Amsterdam (Part III): I Need a Built-In GPS

After a heavy first morning in Amsterdam, I decided it was time for a lark. With that in mind, I started walking toward Amsterdam’s infamous ‘Red Light District,’ by way of Nieuwe Spiegetstraat. Of course, I became hopelessly lost en route (not that I minded), and I think the 2km (+/-) walk turned into a much greater distance.

Eventually, I found myself standing in Dam Square, which serves as the city center for all intents and purposes. On the western end of the square stands the Royal Palace, flanked by the Nieuwe Kerk (‘New Church,’ a name given despite its erect in the 15th Century) and another infernal Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum (*shudder*). Across from the palace is the National Monument, which memorializes the victims of the Second World War.

In Dam Square, with the Royal Palace behind me.

The Royal Palace (left) and Nieuwe Kerk (right)

After spending a few minutes in Dam Square (and realizing that I couldn’t get in to tour the Royal Palace), I confess to wasting some time walking around Magna Plaza, which stands just behind the palace. Basically a shopping mall, I didn’t bother to go into most of the shops—but the building itself was so gorgeous that I couldn’t help ducking in for a bit.

Best mall facade ever!

From there, I continued up Damrak, where my eye was caught by one of those tourist traps offering canal cruises. I had decided ahead of time, at the advice of my Stateside friend AR, to take one of these cruises, but I hadn’t actually arranged one yet. Thinking now was as good a time as any, I ducked in and did just that. (Ironically, the boat I was eventually to take was called the Anne Frank.)

While awaiting departure near Amsterdam Centraal, I stopped off for lunch. With money limited (and since I wasn’t desperately hungry yet), I indulged in another yummy sleeve of Vlaamse Frites. My goodness, I love these things!

LUNCH!

Eventually, it was time to depart. Though our captain-guide was very nice, and the sights lovely, I confess to finding myself a bit bored. The pre-recorded narration was not as informative as I would have liked, and the sun passing through the glass-covering created a greenhouse effect that, when combined with the gentle rocking of the boat, practically lulled me to sleep. 

Nonetheless, I’m glad that I did it, as I did learn some new interesting facts (e.g., the purpose and intent behind the different gables, and how they’re still used today as a means of moving furniture)!

A little over an hour later, our boat docked near the Amsterdam public library. Now, I know this will sound strange to some, but I did go walk around the library for a bit. I had been advised that you could climb to the top for free, and that it offered an amazing view of the city, so I wanted to do that (and I did). 

Upon entering, however, I also discovered that it was one of the most stunning libraries I’ve ever been in! To be sure, nothing has yet topped the beauty of Dublin’s Trinity College’s library. But, whereas Trinity’s collection and styling is clearly traditional and rooted in history, Amsterdam’s is incredibly modern and sleek—it’s like Ikea came in and built all eight floors for them! In fact, it was so striking that I went back the next day, too.

The Ikea Library: 'Do you feel bad for these books? It is because you are crazy.'

By now, it was getting late and I figured I should start walking back toward the hostel. (Though I may have made one brief stopover in a coffeeshop on Warmoesstraat.) 

More than once, I got completely lost while trying to find my way back—much as in Paris, I found that I would be walking in one direction, thinking I was headed south (for instance), only to discover that I was headed northwest (or some other completely wrong way). It also didn’t help that none of the maps I had access to included the smaller streets, which just added to the confusion.

Eventually, I found myself back at the hostel. It was around 5 or 6 PM, my feet were killing me, and I knew I had another full day of walking the next. So, I gave in to temptation and took a short nap (with my poor dogs elevated)…except, that short nap turned into a two-hour nap, and the only reason I woke up then was because someone else came into the room.

Regardless, I felt slightly refreshed, and so I got up and headed back out. Still not completely starved (but knowing that I would be famished later if I didn’t stop), I bought another serving of Vlaamse Frites—and I wonder why I’m fat?—which I ate while walking around my immediate neighborhood some more. 

At one point, I stumbled upon Reguliersdwarsstraat, which was festooned with numerous rainbow flags. Realizing that this was probably one of Amsterdam’s gay enclaves, I decided to walk down the street. I was hoping for some gay-centric shopping (e.g., bookstores and the like), but this particular street was basically just a bunch of bars. 

