London Day Four
I’ve realized after looking over my previous entries that I’m basically eating everything in sight and walking around a lot while here in London. There’s nothing wrong with that, but what the hell am I going to do when I get back to Chicago? I need to bicycle more each day I think. Otherwise my gut and my butt will reach ever-further downward.
Blast you gravity, thou art mine sworn enemy.
Look at me. Trying to talk like the natives. Not really, but it’s awesome to hear all the varieties of accents here and the vastly different usage of the language. Let me translate a few things for you:
London: “Eat In or Take Away?”
Chicago: “Is that for here or to go?”
London: “Do you want it white or black?” **
Chicago: “Cream in your coffee?”
** No cream here, they use milk
London: “Anything for starters?”
Chicago: “Would you care for an appetizer?”
London: “Right, let me pop ’round ”
Chicago: “Sure, I’ll stop by ”
London: Way Out
Chicago: Exit
A few more things to note:
- You don’t need to tip in most places. It’s either included (check the bill) or not done. Don’t tip your bartenter.
- If you arrive at a pub and claim a table, walk over to the bar and order. No waiter/waitress will come by and you’ll be sitting there a very long time looking foolish.
- MIND THE GAP. Seriously. Many of the tube stations don’t fit snugly against the trains and there is sometimes a huge gap between the platform and the door. They aren’t kidding when they tell you to MIND THE GAP.
- In the City of London at least, look on the ground when you cross the street. It’ll tell you which way to look for oncoming traffic. If you’re an American, it’s the other way. Trust what the ground says or you’ll soil your pants. (Not your trousers, I actually mean your pants i.e. your underwear)
Now onto the day. We woke and had McDonalds for breakfast. The english muffins are less sweet here. Delightful nonetheless. And the McD’s coffee tastes better I think.
During lunch we ate from a place called the Thai Van, which is actually a van that drives parks on Petticoat Lane (no joke there) and serves wonderfully spicy food. Ask for it with extra chili powder if you dare to crank up the heat a bit more. I had a #8, red chicken curry on noodles. Mmmm.
In the evening we decided to peep the royals, or at least try to, so we headed back to Westminster station and set off for Number 10 Downing Street.
What they don’t tell you on television is that you cannot actually GET to Number 10 Downing Street because of the immense gates blocking the entrance to Downing Street. Not to mention the men with their fingers on the triggers of their machine guns. Karin and I were hoping to get a picture of each of us waving from in front of the door. But no luck. Secretly, I wanted to do the Maggie Thatcher wave from in front of the door. Oh well. *sigh*
From Downing Street, or at least the entrance of it, we headed up to Buckingham Palace via Trafalgar Square. Not too many pigeons, but enough to make me grossed out. Very touristy Trafalgar was. Meh.
Then we headed through the arch and into The Mall (which I think is pronounced mehl) toward the palace. It was a bit strange to be walking along that street for me. I clearly remember both Princess Diana’s Wedding and her Funeral proceeding along that strip of London. The ground is red. The trees are neatly manicured. And somehow, despite the immense number of black cabs, it’s fairly quiet.
It either feels sad or reserved there. I couldn’t tell.
Thinking we were slick, we saw the Palace entrance and thought we’d skirt around it to Hyde Park. Well, we ended up going around the ass end of the entire palace, staring at a wall with frightening spiky protrusions the entire time. I’m sure because I was carrying a backpack, we were on CCTV inside the palace for the entire trip. Had we thought about it and read our map properly (that’s pronounced prop-ly, not pro-per-ly) we would have gone through the park gate and over to Hyde Park in 5 minutes.
Instead we saw the incredibly beautiful buildings NEXT TO the palace. They are a sight to see. Row upon row of tall starkly ornate buildings facing a dull red brick wall. You’d think the palace would at least have a fancy wall surrounding it. No such luck.
By the time we got to the south east corner of Hyde Park, we were both hungry enough to consider the Hard Rock Café London. However, the wait was “nearly one-hour-thirty” so we headed down a small street and found the Rose and Crown pub.
Taking a cue from the locals, Karin grabbed a table right away near the door and we scanned our menus to decide. Pub food was the order of the day and we both had fish and chips. She had a pint of Guiness, and for me a pint of bitters, Bombardier, which is served not cold, not warm, but just right.
When I bellied up to the bar to order, the barkeep asked me “garden peas or mushy peas” to accompany the meal. Mushy didn’t sound exciting so I went with garden, which was good. Afterward I learned from several locals to skip mushy peas. I suppose it’s like a thick pea soup, but to hear them tell it, it’s better to avoid.
The fish was thickly coated and crisp from beginning to end. It was a half of a fish, over a foot long and thick, simply drenched in crispy brown coating. The chips (fries darlings, fries) were cut thickly, but not steak fry size. Imagine the thickness of nine McD’s fries, and you have the chips we had. Crispy and lightly salted on the outside, and soft, floury and steamy on the inside. Lots of malt vinegar over everything, plus a bit of tartar sauce on the side. I nearly passed out the food tasted so good. I could barely get myself together to hop on the tube and head back to the hotel.
We really are eating our way around London.