The Ryndex

Catching up… catching up… This entry comes way back from April, my trip to London on the weekend following the marathon.

My cousin Zed met me at the finish line. He had arrived in Paris during this last, dull week of training (all carbs and no booze and early nights). It was really nice to see him there, a friendly face to help me limp home.

A few days later, we took the Eurostar to London. This was our second trip there together, so we‘d already visited the big museums and monuments. This time we were there for strolling, shopping and (hopefully) clubbing.

Zed had booked us a room right between Soho and Covent Gardens. It‘s very nice to have a central home base in a city, and this place was particularly great — on the sixth floor looking straight down Old Compton Street from Charing Cross Road. It was also really close to Piccadilly, Trafalgar Square, Oxford Street, and the city is compact enough that any of the major sites are just a nice walk away.

We ate at Wagamama, a Japanese noodle house. I had the Amai Udon (thick, fried wheat noodles with nuts and sweet chilies), and Zed had the Chicken Itame (rice noodles in a spicy broth). It was pretty crowded, but the service was quick and friendly, with handheld computers to zap the orders to the kitchen upstairs.

The food was quite good (in fact, tastier than the Japanese noodles I‘ve eaten in Paris). They use good ingredients, and are particularly conscientious about listing everything in the meals, for those with dietary restrictions. It‘s a good place to go if you‘re a vegan, gluten-intolerant or trendy. We ate there frequently.

That evening, we went to this one bar for a drink. The website was very new wave, loud and fun. The reality, however, was very laid-back and calm. It wasn’t unpleasant, of course, and it was only Wednesday night… It had a very “friends at a pub” feeling, chatting over drinks and sitting on the dance floor (not dancing). I could always use friends at a pub, of course, but it just wasn’t the night for it. I was tired and Zed told me that I was making zombie face. Thanks a lot, botox!

The next day, we visited St. Paul‘s Cathedral, walking there via Trafalgar Square. Both the column in the square and the cathedral were covered in scaffolding on our last trip.

Unlike France, a few of the functioning churches charge an admission fee for tourism. It makes sense — at some point the sheer mass of tourists overwhelm the general viability of the congregation to perform basic outreach to the community, believers and non-believers. So, open a merchant account with the major international credit card agencies, install a till and turnstiles in the apse and use the gaping hordes to pay for upkeep and maintenance. It‘s an unfortunate business reality in an age where the Established Church is no longer a dominant, unelected social power. Have you paid your tithe today?

I spent mine on admission… and tequila!

The last stop on our tourist day was the Tower of London. We missed it on the last trip, but our feet were motivated this time. It also has a steep admission charge.

We stumbled on Alan, a yeoman guard starting his tour. He was very good — he teased the children, but they loved him, holding his hands between the stops. He told the story of the various prisoners, the condemned and the kings and queens that walked those grounds, alternating between far-too-graphic horror and comedy. We found out that he was stationed in Alberta when he was in the military, so it seems likely he would have been near my hometown!

After the tour, we went in to see the crown jewels. There is, as rumored, a conveyor belt that whisks you along, but it‘s only a couple of metres long. You can go back and ride it again, or just walk backwards if there‘s no crowd (there wasn‘t).

The stronghold in the center of the compound has an armoury museum, and there was a very modern panick-mongering exposition on “What if Guy Fawkes had succeeded?” Tabloid headlines screamed TERRORISTS! and computer generated reenactments blew up the Houses of Parliament over and over.

We saw the famous ravens. They‘re huge! Alan assured us that they are ferocious and will bite you.

Traitor‘s Gate, the little chapel, the graffiti at Beauchamp Tower — it‘s really quite pretty and poignant.

We walked back to the our apartment and rested a bit before heading out to the theatre. We could have seen two of the stars of the Harry Potter movies in a revival of Equus, including a nudie Daniel Radcliffe. There are so many things wrong with that… but mostly the fading relevance of the script in a world of commonplace horror and mental illness.

We saw Tennessee William‘s The Glass Menagerie, a story I‘m familiar with from watching two of my friends do a critically acclaimed duologue. Jessica Lange was in it, and she did a great job. All of the actors did — I loved it from “Deception! Deception! Deception!”

We were going to watch a movie in Leicester square, but paying 12 pounds to see Blades of Glory… well, we couldn’t justify it.

We didn‘t go for a big steak dinner either, out of fear that it would be too bloatful for going out that evening… Now I‘m glad, since I’ve learned that the big steak chains in the area are apparently the biggest rip-off in the city.

That night we dressed up and headed out to the club. We found it easily enough, but the kids ahead of us were being turned away at the door and causing drama. They were all dressed up: as angels, sailors, goths, glitterqueens. Apparently they were celebrating someone‘s 18th or 19th birthday (I forget the drinking age in England — and I know I‘ll never see it again…) Equally apparently, they were already smashed from the open bar in their limo (as one of them painstakingly explained to me). We got in, got frisked and got some tequila. I was in charge of buying the drinks for the night.

It was pretty easy to entice me onto the dance floor and subsequently up onto the stage…

And that‘s all I have to say about that.

The next day, we checked out, stored our luggage at Waterloo Station and wandered, wandered, wandered as far as our feet could take us, then stopped for a coffee and wandered some more. We found another Wagamama, and ate there for the last time.

Tin Foiled Travel