Deja vu all over again

Parliament, the Big Ben clock tower, and Westminster Abbey.
Taken from the London Eye.

Cognitive dissonance is that odd, slightly discomforting feeling that occurs when you try to hold two conflicting concepts in your mind at the same time. It's the feeling that we had upon arriving in London yesterday. On one hand, it was a trip to Europe -- exotic, unusual, exciting. On the other hand it was a case of, "Hey, London! How are ya' How have you been since we last saw you just a few months ago?" Adding to this feeling is the fact that we're staying in a small, homey South Kensington hotel just a few blocks from where our apartment last summer is located. We know the Underground stops; we ate in an Indian restaurant just a block away whose food Judy spent the winter pining for. Walking past Parliament, Westminster Abbey and Big Ben and over Westminster Bridge to the south bank of the Thames felt very familiar and very weird, all at the same time.

Instead of fighting jet lag and fatigue, we decided to flow with them and spent a very active day. In TT (typical turista) mode. We handed over lots of money to a ticket vendor (in London, you hand over lots of money with great regularity) and took a ride on the London Eye -- that gigantic ferris wheel on the south bank. On one hand, it offers a spectacular view of the London skyline. On the other hand, there ain't much of a skyline there. To appreciate the views of London, either from the sky or from the ground, a good sense of history is important.

Examining the liquid bill or fare at The Grenadier

From there followed a long hike past Westminster Abbey (sorry, there didn't seem to be any leftover favors from the wedding), and into Belgravia -- one of the toniest sections of the city. There, we found our way to The Grenadier, a historic pub tucked away in a pricey residential area. Lots of history there, good ale, mediocre pub grub. Whaddya' gonna do?

Very much unlike last summer's visit, when the temperatures soared into the 90s and the humidity hung around our neck like chains, it's in the high 60s and the skies are drizzly and overcast. In other words, a much more normal day in the North Atlantic region.

So Harrod's!

Speaking of visiting the familiar, it was a short walk from The Grenadier to Harrod's or, as I like to think of it, "The Having Store." The department store to end all department stores. We past up the opportunity to spend ridiculous amounts of money on useless trinkets and instead spent a ridiculous amount of money at the fancy-shmancy coffee shop (where I drank tea -- go figure!) And finally, I made the pilgrimage to the basement via the "Egyptian Escalator," and there it was -- the small, yet remarkably tasteless, shrine to Princess Diana and her lover (and son of Harrod's owner) Dodi Fayed. I got teary just thinking about it.


Jet lag finally caught up with me, and I was asleep by 8 p.m. I slept 10 hours, something that usually occurs only if I'm deathly ill.

Speaking of the royal wedding -- outside of the usual tasteless and/or snarky offerings at souvenir stands, there doesn't seem to be much evidence that it occurred or that anyone other than the very upper crust gives a damn. I'll keep an eye out for evidence of its "importance," but if there is any, I suspect it's in the gossip columns, where we'll learn who Pippa is (or isn't) boinking.