The Eurostar got me into London around 5. I had less than 48 hours to kill in London before my flight back to the states and really only three things on the agenda: (1) visit my old new friend Laura from all the way back in Morocco; (2) see the Churchill War Rooms; and (3) watch the inaugural F1 US Grand Prix.
I made my way to the hostel- my second time staying in a St. Chris. The set up and vibe was almost identical to the one I stayed at in Paris except that the bar was somehow even more packed. They had me on the top floor or penthouse level as I like to call it. There was a real cool rooftop bar but unfortunately it was closed due to the freezing November-in-London weather, but the hostel was in a good location at the south end of London Bridge and with a great view of the largely unoccupied Shard.
Laura sent me a message and after tracking down my Oyster card I made my way to Brixton to meet her. She led me around to a semi-open air market where fresh meats and vegetables are sold. When we arrived the meats and vegis stands were closing down.
But the really cool thing was that mingled in with the shops are a number of cool restaurants and bars. We were enticed into one place with promises of a "hot gin and ale punch." A what?! Exactly. It was gin and some tea and honey and spices and a hearty ale. Probably the weirdest "cocktail" I've ever had. Not bad but very strong- I suggested they market it as medicinal. It could really clear out a cold.
After opening up our sinuses we changed venues where I switched to Samuel Smith's ale and our table was adorned with this very creepy Tim Burton-esque doll thingy. I was frightened.
Laura was on her way to a party being held in an old house in the Brixton area and invited me to come along. When we arrived, however, they had closed the entry gate and were no longer allowing anyone that night. Always up for finagling my way into places I don't belong, I quickly combed the property line looking for a way in and keeping my eyes and ears tuned into any possibilities.
A few minutes later I overheard a guy on his phone with someone in the party. Apparently he had gone out for a smoke and they wouldn't let him back in. He was told to go around to the side entrance where someone would come out to let him in. I grabbed Laura and told her to follow me. We tailed this guy around to the side where sure enough the door opened and we followed him inside. Just like magic. Inside there was a live band and a really rocking scene.
The only downside was that it was nearly impossible to get a beer with the number of people jammed into the space. I ended up losing track of time and when I finally bothered to check the time it was 11:45 and the last metro trains run at 12. I bid a quick farewell to Laura and sprinted toward the metro to try and catch the train back to the hostel but alas I was 3 minutes too late. I knew it was unlikely to be able to accomplish my sneaking in feat again and so with the tube closed i resigned myself to a long walk back to the hostel in the brisk autumn air.
The next day I had two objectives remaining and 24 hours in which to accomplish them. The first was to make my way to the Churchill War Rooms. Since it was a nice day by London standards (meaning it wasn't raining), I decided to walk there from the hostel. My route took me west until I came upon the Parliament and Big Ben whereby I took the final obligatory photo of yours truly for Stint 2.
That is one battle-hardened traveler if I've ever seen one. Before I went into the War Rooms I swung by Westminster Abbey to get a photograph of the front since I was unable to do so on my prior trip to London and I believe I promised you I would. So... here you go dear reader. Sorry about the wait.
As Mom foretold, I found the Churchill War Rooms fascinating. From these basement rooms Winston Churchill directed the British war effort during WWII. Below is a picture of the cabinet war room where Churchill would be briefed by members of the War Cabinet. Apologies for the blurriness, I was bumped just as I took it.
The area had numerous rooms for meetings, bed chambers, a kitchen, and even a reception hall. But most interesting thing to me about this location was that the war was conducted from here during the German bombardment of London knowing that the facility would likely not survive a direct hit from German bombs.
When you think about the little things that could change the course of human history this one certainly has to come to mind. If a German bomb squarely hits this location, most of the British high military command would have been killed. The Germans would have likely emerged from the air campaign victorious and would have gone forward with the invasion of the UK which was likely to have been successful. Had it succeeded, there would have been no staging point for the US and remaining Allied forces prior to D-day. This would have undoubtedly extended the war effort and could have very well turned the tide of the entire war.
Probably the most interesting room is the map room which was sealed up shortly after the end of the war and remained untouched for a number of years. It has been preserved in more or less its exact state at the end of the war, obviously with the exception of the wax figures.
My favorite room was perhaps the room dedicated to Churchill. It contained his office with an up-to-date map of the Allied positions as well as a bed where he could nap or sleep in the event of a bombardment.
In addition to the war rooms, the site also now has a Churchill museum which contains a number of artifacts, photos, film reels, clippings, and other items from his life as well as an incredible interactive timeline of his most significant life events. Frankly I'm a bit ashamed to admit I had no idea of the many great things Churchill accomplished in his life aside from his political career. Early in life he was a war hero. He also authored a number of books including a five volume anthology on World War II. Additionally he was an avid and fairly talented painter- a truly modern Renaissance man.
The tour is on the high end at 16 pounds for entry but it was also one of the more interesting things I saw during my Wanderlust stints. I suppose I'm just a sucker for history. At the end of the tour they have a gift shop with a bunch of odds and ends. My favorite were the reproductions of some old war-time propaganda. If I was a very rich man I think I would invest a considerable some rounding up old war propaganda films, posters, flyers, and leaflets. I find that stuff fascinating on the same level with vintage movie posters. I loved this one.
