishing up an evening service. Thus, we entered the church as the choir was singing an absolutely haunting hymn. This was probably the most majestic/magical part of our trip to London—timing was perfect because right after the service they closed up. We couldn’t take pictures inside, but hopefully the exterior gives a sense of how beautiful this was.

Saint Paul’s Cathedral

Finally we made our way back to the hotel, but not before taking this picture—an act which proved more daring than I had anticipated.

Ani in the Underground

As you can see, we were in the tube station when I took this photo. Shortly thereafter an incensed British man came onto the entire underground’s sound system irately declaring, “PLEASE do NOT take picture in the station. I repeat DO NOT TAKE PICTURES IN THE STATION. This includes the lady in the blue coat with long hair.” Avid blog readers/people with eyes will note that I, thank goodness, have neither a blue coat, nor long hair; however, I feel the entire thing to be a rather close call. Therefore, this picture should be treasured as it is, apparently, forbidden.

Today was spent largely sitting at Heathrow Airport, a drab place with low ceilings and bad lighting. Ani and I had to be out of the hotel by noon but the flight didn’t leave until 9:05 pm so you can do the math there. Unfortunately, when we went to check in our good luck failed us. First, Ani’s ticket was booked with the wrong name (or rather, bits of her name were not where they were on her passport) and airlines, of course, are very unforgiving on this subject. Thankfully, we had time, which we spent trying to call the ticket company and being utterly ripped off by the British pay phones. Although the pound is worth nearly twice the dollar, the British continue to spend it around dollar rates. For example, one might think that a sandwich that in the US would be $9 would be perhaps 5 pounds. But one would be thinking entirely wrong. That sandwich would still be 9 pounds, making your lunch a lovely $17 or so. This is also true of payphones and, as I found out to my horror, baggage.

Fun fact number two: when travelling from the UK to other places, you do not get more than one piece of checked luggage. You would like two pieces? Well, then you shall be paying—I kid you not—35 pounds for every kilo more you want to bring. You packed for the US allotted 23 kilos? Well, at Heathrow you only get 20 kilos. And your carry-on may only weigh 8 kilos. Thus it was that I found myself with a carry-on that I was not allowed to carry-on and 7 kilos more than my allotted 20. I am now a poor woman. Expect no presents from Africa, because if you can do any math at all that means that I paid 35 pounds for every kilo—that’s 245 pounds and just imagine it in dollars (I’m actually not going to because just typing this makes me a little nauseous). So, let that be a lesson to us all. There is such a thing as too much stuff and it is a very bad thing.

Ani had to buy a new ticket, but we’re hoping there’s a refund in there somewhere for her. So while London was lovely, Heathrow was hell. Let us hope that South Africa and Botswana prove to be less complicated. Although if the dubious look the check-in woman gave me when I told her that “No, I don’t have a lock for my luggage. In the US the break them open if you do that” is any indication, I may have less stuff sooner than anticipated!