Visit to the Motherland

   

 

This weekend's adventure led me and two students all the way to London.  In case you were wondering Fergie was sung more than one occasion.  There were many firsts on this occasion, the most important a stay in the most luxurious hostel London had to offer.  We arrived late-ish on Thursday evening very excited but still stinging from the ATM exchange rate at one and a half the rate of the Euro.  We hopped a long 45 minute train to the London Underground, masterfully maneuvering it like pros, since we are now, or Angela is to put it more accurately.  Welcomed by a delightful Irish woman at our King's Cross hostel we had no idea what we were in store for.  Well honey, let me tell you.  Our palatial 40 square foot room had bunks galore with not a single window in sight as we were housed deep inside a cavernous basement.  Everything felt wet, including my clothing in the morning.  Paper buckled and the five dollar towel never dried.  The room reeked of death, welcoming you with smell as soon as you set foot in the space and we were situated directly underneath the hostel pub, literally underneath.  All those feet, all that tromping.   That evening, the mechanics of the building swished and moved, thumping overhead creating a musical overture and it mixed with the howl of laughing, drunken Brits.  I kept thinking something was crawling on me.  The morning welcomed me to a communal shower with a 6 inch gap to the hall, standing dirty water and no room to get my clothes on.  Oh, and best part?  Co-Ed bathrooms to share with men who didn't bother to shut the door whilst peeing!  It was a commune minus the friends and plus the intimacy!    I kept laughing at how comical the whole thing was, as soon as I got up until when I left- like a crazy lady in fact.  I may have been hysterical from the lack of sleep.  I've grown accustomed to not sleeping on these trips.  It's amazing how my sense of humor has changed to adapt with misery these days.  I will say though, that the location was epically convenient and a little pub overhead?  A smart end to the day.

      Morning started us out at the Starbucks around the corner and a properly pumped mocha that I haven't been able to get in Spain.  Divine Heaven.  We sped through the tube, minding the gap every time and went straight for Trafalgar Square and the National Gallery.  Most all of the major museums are free in London!  Hallelujah because it's the most expensive city I've been to yet, including Paris.  A metro ride, just one mind you, costs 4.80 pounds which is like 7 bucks.  Chomp right into the ass of my budget.  But Fergie kept singing.  London, London Bridge y'all.  The National Gallery was so very good, jam packed with wonderful must see, art historical gems.  Holbein and Caravaggio, Van Eyck and Botacelli, Oh My!  We walked from there to the Victoria Embankments garden, truly British and lovely in its' Victorian garden-ey nook-ness before heading to an authentic contemporary Mexican restaurant highly ranked amongst Londoners.  They nickel and dime you at these restaraunts charging you for water, rice and no tortilla chips y'all unless you pay 6 pounds for them!  But hey, it was good.  No complaints about the food, just the price.  ;).  OK maybe the portions were too small too.

     We walked the Thames gawking at the houses of Parliment and Westminster Abbey, peaking into the tiny little church butting against Westminster.  The big deal church was closed due to Easter sadly.  We strolled past Buckingham Palace pushing our faces through the gates and taking photos of the fabulous fountain.   After, Tate Britain had more in store.  If you haven't been, it is a stately and quintessentially British collection, the Waterhouse's and Rosetti's kicked my butt but the Henry Scott Tuke?, a serious feast of flesh there. All very stiff in the upper lip but a good showing of artists from Britain's past.  We trucked it to the London Eye shortly after hoping to get a good view of the city, which we did as well as a moment's reprieve from the rain.  We capped off the late afternoon with a walk along the Thames to see the Tate Modern, my favorite so far.  The show included a linear chronological showcase of Tate's collection from Dali to Bacon to Condo and a well worth it admission fee to the Marlene Dumas show that rattled me to the core-getting my painting juices flowing.  It may have shocked wee Angela a bit but I was unphased, very excited about the works on display.  The crowd in attendance seemed very on point too, lots of artsy types to refresh my dry eyes.   For dinner on the way back we had incredibly mediocre Chinese with a quick hard ale in the hostel pub, an awkward conversation with a North Country Brit wanting to talk about bodily fluids and quickly politely excusing ourselves heading to bed, the plush haven mentioned earlier.

      The morning shone brightly as we hoped another train with tired eyes to see the Globe Theatre.  We stumbled onto an under bridge market that delighted, a small cathedral where Shakespeare's brother (that's what I typed, brother) is buried, walked to a great Christian Marklay show at White Cube Gallery and the Fashion and textile museum to see a Thea Porter exhibition.  Yes, me in a fashion museum looking at all things fashion.  I wore a v-neck no label sweater, skinny-ish jeans and red puma to the affair.  Look out for my line of fashion hats in the fall.  After a delicious coffee, we hopped another metro line to Saint Paul's Cathedral,  saw the exterior and balked at the 18 pound price tag and scoped out the tower bridge and its small fortress tower directly following.  We had another mediocre lunch of British fare, mine a beef pie and about six kilos of French fries.  The afternoon consisted of tickets on the ground floor of Wicked at the Theatre.  It was fabulous and the performance was great.  We munched on gummy worms and were transfixed.  That evening, we had Indian food that was truly worth the wait with another delightful student also in town.

      Side note, I now have a mold induced head cold from the hostel.  No one has seen the movie around me here but all I could think of was how torture was the only thing missing from our stay.  I'm back in the hotel Espana and I blew a fuse in the ancient electrical box resulting in absolutely no electricity or wifi for my room.  I couldn't be happier to be back.  The shower was hot and private, AND I had a window to open to let the steam out.  Happy Easter!