May 2004 Archives

The last day.

I finally realized why I kept getting nearly run over by cars, and wasn't just because the British drive on the left: it was because of a lack of proper context. First, there were no one-way street signs. Second, there were no cars parked near problematic intersections to indicate traffic flow. Contrast this to New York, where cars are parked as close as possible to every intersection and directional street signs are more plentiful than trees. Even the direction of parked cars was insufficient to determine traffic flow - I saw plenty of cars parked facing both directions along the side streets. Go figure.

Tangent 1: Researching England's "drive on the left" behavior revealed a curious disagreement about the the proper way to joust. All agreed on the proper placement of your sword arm relative to oncoming traffic and the influence of Napoleon for our right-handed driving ways. See for yourself on the sites shown below (some of which have alarming similarities):

• Brian Lucas: Which side of the road do they drive on?
• 2Pass.co.uk
• i18nguy
• Cecil Adam, The Straight Dope

Tangent 2: To my earlier question about not knowing which side to walk on, one of the links referenced above notes that England has no convention for what side of the street one walks on. So at least I now know I wasn't just imagining things.

While trying to avoid getting hit by cars emerging from ambiguously marked one-way streets, our first stop of the day was Notting Hill, a neighborhood for which we had the most recommendations but had not yet explored. We walked down the picturesque streets to have brunch at a fashionable place on Westbourne Grove, but the restaurant was not yet open. In an odd twist of events, I was able to direct someone to the nearest post office.

We saw this on a utility box on the way to Portobello Road. You're kidding, right? This has got to be the pig out in front of Rudy's.

We had brunch at M Cafe, situated across the street from the travel bookstore featured in the movie Notting Hill. We rented the movie after the trip to compare notes and it appears the bookstore scenes were filmed in a replica, perhaps on Portobello Road (see IMDB's trivia page).

This is where I learned an important tip - good not only for traveling, but for wherever life takes you. Find the restroom early on and make sure it works. I'm not going to drag this entry down into scatalogical humor, but let's just say I found the cafe's restroom a bit of a disappointment.

The Great Court of the British Museum. My camera-fu obviously needs some work.

Our next stop was the British Museum. We took the bus down Oxford Street and transferred to the Northern line one stop to Goodge. I was a bit apprehensive about the Northern line - there was a joke about it during the Complete Works of William Shakespeare that nearly brought down the house. Thoughts of the G train at 3 AM on Sunday morning came to mind, but my fears were ill-founded. It was mid-day and we had no problems.

(Upon entering the Museum, I made good on my hard-earned advice from Notting Hill and in fact found the first toilet I encountered to be non-working. I wondered what the guy who was in it before me did, or didn't do in there.)

After doing the tourist thing and admiring the glass-enclosed Great Court, we spent our time walking through the Egyptian, Ancient Near East, and Greece and Rome sections of the museum. My sister told me that the Museum holds a good portion of the Parthenon. I'd never been to Greece and I had no idea what to expect, so frankly I was let down. "Oh, it's just the friezes." I had been secretly hoping that there was a full scale replica in the basement into which the friezes and other sculptures were fitted. Stupid American tourist, that's me.

Walking through the collections, I recalled images of Egyptian excavations and Indiana Jones. The museum is practically defensive of its collection of the Elgin Marbles. I'm ambivalent about the whole ownership thing, and I'd rather go to London to see Assyrian antiquities than go to Iraq.

In retrospect, the portions of the museum open to the public didn't seem very large. I remember feeling completely lost in parts of the Met here in New York, and I was surprised at how many floors were deceptively packaged in the Museum of Natural History. And as we all know, it's not the size that matters - it's the quality of the holdings, not to mention free admission (with suggested donation).

Heading down towards the houses of Parliament

Several hours later we stumbled out into the bright afternoon light to take The Big Bus Tour. I'd never taken a bus tour like this, and we figured it would be an efficient way to take in the city views. We took the "red route" (map) and were not disappointed. We saw the church that inspired the shape of the modern day western wedding cake, the old newspaper district, St. Paul's (current under renovation), Parliament, Westminter Abbey, Trafalgar Square - all of the sights on a beautiful, warm, sunny day. We also saw the headquarters of MI-5 and MI-6, but oddly those buildings didn't show up on film (or any map, for that matter). We also saw a derelict building that has landmark status for its self-cleaning windows, an innovation which should earn a Nobel peace prize and be installed in my apartment, post haste.

You can just make out Nelson's Column through the trees along the edge of Trafalgar Square.

