Under where?

Last night I met up with my new hostelmates. A gal named Gabrielle (French maybe) that I barely spoke to, and a guy from Virginia traveling with his mom. A nice guy and that fact that he's taking his mom to Scotland since his father passed away before they could live that dream. But when we talked about having a pint he said "I'm not much int intoxicants." He also said repeatedly that "I've been blessed." So I have a feeling he's quite a bit on the religious side.They were staying in hostels, but had rented a car to get around. They left this morning for Glaslow, so I'm kind of glad. I have a feeling he was slowly edging towards a sermon of some type. And he would likely have been freaked out if I started some zazen practice. I got a vibe that Gabrielle was kind of trying to do her own thing and maybe ditching Jeffrey (Virginia guy) in the morning.

I walked down to the Filling Station for a nice eggs Benedict breakfast while waiting for Mary King’s Close to open. There is an underground series of alleyways and residences under the main streets. Mary King’s was an exhibit of the section that was more of the poorer sections and middle class residential. Since they had decided to bury most of the run down poorer sections and build middle class on top of them, not a lot survived.

I found out that the street themselves weren’t used to live on back in the 1500-1700. Instead the “closes” or sloped alleyways were 12 story buildings where people lived. At 7am and 10pm the church bells would ring and the youngest child would yell out a warning, then throw the contents of the family chamberpot onto the close where eventually the rain would wash it down into the local water supply. Hence why everyone drank beer or liquor instead of water.

They also went into the more evil side of the poor side of town. One half of the population of Mary King’s Close died of the black death or bubonic plague. The physicians wore raven masks filled with lavender and a full length leather cloak. The belief was either demonic in origin (ravens scared demons and the leather couldn’t be penetrated) or the vile aromatic vapors (hence the lavender in the mask forming a crude gas mask with the leather cloak protecting the skin from vapors). In reality, the mask and cloak helped prevent the fleas carrying the black plague from biting the physician, yet proved no help at home when it was removed. Yet since the death rate was lower, the assumption was that these things worked. Even worse was the fear of a knock on the door from a “clenger”. They were the clean up crew. If a white flag was placed on your door, no one could enter or leave as you were marked for the plague. If you lived (which was not likely at that point), then you could eventually leave. If not, the clengers waited for you to die - then placed everything in your home in the middle and burned it. Then dragged your charred corpse out to burying it. So, not the most popular profession.

I then ventured down to the Maryhood Palace and Di Vinci exhibit. The exhibit only focused on his anatomical studies, though they were fascinating. His methodology of presenting the musculature/skeletal and dissection of corpses was going to be published and would have revolutionized the field of science centuries ahead of time. Unfortunately, he died prior to his publication and we were left instead with hundreds of notes and drawing - which where compiled into book and never touched til the 20th century. At which time it helped define how to present modern CAT and MRI scans. 

The Maryhood Palace is the royal residence of Mary Queen of the Scots. It was smaller than the Kensginton Palace but it was cool in that there was some nice abbey ruins and cool knickknacks inside. I got a little pissed off when they talked about how a jealous king grabbed her Italian tutor, smacked the queen, and then stabbed the guy 56 times in another room. It just smacked of the type of privilege that the uber-rich and powerful enjoy. Murder is fine so long as you have cash.

Anyway, I visited the tea house I went to yesterday on the way back. I really liked the place. It was a proper teahouse decorated in a classic Scottish style with fancy ceramic single pots for tea. I had a tasty corned beef and pickle "toasty" (grilled sandwich) then wandered up the Royal Mile back towards the hostel. I made the mistake of entering the childhood museum (most museums are free). It was cool seeing all the old toys over the ages but there isn't a single Hollywood monster that is creepier than some of the Victorian age dolls. Seriously. Every time I turned my back on them bastards, I wondered if a chunk of flesh was going to get bitten off. Or worse.

My last act of the night might be hitting another underground tour, this one a City of the Dead tour but It debatable. I did decide to ditch my hat, but I found a good place to put it - so its alright. It was a cheap hat I got at Seaside, so I can always get another. I found a nice foldable one here, so I will not be (gasp) hatless.

Why Arthur's seat is NOT American

This morning I lost my hostelmates. One left for a flat in Edinburgh, the other headed back to France. Which, of course, meant naked hostel room morning dance (film at 11). I'm getting in the habit of waking around 8:30 but not actually leaving til 11 or later.

Morning breakfast consisted of a forgettable omelette  at Garfunkel's. I had some hope for the place as it might have something to do with the singer. I got seated at a small table in the bottom floor of the mostly empty restaurant. When I asked if I could get a slightly bigger seat since I had my laptop, he explained that there was a lunch rush so he couldn't. Which never appeared. Also their router connection to the be screwed so I couldn't get online. Meh. Only place I haven't tipped in the UK so far.

