On Vile Grumpiness, Gandhi, and the Resorative Power of Bisto...

I'm now writing from Athens!  (wasn't she just in London? you ask.  Why yes!)  Let me tell you all about it:

I woke up grumpy in London.  (I must apologize to my London peoples - you know that I neglected you by not calling, sorry.)   So, grumpy, after my lovely day at the British Library.  I made my way to a small pub.  It was off of some side streets in Camden.
I'm pretty sure that I growled at the barkeep when he said the kitchen was closed.  There I was, a weary traveler amidst the polished hardwoods and mirrors of The Skinner's Arms growling like an animal.  They opened the kitchen an hour early and made me a lovely Brie and Bacon sandwich with greens.  I wrote a slough of postcards, got licked in the face by the owners dogs, and had a toddler share her crisps with me!  She was the owners granddaughter, so I ended up having a free hot chocolate with her and her mother.  I was in a state of bliss so I thought...why not take a 6 mile walk through the nighttime streets of London? 

Boooooo.  It was actually a lovely walk.  I wasn't robbed or molested.  I saw all of the big theaters alight with well dressed crowds.  It was Saturday, so Trafalgar Square was crammed with people, troubadours...Japanese tourists... I'll get to them later...

I even had a very zen moment on the Jubilee Bridge watching the lights of Parliament and the London Eye reflected in the water as the clock bonged 10p.  It started to rain, and I was having a wonderful time watching people scramble - I tend to feel superior about my Northwesterly-ness when people scramble.  It was all great until this man nearly set my wet hair on fire with his cigarette.  THEN he said something about how I owed him another smoke in this angry voice, and THEN he did that 'dude' nod of appreciation at this girl with 10 lbs of hairspray and 5 lbs of make-up who was gimping around on the wet pavement in heels and a Paris Hilton length skirt...

Sooooo, yeah...I'm usually a better person than this, but I went back to the hostel and wrote a truly cruel tirade about that particular form of male behavior in my journal and scowled at all of the 6 men staying in the hostel room before going to bed.  One of them laughed.

The next day was day four.  (For those of you that are unaware, I become especially ill-tempered on the fourth day of international travel.)  I got up very late, had coffee with my Pakistani friend, and didn't speak to anyone other than to get food, for the rest of the day.  I wound my way toward the British Museum, unsuccessfully attempted to enter the Darwin Collection, bought a Greek phrase book at Waterstone's, and ate my lunch on the museum steps (Hobnobs and Cheddar Onion Crisps, oh my!) - in silence. 

In the museum I was equally silent.  I kept having these moments of feeling lovely - looking at the huge pirate clock, the queen of the Lewis chess set, the mummy room, watching the people crowd as close as possible to the Rosetta stone, perusing the elgin marbles.  But the HUGE groups of Japanese tourists kept running me over.  It was literally as if I were a piece of the floor!  I even got pushed into "figure of a roman woman, identified in many works of the period, but lacking individual distinction"  (She was next to the statue of Marcus Aurelius.  She and I had a moment - bonding over anonymity.)  I sharpened my glare on them all!  If they had seem me it would have impacted them, I'm sure.

I left the museum.  Wandering aimlessly I ended up in a small park, sitting on a bench dedicated to someones beloved wife and staring at a larger than life statue of Gandhi, surrounded by floral offerings.  The noise of the city had been replaced by the sound of leaves in the wind, dogs romping, children laughing, neighbors talking.

I wrote, I sat, and I realized that I was ravenously hungry.  The sun had gone down, it was sometime after 7p.  I found a pub where everyone was watching a football match while consuming a delicious 'roast special.'

I had some of that!  It was smothered in Bisto brown gravy.  I have been obsessed with gravy of every kind for always.  I discovered Bisto when I was about 12.  Delicious!  So, I ate, wrote postcards, and while people winced and screamed at the football match and I scribbled on a postcard to Kate I realized that I'd been everywhere but in London for the previous two days.  It was time for me to rejoin the present.  I kept my silence, but decided that tomorrow would be fabulous.  I'm traveling, after all.  There are so many people to meet...and converse with!

I'll tell you all about my first day in Athens another time.  Just know that it continues to be marvelous. 

Love,
--
Lindy