Hiking through Bath, etc.

Hello, there. The vagabonding through England continues. There's no great overarching theme to today's entry (Besides, it's 9:30 p.m., it's been an exhausting day and, in the words of Paul Simon, “It's a wonder I can think at all”).

No pictures right now. Sorry. It's not that we haven't been taking them; it's just that all of the stills are on Judy's camera, and she just realized that she didn't bring the connector for my computer. It's an older model, from back in the bad old days when you needed something more than a USB cable. I'll take stills with my trusty Sony which is larger, but simpler in so many ways (like transferring the photos!)

• Deja Vu all over again, Part 2: In keeping with the theme that this year's visit to London is sort of an extension of last year's visit to London: Today, we took an all-day tour of Bath. We booked the tour with “London Walks,” a great outfit that conducts walking tours all over London and many other parts of England. We had a great time in Greenwich with them last year, courtesy of our tour guide Chris Green. This year, our tour of Bath was conducted by... Chris Green. Once again, it was like we'd barely been away.
  
  
• When and if you get over here, visit Bath, about 90 minutes west of London by train. Bath is the site of ancient Roman health baths, fueled by natural hot springs, dating back to about 75 AD and later revived during 18^th century by the Brits. I won't try to capture it all here, but the tour of the city – sort of a holiday resort where the upper crust Brits could take advantage of the healing waters to soothe their ills, real and otherwise – and the museum, where you can see the hot water springs and walk among the Roman ruins, is well worth the time and money.
  
  
• Sometimes, ignorance is bliss. Sometimes it's just ignorance. And sometimes, you just get lucky. We arrived back at Paddington Station (home of the bear!) at about 6 pm and, not knowing a damn thing about the neighborhood, we just lit out to check it out, visit a pub, see the sights, etc. For all we knew, we could have been wandering through a less-than-savory neighborhood, but as I say, when on holiday, you don't spend a lot of time thinking about such things. As it turns out, we were in an extremely affluent and classy part of town. After a drink (or two) and a bite to eat, we strolled through Kensington Gardens, caught a glimpse of Kensington Palace and wound up at Royal Albert Hall (and no, I don't know how many holes it takes to fill it). Not bad for a serendipitous stroll.
  
  

• We couldn't return to London without a trip to a West End show. Theater in the UK is considerably less expensive than in NY or other major cities, and the theaters are smaller and more intimate. And, tickets for most shows are available at the discount TKTS booth. Perfect. We saw Billy Elliott last night. I'm not a big fan of musicals, but this one is worth the money. Great performances and it actually has a strong book. There's some THERE there. 
  
  
• Tomorrow, we pack up, board another train and head north to York. Details to follow.

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.

Even Steven -- and not in a good way

Anyone with more than a passing acquaintance with "Seinfeld" is probably familiar with Jerry Seinfeld's philosophy of "Even Steven." For everything bad that happens to Jerry, it will be balanced by something good.

This theory goes far toward explaining today's events. I'm currently in DC's Dulles Airport, recovering from the first leg of our journey. It was not an auspicious start. I've always been amazed by our luck in our encounters with babies and small children on flights. At first, there is the fear that the children will act up, cry, etc. and make for a flight that is more miserable than it otherwise would have been. (Is any flight actually enjoyable anymore?) Almost always, the kids have been angelic -- airborne dolls.

Today it was payback. Even Steven time. Two Russian parents boarded with their two young girls -- maybe 2 and 3 years old -- and plunked themselves in the row in front of us. And thus began four-and-a-half hours of tag-team tantrums. Not crying and whining, mind you; full on tantrums.The parents did little to quelll it, and on we flew. Trapped!! A flight attendant told me that she hadn't seen anything like it in her 15 years in the air and was wondering whether she could ditch her uniform at the airport, don civvies and head for the nearest bar.

Boarding for London is just ahead. Hoping for better luck.

Prep continues

I'm a pretty unflappable, steady-as-she-goes flyer. Judy is not. Her stomach is already churning, and that'll probably be the case until she boards the plane, pops her in-flight drug of choice -- Ambien -- and snoozes her way across the ocean. In case of consciousness, however, she has stashed her portable comfort food of choice in her backpack -- Pringles and Twizzlers. She probably would like to carry a pizza in there as well, but it would just get everything greasy. Besides, the TSA folks would probably want a slice or two.

Packing approaches. Once again, I have sworn that WE'RE TRAVELING LIGHT!!! No, I really mean it this time. Really. Of course, no matter how light we think we're packing, we manage to strain the zippers on the suitcases. And, amazingly, the suitcases always weigh damn near the airlines' limit. I'm sure there's some undiscovered gravitational property at work here, but it's beyond me.

On the road again

Both Judy's and my parents took the same tack when it came to travel.  Sure there were the occasional short weekend trips or the occasional visits to relatives elsewhere in the country. But it wasn't until "the kids" (i.e., us) were grown and out of the house that they put on their traveling shoes and started booking international flights.

The problem with this strategy, of course, is the clock is always ticking, and the race is on. How much seeing the world can you do before the rigors of age take their toll? How many hills can you hike before the joints and muscles cry, "No mas!" My in-laws would liked to have done more, but it wasn't long before my father-in-law's health deteriorated, making anything more than a short car trip out of the question. 

With all of that in mind, Judy and I aren't wasting any time. The kids are elsewhere, and it's time to hit the road as often as possible. Sure, we were in Europe last year. But we loved London, and there's so much more to see. So, Monday morning, we're getting aboard the big metal mailing tube and flinging ourselves across the Atlantic again. Time flies. So do we. 

First, we'll head back to London, which should feel almost like a homecoming by now. (We REALLY enjoyed ourselves last year and loved the city.) But aside from a few walking tours, a visit to St. Paul's, a stop at the new Globe Theater, a show or two in the West End, a ride on the London Eye and, of course, the pubs, the city will mainly be a jumping off point for us. Later in the week, we'll head west to Bath, and we'll be spending a long weekend north of London, in York. 

From there, it will be back to London's Kings Cross Station, where we'll look for Platform 9 3/4, grab a train to "The Continent" and make our way to Brussels. I've been to Brussels three times on business, so am fairly familiar with it, but it's new turf for Judy. Besides, I'm looking forward to spending time with my "evil twin brother" Pol Van den Ende. Pol and I both worked in marketing communications for Honeywell a lifetime or two ago. We managed to work things out so that he got over to Arizona regularly, where he could rent Ford Mustangs and take in the desert landscape, and I got over to Belgium, home of the world's best beer. So this promises to be quite the suds-drenched reunion.

Finally, it's off to Amsterdam, where we'll spend four days or so taking in the sights, visiting some museums and perhaps dropping by a coffeehouse or two to sample the -- ahem -- coffee.

More to follow. Stay tuned.