Being a Houseguest in London
Our new friend Alex had told us to meet him at the Clapham Commons tube (read subway) station. We got there and sat on the ground, waiting. We waited for about half an hour, eating oranges and people watching. Even though we were practically blocking the walkway, nobody paid any attention to us as they walked around us and our bags. It felt great to be in a city again!
After Alex gave us the grand tour of his parent’s house, he sat down and played some piano for us. Ryan and I looked at eachother, not sure how to react. Clearly this guy’s family had money, and Ryan and I instantly felt a bit uncomfortable with the properness of everything. Alex was an excellent host, don’t get me wrong, but he was too polite, too gentlemanly, and a bit nervous, trying to be the ‘perfect host’. Ryan and I kept on trying to tell us not to go through the trouble, but when that didn’t work, we just tried to be as gracious as guests as we possibly could.
His parents had left for The South of France earlier that morning and Alex reheated leftovers from the previous night’s dinner for our lunch. We weren’t used to such pampering; the last two places we stayed at we were handed the keys and hardly saw our hosts. We did each get our own rooms to sleep in, which was great, especially for me since it’s been months since I had a room to myself.
After we got settled in, Alex took us to the central area, Trafalgar Square. There was some Canada Day fest with people drinking beer, wearing red, and watching hockey. It seemed that everyone was displaying the ever-prominent-whilst-traveling Maple Leaf flag. Walked around and found a street performer that juggled a chainsaw. I was not impressed. Neither was Ryan. Alex appeared to be.
After walking around a bit, I started really digging London (sorry Dad). There’s just so much history; our country’s history, admit it or not; left side driving, which reminded me of Oz and New Zealand, places I think about every day; and seeing the Queen on money again all made me feel very comfortable. It’s all so remniscent of places I fell in love with months ago. They came from here, of course I love it. Except for one thing: I was told there’d be Tim Tams here, and I still haven’t found them.
I tried a Bendick’s Bittermint. Like a York Peppermint Patty but more concentrated and more intense.
I got a 20 pound (35 USD) haircut the next day. It had been six months since I had gotten it cut last. Tipped the girl 5 pounds and she was so extremely grateful; damnit! they don’t tip here. Ryan got a mohawk; it was off centered and super wavy in the back. I decided where we got our haircuts was an extension of a school, since the girl’s hand was shaking everytime before she snipped some hair away. I was a bit nervous, but figured that no matter what, my hair had to look better than it had for the last 5 months. And it did, and it still does.
Chilled and napped in Regent’s Park afterwards. I was reminded of Australia-how everyone was just hanging out on the grass, walking around, enjoying the summer, and the heat.
Everytime we got on the tube, announcements were warning people to carry water in this terrible heat. Newspapers headlines were all about this ‘heatwave’ that was going on. Ryan and I were a bit confused, being from Chicago what this ‘heatwave’ was all about. To us, this is ideal summer weather! Too hot for the poor Brits, I guess. We were loving it, but knew it wouldn’t last. England is notorious for rain.
Alex made us dinner-an English special-Toad in the Hole. Interesting name, eh? It’s basically sausage (veggie for me) surrounded by a mixture of flour, egg, and water in a 9×13 pan. No sauce or anything. Yum. Ryan and I tried to scarf it down. I told him it was good but Ryan couldn’t bring himself to tell such a lie. We watched British TV and learned it was pretty much the same as American tv: all crap. Alex kept on asking us what we wanted to watch, and couldn’t understand how we had no idea about all these television shows, even though they were all American. We was baffled when we told him that neither of us own a tv; wanted to know what we did with our time. He informed us that ‘the cleaner’ was coming the next morning so we should be up around eight so she wouldn’t wake us up. I personally think it was his way of getting us out of the house early, since we had taken our time getting out to see the city that day. It didn’t work; he didn’t even get up until 10… He kept on telling us things we had to see and do, things that cost a lot of money, things we didn’t care about. Why should I go see the political buildings in London when I have no desire to see the American ones in Washington DC? Around midnight he suggested we all go to bed. Ryan and I looked at eachother; I followed Alex’s suggestion, but learned later that Ryan was up all night. What a rebel, that Ryan!
We took Alex’s advice the next day and saw the touristy stuff: saw the mounted guards who wore Romanesque helmets (where are the tall black wolly ones?); looked at the Parliament Building and Big Ben; checked out an exhibit in the Oxo building on wrongly executed prisoners, mostly from the states; walked around the Tate Modern, the Modern art museum. I loved it, Ryan seemed to run through it. He isn’t into museums like I am. The museum housed a couple Picassos, a Dali, one of Monet’s Waterlillies, a few other artists I recalled from an art class I took a few years ago, lots of disturbing work; lots of nudity, lots of blood as a media. I walked through a ‘scale room’ where there was an enlarged table and chair set. The seats of the chairs reached my chin. I felt like I was on the set for Alice and Wonderland. The upper floors had more abstract art: a bit of rope laid just so is art. I could be an artist too!
Tags: Europe
lauracat
where were his paretns? the sous….???