Eating and Riding My Way Through London

Bonjour Mes Amis,

I hope this blog finds you well. I'm just back from a few days' holiday in London, where I rode my way through the city on every mode of transport: foot, bus, boat, wheel and tube. I did everything touristy and loved every minute of it.

I arrived in London to a glorious day. The sun was shining, the sky was blue and the air warm. I don't know if I've mentioned it, but the weather in Paris has been a bit damp, cool and gray, so needless to say, London's warm weather was a welcome change. I was ready to explore, but first, I had to check into my hotel. Naturally, I decided to stay in Notting Hill. As a die-hard romantic, and champion of cheesy chick flicks, the town intrigued me, and fortunately, I was not disappointed. As I ascended from the subway, white row houses draped in cast iron terraces greeted me like a rainbow after the rain. Mohawked students and Burberry-donned yuppies hurried past the antique shops and florists, coffee houses, and bookstores. This was my kind of neighborhood.

I quickly showered and changed, and took off for my day. Notting Hill is about 2 miles northeast of city center, and there seemed to be a diagonal path through Kensington and Hyde Park that would take me there. All about efficiency, I entered the park, but once I did, both my stride and time seemed to slow down. Acres of plush green grass carpeted the earth making a playground for tumbling babies and barefoot children. Families and couples and napping people peppered the landscape with blankets and picnics as far as I could see. I could have stayed there all day, and I almost did - getting lost along the crossing pathways, stopping for 20 minutes here, 10 minutes there to sit and stretch my face to the sun. But my stomach growled and I was ready for a snack. I noticed, then, that all of the picnics surrounding me were catered by the same chef: Harrods. And though I had no intention of visiting the department store while in London, it seemed to be calling my name.

I entered the store through the perfume department, an impressive site on its own. Marbled columns cradled the gilded ceilings from which delicate chandeliers hung. Topiaries of soft pink roses filled the room, accenting the lavendar and vanilla aroma throughout. But this was not what impressed me most. Rather, and not surprisingly, it was: the market. From pastries to meats to fresh cut flowers and herbs, your senses awake here. Endless and exquisite, one can only float through Harrods market, as if on a magic carpet ride around the globe. Sushi chefs in black kimonos serve plump gorgeous salmon and tuna sashimi amidst a backdrop of japanese writings, screens and fans. In the next room, scents of garlic and tomato escape into the air as thick Italian men in tall chefs hats sling pizzas into wood-burning ovens. Next door, a bubble-gum-pink 1950's soda shop serves sundaes in short tin cups along a long formica counter. Room after room, aroma by aroma, the market enchants and delights. It is Disneyworld for adults. Small World - The Food Version, if you will. Even the donuts are perfect - Krispy Kreme, of course, moving along a conveyor belt from the oven, through a shower of thick icing arriving in your hands just in time to melt in your mouth.... mmmmm

When I finally left this haven, I found that my double-deck chariott conveniently awaited. Yes - I mean those tour busses that circle the city while a cheesy guide tells bad jokes and shares detailed information about every building in sight. Mind you, it has never occurred to me to take one of these busses, but my parents recommended it. And if my parents, who are South Beach-loving active folk recommend sitting on a bus for an hour, it must be good. But, it was expensive - 22 pounds (or $44), so when the driver winked my way and offered me the trip for half price, I knew it was meant to be. And it was! I rode that bus for an hour and a half! I befriended the driver and guide, enjoyed the sun, and saw more of London than I could have ever seen in 48 hours walking there. The bus then dropped me off at London Tower, just in time to catch the last River Cruise - a ride that came free with the bus tour! As I sailed off toward Westminster, I watched the sun lower and delighted in the divine timing. Famished, I later disembarked to find the nearest Carnaby Street pub where I stuffed my belly with what else, but hand-battered fish, crispy chips, mushy peas and a pint of house ale. Needless to say, I left the pub ill, but deeply satisfied, wondering what all those fools are talking about when they criticize British cuisine...

I woke the next morning to walk Portobello Market before meeting my cousins, Stacy and Scott, at their hotel. After a long, long embrace and a quick cleaning-up, we all set about for a day of site seeing. We wandered London leisurely, exploring historic streets and stopping in cobbled courtyards. Scott was our resident historian, teaching Stacy and me about the history and churches and wars won there. Ready for dinner, but each wanting something different, we (of course,) ended up at Harrods. There, we shared a cheese plate, drank a glass of wine, Stacy and I dove into a chocolate sundae, and Scott relished in his $30 salty (corned) beef sandwich and pickles. We ended the evening with Avenue Q, a saucy adult-only version of Sesame Street that is a MUST-see if you have not already. History, Harrods and a Hilarious show! I love this city....

Day 3 in London was short and we had a long list of things to do. 1. Drop luggage at train station. 2. Breakfast. 3. Watch changing of the gurads. 4. Ride the London Eye. It was going to be tight, but we could do it. We arrived at the changing of the guards in time to get a front row spot for the marching band. Soldiers in red flannel coats and tall furry hats forged past us while playing the trumpet, the trombone, the drums. Enthralled with the pomp and circumstance, we waited for more... and waited... and waited... With our front row spot for the band, seems we had a last row spot for the ceremony. We heard some shouting and shuffling of feet and peered on tiptoes to see. A man in an electric wheelchair offered for Stacy and me to stand on his platform for a better view, and though at first we hesitated, we then hopped on - he offered, right!!??!! From there, we could see the soldiers standing and waiting. A lot of circumstance - gone was the pomp. So with an Eye to ride, and planes to catch, we proceeded along a royal park toward the river.

Approaching the Eye, it overwhelmed us. A huge ferris wheel hosting 30 or so glass pods that each hold 25 guests, the London Eye towers over the city. It is grand - taller than the skyline, slim and sleek, rotating so slowly that it seems to stand still in time. For Stacy and me, this was a must-do. Not only because it offers the best views of the entire city, but also because it is remiscent of the time when I (age 11) bullied her (age 8) onto a rickety wheel at our local mall, and then abandoned her as she screamed for me. I'm not proud of this moment, but it has become one of our favorite jokes to laugh about as adults. The joke, though, was of course on me as today at 32 and 29, it is me who is morbidly afraid of heights, and clung to her arm ranting, "whose stupid idea was this?" (it was mine) as we ascended higher and higher into thin air.

As we descendend from our pod, we hurried to the train station so that I could make my flight back to Paris, where I now write from a cafe below my apartment. My friend Holly arrived this morning and is napping upstairs. Stacy and Scott proceeded to Amsterdam and will join us here later this week. In the meantime, Holly and I will celebrate her birthday tomorrow and hopefully get into some trouble. I've yet to check out the Paris club scene and with a partner in crime, I'm looking forward to a few fun-filled days...

Until next time, mind the gap and have a wonderful day.
A bientot,
All my love,
Carin