A Week in the U.K.
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Inside the Tate Modern Museum |
Thames Pub Walk |
Buckingham Palace |
Firefighters' Memorial |
St. Paul's Scaffolding covered with printed cover. |
St. Bride's Church |
Over the next three days, we put plenty of miles on our walking shoes as we explore central London...
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Big Ben |
Parliament |
Peace protest outside Parliament |
Westminster Cathedral |
London Eye Ferris Wheel |
Waiting for a bus |
Better prepared for the cold, we venture out on Saturday with a plan to visit Harrods, but are thwarted by the crowds, so instead we explore the boutiques of Knightsbridge, then decide that an indoor activity is indicated. The Churchill Museum and Cabinet War Rooms fill the bill nicely.
Completed only a week before the start of WWII, the War Rooms provided a secure base where Churchill could direct the war, protected from bombs by a thick layer of concrete. When the war ended, they turned out the lights and locked the doors, creating a virtual time capsule. You can take a self-guided tour (for a couple of pounds extra, you can rent a sound guide - they look a bit like a cordless phone. Exhibits in the museum are marked with a 3 digit code. Punch in the code, and the guide provides a narration describing the exhibit, often with special sound effects. In addition to the War Room complex, the Churchill museum follows the career of the legendary leader.
No visit to London can be complete without a visit to Westminster Cathedral, Parliament
and Buckingham Palace
(no Queen in sight - and we were so hoping to be invited in for
tea). The Cathedral is particularly ornate, and covered with carvings,
gargoyles, and grotesques. 
Sunday starts on a lazy note. We sleep in a bit, enjoy a room service
breakfast, then head out for the British Museum. It's warmer today, the
streets are quiet, and the walk is short. The museum is amazing - Jayne
gets her mummy fix, and we marvel at the ability of the Brits to haul huge
chunks of rock over extremely long distances.
We try a pub lunch, and
Steve decides that though the English interpretation of
a hamburger leaves something to be desired, the ale is pretty darn good.
That evening, we take the train out to Twickenham, a London suburb, to the Cabbage Patch pub, to attend a meeting of the Twickenham Folk Club. The club is similar to Urban Campfires, hosting weekly performances by singer-songwriters. Headlining is Clive Gregson (whose CD is now in heavy rotation in Jayne's car), an ex-pat Brit living in Nashville who plays with Nancy Griffith, but Steve gets a chance to sing a couple of songs too.
On Monday, we surrender to multinational temptation and breakfast on McMuffins, but rationalize that since we're going to the Tower of London, things will balance out. Founded in 1066 by William the Conqueror, the Tower complex includes the Traitor's Gate, armor displays, and the Crown Jewels (an interesting display - the room is a disguised vault, and rather than walking past the display cases, there's a moving sidewalk).
After touring the Tower, we catch a water taxi There are glossy black ravens all around the Tower. Legend has it that as long as the ravens live at the Tower, the country will prevail. The ravens don't seem too interested in leaving.
Following our tour, we take a short walk over to a dock where we catch the
water taxi that cruises up the Thames,
back to the area of our Friday night walking tour. We make our way to
Blackfriar's, a historic pub. Lunch is a meat pie, and a couple of pints
of the local ale
.
We fill the afternoon with museum visits - the Victoria and Albert (decorative arts - Jayne likes the history of fashion) and the Science Museum (where Steve gets a chance to see exhibits on historic diving and aviation), but we don't do justice to either. There is so much to see and so little time, it's like trying to drink from a fire hose.
The evening ends with another visit to Harrod's. The crowds have dissipated and we have a chance to browse a bit (though we never find Santa, nor the Diana/Dodi memorial). We resist the siren call of Krispy Kreme, and instead enjoy a glass of wine and assorted nibbles at the tapas bar, one of numerous eating opportunities strategically placed throughout the store. After a short Tube ride, we're back at the hotel, preparing for tomorrow's trip to Edinburgh.
Though there have been threats of snow for days, Monday starts with a bit of
sun. It's a short Tube trip to the train station, where we activate our
rail passes (good for 4 days of unlimited travel on British Rail). We
catch the 9 am train to Edinburgh, and settle in for the 4 1/2 hour trip.
Despite the onset of winter and patches of snow, the countryside is still very
green. A patchwork of farms separates picturesque villages juxtaposed
against nuclear power plants.
After crossing the Scottish border, the train skirts the coast, and we resist
the urge to jump off the train and explore a coastal village.