I did stop by one—a tiny, dead place (it was a Monday night) called Taboo—for two drinks. The first, my typical Vodka and cranberry. The second, a Heineken, which Nic insisted I try while in Amsterdam because, supposedly, it tastes different. (In case you’re wondering, it still tasted like watered-down piss to me—if I have to drink beer, I’ll stick with Guinness, thank you very much!)

And with that (it was around 10 PM by now), I headed back to my hostel and caught some much-needed sleep in preparation for the next day…which I’ll discuss later. :)

Until next time…

Amsterdam (Part II): Heavy Thoughts...

My mother thinks I forgot how to take pictures while in Amsterdam, hence why I haven’t added any more to my Facebook account, but I told her: I won’t let myself upload them until I’ve blogged about them. So, here goes…

I woke up super-early on Monday, 14 May, knowing that there was a lot I wanted to see and not a lot of time to do it. But first, I needed coffee! Unfortunately, I was up early enough that there was nary a true coffee shop open. It took almost an hour before I was eventually able to grab a seat at Broodje Mokum and enjoy a cuppa, so while waiting for that lovely little café to open, I headed over to the first touristy the thing on my list:

The Homomonument is a large (albeit easy to overlook) memorial dedicated to all gay and lesbian persons who have faced persecution. It opened in 1987—the city had just celebrated the 25th Anniversary of the monument earlier in May, hence the flowers you'll see below—and was the first of its kind in the world. 

Resting on the bank of the Keizersgracht canal, in the shadow of Westerkerk Church (where Rembrandt is buried), the Homomonument consists of three large, pink granite triangles set into the ground. Together, the three small triangles form a much larger triangle. 

The positioning of the the monument's points are intentional: one points toward the National War Memorial; another toward the Anne Frank House, which I will discuss further below; and the third toward the headquarters of COC Nederland, the oldest continuously operating gay and lesbian organization in the world (founded in 1946). 

I spent a good bit of time at the Homomonument, reflecting on its significance and appreciating its very existence.

Westerkerk Church. The area with the flowers is one of the points of the triangle.

Coffee at Brodje Mokum. I can't read (or speak) Dutch, but I sure pretended like I could...

From the Homomonument and Broodje Mokum, I eventually made my way over to the second item on my list: the Anne Frank House and Museum, which is a museum built around the actual house where the Frank family hid from the Nazis for just over two years. Given the nature of what I was seeing, this is one area where I respected the request not to take photos or videos. You’ll just have to take my word for it that it is incredibly moving!

The Anne Frank House (left) and Museum (right)

As part of the self-guided tour, visitors are led through the ‘public’ side of the building, from which Otto Frank (Anne’s father) and his colleagues ran their business. Eventually, guests make their way through a small hole in a back closet—itself hidden by a large bookcase—and into the small Achterhuis (Dutch for ‘back house,’ and referred to by Frank as the ‘Secret Annex’), where Anne hid away with her parents, sister, and four others until they were betrayed. 

After moving through these small living quarters—which all together was only about the size of mine and Nic’s former apartment in the South Loop of Chicago but distributed over two floors, and still had magazine clippings Anne had glued to the wall to brighten up her own living area—guests make their way into the two-part museum.

The first part deals with the Frank family’s imprisonment in the concentration camps (only Otto survived), and the second part deals with discriminatory acts in a broader context. Throughout the section devoted to the Frank family, guests are able to view recorded interviews conducted with Otto and others who knew them. Perhaps the most poignant moment for me came as I was watching the very last video, which featured Anne’s father. 

It concludes with him talking about how Anne always kept-up a relatively cheerful façade while they were in hiding, and that he never had even the slightest inkling that half the thoughts she recorded in her diary were going through her mind. He finishes by saying in a melancholic tone that he never really knew his daughter, which just goes to show that a parent never really knows their child. How sad is that? As if what Otto Frank went through wasn’t horrific enough, he then had to go to his grave years later thinking that he didn’t even know his own daughter? 

After an emotionally heavy morning, I decided it was time for a change of pace. 

