My Solo London Jaunt

1 April 2006 - 3 April 2006


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Updated on April 4, 2006



Saturday, 1 April

I trudged through the rainy streets of Paris at 4:45am as I walked to the Denfert-Rochereau RER station. I was regretting that tiny, five-minute hesitation that caused me to lose out on the 10am flight to London and instead delivered quite a blow by putting me on the 8am out of Roissy...and, of course, my friendly, neighborhood metro only starts running at quarter 'til six. As luck would have it, I made it with plenty of time to spare (only Americans show up for flights two hours ahead of time, I suppose), and bought myself an unmiraculously overpriced pastry and coffee. As we boarded the plane, I noticed that the majority of my fellow travellers were high school students from abroad, but I was so tired that I didn't give it a second thought until I heard the woman next to me say, 'uch, man, stop it!' to her son. That's when I realized that I was on a plane full of South Africans, and I smiled to myself because it was almost like Ashley was on the plane with me.

And as much as I enjoy our neighbors from the Southern Hemisphere, I tried without success to beat them all through the immigration line because I know it's slightly more complicated for them to go through the line than it is for me. And to add salt to the wound, there was a signal failure on the Picadilly line while we were in transit from Heathrow, and the Circle and District lines were also suspended. I altered my plans (and just to go on a small tangent here, I would like to state that this is the very first time I have ever actually planned one of my vacations, and, in my defense, I only had 50 hours for my first time in London!) and decided that, since I was unable to make it to Green Park to catch the Big Bus tour at the beginning of the line, I would instead drop off my rucksack at the hotel and devise a new plan along the way.

Instead of the tour, I decided to try my hand at the local buses and found them to be excellent. In fact, if I were bold enough to offer suggestions for other first-time travellers, I would say this: while the Underground proved to me to be less civilized than its patrons, the bus is by far the best, most efficient system I've ever encountered. So I took the bus to Picadilly Circus and walked to Covent Garden via Trafalger Square. I must admit that I passed through Covent Garden rather quickly, as nothing blew wind up my skirt, so to speak. I then walked down to the river and made my way to St. Paul's Cathedral, where I spent a good three hours (possibly four), enjoying its contents. And I was also quite chuffed with myself that I was able to make it all the way up the stairs with nary a huff or puff. It seems that living on the 8th floor walkup *does* have its advantages. The view was terrific and confirmed my choice to skip the London Eye, especially since I then remembered that I'm terribly frightened of heights. Once I remembered, it was impossible to forget, and making my way down the steps was a much longer journey than I'd anticipated.

Once out of the cathedral (and back on the ground, thank goodness!), I hopped on a bus to the Tower of London. I had printed one of those 2 for 1 coupons, and after appearing like a raving lunatic trying to offer the ticket to a pair of elderly French women (I didn't know my French was *that* horrible, but from the looks on their faces you would have thought I was trying to ban cheese or wine), I made a friend in line and was able to use it for myself. We were just in time for the last Yeoman Warden tour, and the day was crisp and clear and, to be perfectly honest, just perfect. The tour exceeded my very high expectations, as our 'Beefeater' was friendly, knowledgeable and, most of all, entertaining. However, it either ran long or I was entranced by the Crown Jewels for the greater part of an hour, because I then found myself scrambling through the other towers quickly before closing time. One of the wardens was nice enough to offer me a re-entry pass, but I knew that I wouldn't be able to make it back the following morning, so I just pressed on and crammed another hour's worth of fun into twenty minutes. Lastly, as I was leaving I saw a pigeon either courting or bullying a raven.

From the tower, I walked to the Tower Bridge, across to the other side and along the River and back across the London Bridge. I then found a bus stop and, while waiting, struck up a conversation with two Americans next to me. One lives in London permanently, and the other was his sister who was visiting for a short while. The amusing anecdote from this tangent is that he and my sister were a year apart and his sister and I were one year apart at the same high school. I'm filing tha tunder wmall world stories.'