Our first priority on reaching Edinburg is to find lodging, so we stop in at the Lastminute.com booth at the train station. First mistake. The young lady offers us a 3-star hotel with a standard rate of 150 pounds/night for the low price of 90 pounds. What a deal. We pay for the first night, grab the voucher, and take a short walk to the Waverly Hotel. What a dump. Though it's conveniently located on Princess Street (the main shopping street in Edinburgh), the warning signs light up as soon as we hit the lobby. A sign at the desk apologizes in advance for the lack of hot water until 4 pm, and the elevator will be out of order until 5. There's no indication whether the two are connected. Our room fronts on Princess Street, and the carnival rides set up in the park (the Ferris wheel will be accompanied by disco music until 10). Ok, maybe we'd been spoiled by our London hotel (5 star), but the complimentary trouser press does little to counter the worn, drab room, and the plumbing makes strange noises at random intervals. It's not that the room is bad - we've stayed in worse - but we've paid much less for much more in other parts of Europe. Since we've already paid for the night, we drop our bags and head out to explore.
Our first priority is lunch. Jayne consults the guidebook, and we try
out The Dome, and ornate restaurant housed in a former medical college.
The dining room is beautifully decorated for Christmas
,
service is indifferent, but the food is decent (we decline to sample haggis, the
national dish or Scotland).
We spend the rest of the day exploring the New Town section of Edinburgh, and
visit a couple of pubs and an Internet cafe. In the course of our
wandering, we see our first Mexican restaurant, and, following our tradition of
trying Mexican food in every country, stop in for a snack.
All things considered, Cantina Mexicana is not too bad - we rate it #2 (behind Hacienda
Mexicana in Speyer, Germany) on our "how close to San Antonio Mexican
food is it" list - but there seems to be some confusion over what
constitutes a pinto bean.
Upon returning to the Waverly, we discover that though the water is now hot and the elevator working, nothing else in the room works - lights, television. Apparently, the thrifty Scots feel that you can save electricity in unoccupied rooms by unplugging everything (we didn't notice this when we checked in, because the multiple windows in our corner room let in plenty of light, and now let in plenty of thumping bass from the carnival across the street). The combination of high quality room, 4 channels of BBC full of people with bad teeth, and the hard bed prompt a command decision - find better accommodations. Jayne goes to work and arranges a B&B for the next day.
We're up early and try the complimentary cooked breakfast that comes with our room. The breakfast is comparable to the room - adequate, but we pass on the black pudding. Jayne has arranged for us to drop our bags at the B&B, so we check out of the Waverly and grab a cab for the short ride to Seven Danube Street.
This is more like it. For 10 pounds more than the Waverly, we have a private apartment with kitchen and sitting room - sheer luxury. Fiona and Colin are charming hosts, and their two dogs (Doris, a Staffordshire terrier, and George, a pug) give Jayne her pet fix for the trip. After a short visit, we're off to continue our exploration of the city.
Since we only have a day, we'll focus on the major tourist attractions -
the old city, Edinburgh Castle, and the Royal Mile - and purchase tickets for
the local tourist bus,
which takes us up the hill to the castle.
The castle dominates the Edinburgh skyline and is the repository for the crown jewels of Scotland - a crown, scepter, sword, and large rock. True, the Stone of Destiny is historic (Scottish kings sat on it when they were crowned), but the English took it 700 years ago and didn't give it back until 1996. But it's still a rock.
After the castle tour, we stop by the Scotch Whisky Information Center for a tasting and tour. Jayne decides that despite the guide's attempts to educate her about the nuances of the national drink, it still smells like cough syrup. The tour includes a automated ride that takes us past a series of dioramas depicting the history of whiskey (it's so Disney-like, we can't help bursting into a chorus of "It's a Small World After All".
The rest of the day is taken up with a walking tour of the city, ending with dinner at an Indian restaurant (no haggis in curry, thankfully). With a refreshing night's sleep in the comfy canopy bed, we're treated to a tasty breakfast. Our breakfast companions include a Scottish lord and lady who are in town for a gala at the Museum of Art. We finish our stay in Edinburgh by continuing our walking tour, and visit a street market that is very reminiscent of a French market.
The train trip back to London is uneventful, and we have a nice chat with a Scottish girl en-route to visit her boyfriend in London. Using the last of my Marriott points, we've arranged a hotel at Heathrow Airport, and enjoy one more night of hotel TV and overpriced food.
Heathrow is a sprawling complex, but there's shuttle bus service from the hotel to the terminal. Check-in is routine, and before we know it, we're off and away (after leaving the last of our pounds at the airport Harrod's branch). Even passing through Customs in Chicago is painless, and we're home by 8 pm.