I headed over to Amsterdam’s Rijksmuseum, which is a national museum devoted to Dutch arts, craft, and history. There are many famous works here—especially from the painters Rembrandt and Vermeer (though, sadly, Girl with a Pearl Earring was not on display!)—but the main reason I wanted to go here was because of an experience Nic had when in Amsterdam. 

Museumplein, with the Rijksmuseum behind me.

You see, according to Nic, when he visited the Rijksmuseum during his study abroad experience, he was shocked to find figures in the paintings that closely resembled himself. As he puts it (more or less), he was hit over the head by his Dutch roots in that moment. Having heard this story on more than one occasion, I wanted to check out the situation for myself.

My goodness: he was not kidding, as evidenced by the photos I snapped below. The bone-structure, the nose—it’s like looking at various paintings of Nic dressed in period costumes! It was quite funny, to me, to learn that this was one of those rare instances where my beloved did not overly exaggerate.

Upon leaving, I headed around back to one of two large ‘I amsterdam’ sculptures (I saw the second one later in the day near the new Filmmuseum), which were originally designed to promote business interests within the city, but quickly became a tourist attraction. 

I had actually never heard of it before, but locals kept suggesting I go there, so I did. It was...cute, but I really don’t understand why it was being promoted so heavily by those who live in Amsterdam full-time when there are much more interesting sights that visitors should be directed toward. Oh well, it’s not my city so I can’t judge I guess…

Apparently, I am Amsterdam...

The remainder of my day was spent in the northeastern part of the city, so this seems like a good place to take a break. 

Until next time…

Another One Bites the Dust...

Yesterday was a sad, albeit eventful day: I said farewell to two of the lovely friends I’ve made here, AT and TvH.

The morning started early, as I was scheduled to join AT and EN in Soho for some coffee at 11 AM. Since I arrived a bit early though (big shock), I was able to wander around and snag a few photos of the gaybourhood. I’m trying to take a friend from back home’s advice and take photos of all the every day things that seem common now but which I’ll appreciate seeing again in later years. One thing I noticed while doing this is that the Diamond Jubilee decorations are really starting to crop up around London, which I think is awesome! It’s amazing being a part of history!

Diamond Jubilee decorations near Leicester Square

Diamond Jubilee and Pride decorations at Village

Eventually it was time to meet up with AT and EN for real, so I made my way back to the coffee shop. We spent almost two hours, just drinking, chatting about our time abroad, and laughing. It was great fun!

Me, AT, and EN at LJ's Coffee. (Whew, that's a lot of initials!)

Following coffee, we headed over to King’s Cross Station / St Pancras International (with a brief stop at Forbidden Planet to pick-up the second Game of Thrones book) so we could find Platform 9 3/4 of Harry Potter fame. I have to say, I found the interiors of these two stations positively lovely! (Plus I’m a nerd, so I loved seeing the Harry Potter stuff!) 

Off to Hogwarts...

EN and I at St Pancras Inernational

With some time to kill still, the three of us walked next door to the British Library, which is both the UK’s national library and one of the world’s largest in terms of total number of items. Among other things, the library holds one of the only remaining copies of the Magna Carter (which I saw) and, in the middle of the building, is a four-story glass tower containing the King’s Library—65,000 printed volumes along with other pamphlets, manuscripts and maps collected by King George III between 1763 and 1820.

Alas, around 2 PM, it was time to say goodbye to AT. We walked to the Russell Square tube stop and said our farewells. It may well be that one of these days, when EN and I are back in Chicago, we will simply have to take a road-trip to Colorado to visit our friend. (What the hell, it’s only a 16 hour drive!)

EN headed out with AT, so I had about an hour to kill before meeting up for my last hang-out session with TvH, so I took that time to wander around the British Museum for a bit. I wasn’t too fussed about spending so little time there for two reasons: (1) I spent an entire afternoon there with Nic back in 2008 and, (2) I find the fact that so many of their treasures were imported (read: plundered) from other lands highly problematic. Nonetheless, I cannot deny that I enjoy being around such significant items as the Rosetta Stone—plus the Great Court within the museum is one of the most stunning museum spaces I’ve ever seen!

A flawed panoramic shot I tried to take of the Queen Elizabeth II Great Court.