I decided to tackle Arthur's seat today. It an hour trek up a set of steep inclines and stairs to get to the top of a hill surrounding the city. It was, to put it mildly, a windy and arduous hour long trek one way. But the payoff was well worth it.

As to it being a seat, it was more along the lines of a bunch of sharp granite bumps. If it were in America - there would be an elevator to the top, the seat would be a Lazy Boy recliner, and there would be a McDonald's next to it. Ah the joys of capitalism.

The walk back went by an amazing graveyard behind a retired veteran's housing area. They even had one of the old turrets holding an art exhibit for the Edinburgh Art Festival. It was a series of of punch cards used far before computers. They used them to store patterns on looms to make tapestries. The punch cards stitched together told the story of two orphan girls that worked making tapestries. It was pretty neat.

Afterwards I headed off up the street but did make one stop into a traditional tea house. Oh my god, it was heavenly. The tea was a fresh herbal mixture they made themselves and it was served with a scone, fresh preserves, and a butter cream whipped so fluffy that I was surprised it didn't float away on its own.

After I left, a slight drizzle started and I was shocked at how many people were using umbrellas. I think the Portland in me was showing. I was walking down the street in just a T-shirt and jeans while mobs of people walked by in full rain gear ducking under any covering they could find. About halfway up the Royal Mile, I hopped in for a pint of cider to dry off a tad - then continued on my way.

Though one other thing happened of quite stunning happenstance. I stopped into an alcove (the name them as closes) to put my camera away. It looked interesting, so I popped on down Dunbar's Close to find a secret garden hidden in the alleyway. at times like this, I wish I had been in a relationship as this would have been a perfect place to steal a modest (or immodest) kiss or two.


Plan for tonight, read a bit in the room - then pop on down to Grassmarket (which is a trek down a long flight of steps to a pub lined street below). Cheers mate!

No photos please

Today was a lump day. My legs were sore from the trek to the modern museum and back from yesterday, so I decided to stay in bed and read the book I was interested in. It’s the introvert in me. Sometimes the best thing for me is to simply sit back and read a book rather than going out and see people.

I eventually decided to get up around 3pm and head over to the nearby Thai restaurant and have a big tasty meal prior to, you guessed it, climbing back up four floors to my hostel room and back to my book. Around 8pmish when the sun went down, I decided to head out and go pub hopping. I really have a taste for British cider. I hit four different pubs until I ended up by the small pub next to the hostel. Most of the folks I met had spotty English, so I didn’t have too many good conversations. I did meet a cute blonde named Crystal that I chatted up for a half hour or so. I might meet her in a bar down on Grassmarket tonight if I’m out.

Slightly buzzed I headed down to a local doner/kabob spot around the corner as it was the only place open according to the bartenderess at the last pub. I talked to an Iraqian guy for about ten minutes there. He was a good guy and he gave me a break on a kebab since I just had change. We talked about speaking English and such. The weird thing is that everyone can understand me perfectly. But a lot of folks have trouble with the Scottish and English accents. I remember earlier “putting my Brooklyn on” (I was born in Boston and my grandparents lived in NY - apparently I had a marked Brooklyn accent until I was 7-8), and Crystal thought it was awesome. Apparently a New York accent is sexy in Scotland.

Now for the not-so-fun stuff. My mother’s caretaker called. Apparently mom had managed to manipulate the staff into giving her a key to the medicine cabinet. Not surprised. I warned them repeatedly that she was a Valium junkie from way back. I shown her doctor in Oregon the four separate prescriptions for the same drug from four different doctors. I told them about when she dumped all her prescriptions in a bowl and was taking them like candy when Jim was alive. I told them about her stay for two weeks in a Las Vegas treatment center for drugs (which she talked her way out of in two weeks). She’s just really really really good at manipulation.

So she claimed she did it to commit suicide. Riiiiiiiigggghhhhtttt. She is the one that told me about the ground glass she has in her crafts and how it was used in Arsenic and Old Lace to kill their victims. She had plenty of ways to kill herself if she wanted to. Why manipulate someone to get access to everyone’s pills, then suddenly be suicidal? OR it might just be that she was getting high like she used to, but she didn’t have the tolerance she used to.

Either way, it no longer bothers me like it used to. Just more manipulation tricks to get her way. I found out the hard way after four years that she will do whatever she will and that she considers me/her ex husband/family/whoever as just tools to get what she wants. There is not a person in there anymore. There is the “innocent sweet” face of a person, but her actions show someone uncaring of the damage she does to those around her to get her way. Cest la vie. Hopefully they will stick her in a psych ward for a couple months. If that doesn’t wake her up, nothing will and she needs to stay in a lock down to keep her from destroying herself or others around her.

