Day the Twenty-First

Sunday the Twenty-Seventh of June, Two Thousand Ten


My dearest and most ever so faithful readers,
It is the final day! Tonight will be our last night in Furnival House, the University of Westminster dormitories, as well as our last night in London, and, indeed, all of England proper. By tomorrow night (in Los Angeles, for it will be mid-night in England) we will be home, flying backwards in time, as we shall have done.


We decided to have a bit of a lie-in this morning ("a lion?" Diana asked me the other day, confused by the British turn of phrase), and awoke to the sun beating through our windows and turning our adjoining rooms into downright furnaces. Once we had completed our respective toilettes, we set off in the direction of Hampstead Heath, a large, wild garden with a supposedly superb view of the city of London. We never, however, made it that far. We took first a pleasant stroll through Waterlow Park near our lodgings with the intention of emerging out in the direction of the Heath. However, where the Heath was, I could not figure out, for none of my maps went so far as to include it. Ah, well. After much wandering aimlessly about, hot and tired we found a Tube station and set off instead for frozen yoghurt. One brief repast later, we made our way to Trafalgar Square to peruse the National Gallery. While there were many impressive works therein, there were also far too many ugly baby Jesuses and preposterous-looking dogs for my taste. I felt moved, though, seeing the Van Goghs in person.


Once we had developed a serious case of Malade de Musée (more commonly known as "Museum Legs"), my sister and I left the cooler confines of the galleries for the hotter steps outside. There, a young man engaged us in conversation with an unlikely opening line along the lines of "What's the deal with all these Squares? Is Leicester Square even square?" I believe he really meant Trafalgar, but it worked nonetheless: we talked to him. His name was Kit and he should well have known the difference between the two, for he was a born and raised London man. What he was doing strolling past the National Gallery, a location swarming with tourists, is beyond me, though it is not, I suppose, a bad plan for meeting young defenceless foreign ladies. He was quite nice, and we discussed his upcoming adventures in South America and what we thought of England, before he had to leave.


From Trafalgar Square, we then walked northwards to Picadilly Circus, then onward to SoHo and Oxford Street. It being a Sunday afternoon, and the weather being so glorious, the streets were seething with people, making brisk walking nearly impossible. We ducked onto a side street, where we discovered a dimly lit Thai restaurant with open windows facing the street where we ended up eating dinner--our last dinner in England. Across the street was a famous bakery called The Hummingbird Bakery, which we had glimpsed earlier. We decided that pudding today would be cupcakes. And while I would choose pie over cake any day, these cupcakes might have made me reconsider. I said "might.


We opted from there to take the bus back to Archway rather than the Tube--in this way, we would get one last city tour, perhaps see places we hadn't yet seen. And so we did. Back at the dorms, my sister and I watched another two episodes of the programme "Chuck," before it was time for us to retire.


Much traveling will be done tomorrow. I am not so much looking forward to that, though, as I am to seeing my parents, and settling back into normalcy, some kind of routine. This trip has been simply marvelous. It was a wonderful opportunity to get to know my younger sister better; we got along! (Mostly.) And I have finally been to England. Not since I was three years of age was I here: it was about time.


Thank you all for reading and those that commented, either on this blog or through various other media, I thank you for your feedback and your compliments. It was hard work keeping you all up to date on our various adventures, but it seemed the best way to remember all those stories likely to have been forgotten or muddled up upon our return. Your readership means a great deal to me.


Ever yours,
Angela

"Now, can you read the bottom row for me?"

At the National Gallery

Day 20

Saturday the Twenty-Sixth of June, Two Thousand Ten

Good evening, my far away friends and family,

My sister and I did not, as I last forecasted, visit the station that bears our family name this morning. We did, however, meet with my friend Sophie, with whom I became acquainted in Honduras two years ago while assisting with biodiversity surveys in the cloud forest there. At ten past ten, we three assembled outside King's Cross Station. It is an odd thing, only having known someone in the jungle--for we both look (and, I imagine, smell) better now than we did then, made down and unwashed as we were. Sophie does not live in London, so she rode the railway to meet me. How very kind indeed!

We were all craving breakfast so we strolled around the corner to a café for some scrambled eggs on toast. It was lovely to catch up with Sophie, who is currently working before she returns to school in the fall to pursue environmental studies and international development. Over the course of conversation, the subject of frozen yogurt arose (as it is wont to do) and we determined that several establishments serving said frosty delicacy were to be found in nearby Covent Garden. Sophie, who had never had frozen yogurt (or "yoghurt"), led the way—a hop, skip and a jump on the Tube, then through the bustling Covent Garden marketplace to Yu-foria. The yogurt there was absolutely delectable and the décor was delightful.