What the Rosetta Stone really reveals is that I'm HOT (in the sweaty sense)!

 Around 3 PM I started heading back toward Soho Square, where I joined TvH for a bit of much-enjoyed sun-tanning, and to say goodbye.

———
 

Technically speaking, this was the second time this week I’ve said goodbye. He was originally supposed to leave the day before, and we had gone out on both Saturday and Tuesday nights to celebrate, but an airline strike of some sort delayed his actual departure. 

You can read about Saturday night here. As for Tuesday night, we went to Village for a drink or two, followed by a private karaoke place called Lucky Voice (it was awesome—the five of us in attendance had a private room for a whole hour), and then to Lupo where we met a group of lovely women from Chicago and New York (and where I had to push-off an overly aggressive Italian who was harassing one of our new female friends. That's right, I'm a bad ass—a big, queer bad ass!).

———
 

Anyway, getting back to yesterday, I feel like it’s been ages since I saw and felt the sun properly, so I loved getting out there and just relaxing under its warming glow. Plus, I had wanted to spend some proper time chillin’ in Soho Square for a while now, but just hadn’t had the opportunity.

I look tan here...but where did it go once I left?

TvH and I spent a good two hours bakin’ (the hair on my arms bleached successfully, but I don’t feel like I’m all that darker). At one point, I even dozed off for about twenty minutes—it was wonderful! Eventually, TvH’s boyfriend joined us and we headed off for a quick nosh before I had to leave for my third engagement of the day. We grabbed our food, headed into Golden Square, and enjoyed one another’s company in the open air for a bit longer.

Finally, I couldn’t delay any longer, and had to say goodbye to TvH as well. This goodbye was a bit hard for me, as TvH was one of the first new friends I made here—we started talking the first week of class, and started hanging out during the second. I have him to thank (along with his boyfriend and all of the other amazing friends I’ve met through them) for the resurgence of my late-night partying ways. I’m so very grateful for all that he and the others have done to make this hermitish soul feel welcomed!

From there I hopped on a bus and began the trek to Hackney, where I was supposed to meet one of my UEL instructors—DS—for a celebratory drink. Though it took ages to get there by bus (the National Rail system frightens me for the ridiculous reason that I’m afraid I’ll wind up trapped somewhere for over an hour while waiting for the next train), the place we met at was quite nice. 

It was called Pub on the Park, and it was just that: a pub overlooking a park.

Pub on the Park--we sat outside, around the back. [NB: This image is not mine!]

We spent about two hours outside, just hanging out and talking about everything from the state of the education system, to our mutual penchant for getting lost, to Chicago taxi drivers and the inaccessibility of London’s southside by public transport. 

Of course, conversation was slightly hindered by my annual bout of laryngitis and the fact that for some reason I turn into a gibbering idiot when I try to talk to DS. I have no idea why this is. She’s bloody brilliant, but I don’t have the same problem around my other incredible mentors from back home—just her and SM, one of my other instructors here. I think it might be because they’re bloody brilliant AND British. The combination may simply be too much amazingness for my mind to process.

So, all in all, it was both an incredibly fun and busy day, but also a very sad one. I’ve said goodbye to two good friends and I don’t know when I’ll realistically see them again, and by sharing a pint with DS I’ve quasi-officially transgressed from present- to former-London-based student.

This experience really is drawing to a close… :-(

Amsterdam Part I: Getting There is Half the Journey (Literally)!

Let’s talk about Amsterdam a bit, shall we? Or rather, the trip to get there.

You see, my holiday as a whole was four days long, but two of those days were spent purely in transit between London and Amsterdam. This is because I decided to use MegaBus to facilitate my journey.

Now, I know what you’re thinking:  

Brett, you hate the bus! You would rather walk a mile (or more) than take the bus somewhere local. Why on Earth would you subject yourself to a 13 hour bus ride?

Me on the bus, on the return journey.

In short, the answer is because it’s cheap (round-trip tickets were only £20). But even that low, low pricetag wasn’t the sole reason why I went this route: I also wanted to get a sense of some other European locales, even if it was from the highway. After all, it’s taken me 30 years to make it to Europe—who knows when I’ll be back?