Oh and sparkle ponies or some shit, so folks don’t think this is going to screw up my sabbatical. I don’t allow her that kind of hold on me anymore. Really, I’m thinking of a box of kittens playing with a ball of string.

Dr. Bronner's magical disappearing soap

I woke up lazily at around 9am or so. Today would be my day to get a new camp towel (the old one had holes and was starting to smell bad), some new soap, and deodorant. They aren't big into any types of scented soaps I found out. At least not for men.The closest I could find was one that smelled like coal tar.
Seriously? I wasn't bad but it stank like a mining operation. Screw that. I went into some foo foo place and got a grapefruit something or other. The camp towel was tougher as a lot of places didn't have ones with hooks on them to hang on hangers that they have in hostel showers. I ate at a spot down by Rose Street (an outdoor shopping section) only to find an AWESOME outdoor street fair place with great food. I should have taken some pics, if its there to day I will.

I ventured then to The Mound, the central Scottish National Gallery to look at Renaissance still lifes and painting. I like that period of art and some of the Impressionist work. It was an unassuming gallery mostly underground so as not to interrupt the flow of the greens in the middle of town dividing old and new town. From there I found out that they were having an exhibition on Witches and Wicked Bodies at the modern art galleries.

I figured it wouldn't be that far away.
Yah, right.

It was on Queenferry Road which is a long road that went by a residential area, over a bridge, and past a huge very wealthy private school. It was also not really marked and even the locals I asked were unsure as to where it was. I have no idea how they mark the streets in Edinburgh, but its worse than Portland.

The 15 minute walk took roughly about 45 minutes but I eventually found the museum. The witches exhibit was fascinating in just how fucked up we used to treat unmarried women as there were no real mention in print, painting, or book of men being witches. Very good pieces from Goya and Blake though.

The rest of the museum was modern art, which I find very little of ot worthy of note. The only one I really liked was a room that was simply a large sheet of pantyhose across the ceiling, with columns of hose held to the floor by mounds of different spices.


Last night I got two new hostelmates. I was a tad bummed as at first it seemed I would have the room to myself. Weee!
But alas, twas not to be. A gentleman transferring from a law school in Amsterdam to Scotland that was looking for a temp pad for a couple days while things got straightened out named Daniel. And a guy from Morroco, now living in France, named Ameil. They seemed decent sort, not party animals (the bane of hosteling) and desiring to spend as little time as possible in the hostel.

Strippers, castles, and illusions

Last night was a failed experiment in Edinburgh strip clubs. I was told about the “Stag’s Triangle”, a small area down the steps next to the hostel where there were three strip clubs and some bars. A strip club in the UK consists of about a half dozen girls in a bar with a pole in the middle of it. They occasionally dance on it, but since no one ever tips, why bother? They are mainly there to do lap dances which consist of $5 to $20 pounds where you sit on your hands and they dance in front of you, sometimes sitting on your lap. I wandered in and out of the three clubs and had a number of ciders before I headed up the stairs to go back to the hostel.

I ended up sleeping in late this morning and not actually taking a shower until about noon. I hit a Kurdish/Arabic joint for some good falafel and lamb. I wandered up to the castle and was sidetracked by the camera obscura exhibit. It was a neat tourist attraction consisting of all sorts of optical illusions and a really good view from the top of the museum. They had a vortex tube that gives me ideas for Burning Man regional type thing.

After that I headed up to Edinburgh Castle. This is probably one of the coolest castles I’ve visited considering the incredible views you have from here. Not a lot of interesting anecdotes, thought the history of the place goes back a thousand years. I’ve briefly stopped into a tea house at the top of the castle and will shortly be on my way around.

After tea the castle was closing up, so not a lot of things to see anymore. They went through the various wars from 1750-ish to 1980. The weird things is not a single word about the US. The French, Russians, Dutch, Canadians, etc. I’m not sure if it was because the English were more interesting in the US breaking away, or we weren't as big a concern, or if they were a tad embarrassed about the whole mess.

There was a memorial in a main hall dedicated to the fallen military of the various wars and I felt honored and humbled to be allowed to enter the memorial. I removed my hat and was quietly respectful. Unlike the Indian family that let their kids scream and chase each other around. Sometimes I just want to backhand some parents, grab their kids, and throw/lock them out of places where they should have been taught to be respectful.

I checked out the prisoner’s quarters real quick but they were closing up already, so it was a drive by photo. Not much to see there though truly. The view is the main thing about the castle. Tonight? Maybe find a local pub for a pint.