I then took the bus to Oxford Street and went into Selfridges and Marks & Spencer. The Selfridges window displays reminded me that punk is alive and well in London, but I must admit that the inside was a little intimidating to someone who normally avoids clothes shopping at all costs. I haven't seen so many famous names in one place since the roster list fo Michael Jackson's defense. I thus decided to cross Harrods off of my itinerary for the following day, and merrily caught a bus to Hyde Park. It then took me a little while to figure out that I had to go underground to cross the street, but once I did, I had a nice stroll through some residential streets to the Nag's Head on Kinnerton Street. I didn't find the pub to be as enchanting as did the fancyapint website, but I imagine that, for regulars, it's a great place to relax. My experience was also tainted by being 'adopted' into a table with two Chelsea football fans who, I have to assume, had been to quite a few pubs before wandering into this one. One was a friendly, forgetful drunk, and the other was a more reflecting, melancholy one. Either way, I had a Shepherd's pie (okay) and a beer (great), and then made my way back to the bus and to the hotel.

Now, here's the rundown of the hotel (with lots of detail for those who asked): I stayed at the Holiday Villa Hotel on Leister Gardens near the Bayswater tube. I had a helluva time trying to book on the internet and ended up just calling to make my reservation for a single room, but I forgot to specify non-smoking since I was so exasperated with all of the internet issues at that stage. The management was pleasant (one liked to tease me, but all in good fun). The room was an okay size for a twin bed. —I could move around and I was able to pu tmy belongings either on the desk chair or in the small closet. The bathroom was a good size and was so clean that I was almost tempted to take a bath after a long day of sightseeing. I had a hard time turning the faucet to the 'off' position, but used some lateral thinking gleaned from once living in a terrace house with an outhouse and used the 'push-turn' technique to adequately stop the water. Used alternately with the 'pull-turn' technique, it was quite efficient. The walls were fair thin, so I would pack some earplugs if you're a light sleeper, and the ventilation in the room wasn't the best. In fact, even though it was chilly outside, the room was about 25ºC and a bit stuffy (also with a lingering smoke smell, but I was tired and didn't want to ask for a switch). The major issue that I had with the hotel was that at 11:30pm, a half-hour after going to sleep, I was awakened by a key turning the lock in the door. The deadbolt was on, and I called out a meek 'hello' and a heavily accented man (different from the earlier accents, as this is a Malaysian-owned hotel) told me to open the door. Being a small woman who was just jolted out of slumber, there was no way in hell that I was going to open the door, even though he assured me that he was hotel security he was doing a night check and there wasn't supposed to be anyone in that room. I told him to have the front desk call me, and then I called down after I was sufficiently awake and calmed. He answered the telephone, and I told him who I was and that I had checked in a few hours earlier.

Sunday, 2 April


In the morning, I told the manager what had happened the night before and she apologized, saying that the person who had originally handled the check-in didn't fill out a required form and file it in the right place. Great. She also gave me a message that they forgot to give me at check-in, and directed me to the tasty breakfast in the other room. So overall, the hotel wasn't great, but it wasn't horrible. It was very clean, though.

After breakfast, I took the bus to Camden and had plenty of fun wandering around the markets, along with some curry for good measure. Again, I had no plans to do any shopping there, but ended up finding some wonderful antique teacups (twenty, to be precise), including some Victorian cabinet cups with feet on them. One of the teacups was estimated to come from the 1840's, but when I later assessed my newly acquired treasures, I noticed a small 1792 painted underneath in gold. I'll have to find out if that's actually the year. After buying twelve kilos of china, I floundered my way back to the bus stop, ducking into a shop to buy my husband a new motorcycle jacket. I spent a good five hours in Camden, and by the time I returned to the hotel, it had been sunny and then poured and then been sunny and then poured and then been sunny and then really poured and then was sunny. Sometime around noon, I had decided that I just had to come back to London, and that I would take my mother for her upcoming birthday, so I wasn't stressed when I decided to save Kensington Palace and tea at the Orangery for the next trip.