So, on the morning of Sunday, 13 May, I set off for Victoria Coach Station at o’Dark early. (Seriously, I left the house at like 5:30 AM!) We got a bit of a late start, and didn’t actually leave until about 9:15 AM, but the bus wasn’t crowded—I had an entire row to myself—and everyone was half-asleep, so no one seemed to care too much.

After crossing out of the London city limits, I started reading my book (Game of Thrones) since I was already familiar with the sights between there and the Channel Tunnel. Imagine my surprise, then, when I looked up and realized that we were actually headed for the ferry rather than the Chunnel! Suddenly my excitement doubled, and I hurriedly stashed my book and started soaking up the 'new' surrounding coastline.

With Dover Castle looming above us, itself atop the towering White Cliffs, we passed through the Port Authority and boarded the giant ship that would take us across the English Channel.   

Dover Castle as seen from the ferry

I made my way onto the deck, and watched as we left England behind, with seagulls gliding along in our wake. The ferry crossing itself was quite nice. I spent the entire time just traveling back and forth along the ship, staring at the shrinking English coast one minute and the growing French coast the next. I confess to being surprised by how close they actually are—I expected it to be kind of like Lake Michigan (where there’s just enough distance between Illinois and Michigan that you can’t quite see the opposite coast), but for most of the trip I could make out both bodies just fine!

The White Cliffs of Dover

Calais and the French coast

 The ferry docked in Calais, France, which—much as when I went to Paris—I found myself wanting to explore further. It seems like a charming seaside town, dotted with dozens of gorgeous steeples. Sadly, the bus wasn’t scheduled to stop in Calais, so I didn’t have the chance. 

We continued onward courtesy of the A16, cutting across northern France by way of Dunkerque. (Notwithstanding Dunkerque's significant place in the WWII context, I was again reminded of my earlier trip to France, when I was generally unimpressed by the passing scenery between Calais and Paris.)

Eventually we crossed into Belgium, which was a great thrill for me as it was another country I could cross off my list as having seen! Now, there are some who might argue this point—for instance, Nic doesn’t think it counts unless you stop to eat or sleep. I see the logic in this argument, but for my own selfish purposes I’m going to ignore said-logic and say that I’ve been there. It’s also worth noting that we didn’t stop at any kind of border patrol point. This made me kind of sad because I was looking forward to having a Belgian stamp in my passport, but I guess it just doesn’t make sense to have checkpoints across all of the roads that cross European borders.

Upon crossing into Belgium, we started heading east. Though not listed on the manifest, we stopped briefly in Gent so that the bus driver could trade with another. We were given about 10 minutes to get off the coach and stretch our legs—so now I can say that I have not only driven through, but also set foot on Belgian soil—but since we were in a hotel parking lot there wasn’t much to see or do.

My only photo of Gent--just something to remember that I was there, however briefly, LOL!

Eventually we loaded back on, and continued onward. About an hour or so later, we arrived in Bruxelles. Excepting the traffic, which was atrocious, I thought the capital of Belgium (and the de facto capital of the EU) looked to be a beautiful old city. We passed the gorgeous Nationale Basiliek van het Helig-Hart (Basilica of the Sacred Heart), and I even caught a glimpse of the Atomium sculpture before stopping at Bruxelles’ main bus hub for those passengers switching there. 

As in Gent we were given the opportunity to get off the coach and stretch our legs, but this time we had a full 30 minutes and there was much more to see. (Mostly, however, I just walked around the terminal and surrounding area, as I was terrified of missing the bus.)

Out and about in Belgium...sort of.

All too soon we were on our way again, cutting through Antwerpen before crossing into The Netherlands proper. Much like the non-city parts of Belgium, The Netherlandian regions known as Brabant and South Holland seemed to be mostly farmlands, though gorgeous nonetheless. 

Sadly, I didn’t see a single tulip along the way, and I only saw a handful of windmills (though the latter grew more frequent as we neared North Holland).

We finally arrived at our final destination—Zeeburg P&R Coach Park at Zuiderzeeweg—at about 9:50 PM local time, from whence I hopped on one of the trams and headed to Amsterdam Centraal Station, and then on another that would take me to my hostel in-time for my 11 PM check-in.