Scottish meals Bill Cosby would approve of

I had a delicious Scottish breakfast this morning. Eggs, toast, ham, sausage, potato scone, haggis, and blood pudding. Blood pudding is basically a Scottsman's way of saying
"Right, we took out all the good parts of the pig - what the hell do we do with the rest of it?"
"I dunno, let's ask Bill Cosby... pudding? Really? Are ye daft? Right then, we'll give it a shot."

The new hostelmates were Swiss and New Zealanders. She left this morning, but the Swiss guys will be here til Wednesday.
This morning was the Search for Socks. Dun dun dun!!!
Seriously though, most of my socks at home are only ankle high as I hate the feel of socks falling down onto your ankles. The problem is that when you have a good pair of hiking boots/shoes, your bare skin at your Achilles's tendon had a habit of rubbing a huge blister right were it meets the shoes. I'm swapping between the two shoes so that the blisters I'm forming switch off and have a chance to heal. So I had to go into a department store and get some stylish foot adornments for the rest of my journey (they are quite comfy though). I also stopped by the haberdashery department as I tend to like browsing through gentlemanly things.
Well it means something different around here. It was basically a sewing center, which happened to be the other thing I needed. My tried and true trusty backpack is starting to come slightly unglued at the point where the lower belt on the large sack is attached to the pack. Its halfway undone right now and that means bad things in store if it comes all the way off. So I now have a sewing kit and will spend some time tonight trying to get the sucker attached well enough to get the Sweden, where I might have to tour some sporting goods places to find a replacement. Which will sadden me greatly as there are a ton of memories tied to all the bruises and scrapes on my old one.
After my short shopping spree I walked around the residential districts farther out from the city center just to get a feel of Scottish life. Few folks on the street, mostly folks working. I love getting the feel of a city's true heartbeat away from the tourist facade. I ended up walking back to the city center and hopped on one of the open top tour buses to see what all the city has to offer.
I've come to realize that this might be a good option to do the first thing once you hit a city. You'll likely be tired and have preconceived notions about where to go in the city based on tourist propaganda and tour books. If you get the open air bus tour, you can get the talking points and history for an hour ride while you get to see all the places you might want to walk to. Plus you see the bars, restaurants, and cool shops that catch your eye on the way and can mark them off on the map they give you during the bus tour.
So I took the one that went through the city and the university and parliament districts. Then for an extra four pounds I could take any of the other five buses to hop on and off of.
Currently I hopped off of the stop by the ocean at the Ocean Terminal Mall to have a bite to eat and look out over the ocean from three floors up. Mall food - pasta carbonara and a couple pints of pear cider. Then we'll see what the night has in store for me.

Yeells drank yer haggis an luv it, ya silly sod!

The Arcade - Haggis and Whiskey House, where their motto is "YOU'LL BLOODY TAKE A SHOT OF HAGGIS TA CHASE YER WHISKEY YOU FUCKIN NANCY BOY AND BE GLAD WE DUNNA MAKE YOU EAT THE BLEEDIN HART OF AN ENEMY PATRIOT!"

That which does not kill you, makes you drunker.

- William Wallace 

The morning brought me awake at around 6am. It was a royal pain in the ass to get my stuff in and out of the lockers in the 12 room dorm and I had to move it into temp storage prior to 10:30am. After which time I had to make myself scarce so that cleaning and such could be done. I would't be allowed to check back in until 2:30pm. 

So I figured this would be a good time to figure out how to get to Dublin. Apparently the hostel mix up was my fault and I also have an extra day in Dublin I have to figure out how to shorten. No worries wandering around is fun.

So I had a nice English breakfast and wandered the streets of Edinburgh. I headed to the train station where they told me of two different routes to Dublin via train and ferry. Both took 10 hours and had 5-6 changes each between buses and trains. Screw that. So I went in look for a travel agency, which was hard to find but I eventually discovered it in the middle of a shopping mall. A plane from Edinburgh and then an airport shuttle to the heart of Dublin cost me about £160. So it would have been cheaper via a ton of buses, trains, and ferries - but I just don't want to deal with it.

I had to walk around while the gal got the paperwork and ticket in order, so I wandered down Rose street which was a cool little cobblestone shopping street with bars and shops. I was looking for possibly replacing my backpack as the stitching holding the bottom belt of the main bags now halfway off. The likely scenario is that I find a sewing kit and spend an hour or so fixing it myself until its good enough for me to hit Sweden and then I can get my bro to help me find a replacement.