Instead, I took the tube (without incident, surprisingly enough) to Sloane Square and walked to the Chelsea Physic Garden. I had a pleasant stroll through the garden and then had tea with scones, jam and clotted cream in their tea room. I would like to return later in the year, when I assume it transforms from green to a myriad of colour.

From the Garden, I took the tube back to the hotel, this time with incident. Once again, I found myself inside the tube for close to an hour while there were signal failures, broken trains, lost puppies on the tracks, etc. (okay, well maybe not lost puppies). I returned to my hotel and took stock of my purchases at the market, in no rush because I also decided to save the Jack the Ripper walk for when I return with my mother.

After rewrapping the china more efficiently and repacking my bags, I changed and took the bus to Oxford Circus, where I had reserved a ticket to the Cambridge Boat Race After Party. I would like to state that I went to a university that was based on Cambridge, and I have to say that the party at Tantra was very similar to parties I attended while in school. The boys were on one side of the club, the girls on the other, and you could tell that this was the first nightclub experience for many of them. Nonetheless, I had a great time and met a few people (none who actually went to Cambridge, now that I think of it), and danced the night away. I made it back to the bus stop around 3am, and was snug in bed by 4.
Monday, 3 April

Monday morning after breakfast and hotel check-out, I took the tube to Westminster (again without incident) and took pictures of Big Ben and Houses of Parliament, before walking over to see the Horse Guards at 11am. It was quite chilly after such a beautiful weekend! After the Horse Guards, I had a leisurely walk through St. James's Park to the Victoria Memorial. If anyone was betting on whether or not there would be a Changing of the Guard on April 3, there wasn't. But it served as a nice rest before I went to Westminster Abbey, which was utterly amazing.

After having a hot chocolate, I walked back to the tube to fetch my bags (which I had now condensed into a heavy rucksack and two shopping bags) from the hotel. Unfortunately, the Underground gods were not smiling on me once again (in fact, I think I heard them spraying rasberries at me!), and I sat inside the tube for close to 45 minutes before pulling up to the station and finding that there were no lines going to my hotel. I popped above ground at Cromwell Road, and tried desperately to find a bus going anywhere near my hotel (as I was now nearing flight-missing time). Luckily, a bus driver saw the exasperated look on my face as I walked from one stop to the other and opened his doors at the wrong stop for me, and dropped me off at Queensway. By the time I made it back to the tube station, I had said a few 'Hail Tonys' to ward against evil signal failures, and made it to Heathrow with a little over an hour until my flight. I then made my way to security and found that it was above and beyond its normal madness and had actually snaked back and forth throughout terminal two. I got in line and soon after, it had expanded downstairs to the ticketing counters! I made my way through the line, slowly but surely, and made it onto the plane after last call. Surprisingly, I don't think we left many people behind. There was one surly Air France flight attendant, but otherwise it was a pleasant flight.

Some observations: Everyone is just so polite. Even while stuck in the tube or in a long line to go through airport security, people were, simply put, nice. Upon arrival in Paris, an elderly gentleman was removing his bag from overhead storage and a woman was just about ready to explode while saying 'You're blocking! You're blocking' in French, even though our flight had arrived early and she then had plenty of time to chitchat as she blocked the passageway to passport control. Londoners just don't seem to realize that they're in a big city and are expected to be rude. Keep it up, guys!

Also, due to a nightmare of a time trying and failing to get an ISIC card before my trip, I only had my normal student ID card. However, only Westminster even asked for proof before charging me the student rate, and they accepted my university ID.

Travelling by myself for my first trip was perfect, because I could pace everything to my own whims. When I return with someone else in tow, I won't feel like I'm 'missing out' on something, and can just relax and go with the flow.

My last observation: I love London. I absolutely, positively loved my trip, and must get back there rather soon (I'm actually cancelling plans for Iceland to make it back to London). In fact, I'd move there in a heartbeat! Thank you to everyone who gave me advice before I left and who are now my best friends.

I was slightly perturbed that the metro adverts have changed in Paris over the weekend, and now there is a large headshot of Steven Segal along with his tour dates. Please tell me that this is a French thing, and that he is not popular in the UK.