Big Ben - you see it in pictures, but you have to see it in person to see the its intricate complexity.

"All it takes is tuppence from you..." I vaguely remember watching Mary Poppins and there was something about the "Feed the birds" segment and St. Paul's that gave me the heebie jeebies. The cathederal is currently being cleaned - you can see the difference in the left side of this picture.

In case there's any doubt as to how small a SmartCar is, compare it to the monstrous Civic on the left.

The tour dropped us off near Hyde Park and we made our way to the Marble Arch tube stop through a warren-like set of underground tunnels. We had some time to rest before the best sit-down meal of the trip.

My "ingenous" plan to secure a last minute booking at Gordon Ramsay failed miserably, so I put my faith in Vindigo's restaurant reviews (supplied by Harden's) and booked a table at Back to Basics. Situated on the corner of Foley and Hanson Streets in Fitzrovia, it looks like a small seaside cottage with warm lighting featuring American classic rock. The meal, listed below, was outstanding.

Appetizers
- premium cru oysters
- fried calamari

Main courses
- filet of sea trout with wild mushrooms, red onions, lemon, samphaire.
- monkfish with spicy prawns, cous cous, and garlic butter.

Sides
- cabbage and carrot salad
- new potatoes

Dessert
- banana baked in foil with rum
- ice cream: rum raisin, strawberry, vanilla

The menu is written on a chalkboard. Click the image above to read it.

I'd never heard of "premium cru" oysters and a bit of googling reveals that it's supposed to be a distinction of quality, usually applied to wine. I feel less foolish now after having asked the waitress where the oysters were from, only to be dismissively told, "premium cru." Perhaps she didn't know, and perhaps the service wasn't exactly the best we'd seen. However, I have no regrets about eating here, nor about eating both desserts. Yoo Mee noted that the calamari had a wonderful texture - warm, tender meat with a crispy breading not found in most rubbery incarnations of this dish. I could have done a face plant into my bowl of sea trout and mushrooms and been all the happier for it. It was one of those meals where life can't seem to get any better.

Our Stonehenge and Bath trip started with a feeder bus to the main bus terminal. We got a bit of a free tour along the way.

I never thought I'd ever see Stonehenge in person. During the ride out from London I couldn't help but think of the Spinal Tap song by the same name, but the words failed me and I had "Rock and Roll Creation" stuck in my head instead.

I was glad that the (tasty) chicken tikka pasty I had for breakfast wasn't causing upsetting my stomach, and I enjoyed the picturesque English countryside while picking up some tips from the tour guide, a genial man named Michael who had never left anyone behind at a destination. "If you want to anger the pub keep," he said with a wink in his eye, "ask him why he has warm beer. In England, we have cool ale, not warm beer."

Yes, that's it. A barrow stands in the foreground.

As a first-time uninformed visitor I thought we might have to park the bus and hike a mile or two into the countryside to an isolated location, but Stonehenge sits in a fork along a country highway - a bit anticlimactic.

The site is not as open to the public as it once was - it is surrounded by a chain link fence. You can purchase tickets to get inside, but the Sarsen circle is itself roped off. Too many "souvenirs" were chipped off the Sarsen stones, which were also rumored to be able to clear fouled wells. It would have been nice to stand in the circle - of course, a replica in New York would just be asking for trouble. The audio tour was helpful and informative, but I took too long and we were the last people on the bus.

For more information on Stonehenge, try this page on Earth Mysteries.

The cathederal at Bath

We then headed to Bath, known for its Roman influence, predominant limestone architecture, and unsurprisingly, its Roman baths. Determined not to be the last ones on the bus this time, we sped through the Roman baths and skipped the audio tour before walking around the city. There were quaint cobblestone-paved streets, pie shops, a refreshing park with its own lawn chairs (with an entrance fee), and one of apparently only two bridges in the world that has shops along its roadway.

Yoo Mee's silhouette is repeated by the archway across the bath.

The bath at Bath. Despite warnings to the contrary, people couldn't resist dipping toes in.

I spotted my first SmartCar here. I wish they had these in New York. As it turns out, someone was left behind at Stonehenge. Luckily, she was able to make it to Bath by another tour bus. What I'm wondering is how the rest of her family failed to notice she was missing.

Going solely on size, the SmartCar makes the MINI look like an El Dorado.

A smartly appointed interior boasts funky gauges, a replica of the SmartCar in a small tray, and a color coordinated Hong Kong Phooey.