So go back, get the tickets and shuttle voucher, and head back off to the hostel to check in again for my real four person room. The views walking around in Edinburgh are stunning. This really is a picturesque city seemingly straight from the Victorian age. I stop in for some tasty Thai food (though way overpriced) and lug my huge ass bag all the way up to the top floors. Which are worth it. The bathrooms are nicer, the showers are bigger, the floors are carpeted, and the view. Well...
We're on the top of a hill next to the castle and most of the city is below us. The hostel building itself is pretty tall.The room is roughly 12 feet wide by 10 feet long with 1/3 of the length sloped down due to the ceiling being part of the roof. there is a set of bunk beds on both sides and I'm set on the lower left hand side.The is one window dead smack in the middle that leans up from the bottom of the window. Its tall enough so you can lean your elbows on the sill and look out over the town and hear the various bands and street performers play below. 300% improvement over the 12 bed I started with.

My feet hurt unfortunately. so I'll likely be staying in tonight. Though who knows at this point.

Fringey burny thingies

The morning seen me with a slight dullness from all the cider and beer we tossed down. Breakfast was interesting as the news was talking about US newest involvement in the Syrian conflict. Feh. It was good to hear the hostel owner (never got his name but he was a good guy) and Jess’s input as to how their countries deal with sending troops and the involvement we get in foreign affairs. They felt sorry for us as they knew the corporations had us by the balls and basically dictated our healthcare and what wars we entered. They all seemed to like us yanks, but our politics left something to be desired, though theirs were far from perfect. I think its pretty universal that regardless of where you live, you will bitch about your government. The only difference is they mostly think our current government and social setup is insane and wonder why the fuck we are putting up with it. The hostel owner asked if I thought if we would have some kind of armed revolution soon. Yah. Something needs to change.

It was sad leaving the place and saying goodbye to Jess, but that’s the way of backpacking and hostels. Sometimes you meet good people and sometimes your hostel mates are pains in the ass. The trip from London Bridge to Kings Crossing on the metro was quick and easy. I had about a ½ hour wait until my train left to Edinburgh. Minor annoyance, they said they were giving me a window seat but gave me an aisle instead. I’m traveling with an aunt and her niece and nephew. Good kids and adorable in their accents and polite manner. Their aunt was good enough to offer me the window seat, so I got a nice view regardless.

 Huh, looks like the aunt was actually their grandmother. And she has a PhD in political science. We had a long conversation about green energy technology and its effect (or lack of ) on the economy and political arena. The train ride was far more boring that I had anticipated. The land was flat and pretty bland, the only thing that stood out was an area with castle ruins and what looked like an early Roman aquaduct. It sped by too fast so I didn’t have a chance to take a picture.

I arrived in Edinburgh to a festival all over the city. The hostel itself was up a steep hill and it turns out I was not booked for the night. I must have either fucked up my booking, or something was screwy in how things were set up. Actually, I might have assumed it would take a night train to get to Edinburgh. Meh. I managed to get a bunk in a 12 bunk suite. So male dorm with a bunch of kids. Cest la vie. I can deal with it for a day. Even though the sheets are funky and there was a pair of pants in them. Yah.

Also First Tech fucked up AGAIN. They left a message and the lady gave the number so quickly that I had to listen to the message four times to get the information. Then when I called the “collect international” number, they didn’t have the case number that they gave me. So they had to look it up by my phone number, then couldn’t find it. Then my name and managed to find it. Then they said I had a travel alert that neglected to include Finland, Russia, Belarus, and Poland and was until the September 19th. They are, bar none, the most incompetent assholes I’ve ever had a credit card with. I made sure to slowly inform them in July everywhere that I would be. I even reiterated it in August. Didn’t matter.

On the plus side, the city itself is awesome. The buildings are medieval looking and the view on the hill I.m on is incredible. I won’t be taking any pictures today though. I want to wait until I’m settled into the four bunk room where it is a tad safer before leaving crap out.

Wandered around to get a bite to eat and the Fringe festival is insane. The streets are packed and there are live performances about 3-4 to a city block. I walked by a 12 year old that was singing like a 50 year old blues singer, an obnoxious bigoted comedian, a juggler with fire/apple/sword, three guitarists, two live plays, and a Scottish war reenactment. There is music, fireworks, and people with painted faces and costumes everywhere. Reminds me of Burning Man but with restaurants, cobblestone streets, and working toilets. It really is nuts with folks of all ages.

Next floor - bedsheets, women's lingerie, housewares, and the top of the bus

The morning started out fairly uneventful, I awoken early due to the heat in the hostel. The temperature outside is cool at night, but for whatever reason the hostel always seems to be stifling hot. Even when standing next to the open window. After a short breakfast I decided to head out randomly across the city. I ended up somewhere in the Holborn district near the royals courts.

