London adventure!

I've just come back from an impromptu three days in London, the apex of which happened to co-incide with their hottest day of the year. You won't believe it but, it never rained! Because of the beautiful weather, I was above ground more often than I expected, but I still put my Oyster card to good use. I usually pride myself on being a world-savvy and subdued type of tourist, but for whatever reason being in the UK brings out the annoying American tourist in me. I grin excessively and have a constant and annoying desire to sprinkle my conversations with excessive "lovelys" and "smashings" and elongated vowels. I am constantly on the look out for little jolly and decrepit pubs called things like The Black Lion or The Horse & Whimsy where I can camp out with a pint and grin like I've got a screw loose at all the people talking about footie or whatever else it is they talk about. On top of this, I was always painfully aware of the fact that every time I opened my mouth I sounded as though my IQ had dropped at least ten points and that the English just sort of falls out of my mouth instead of lyrically skipping off my tongue...like theirs does. I hated this part, but I was undeterred, primarily because it would have meant speaking to only myself for nearly three days. I'm great company, but that's pushing it.

I arrived Tuesday and had an initial scout about town before heading out to Brighton to meet someone for dinner. She gave me a quick tour in her swank convertible before we had traditional fish and chips (and mushy peas!) at a restaurant near the pier, after which we took a nighttime stroll. It was also this time that I learned the difference between bread and butter pudding and bread pudding as well as custard and cold custard (subtle difference in semantics only). I admit that I am still confused about the various ways in which you can use the word "pudding," but I'm not questioning the people who gave me clotted

cream, BBC period dramas and the Royal We (an integral part to ensuring that you and your closest people are in synch on all important matters).

Wednesday morning I woke up ready to take on London, or more accurately Oxford Street. In order to fortify myself for the adventure I considered having a full English breakfast but ultimately decided against that because I am still somewhat suspect of baked beans in the morning. The weather was beautiful, so I strolled all along the northern parts of Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park, stopping at the fountains and the Long Water for a while, to Marble Arch where I began the more materialist aspect of my holiday. It was walking down Oxford Street that I encountered an overwhelming sight - The Gap. The Gap the size of my apartment building. I was overcome. My knees grew weak and my eyes nearly misted because I knew that in that store was a pair of jeans that would fit me and not cost a month's wages (though I did hold off). In addition to a few other purchases, I also bought a fascinator for a wedding in September, and I am working up the courage to actually wear it.

Shopping left me happy but depleted, so I picked up a sandwich and plopped myself under the leafy oaks in Green Park. After lunch and a brief rest, I was back on my feet down Queensway to The Mall and Buckingham Palace. Sadly, Her Majesty was not in residence.

By this point I was absolutely baking, so I did like everyone else, crawled over the lip of the fountain at the base of the imposing Queen Victoria Memorial and plunged my feet into the deliciously cool water while watching the throngs try to tempt the bearskin-hatted guards into cracking a smile.

I finished my day at Westminster Abbey and Big Ben before catching one of the famous double-decker buses back across town to the hotel. I sat on top but I didn't get to sit in the front seat, as all of them were already occupied by particularly annoying tourists.

By the time I got back to the hotel, I was hot, happy and hungry. After

dropping off all excess "bits and bobs," I went down to the corner pub, the Prince Alfred, for dinner. There I treated myself to some Guiness and cottage pie. I didn't really know what exactly cottage pie was, but it seemed quintessentially English, and that's what this American was after. It turned out to be very good and completely hit the spot. I camped out at the corner window with my paper watching the world go by, or rather watching it come to the pub on the corner.

Finally, before heading back to Zurich on Thursday afternoon, I spent the morning at the Victoria & Albert Museum. I enjoyed the fashion exhibit, which had some beautiful and incredibly ornate dresses and shoes from across the centuries. I also found the collection of Islamic art awe inspiring. It boasts over 400 objects from the Muslim world from Spain to Afghanistan from the 8th to 20th centuries, including the world's oldest carpet from Iran.

I also visited the Northern Renaissance collection (1500-1700) of chalices, statuettes and other like bric-a-brac. I generally avoid these types of galleries because I find them to be full of figurines of pasty and strange-looking people bending anxiously over yet another bleeding Jesus, and this always slightly creeps me out. It seemed to me that this collection, while obviously well curated, did indeed feature similar themes, until I got to the end where I saw a wooden statue from southern Germany (ca. 1510) of Jesus about the size of a small child riding on a donkey. The whole thing was set on a rolling platform and was entitled "Jesus Riding on an Ass." Evidently this kind of thing was common for Palm Sunday celebrations. The thought of this trundling about some ancient village made this an exhibit I won't forget. It also made me really glad that Jews don't believe in Hell.

(photo not mine)

I flew easyJet to and from London. I had heard about its wretched reputation (although Ryanair's terrifies me so much that I don't think I will ever fly with them), but I must say that except for the fact that they didn't serve coffee until we were basically landing they were a really friendly bunch and I was able to buy my ticket from the airport to the city and my Oyster Card (for mass transit in London) on the plane, saving me both time and stress. This was ingenious, and they have earned a little place in my heart for that. They also let me carry my baggage onto the plane as hand luggage on my way back, even though it took a small stretch of imagination to believe it would actually fit into that annoying box for measuring hand luggage dimensions.

So here I am, people, back in Zurich. It's still hot, but it's considerably calmer, and I'm looking forward to wrapping up the last few days of my summer holiday week doing pretty much nothing at all.