I had grand plans to go out to Brick Lane for some Indian food, but by the time we returned to London I was too tired and wanting a bath that I couldn't take in our tiny shour. We ate at Bombay Palace in Hyde Park Gardens. The food was quite enjoyable and the service was impeccable, but it just wasn't the experience I was looking for. I had it in my head that Brick Lane was sort of London's equivalent of East 6th St and maybe a little bit of Chinatown thrown in to boot, and a lot of British accents. I'll have to wait for another trip to see for myself (and take some pictures at Borough Market).

So you drive on the left, but walk on the...?

I'm sure everyone knows that in England, you drive on the left side of the road. But when you walk, do you keep to the left or the right? It's not as straightforward as you think. I was also having too many near-misses with cars on one-way streets - I always seemed to be looking in the wrong direction, but I couldn't figure out why. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

This morning was the complete opposite of yesterday. Bright sun, blue sky, and a cool but comfortable temperature. After hitting the local dry cleaners, we struck out for Borough Market on the south bank of the Thames. Unfortunately, I left my camera in the hotel room so I have no pictures to show you why it's rated as the top visitor attraction in London. Try a search on Google Images or look at the slideshow at the Project for Public Spaces.

If you like food and markets, then make a point to visit. It's like the Union Square Greenmarket, several times larger, denser, a broader offering of goods, and located under some very old looking, semi-industrial digs that lend a great atmosphere. In fact, I'm going to snag a pic from the market's web site (where you'll find more information about the vendors, history, etc).

It still pretty much looks like this, except in color, with more food and people, and fewer hats.

Situated just southwest of London Bridge (which is really nothing to look at), the Market is a wholesale operation during the week but is open to the public for select hours on Friday and Saturday. Not only can you buy staples for creating meals, you can buy prepared foods as well. We spent a good amount of time walking nibbling on a wedge of mature Chesire from Neal's Yard Creamery, some cured sausages (which the vendor cut up for us), and a pint of country cider from New Forest Cider. Unsweetened and unfiltered, you'll probably never find anything like this in the states. I didn't like it at first, but discovered it paired quite nice with the Chesire. Score!

Everything looked good, and I wanted to try everything. French cheeses, ostrich sandwiches, boar, tofu, pie... Mmm, pie. I walked by one vendor whose pies had been voted best in London. The pork and stilton was calling to me, but I had nothing to heat it in. What a loss - I settled for a pork pasty instead, also good with the country cider. Another vendor served up scallops cooked in the half shell, cooked whole with the roe and topped with some mung bean sprouts. Another vendor sold oysters on the half shell, harvested off the coast about 40-60 miles to the northeast. They're shucked right in front of you at 80 pence apiece. Skip the cocktail sauce and eat 'em straight. We finished off our market tour with a selection of handmade chocolates.

Using the rental cell phone to get tickets to the Reduced Shakespeare company was an adventure in itself. The phone's maximum volume was just soft enough, the ambient noise just loud enough, and the ticket agent was speaking just fast enough with just enough of a British accent to make most of the conversation incomprehensible. I discovered that the British love to say "yeah." Listen - you'll see what I mean. And by the way, you call a restaurant to make a "booking," not a reservation. But I digress.

Next, we made our way to Covent Garden by bus. The bus was a low-rider, and notable because some of the MTA busses in Brooklyn look nearly identical. The bus has a very low profile, sidewalk-level entry, and the seats in the back half of the bus are higher than those in the front half. The Brooklyn busses, however, do not have the backwards-facing seats as their London counterparts.

Covent Garden didn't really have a fair chance after the Market, so we didn't stay long. We headed back towards Regent Street to take care of some shopping errands. The pound is very strong against the dollar, so there was not a lot of buying. While waiting in a remote corner of Selfridges, I found a curious catalog from Red Letter Days, which lets you purchase a variety of unique experiences. I spent a lot of time looking at the driving pages.

As afternoon turned into early evening, we walked up Marylebone Lane in search of the Golden Hind, which was supposed to have good fish and chips. When we walked in I didn't realize it was a pub. The smoking was a bit of a downer, too. I asked the waitress for a menu, and then realized we were in the Golden Eagle, not the Golden Hind. We found the right Golden animal a few blocks north. I'm no fish and chips afficionado, but these seemed pretty good. The batter was very light and not oily. The chips were thick cut and almost bland, but a little salt fixed that. A side plate of pickled vegetables (tomatoes, cabbage, cucumbers, maybe a few more) provided a nice accent to the meal. You may want to read what these folks have to say about it.