One of the greatest pleasures I take in traveling is learning the pulse of the city. What are people wearing, work or leisure? Where are they eating? What snippets of conversation show the flow of daily life? What shops are being visited by folks or shopping sprees and which during daily life? What pedestrian flows happen at what time in what direction? Where do they go and where are they coming from? It takes about a week, but then you get the hang of the local metro and where the local stop for a bite. You no longer stand out like a sore thumb and you move in sync with the invisible hand of that city’s hive mentality.

I walked to city until about 3pm when I headed out to find one of the hop on/hop off open roof double decker busses. I figured I could take a rest off my feet and ride along for a couple hours enjoying the breeze. While waiting for the bus, I had to deal with some drunken British version of a redneck. His nose had obviously been broken many many times, he was missing teeth, and he had an umbrella in one hand and a half bottle of cheap wine in the other. He had just been kicked off the previous tour bus for scaring the women and children. He made some innocuous comments to me but never actually came out and be rude or confrontational. More of a high school “pushy push” type hope of escalation, so I answered his question about my tattoo then turned my back on him and ignored him to talk to the bus stop attendant. Just goes to show that there are assholes are everywhere.

The bus itself was great. The weather was overcast with promise a rain in the morning. So a nice cool breeze hit my face as we drove all around London, looking at all the neat buildings, parks, and statues. The two hours flew by fairly quickly. The view from the height made it better than walking in some cases, but made tree lined streets a royal pain in the ass as I couldn’t take pictures and had to occasionally hold my hat to prevent it from getting knocked off.

Back at the hostel, I dropped off my things at the room and picked up the laundry they did while I was away. Jess was there so we decided to go find some places to get drinks. I had walked by a pub called Lord Nelson that reminded me on the inside of Chuck’s art cars. All sorts of paintings and odd things hanging from the walls and ceiling. Very eclectic and artistic and obviously a local young bar hangout. I tried a sample of a frozen Pimm’s slushy and found it to be interesting but we settled on drinking a number of ciders and a beer. They also had an outdoor charcoal grill were they were cooking up beef, venison, or lamb burgers. We opted for the beef burgers and topped them with a salad mixture and grilled onions. It was interesting to talk to Jess about politics but I could tell she was initially apprehensive about WWII (naturally) though she warmed up when I talked about our treatment of the Native Americans and the Japanese concentration camps here during the same war. We had quite a long and interesting chat about all sorts of things. She was fun, its too bad I know I’ll never see her again as she would be a fun person to hang out with.

The proper stacking of rocks (which were being dicks)

The morning started out pleasant enough, waking early when Jeff the hostel mate left. Which wasn’t too bad as it meant I had the shower first so I didn’t have to stand in a bunch of water from the slow draining pipes. Then a breakfast downstairs whilst blogging until Jess came down and joined me. She’s a cool person, its good to hang out with her in the morning. She’s off to a palace an hour away while I decided to stick to Kensington Palace, which is where Prince William and his wife will shortly settle into. It was neat in that they explained the different progression of rooms. In early days, the farther into the palace you went, the higher your social status and likelihood you would get a position or boon from the royal family. The neat art exhibits shown how the different rulers lived there and their history. So less gallery art and more cool small exhibits. One especially cool thing they did was they had a number of exhibits where an old phonograph was attached and they played gossip whispers that were common in the house of lords at that time.

One sad note was it chronicled the fall of the house of Stewart. The last queen had 18 children, all of which died before the age of 5 except Prince William. He died 3 days after his 11th birthday and had been the hope of the nation from due to his cleverness and interest in military matters. This left a hole as they then no longer had anyone capable of being the royal family. Parliament set strict Protestant based rules and they went in search of a suitable king, eventually starting the line for King George the First.

After the palace I strolled through the rain in the palace gardens connected to Hyde park. They have a beautiful Italian Gardens that King Albert made for Queen Victoria and was eventually rebuilt by Tiffany’s of New York. I took a quick lunch break at this point across the park from the street in a hotel. Caesar salad, wild mushroom linguini, a pint of Strongarm cider, some Navy Rum (delicious), and chocolate cake and I’m ready to head back to Hyde Park.

This is the first example from this artist called Rock on Top of Another Rock, prior to his other famous works Rock Next to Another Rock and his masterpiece Oh For Fuck’s Sake, It’s Just a Goddamn Rock…

Hyde park was huge. Not as big as Forest Park, but few places are in terms of city parks. It is likely the biggest front lawn for a place I’ve ever seen. Large ponds, some big enough for boats and requiring bridges. I walked down to the corner of the park to see the Wellington Arch and then Buckingham palace. The arch was cool, but Buckingham is hidden behind tall brick walls with razor wire on the top. It appears more than God saves the queen.

