We were dragging a bit on the train ride from Portsmouth to London, tired from the weekend’s adventures and the hour time change which was just enough to throw us off balance and cause the children to get up absurdly early.
We had to drag our suitcases about three blocks to the small hotel we’d booked with our train tickets through Eurostar. Our room was on the third floor and the hotel didn’t have a lift. So breathless and overheated from getting our suitcase off the Underground and to the hotel, we faced the narrow stair with a mixture of dread and anticipation. Our “family room” was small but sunny and painted a cheerful shade of yellow. Bumping our luggage into the small space, we collapsed on the four twin beds and caught our breath.
On Friday in Portsmouth, 45 mph winds and rain had buffeted the coast before our arrival, but happily Saturday’s weather had been cool, sunny, and breezy when we toured the dockyard. Sunday’s weather in London was perfect: crystal clear and crisp. Despite our longing for a nap, we hit the street to take advantage of the fabulous weather.
We were staying in Westminister and headed off toward Kensington Gardens. A Sunday afternoon art show was set up along the perimeter and we thoroughly enjoyed viewing all the exhibits, which were hung on the wrought-iron fence circling the park. We bought a small painting of a robin in a snowstorm and the children bought miniature framed tiles for their rooms: Mr. A chose a hedgehog, E-Grrrl a bunny.
We walked through the park to Kensington Gardens and checked out Kensington Palace, best known as Princess Diana’s home after her divorce. I was never a big fan of Diana—she seemed a bit pathetic and unstable, and her attempts to demonize Charles for his affair knowing she’d also been unfaithful were particularly unsavory. She certainly used the media to her advantage, and in that light her death fleeing from paparazzi was an ironic end to her story.
The one thing I admired about Diana was her great short hair and slightly prominent nose, which gave me hope and inspired some of my own style choices. Diana always found a way to make short hair fun and sexy. I bought a post card featuring a black and white image of Diana shot by Mario Testino at Kensington Palace.
We headed toward Hyde Park, taking photos of the amazing architecture along the way. The kids were hungry so we stopped at a street vendor’s for a very late lunch. Three hotdogs, four drinks, close to $30. Ouch. London is one of the world’s most expensive cities.
As the afternoon wore on, the light became even more spectacular. We saw Royal Albert Hall and the separate monument to Albert, an amazing piece of gilded Victorian splendor. We passed through an area of the park that had earlier been used to stage a road race, and soon heard horses approaching behind us. Under police escort, a unit of the Royal Guard, dressed in sharp red jackets with shining silver helmets was riding black horses in formation to Buckingham Palace. We couldn’t believe we’d stumbled upon this mini-parade of sorts.
After snapping photos we followed the Guards on foot, knowing they were heading to Buckingham Palace. Naturally we fell behind walking, but E-Grrrl broke out in a run, her Stride Ride mary janes and purple Adidas track suit carrying her behind the horses all the way to the palace gate.
When we caught up, I took it all in: Buckingham Palace. The Victoria Monument. Big Ben’s elegant face and golden spire rising in the distance in a perfect blue sky. I had one of those moments where I couldn’t believe this was my life, even for a day, amazed once again I had come to this place, this moment.
We basked in all the royal glory with other camera-toting tourists before pushing our weary feet on toward Westminister Abbey, the coronation and burial place of most of England’s monarchs. Once there we admired the architecture, and then I ducked into the Westminister Abbey gift shop while E went around the corner to photograph Big Ben and Parliament before the light faded. I figured if I was going to drop a wad of money in London, I wanted it to benefit the Abbey, which is home to the Anglican Communion.
I loved this gift shop. An avid tea drinker, I’ve been collecting tea bag caddies from all over Europe, simple and small souvenirs that I use daily. I bought Christmas ornaments of miniature Royal Guards, and E and A picked out stained glass sun catchers representing scenes from the Abbey’s windows. A pile of postcards to scrapbook and a refrigerator magnet were added on to make the purchase really sing. Ka-ching!
After a quick walkabout around Big Ben, we opted to take the Underground back to our neighborhood for dinner. We were beyond tired. Later when E calculated how far we’d walked that day, the figure he came up with was close to six miles. The ultimate of our European Death Marches. I slipped my boots off under the table in the restaurant and surreptitiously massaged my feet. I was amazed at how far we’d gone and how much we’d seen.
In the morning we were all sore. The weather was gray and unpleasantly humid. I had packed for cooler weather and felt uncomfortably warm, but at least it wasn’t raining. We opted to ride the Underground out to London Tower and Tower Bridge, the site of so much misery, so much history, so much mystery. I never fail to be surprised by the ancient ruins surrounded by modern development in European cities. Here a wall the Romans built to protect their empire stands in proximity with the fortress built by the British to protect theirs and all around it is modern London, bustling with traffic and activity.
Despite our vow to avoid all unnecessary walking, we couldn’t resist following a path along the Thames for as long as possible before grabbing the Underground to get to the London Eye. We needed to pick up the tickets we’d purchased online for a noonday ride. The London Eye is the world’s largest Ferris wheel, reaching a height of 443 feet above the Thames, higher even, than Big Ben. A single revolution takes a half hour, and visitors are esconced in small groups in large glass capsules that afford an unprecedented view of London. This was the part of the trip the kids had been waiting for.
We arrived just in time to get our tickets and join the queue getting on board. While E was wishing for Sunday’s blue skies, I was admiring the moodiness and drama of the grey clouds overhead. In the last 10 years or so, I’ve developed a fear of heights—but it’s a selective fear. I’m not afraid of flying and the London Eye’s slow ascent and descent were fine, but a real Ferris wheel with swinging benches makes my stomach clench.
We had a bit of time after our ride to tour but by this point I was beyond wanting to see another thing. I’m embarrassed to say we slipped into McDonald’s for a late lunch. My heart was out of rhythm, and I was feeling seriously overheated and overtired as we made the trip back to the hotel. So many stairs, in and out of the Underground, then a three block walk to the hotel where we picked up our luggage and prepared to carry it three blocks back to the station. E, seeing my distress, hoisted my bags and doubled his burden. By the time we got to the station, I thought one more flight of stairs would surely send me to the ER. I plopped in a café, E bought me water, and I popped an extra dose of heart meds and tried to cool off and catch my breath.
Exhausting, yes. Worth it? You bet. E and I are heading back to London without the kids in March and plan to hit the Salvador Dali museum, the National Gallery of Art, and take in some of the West End sights. I think I should join a gym now to get ready!
October 11, 2006
Copyright 2006 Veronica McCabe Deschambault. All rights reserved.
October 17, 2006 at 13:33