The waitress was a bit sloppy and some people were dripped on, but we made it out unscathed and reached the Criterion Theater just minutes before The Complete Works of William Shakespeare started. The show was very enjoyable with some hysterical moments and a total-audience participation segment at the very end for "Ophelia's scream."

By now, I considered the 94 bus to be our personal limo to the Bayswater Shell petrol station and it's mini mart, which provided around-the-clock sundries such as bottled water, McVities digestives, and European Coke, made with sugar the way it used to be in the US before the corn syrup switcheroo (Interesting, I didn't know you could get Original Coke during Passover).

From SoCal to Soho.

I like the picture above, taken somewhere over the Atlantic in the hours before dawn. It's also one of the few pictures taken before the second day of the trip.

The passage of time had washed away all of the discomforts of my last transatlantic flight. The "food" was beyond inedible, I got no sleep, and a man a few rows in front of me was playing a movie with German audio at full volume from his laptop. Apparently, he didn't realize that his headphones were plugged into the microphone jack. Federal airline regulations must require at least one utterly incompetent fool on every flight.

Walking through Victoria train station. I felt a bit like Vincent Vega. "I mean, they got all the same shit over there that they got here but it's just, there, it's just a little different." I'll spare you the gee-whiz comparisons that every first-time visitor makes, but I did find an amusing sign in the Tube for a public health campaign.

Oddly enough, I suddenly had a craving for pie. More on that later.

Once on the Tube platform, a system status sign reported that the Circle line would be shut down all weekend for track work. Along with death and taxes, an urban constant. Thus began the Troubles. The hotel was fully booked, so we'd have to come back at noon (nearly four hours away) to check for early vacancies. "Non-smoking" rooms were a quaint suggestion, and the lobby itself smelled like an old ashtray. The weather was about twenty degrees colder than the forecast predicted, and the lack of sleep was really starting to affect me. We "checked" our bags by lining them up in front of the hotel counter and headed out to kill some time, hopefully without getting ourselves killed. I couldn't get the whole "driving on the left" thing straight in my head, but more on that later, too.

Our first meal was at Pret. The coronation chicken sandwich had a distinctly stronger curry flavor than it's New York cousin. Kensington High Street was a blur, and I crashed in a coffee house sofa while Yoo Mee looked for warmer clothes. Mediocre hot chocolate tastes the same on both sides of the Atlantic.

Noon approached like an oasis rippling on a desert horizon. We sat in the front seat of the upper level of a double decker bus bound for Notting Hill Gate. Weaving through the tight traffic and narrow streets reminded me of the view from an AT-AT in The Empire Strikes Back. It's when I also noticed London's famed proliferation of surveillance cameras. The bus had at least five cameras, maybe more, with an LCD monitor at front cycling through each of them. Multiply that by all the busses in the city... it's a lot of data.

The hotel room was a study in economy. The bed was two twin beds (or maybe junior twin beds) pushed together, and the room was about three feet larger than the bed on three sides. The shower stall in the bathroom was barely large enough for one person and sported a large crack in the fiberglass floor. Creature Comforts came to mind. I was just glad to have a place to lie down and promptly fell asleep.

Gnawing hunger drove us out of the hotel several hours later. We took in the sights along Oxford and Regent Streets on a Piccadilly Circus-bound bus. We got off a few streets away from Piccadilly Circus and wandered around, eventually eating at a nearby Wagamama's. Yes, it's relatively inexpensive and bears a striking resemblance to Republic, or maybe it's the other way around. Either way, the food was a bit disaapointing.

A few minutes later we were in Piccadilly Circus. Here's a picture of it from a travel web site. My first thought was, "that's it?" When you live near Times Square, all other cities suddenly become shorter and dimmer.

Not quite satisfied with dinner, still hungry and a bit curious, I searched Vindigo for a nearby sushi restaurant. Restaurant Yoshino was highly rated and tucked away in a nearby side street. Decor and service were very good, and the chef was very friendly. The fish? Above average but not exceptional. I'll take my favorite sushi joints here in New York.

So the first day got off to a bumpy start. I skimmed Time Out and took some notes before falling sleep. Tomorrow would be a better day.

There's something very satisfying about sitting out on this little corner of Soho with a drink in hand.

I went to see So This Is New York, part of the Tribeca Film Fest.

I went to see the cherry blossoms for the first time in years. The density of the Kanzan blossoms in the Brooklyn Botanical Garden's Cherry Esplanade was quite extraordinary. I'd like to go back to tour the Japanese garden sometime.