I headed down to the metro and headed back to the hostel. My feet were getting blistered so I decided to hunker down with a book and let my feet heal a bit after walking all day. I ended up sleeping til about 10pm, waking up to take my antibiotic, and then falling right back down to sleep.

Tomorrow, washing clothes, riding on top of some touristy thing, and wandering about.

Wow, the British Royalty sure were a bunch of arseholes.

Had a standard English breakfast (or "fry up") across the street from the hostel at a place called the Island. Eggs, toast, ham, sausage, slice of tomato, and some baked beans. Pretty standard fare when it comes to breakfast here. After this began a casual stroll across London Bridge and wandering down the bank boardwalk to the Tower of London. Oddly enough it was quite small compared to the building around it, but I'm sure it was quite impressive back in the day.

The bottom part, where the lawn is located, was the moat area and had a connection to the Thames. Then there is a small castle wall with a taller inner wall beyond that. In the middle of all that is a four story building called the White Tower, where a bunch of kings and queens lived back in the early days of the British royalty. The ruins were built on the Roman ruins when they got conquered by Trajan. Much later on, in 1033, William the Conqueror decided "enough of that rot" and tossed the Romans out at the expense of having bland food from then on. Its still in contest as tot whether that was a good idea, though conquering India helped bring that mysterious thing called "spices" back into the culinary scene.

The tour was filled to the brim with tourists, making even the simplest wait a 1/2 to 1 hour ordeal. I started with an amusing free tour guide with a beefeater. Each beefeater must have 20 years of service in the military and are chosen carefully. So tour guide isn't a bad gig really, add that on their pension and that they get to meet people and tell bad jokes to a captive audience and it all makes it worth it. For about a hour or two I was regaled with tales of this and that person getting their heads chopped off. Priests, kings, queens, authors, etc. They didn't seem to be a cheery lot really. I then stood in a ridiculously long line to be whisked by the crown jewels, which while impressive in their huge jewelly bits, was not worth standing in line for that long.

After this it was a walk through the White Tower in the middle where the longest running tourist attraction was running. There had been suits of armor and mock up horses and wooden mannequins of rulers.The tower used to house and armory, so there was many different sections on the floor shown firearms, cannon, suits of armor, etc. There even used to be exotic animals housed for the visitors than can from the early 1600s to present day. It was interesting but my threshold for dealing with tourists was quickly reached. I took a quick walk around the outer parapets, and had an interesting lunch, before I headed back into town around 5pm.


I walked back just in time to find out that the London Experience closed. I figure I'll hit that first thing, then move on to Kennsington Palace and a walk through Hyde Park and listen to loonies talk about the end of the world.

NoHos in SoHo

Monday night after blogging, I decided to get a bite to eat somewhere and wandered down Union towards the Westminster area. One of my greatest joys in visiting a city is getting lost and finding new and fun places tucked away in corners of the city. I passed a bar that would have had my friend Chuck green with envy, it was garishly decorated and the inside had all manor of bizarre antiques and lighting on the walls. I didn't stop in as I was looking for a bite to eat. I ended up walking to the Westminster bridge and then walking down to the boardwalk along the Thames.

This is a common area for the locals as they seemed to be enjoying themselves taking night strolls along the water. I passed a number of higher end bars and restaurants and eventually settled on a curry wrap on Borough High Street.

The next morning I was determined to see the famous SoHo area, though I stopped by a neat art installation I missed taking a picture of the prior morning. The lights changed colors and sometimes made patterns.

 I wanted to hit SoHo in part as this was a famous shopping district and part as it was also the "seedy" area of London. Well, its pretty much been gentrified as between all the fun crafty, antique, and mall shops - there was a tiny two block area with sex shops. At no time did anything seem seedy or dangerous. Meh. I left and walked over to the British museum area was located and had a nice pizza and mint lemonade. Unfortunately, my elbow started bothering me again, so I opted to head back and find a pharmacy where I could get an ice pack. I figured I could stay in a relax, read a book, and nap. The best way to cure ills is eating well, resting, and letting your body take care of itself.

I had met my first hostelmate on Monday, a 20 year military man from Canada named Jeff. Good guy and he was staying until his folks came into town on vacation and he was to head out with them to see Edinburgh. He would be leaving Edinburgh about the time I arrived, so timing was off on that one. Too bad, as he was a good guy and it would have been fun to share a pint or two with him at night there. Tuesday when I came back to the hostel to rest I met my other hostelmate, Jess. A German student that was on vacation in London for 9 days until her boyfriend came into town and they were to drive to Edinburgh. Cute blonde gal but she was having a tough time with English. We hung out and had dinner, then went to have a couple pints at the hostel where we met up with Jeff. Apparently the night before, a gal got beaten and her stuff taken a couple blocks from here. I figure I'll make myself available at night if she needs an escort to get dinner and such.

