London/Paris - Day 1

Our trip to London started in San Francisco two weeks ago, on a Wednesday afternoon.

To avoid the nightmare of making connections, we took a direct flight. We left on time and were in the air for ten hours. During the flight, they served us two meals (dinner and lunch).

I think I slept all of thirty minutes on the plane. I was excited about the trip and too captivated by the entertainment available on the tiny screen embedded in the headrest in front of me to nap. There were more than 45 movies to choose from. I immediately dove in and watched Elizabeth (a destination-appropriate historical drama), The Chronicles of Narnia, I Am Legend (at 2x speed), and Hitman (Timothy Olyphant bald and bar coded? Bizarre).

Once we were at a low enough altitude, the view from my window became infinitely more interesting than the television.

By the time we deplaned at Heathrow's new Terminal 5, it was Thursday morning. (London is eight hours ahead of California.)

To avoid the nightmare of checked luggage, we packed light. M had a duffel bag and purse. I had a backpack and small messenger bag. We would be spending 10 days and 9 nights in London and Paris, but we only carried enough clothing for 3 days. We also came prepared to do laundry every other night or so.

We wove through the terminal by escalator, stairs, shuttle, and elevator until we reached the Underground. Because I had purchased Oyster cards a few weeks before the trip, we were able to hop right on the Tube without the hassle of buying tickets. (Each card had £20 on it.)

Oyster cards are similar to BART's EZ Rider cards. To enter or exit a station, one only has to wave the card over the disk at the fare gate. Unlike the BART card, it's a great money saver. Instead of paying a £4 cash fare for a single ride on the Tube, we only paid £1.50. It also had the added benefit of a 24-hour-period price cap. We could ride the Tube all day and the most it would cost was £6.50.

The ride into the city was long (roughly 50 minutes), but comfortable. The most amusing memory from that first ride was listening to the recorded announcements. In her ultra-pleasant voice, the announcer told us what line we were on, where the train was terminating, and what stop was coming up. She also warned us to mind the gap (between the train and platform). The warning wasn't repeated often; it was repeated ridiculously often. I was soon cracking up every time I heard it. On a sad note, the woman who recorded the announcements was fired last November for criticizing the Tube.

The train was relatively empty until we reached Acton Town. From then on, it was consistently packed (another reason I was glad we were traveling light). Two long escalator rides later (the Piccadilly Line is deeper in the earth than the Mines of Moria), we were standing in the center of Piccadilly Circus.

Our first stop was the Britain and London Visitor Centre on Regent Street, where we picked up our London Passes. If we visited half of the places on my spreadsheet, the pass would save us several pounds. (At the time, one pound equaled $1.97.)

From there, we went to our hotel. Even though we weren't carrying a lot, we were carrying more than the typical Londoner, so we thought it best to unload our bags before sightseeing. By this time, it was 13:00, two hours before our official check-in time. We figured if our room wasn't ready, the hotel might at least store our bags until we returned.

While it would have been easier to hop back on the Tube, I thought it would be more fun to walk and get a feel for the city. We had been sitting for hours and my legs needed a stretch. I pulled out what would become my trusty pocket map and tried my best to navigate London's streets.

We crossed the roaring rapids of motor traffic (look right!), drifted by the statues, monuments, and fountains of Trafalgar Square, and let the current of pedestrians carry us down the Strand and Kingsway, until we reached the safe harbor of our accommodations on High Holborn.

It was all nearly too much for me -- the number of people, the height of the buildings, the narrowness of the streets, the speed at which everybody moved. I didn't realize just how anxious the city had made me until we stepped into the hotel lobby, where I felt instant relief. I could finally stop and breathe without being rushed, brushed, or shoved. (Luckily, it didn't take long to get acclimated to the crowd or speed of the city. By Day 2, I was at ease.)

The feeling of relief grew when we learned we could check in. We dropped our bags off and took a quick tour of our modest-sized room. Besides the typical bedroom/bathroom setup, we had a kitchenette, which came with an electric kettle, microwave, refrigerator, stove top, and dishwasher. How they fit it all into such a tiny alcove still befuddles me. The cabinets were fully stocked with dishes (including a pan and drainer), while the drawers were stocked with eating and cooking utensils. Paranoid, we inspected everything to make sure it was clean.

From the hotel, we took the Tube to Embankment, a station along the River Thames. The ride involved a transfer, but thanks to smartly placed maps, signs, and arrows, we were able to make it without trouble. (It was nice to feel comfortable with the transit system my second time through.)

A peaceful walk along the Thames brought us to the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben. The lighting was poor, but I tried my best to photograph the clock tower.

I also got a chance to photograph one of the statues on my list: Boadicea. She and her chariot are located at the corner of Westminster Pier.

From there, we circled the parliament building (it was closed to visitors) to reach Westminster Abbey.

Upon entering the church, I was disappointed to learn that photography wasn't allowed inside, but I soon grew to appreciate the restriction. The lack of cameras added to the solemnity and sanctity of the shrine.

After visiting the altar and choir, we slowly toured the various chapels and tombs. Statues and memorials dominated the Abbey. Aristocrats and monks throughout the ages are buried at Westminster. Several monarchs are also entombed there, including Mary I, Elizabeth I, Mary Queen of Scots, Anne of Cleves, three Henrys, and five Edwards. Seeing their names made me wish I had made more of an effort to study my British history.

Just before we reached the tomb of Elizabeth I and the Henry VII Chapel, we came upon the Coronation Chair, which has been used in every crowning ceremony since 1296. The last time it was used was in 1953, for the coronation of Elizabeth II. I still have a hard time wrapping my head around that fact.

We then visited the Poets' Corner, where I had greater success recognizing the names of the buried: Geoffrey Chaucer, Charles Dickens, George Frederick Handel, Rudyard Kipling, and Laurence Olivier.

We took a detour through the Cloisters and visited College Garden, which was refreshingly free from the weight of history. (I love history, but taking in several centuries all at once was too much.)

We returned to visit the nave and found where Charles Darwin, David Livingstone, and Isaac Newton were buried. Afterwards, we took a peek at the gift shop, which seemed absurd and out of place in the context of its surroundings.

From Westminster, we went searching for 10 Downing Street, the home of the Prime Minister. We toddled past the Winston Churchill Museum and through the Horse Guards Parade before coming upon the street, which was gated and closed to the public. Several policemen guarded the entrance, but I caught a glimpse the black front door of the residence. I'm sad to say I didn't spot Gordon Brown. Maybe next time.

After a brief stop at the hotel, we went hunting for dinner. We passed a number of pubs, pizza parlors, and Indian restaurants before settling on a place called Sway, which was quiet compared to the other places we had seen. The interior was dark, but the decor was sophisticated. I found the faux windows amusing.

As soon as we sat down, I knew what I wanted. I ordered the tiger beer battered fish and chunky chips (£7). The fish was tasty. I only wish they had given me more chips because those were the only vegetables on my plate. (The tiny container of mushy peas didn't count.) To complete the meal, I had a pint of Beck's (£3.50) because a glass of wine seemed wrong somehow.

It had been a long day, so we returned to the hotel to shower and sleep. The last thing I remember watching before dozing off was an episode of The Weakest Link. By some minor miracle, Anne Robinson and her creepy wink didn't give me any nightmares and I slumbered peacefully.