After I left the War Rooms, I decided to continue my stroll back to the hostel, this time along the northern side of the Thames river. It was a glorious afternoon for a stroll. Along the way I passed by London Bridge. "How can that be? London Bridge clearly fell down pursuant to my nursery rhyme training." True enough. London Bridge has actually gone through numerous forms over the years.
First there was a Roman bridge followed by a number of medieval bridges until finally the "Old" London Bridge was completed in 1209. The bridge itself was cluttered with a number of houses, shops, and buildings, similar to what you might find on the Ponte Vecchio in Florence only probably ten times larger in scale. This bridge burned a number of times and it was likely this version of the bridge that inspired the nursery rhyme.
This bridge was eventually replaced by the "New" London Bridge completed in 1831 and lasted until 1968 when, oddly enough, it was sold to an American named Robert McCulloch of McCulloch Oil (I had no idea about this part either until I looked it up). The bridge was deconstructed and then rebuilt in Lake Havasu, Arizona where it still stands today. The most recent incarnation was constructed in 1973 and looks like this:
Laura was on her way to a party being held in an old house in the Brixton area and invited me to come along. When we arrived, however, they had closed the entry gate and were no longer allowing anyone that night. Always up for finagling my way into places I don't belong, I quickly combed the property line looking for a way in and keeping my eyes and ears tuned into any possibilities.
A few minutes later I overheard a guy on his phone with someone in the party. Apparently he had gone out for a smoke and they wouldn't let him back in. He was told to go around to the side entrance where someone would come out to let him in. I grabbed Laura and told her to follow me. We tailed this guy around to the side where sure enough the door opened and we followed him inside. Just like magic. Inside there was a live band and a really rocking scene.
The only downside was that it was nearly impossible to get a beer with the number of people jammed into the space. I ended up losing track of time and when I finally bothered to check the time it was 11:45 and the last metro trains run at 12. I bid a quick farewell to Laura and sprinted toward the metro to try and catch the train back to the hostel but alas I was 3 minutes too late. I knew it was unlikely to be able to accomplish my sneaking in feat again and so with the tube closed i resigned myself to a long walk back to the hostel in the brisk autumn air.
The next day I had two objectives remaining and 24 hours in which to accomplish them. The first was to make my way to the Churchill War Rooms. Since it was a nice day by London standards (meaning it wasn't raining), I decided to walk there from the hostel. My route took me west until I came upon the Parliament and Big Ben whereby I took the final obligatory photo of yours truly for Stint 2.
That is one battle-hardened traveler if I've ever seen one. Before I went into the War Rooms I swung by Westminster Abbey to get a photograph of the front since I was unable to do so on my prior trip to London and I believe I promised you I would. So... here you go dear reader. Sorry about the wait.
As Mom foretold, I found the Churchill War Rooms fascinating. From these basement rooms Winston Churchill directed the British war effort during WWII. Below is a picture of the cabinet war room where Churchill would be briefed by members of the War Cabinet. Apologies for the blurriness, I was bumped just as I took it.
The area had numerous rooms for meetings, bed chambers, a kitchen, and even a reception hall. But most interesting thing to me about this location was that the war was conducted from here during the German bombardment of London knowing that the facility would likely not survive a direct hit from German bombs.
When you think about the little things that could change the course of human history this one certainly has to come to mind. If a German bomb squarely hits this location, most of the British high military command would have been killed. The Germans would have likely emerged from the air campaign victorious and would have gone forward with the invasion of the UK which was likely to have been successful. Had it succeeded, there would have been no staging point for the US and remaining Allied forces prior to D-day. This would have undoubtedly extended the war effort and could have very well turned the tide of the entire war.
Probably the most interesting room is the map room which was sealed up shortly after the end of the war and remained untouched for a number of years. It has been preserved in more or less its exact state at the end of the war, obviously with the exception of the wax figures.
My favorite room was perhaps the room dedicated to Churchill. It contained his office with an up-to-date map of the Allied positions as well as a bed where he could nap or sleep in the event of a bombardment.
In addition to the war rooms, the site also now has a Churchill museum which contains a number of artifacts, photos, film reels, clippings, and other items from his life as well as an incredible interactive timeline of his most significant life events. Frankly I'm a bit ashamed to admit I had no idea of the many great things Churchill accomplished in his life aside from his political career. Early in life he was a war hero. He also authored a number of books including a five volume anthology on World War II. Additionally he was an avid and fairly talented painter- a truly modern Renaissance man.
The tour is on the high end at 16 pounds for entry but it was also one of the more interesting things I saw during my Wanderlust stints. I suppose I'm just a sucker for history. At the end of the tour they have a gift shop with a bunch of odds and ends. My favorite were the reproductions of some old war-time propaganda. If I was a very rich man I think I would invest a considerable some rounding up old war propaganda films, posters, flyers, and leaflets. I find that stuff fascinating on the same level with vintage movie posters. I loved this one.