This morning, after doing the bloggy thing, I figure I'll head down to London Tower and teabag the Crown Jewels. Family jewels, meet family jewels.

Oh the scary scary Socialist health care system

So before I get to the juicy bits, lets have a quick rundown of the first day in cheery England. I'd also like to apologize for the first blog post. There are two styles of adding new blog posts, a compose method and an HTML method. The compose method is WYSIWYG (What You See Is What You Get - for my non-tech friends). There is a spellchecker, you can drop pictures or links directly into the post, videos, etc.). Unfortunately, Microsoft and Google are still having hissyfits at each other. So IE8 doesn't work with the compose method and it never will (unsupported browser). Whatever. I downloaded Chrome.

I was awoken early in the morning by a hostelmate, a cute Asian gal apparently into shopping as judging by the designer shopping bags she left. Having no idea what time it was beyond that there was light in the sky, I showered and prepped for the new day. Only to find that it was prior to the hostel's free breakfast. So I hung out in back until 7am. Two eggs, some cereal, coffee, two toast with jam, and an OJ later - I was ready to face the world. I started off by walking down some of the more unused street to head over to the tower bridge. Along the way I noticed a neat dichotomy. The bulk of buildings were either aged brick buildings all in need of minor repairs, or they were modern glass and steel buildings of modern architecture.

Tucked into a little brick alcove next to a bridge beside a busy road, I found an old brick church.Beside the church a statute of Our Lady with a tiny pool/offering bowl in front. Its stark white beauty belied the weathered brick lining the archway to the bridge where traffic whizzed by overhead. Then around the corner an art installation of colored lights placed into the walls of the other side of the bridgeway. It was a refreshing walk down to the tower bridge, occasionally spotted by a giant "fuck you" of traditional brick buildings set amidst the towering steel monstrosities of our modern society.

The walk continued down to the waterfront for a cup of coffee at Starbucks (oddly enough, they didn't have a lot of options in that respect) at the base of the bridge. The tower bridge itself was quite interesting, you could pay to go in the towers themselves where they described the people that built them and had galleries of the famous bridges across the world. Afterwards you got to go down into the engine room to view the old steam workings of the draw bridge and the massive counterweights. All in all it was pretty cool. The only problem is that the only exit was back on the other side of the bridge, where I had originally come from. Meh. I figured I'd just hit the London Bridge area and see what's up.

I wandered down by the boulevard lining the Thames. There were small artsy shopping regions and one of the coolest steampunk/Baron Munchhousen style fountains I'd ever seen. Unfortunately, my right elbow was swelling up, turning red, and was hot to the touch. This had been going on since Thursday (3-4 days) and was getting progressively worse. Fuck. Not good and I realized I needed to see a doctor. And the only way to do that, I found after asking a pharmacist, was to go to the urgent care (our emergency room).

So I headed down to St. Guy's and checked into the urgent care. They asked my name, where I was staying, and a phone number. I offered to go back to the hostel and get my insurance card number but she told me to just relax and they would call me. They let you eat lunch in the waiting room so I had the salted beef with pickle deli sandwich, dandelion and burdock soda, and Greek salad. About 1/2 hour later I went in to see a nurse practitioner. She took one look at my elbow and said cellulitis. We then chatted a bit about my work and such. She wrote me out a prescription for antibiotics and told me to ask for a low grade steroid cream when I talked to the pharmacy. When I asked her how much the visit was going to cost me, she looked at me weird and said "nothing". Also the medicine cost 12 pounds for both. So an emergency room visit in London cost me a total of less than 20 bucks. When I told her how much it would have costed in the US, she said "Are you fucking serious? Sounds like your insurance companies have you lot by the balls."

Yah. They do. <insert sad panda face>

For all those folks bitching about socialized medicine, bite me. We're getting fucked hard and paying the bill for it through all sorts of ways. Establish a public option already and lets be done with all that bullshit.

Anyway, I headed back to the hostel after that and decided to have a nap and do some reading. Which ended up being a prolonged nap with a Kindle. Currently, I'm sitting alone in the back patio of the Rose and Crown having a pint of Bulmer's cider (cider rocks here - they have a huge variety and its very dry and tasty). Thinking of wandering around, possibly to the London Dungeon. a tourist attraction by the London Bridge.

Just taking the Picadilly Line to Cockfoster.

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