Amsterdam Centraal Station (taken 15 May 2012)

My hostel (taken on 15 May 2012)

I actually missed my stop on the second tram because I didn’t realize you had to both press a buzzer to let the driver know you want off (as on a bus) and then a second buzzer to actually open the tram doors (like on the DLR). 

Fortunately, it was only a short walk back to the Prinsengracht stop from where I was, and I still made it to check-in in time—and, somehow, even at that late hour it only seemed like dusk! There was plenty of natural light to see by as I found my way back to Prinsengracht and then on to a street called Leidsegracht, where my hostel was located overlooking a canal.

After checking-in, I realized how hungry I was. And, since the sun still hadn’t completely disappeared—again, it was about 11 PM at this point—I made my way out to find food. I quickly found a place serving vlaamse frites (i.e., fries/chips drowning in mayo) and made a fast, cheap meal out of that!

Having found a quick meal and drink, I returned to the hostel and hit the hay in preparation for the next day’s adventures—but more on that later!

[NB: Unless I remember something significant that I forgot here, I probably won't post anything about the return-trip, as it's pretty much the same here but in reverse. The only exception is that on the way home I packed a chocolate-covered waffle (bought in Amsterdam the day before), which I wanted to eat until I was in Belgium—get it?]

Barbecue, Gardens, and People of Iron

What an exciting, fun week it’s been! 

In the last 7 days I have visited France, Belgium, and The Netherlands; spent two delightful evenings and one lovely afternoon with various friends; and proudly watched from afar as my sister graduated from MC to UMBC, my parents celebrated their 33rd wedding anniversary, my partner competed in and conquered his very first Iron Person race, and my Aunt Peggy celebrated her 50th birthday!
 

I’m positively exhausted!

I’ll speak more about my travels anon, but for now I want to focus on a few of the things I’ve done in the London area this week, specifically yesterday.

In addition to being my parents’ anniversary, yesterday was Nic’s big race! I knew I would go stir-crazy if I just sat there refreshing the athlete tracker all day, so I decided to try and keep myself as busy as possible. (This was a wise choice on my part since the stupid tracker stopped doing its job after the 56th mile on the bike.) 

So, after starting my morning off with a 5 mile run—don’t forget, I’m training for my own big race (and still looking for sponsors to help me raise $440 by July, which you can learn more about here)—I took my ever-generous host / flat-mate MM up on his offer to go walk around Kew Gardens, where he works. 

I had been meaning to do this for a while now, but with the recent weather it hasn’t really been an option before now. MM and I spent most of the afternoon there—it’s such a lovely park—but my camera battery was low because I forgot to charge it after I got back from my trip, so I didn’t get many pictures. 

Highlights included seeing: Kew Palace, where King George III lived for part of his reign (and which is featured in the film The Madness of King George); some wonderful sculptures hewn from dead trees and created by Kew’s artist-in-residence, David Nash; and, seeing the amazing greenhouses like Temperate House, which is the largest surviving Victorian glasshouse in the world!

The backside of Kew Palace

Temperate House

By the time MM and I returned from Kew Gardens, it was almost 6:00 PM—yet, with the time difference, I knew it would be another 9 or 10 hours before Nic was done with his race. This meant I needed to find something to pass the time last night as well.

Fortunately, my friend TvH invited me to join him, LD, and KS for a night of frivolity at my favorite London club, Heaven. Since Heaven doesn’t open until 11 PM, though, we had some time to kill and went to Lupo first.

————

I’m going to stop talking about last night for a second, and jump back to Thursday.

On Thursday afternoon, TvH and I met up for coffee at LJ’s so we could catch up on the respective trips we had both taken the previous weekend, while enjoying delicious coffee and amazing (albeit messy) caramel shortbread thingies.

Around 5 PM, we set off for Village, where we were to meet-up with LD for cocktails—and just a few at that, because I was determined to avoid a repeat of the prior Thursday’s sloppiness! Unfortunately LD was denied entrance because he forgot his ID and so, after TvH and I finished our wine, we headed someplace where LD knew he could get in: Lupo.