After I left the War Rooms, I decided to continue my stroll back to the hostel, this time along the northern side of the Thames river. It was a glorious afternoon for a stroll. Along the way I passed by London Bridge. "How can that be? London Bridge clearly fell down pursuant to my nursery rhyme training." True enough. London Bridge has actually gone through numerous forms over the years.
First there was a Roman bridge followed by a number of medieval bridges until finally the "Old" London Bridge was completed in 1209. The bridge itself was cluttered with a number of houses, shops, and buildings, similar to what you might find on the Ponte Vecchio in Florence only probably ten times larger in scale. This bridge burned a number of times and it was likely this version of the bridge that inspired the nursery rhyme.
This bridge was eventually replaced by the "New" London Bridge completed in 1831 and lasted until 1968 when, oddly enough, it was sold to an American named Robert McCulloch of McCulloch Oil (I had no idea about this part either until I looked it up). The bridge was deconstructed and then rebuilt in Lake Havasu, Arizona where it still stands today. The most recent incarnation was constructed in 1973 and looks like this:
To the left you can see a nice shot of the Shard, the tallest building in the EU. Contiuing my walk I came to the Tower of London which, it so happens, had just been adorned with its temporary winter-season ice skating rink. Yay!
I crossed over the Tower Bridge and took a nice shot of the ever-bustling Thames as the sun was beginning to set over London at the advanced hour of 4pm.
And finally, because I appreciate you so much my dearest reader, a picture of the Tower Bridge in scintillating dusk light.
As I wound my way through the neighborhoods south of the Tower Bridge I saw something rather curious. Or at least I thought I did. A fox. Surely I must have been mistaken though, there can be no foxes running around in central London these days, right? So I crept around the side of the building where I saw it disappear and what did my eyes behold but a fox!
I must have spent the better part of half an hour stealthily chasing that thing through and around the streets near the hostel. Even at the very end of my long and weary journey I still find something which sparks amazement.
After returning briefly to the hostel I set out for the Sports Cafe where I had last been with good friend James from NY back during the Olympics. I was there to complete the last item on my list and the last activity of Wanderlust Stint 2: watch the inaugural F1 US Grand Prix in Austin, Texas with a bunch of British racing fans. The race was won by Lewis Hamilton for McLaren to the great revelry of the locals.
After the race I caught the tube back to the hostel and decided to retire early in anticipation of my early flight home. I was due out of Heathrow at 10am bound for Chicago so I would need to be up and out of the hostel by 7am given it would take me an hour to reach the airport via the tube. Everything went smoothly at the airport and a very tired me slumped in my seat awaiting departure.
I arrived in Chicago tired and worn and immediately leery of these people surrounding me, these Americans. It had been many months since I'd seen a large number of Americans in such a setting and I had forgotten what it felt like to be home. As I walked through O'Hare to my connecting gate I felt very much the foreigner. I no longer felt like I belonged there, I no longer felt American.
A wave of panic rushed over me and I tried not to think about being home. I tried to focus solely on things I was looking forward to: Mexican food, the Holidays, seeing my family and young nephew. I made my way to the gate and noticed that there was an adjacent sports bar. With 3.5 hours to kill I made my way over to have a couple beers. I ordered a Bud Light and was immediately stricken with how watery and sweet it tasted compared to the beers I had been drinking. I next realized why our beer is like that as I finished it much faster than I would have for any of the beers I had in Europe: our corporate-brewed beer is designed to be consumed faster so they can sell more. A brilliant, albeit socially irresponsible, business strategy and also one that doesn't make for tasty beer.
As I sat drinking my sugary watery beer a guy and girl entered the bar and sat at the table next to me, clad in the official outfit of business travelers. Their conversation quickly turned to job-related matters and I couldn't resist thinking how boring, trite, and meaningless their conversation was. A few minutes later I overheard someone yell "here come the shots!" and I jolted around in my seat expecting to see a waitress delivering a round of whisky to a table of patrons, only to discover a woman displaying a series of photographs of presumably her children to a group of onlooking men.
It was at this exact moment, with the business people on my left, photo-grazing parents on my right, and a watery American beer in front of me, when I realized my European tour had come to an abrupt and decisive end.
I eventually boarded my flight home. I was looking forward to seeing my family but was still struggling with my experience back at the bar. The flight attendant must have noticed my overwhelming look of despair as she immediately offered me two mini-bottles of bourbon completely unsolicited. That's only the second act of kindness I've ever received from a United employee (the first being the woman who held the boarding door for me in my mad sprint that snowy day in Denver). The touch of compassion was comforting. I met Mom and Dad at the airport and a contested dinner at Bill's Pizza followed.
The next morning I awoke and began the process of unpacking my things, doing laundry, and beginning to sort out my civilian life for the ensuing 2.5 month break from the road. The last thing I did that night before going to bed was to complete the map of my travels I had been working on for several months.
Through all I've learned and done and experienced, through 28 countries and 17 languages, through buses, trains, planes, boats, cars, and feet, through dozens of new friends around the globe, and through more delicacies and beers than I could ever count, I can say one thing unequivocally and without hesitation: it was one hell of a ride. Thank you so much for sharing it with me.
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