At the end of November, my family hopped across the pond to
celebrate Europe, togetherness, and nontraditional holidays. I left Dublin on
the eve of November 19 to meet my favorite four in London, and was welcomed
with Olaf-warm embraces, a box of Ferrero Rocher’s, and hushed laughter into
the wee hours with Kaylee. Mom had booked a flat in Pimlico, a quiet
neighborhood made up of Parisian terraces, grocery nooks, and flats (like ours)
set beside—and looking to be set within—dress and flower shops.
We woke each morning to a burning sunrise, arching over the
square of even homes, and stepped out into bitter air. London couldn’t have
been a better city to be riding the Hop On, Hop Off buses; being as big as it
is, it was so necessary. And being as chilly as it was, that was a luxury.
I was actually talking with my mom and sister this morning
about just how much we were able to squeeze into our itinerary for such a short
length of time spent there. A lot of that is thanks to monuments not needing
loads of time, and a speedy family.
The morning found us waiting nearly forty five minutes
standing underneath an awning and waiting for the bus to arrive, finally riding
up and around the bends of London’s roads, and left us at Piccadilly Circus.
Europe’s own Times Square, Piccadilly Circus towers over with flashy, moving
billboards, theatres, cafes (a Theatre Café)
and restaurants. With that comes the congregation of tourists, but we quickly
realized that the whole of London is a mosh pit of tourists and residents
alike. Truthfully, that made our experience there slightly less than enjoyable.
That doesn’t take away from London’s splendor, though. We
went to the Rainforest Café for lunch (because why not?) and returned to the
bus to visit the Horse Guards, where we luckily arrived in time to witness the
changing of the guards at two in the afternoon. On this street, where the Prime
Minister also resides, monuments for women helping during World War II and
soldiers of the World War I have been erected between the opposing lanes of
traffic, and laden with flowers. Sculptures can be found along the sidewalks as
well, all the way to the corner where Big Ben, a brilliant gold illuminated by
the sun, stands. We caught the bus, and my sister, father and I decided to be
blown away on the upper deck.
That evening, we were seeing Les Miserables in the West End. For dinner, we went to Bella
Italia, a small Italian restaurant three minutes away from the Queen’s Theatre.
The Italian craze is everywhere, it seems. And rightfully so, because who isn’t
craving pasta or pizza all the time?
And the show? Amazing. Every show that I see reminds me why
theatre is so important, and so important to me. The manner of storytelling has
always been so memorable, and to see one of my favorite shows in its opening
theatre and with the original context was a treasure. The set is comprised of a
turntable in the center of the floor, and makes for beautiful visuals. Chills
were tattooed onto my skin for the entirety of the show, and I cried. An awful
lot.
At the metro station, we bought cupcakes from a little stand
and ate our emotions out.
The next morning was another early start, and we made our
first stop the United States Embassy, its monuments, and its memorial to
September 11th. Etched from wood, it is decorated with benches and
plaques and is such a beautiful tribute. The park grounds were quiet and lovely
to walk through—everything still relatively green and alive-ish, even at the
end of November.
The East India Tea Company, England’s long-time tea provider
and Boston’s assistance in dumping British goods into the harbor, was an
important stop for us before heading for the London Eye. We were smart to do
the Eye just after eleven in the morning, as the afternoon grew clouded and foggy.
The sun was strong as we slowly climbed into the sky, in our pod carrying about
fifteen. The Thames River, a dark green, actually sparkled. The city pulled
away from me, became my view from the airplane, and forgotten was the
frustration with people below. Instead came the breath of realization that yes, I am in London, England right now with
my family. Studying abroad was one long string of surreal moments, this
being one.
In the afternoon, we had a small bus kerfuffle where the line
that was supposed to bring us to the Tower of London ended up having branches
within, and we jumped on the wrong one. It carried us back towards Westminster
Abbey, and we figured it was a good time then to explore the grounds and peer
through the wrought-iron fences, closed off for the day. When would be a better
time than confusedly getting dropped off there, right?
In a Groundhog Day series of events, we ended up back on Westminster
Bridge to locate the correct bus, get on, and be whisked away to the Tower of
London. It isn’t London Bridge, but I couldn’t stop singing “London Bridge is
Falling Down”.
With the bus service came a complimentary river cruise, and
we slowly ambled along the pavement towards that entrance. On the way, we
admired the fortress to our left, and located the prisoners’ gates (through
which Anne Boleyn was supposedly taken). Note to self: Must read The Other Boleyn Girl. Has been on my
list forever.
Kaylee, my mom and I stood at the back of the boat and took
photos of the bridge as the waves rocked us gently underneath. My stomach
gripped nervously, reminded of rocky seas and little boats. But inside, we were
safe from all movement. A guide’s voice sounded over the speakers, and pointed
out sights and attractions along the Thames, as well as recounted a brief
history of certain spots. We saw the Globe Theatre, and bore witness to bullet
holes underneath bridges that were put there during World War II. The cruise
left us off at—you guessed it—Westminster Bridge, and from there we went to
Buckingham Palace. The queen wasn’t there, unfortunately, as to be noted by the
Union Jack flying overhead; I’m sure those 775 rooms feel exorbitant when a
resident is there, but when nobody is? A mystery. I loved that entire area, and
despite the crowds there was a sense of tranquility to be had. With the sun singing
the horizon, and the sky singing of dusky glory, there seemed no better way to
end the day-day.
We returned to Piccadilly Circus afterwards for a pre-dinner
hot chocolate at the Theatre Café. Kaylee and I have seriously had
conversations about opening a place like this before we’d even heard of it. But
it pulled all of my dreams from my mind and mixed them together on Shaftesbury
Avenue. Sweets to be taken at tables decorated with show pamphlets, walls lined
with cast-signed posters, show tunes pouring out from speakers around us, and a
corner to buy show tickets. Fantasies do come true, people.
For dinner, we went to Saint James’ Tavern. It can be
confusing to decode a place in Europe in terms of seating yourself or waiting
to be seated. My mom caught the eye of a server, and after asking for a table
of five, he led us to the corner of the tavern, in a closed off room just
behind the bar, where we all squished in. It was a night for Irish cider and
English fish n’ chips, followed by more cupcakes from the metro stand.
London was a wonderful place to spend time. Very busy, but
lovely. Even in a low tourist season, there was an influx of crowds and it
could at times be unbearable. It doesn’t take away from the glory of this city,
and hopefully I will be back again to give it another go.
“Mind the gap!” – Neil Gaiman
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