I had never been before, even though it was right down the street. It wasn’t bad, though most of the clientele seemed to be yuppy straights who didn’t quite know what to make of the three of us, bouncing around flamboyantly on our bar stools to the music. On the flipside, the bartender—a lovely Melbournian named Dominica (Dom, for short)—seemed to adore us, and it was in large part because of her that we wound up staying there as long as we did.

Lupo--we sat at the bar. [NB: This image is not mine!]

Eventually, our bellies reminded us that we were famished, and so we set off in search of food. We finally found this barbecue place called Bodean’s. (BTW, check out that website—it's awesome!)

It. Was. AMAZING! 

Seriously, it was some of the best barbecue I’ve had—far better than most of the stuff I’ve had in the US, even! I swear, they must have imported their sauce from the Carolinas, or Memphis, or some other similar place known for its BBQ! (My mouth is watering just thinking back on it…)

Anyway, back to last night…

————

So, I joined LD and TvH (and later KS) at Lupo. Our lovely bartender from Thursday was on-duty again, and provided us with a series of killer drinks and shots! 

Finally, around 11 PM, it was time to head over to Heaven, where the four of us spent the remainder of the night dancing our little queer asses off. We even made it into the VIP area before the night was over (though I didn’t think it was so great, personally—at least compared to the main floor).

All the while, though, I kept a close eye on the time!

I knew I wanted to be home by around 3:30 AM, as that was Nic’s ‘best case’ finish time, and with the inevitable drama that plays out on London’s night buses travel frequently takes longer than expected. Sadly, despite my careful attention to the time, the buses nearly thwarted my plans last night. 

The bus that would have had me home in plenty of time was too full so I wasn’t allowed on, and the next one—20 minutes later, which would have been cutting it close but still an option—never showed. (I can only assume there was drama aboard and it stopped somewhere until the situation resolved itself, as the drivers are wont to do.) 

Finally, I managed to get on a bus at about 3:13 AM. Since there weren’t many passengers, the trip took a lot less time than expected, and I found myself walking in the door at about 4 AM—happily, I returned just in time to learn of Nic’s successful completion of his race as it was happening!

Whew! What a day, not to mention week—but more on the rest later!

Do You Have the Time?

After a somewhat struggling start (I was really tired this morning), I finally headed over to Greenwich today. Perhaps because my heart wasn’t totally in it (owing to high levels of exhaustion), I was kind of disappointed I’m sad to say. I’m still grateful for the opportunity to go, mind you; it just wasn’t what I thought it would be.

But never mind all that.

First and foremost, I wanted to explore Greenwich a bit, since I had yet to visit there. I figured the best way to do so was on foot, and so I took the tube to the North Greenwich stop and hopped off. From there I walked the 2(ish) miles between the O2 arena and the Royal Greenwich Observatory.

Though this area of Greenwich did not quite mesh with the image I had in mind, it was kind of neat to walk through there nonetheless, as EastEnders’ opening credits suggest that the fictionalized Borough of Walford is located in the same area. (Though the equally fictional Walford East tube station, which services the EastEnders characters, is supposedly where the real Bromley-by-Bow stop is, and therefore three stops away from where I lived in Forest Gate.)

But I digress…

Eventually I reached the Observatory (and the attached maritime museum and Queen’s House). Sadly the beauty of the area was slightly marred by a massive construction project, which was creating stadium-style seating for an upcoming Olympic event of some sort. Oh, well.

Anyway, there are three things worth noting about this particular touristy excursion.

The first is the Shepherd Gate Clock. 

Basically, when the railway network was established during the 19th Century, it was realized that a single, standard time was needed. The Astronomer Royal suggested that this standard time should be set by the Royal Observatory, and theorized that electric signaling could be used to transmit the ‘official’ time from a ‘master’ clock at the observatory to ‘slave’ clocks elsewhere. With the help of Charles Shepherd in 1852, this system was put in place, and the Shepherd Gate Clock became (probably) the first to display the thusly established standard—Greenwich Mean Time—to the public. You will also note that the clock features a 24-hour analogue dial.

The second touristy thing worth noting is the Greenwich Meridian. Similarly established in the 19th Century, the Greenwich Meridian was designated the official Prime Meridian in 1884 by a panel representative of 25 different nations. It is marked by a stainless steel strip, and also a green laser beam at night.