After several hours of pleasant conversation and reminiscing, it was time for Sophie to return home. My sister and I then commenced to meander through the market, pushing past hordes of people milling in amongst the stalls. The air was filled with a multitude of smells from the international cuisines being presented to shoppers. Apparently, Covent Garden on a Saturday afternoon was the place to be. We stopped for a teatime meal of gyoza, and rested our tired feet at the restaurant. Refreshed, we wandered back to the Market, where a street performer was contorting herself. We joined the crowd sitting on the cobblestones surrounding her, and watched.

Once the shops began to close, we set off in search of the Italian restaurant we had glimpsed earlier. Its green chairs were the landmark, but we could not remember quite where we had seen it, and so our quest began. By the time we found it, we were more than famished enough for our meal.

Back at our dorm, I introduced my sister to one of my favourite television programs, which I believe she heartily enjoyed. We are both exhausted, though, and hopefully before long, we shall both be fast asleep.

Tomorrow is our last full day in England, for we leave Monday afternoon. Some of you I will be seeing again soon; others, perhaps not quite so soon as one might hope. But I hope you have enjoyed following along in our adventures, as we have enjoyed having them.

As ever--yours,

A

Sophie and me, eating frozen yogurt.

Sophie, Kim, and me in the jungle two years ago, wishing we were eating frozen yogurt.

Yu-foria's mission statement.

Art with a message.

X-ray Mini.

Crowded.

Street performer.

About to take a bow.

Day 19

Friday the Twenty-fifth of June, Two Thousand Ten


Dearest friends,
Our day of departure draws near: in three days' time, my sister and I will be onboard an aircraft en route for California. We must make the most of our last two real days here.


This morning began with a "cream tea" as they call it here: a cup of British Breakfast tea and a scone with clotted cream and jam, from a delightful little tea shop called High Tea of Highgate. The shop was fancifully decorated, the china a lovely floral pink.  It is so very good to be in a country so attuned to all my tea needs.


From tea, my sister and I proceeded to Tottenham Court Road Underground station, to arrive at the British Museum, for which we did not have nearly time enough on our first stay in London. We passed the morning traveling back in time to ancient Mesopotamia (which only made me think of this song) by way of the museum's extensive collection of artifacts. When we grew famished, we paused our visit for a sushi lunch several blocks away. On our way back, we decided to rest momentarily in the Russell Square Gardens, there to soak up some sun and watch male pigeons unsuccessfully attempt to woo female pigeons. It was again a lovely day, perhaps on the side even of too hot, but we managed, being hardened Southern California ladies and all.


Back at the British Museum, we viewed massive ancient Egyptian sculptures, posed for some rather silly photographs, admired the handiwork of the Assyrian reliefs, and giggled at unintentionally humorous artwork. We saw close up the Rosetta Stone, and learned why Egyptians wrote the word "cat" the way they did. And, of course, we saw mummies. Lots of mummies. Perhaps, if you ask Diana, too many mummies. She does not like to be reminded of death as much as we have been this trip, what with the sleeping next to graveyards and seeing preserved corpses long-buried in bogs. I, however, was excited to see the artifacts I had long heard tell of--it touched that childlike part of me long laid dormant, the part of me that wanted so badly to be an Egyptologist.


Before leaving our dorms this morning, we had searched for frozen yogurt venues on Google maps, having been desperately craving then stuff. As the museum closed, we ventured over toward the whimsically-named Goodge Street to find Yog. And find it we did. Like a vastly improved version of Pinkberry (which you may or may not know, I despise), Yog satisfied my two-and-a-half-week-long
desire for my favourite snack. In reverse order, we then proceeded to a Japanese restaurant across the street, where we dined on flavourful gyoza and delicious noodles.


Back at the Uni of Westminster dorms, I spent the evening in my sister's room, as she uploaded our photographs to facebook, where you can find them if you are friends with one of us, and I updated this blog. It is nearing bedtime now. Must be up bright and early to go to the station stop that shares our surname. After that, lunch with a British friend from the jungle. And then? Who knows.


Yours,
A

When in doubt, pinky out!

Yog.

Finally.

FACES

Someone refused his offer.

OTHER BODY PARTS

"1--cut a hole in a box"

Something's missing here, but I just can put my finger on what...

Other:

Sign in Highgate, where we're staying.