Straddling the Eastern and Western Hemispheres

All in all, I spent longer getting to the Observatory than I did actually at the Observatory. Ah, well—as I learned from my V&A experience, you can’t win ’em all when it comes to touristy things.

From there, I walked a short distance away to the newly reopened Cutty Sark (one of the very last tea clippers ever built, and one of only three of its type still in existence), and then on to the Greenwich Market (where I was sorely tempted to buy a little die-cast truck bank that matched one I inherited from my grandparents—in the end, I did not buy it).

Annnnnnnd, that’s about all I have to say about today. (Sorry, I’m just so tired, today and so little stood out!)

Until next time!

The Queen and I Open Parliament

In November 1951—nearly 61 years ago—King George VI and his Queen officially opened the new session of Parliament. Having just had his left lung removed less than two months earlier, the sick King was forced to listen as the Lord Chancellor delivered his speech for him. Less than three months later, the King was dead.

That was the last time the official State Opening of Parliament was carried out by both a King and a Queen. In the years since, this important ceremony has been presided over by Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II, and her lesser-ranked husband, Prince Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh. 

That all changed today, when this King joined The Queen as she opened Parliament…well, sort of. 

I was in the crowd, rather than riding with her in the Australian State Coach. And I wasn’t actually allowed into either Buckingham or the Palace of Westminster. But I was there in spirit!

I arrived at the St James’s Park tube station at around 9:50 AM. I knew the procession was set to leave the palace circa 11 AM, and I wanted to make sure I had a good spot staked out. As luck would have it, I got stopped briefly on the wrong side of Birdcage Walk while a group of guards marched toward their assigned places further along the procession route.

No matter, as a few minutes later I was allowed to proceed. I crossed St James’s Park quickly, and made my way to the northeastern side of The Mall. From there I moved closer to Buckingham Palace, grabbing a spot near where Constitution Hill meets The Mall.

Photo courtesy of my Oregonian friend.

While waiting for the festivities to begin, I made conversation with the woman next to me—a lovely Oregonian visiting London for the first time, and who didn’t realize the significance of the day until she arrived. 

At approximately 11:30, the first part of the procession began. 

There emerged from the palace gates a black-and-gold coach, escorted by Members of the Royal Household. Within this coach were three of the most important Crown Jewels: the Imperial State Crown, which weighs more than two pounds and is set with 2,969 diamonds, 273 pearls, 17 sapphires, and 11 emeralds; the Sword of State, a large broadsword bearing various symbols of the Royal Line; and the Cap of Maintenance, a further symbol of the Monarchy which—like the Sword—precedes The Queen into Westminster during the ceremony.

The Crown Jewels in their own Coach.

About 25 minutes later, the procession carrying The Queen finally set off! 

Accompanied by Prince Phillip, Queen Elizabeth was taken from Buckingham Palace in the Australian State Coach. Since she was not wearing the Imperial State Crown, she wore her famous George IV State Diadem—which has been used by Kings and Queens alike since 1820—for the short ride to Westminster Palace. 

Also part of this procession was The Queen’s only daughter, Anne, the Princess Royal—though, as with her brother Prince Charles, I didn’t recognize the Princess until I was reviewing pictures later.

Princess Anne (red plume)

With The Queen et alia off to the Palace of Westminster, I set off myself. 

My intention was simply to snap a photo of the Royal Standard being flown over Parliament—a relatively rare occurrence, to be sure—but then, after a bit of inquiry, I realized that I could possibly get another view of The Queen on her return journey.

The Royal Standard Flying Over Parliament

So I found a relatively comfy spot, pulled out my new Game of Thrones book, and whiled away the next 30 minutes or so. Sure enough, I soon thereafter found myself bearing witness to the Australian State Coach riding by for a second time.

The Queen and Prince Philip Returning to Buckingham Palace

All together, it was such a delightful morning! 

When I first came to London, I didn’t realistically expect to see The Queen. Then, when I learned that seeing her was a much easier ordeal than, say, seeing the U.S. President, I counted myself lucky to catch a glimpse of her even once. I never dreamed that I would see The Queen twice in one day—my second and third time seeing her all together—let alone glimpsing her riding in an official procession and wearing the State Diadem. 

Until next time…