Walks and Locks--London

Yesterday began with a Secret London walking tour, which was great fun and full of interesting information (another possible retirement career: tour guide). We started in this courtyard, which is where teenage boys who wanted to go into the law were quizzed and then trained/apprenticed (if they passed their exams and showed promise). This area, as well as a good majority of the rest of London, was heavily damaged during WW2. Our guide said what people did at the time was put all the rubble into designated bins, wait for the war to be over, and then did their best to reassemble the buildings using as much of the original materials as usual (hence, the beautiful carved porch entrance dating back to the 1700s).

British resourcefulness can also be seen in their repurposing of cannons throughout the city. Seeing as cannons are virtually indestructible and England has tons of them (pun intended) from their long history of warfare, they now function as car barriers on curbs and the bases of lampposts. Once the guide pointed that out, I started seeing cannons everywhere.

Some more insider info: if you see a building of brick and terra cotta, it was most likely built between 1880-1900. This particular one was built by an insurance company, which was one of the first major companies in the city to employ educated and more middle and upper-class women (as opposed to lower class women, who have always had to work). They worked in a separate area from the men, with their own entrances and exits, lounge area, grand pianos (to keep up their genteel arts during lunch) and rooftop garden. It all sounds rather nice until you hear that they made only half the salary of their male counterparts. 

This is the site of the largest heist in Europe, which happened just last year. This is the jewelry district, and a group of men waited until everything was closed up for the long Easter holiday weekend, then went down into a neighboring basement and drilled through a huge concrete wall to access a bunch of goodies, including safe deposit boxes. The great twist of this? The men were all in their 70s and 80s. Several were caught, mainly because they didn't factor in CCTV technology. Also, the bit on the drill broke at one point, so they went and bought another one, and not a whole lot of people were buying huge drill bits that weekend. As you might guess, the movie rights to this story have already been bought, so look for a film starring Michael Cain (at least that's what I'm guessing) sometime in the next year or two.

Fun little pub crammed in the midst of a bunch of more modern buildings all around it--The Old Mitre, which dates back to 1546, according to the sign out front.

Next up, St. Etheldreda's Church, which is the oldest Catholic church in London. Or mostly Catholic church. Originally established in the 1200s, it became Anglican under King Henry VIII (who did things like having monks hanged, drawn, and quartered if they objected--he nailed the arm of the lead monk to the door to send a message), was Catholic again for the Spanish ambassador in the 1600s, then back to Anglican, then back to Catholic in the 1800s, when Britain finally got around to granting full legal rights/equality/freedom to Catholics.

Inside the church, the guide explained that Ethelreda, a good Saxon name, was not pleasing to the invading Normans, who re-named her St. Audrey. The story of St. Audrey is that she was a nun who struggled with love of one worldly thing--wearing necklaces. She prayed for God to remove this desire from her heart, but still found herself unable to give up that practice. She developed a tumor in her throat, which she was sure was God's punishment, and she died during a surgery to remove it (can you imagine what surgery would have been like prior to the year 1000?). Later, however, when the monks were renovating and expanding the church, they came across her grave, and when they dug it up, discovered her perfectly preserved and her neck perfectly healed. People visiting were also healed, she was sainted, and this began mass pilgrimages, which was medieval tourism. One of the things pilgrims could purchase as a souvenir of their visit was a cheap necklace, which was known as a "St. Audrey," which eventually got shortened to..."'Tawdry." Hence, where we get the term for cheap, somewhat gaudy jewelry.

Samual Johnson's house (writer/compiler of the first English dictionary and hater of Scots)

Samuel Johnson's cat, Hodge

St. Bride's church, which inspired a 17th-century baker to create the first tiered wedding cake for his daughter's wedding, which set off a craze that exists to this day.

My lunch after all that walking and learning

Peter and I sat outside and enjoyed taking in the life passing by us on Buckingham Palace Road:

The goodies bar at Peter's hotel:

By the time we finished lunch, it was already 2:30 and I decided that I'd rather go back to my hotel for a bit of a rest (and to work on this post) than try to cram in a visit to the British Museum (next time!!). I decided to at least take a scenic walk for part of the way, saying hello to the Queen and Trafalgar Square along the way.

Some fancy-pants guest in full regalia (caught a glimpse of him through the window) was on his way to the palace.

Walk alongside St. James Park

Big Ben peeking through the trees

Trafalgar Square

Then back on the tube at Picadilly Circus for what I thought would be a quiet, restful afternoon break.

This peaceful break was not to be, however. Since the moment of my arrival, my door lock reader thingy (that's the official term) wasn't working. Staff tried eight different key cards, and the only one that would work was a staff card that had a special chip. At this point, one of two options seemed like a reasonable solution: offer me a different room or offer me a special chip card. Instead, they assured me this would be fixed. I went out for the afternoon, came back in the evening, and still couldn't get in. My room was a flight of stairs down, so I did a lot of going down and up and down again getting escorts to let me into my room. When I left at 10:00am yesterday morning for the walking tour, I reminded them that it still wasn't working and asked that they please fix it by the time I came back that afternoon. They had already tried their in-house maintenance man the day prior, so I assumed they'd be calling in a professional. When I returned at 3:30 pm, I found out they had had their in-house staff still working on it (again unsuccessfully--this time, the outcome was that NOBODY could get into my room) and had finally just called the locksmith. So, my afternoon was spent locked out of my room for a good hour completely, and then half an hour of awkward trying to get ready to go out to dinner with three men standing just on the other side of my bathroom door.

Needless to say, I was not a happy camper, and while part of me can recognize the humor of the situation, given how tired I was and what an unexpected hassle and stress this was, the queen's words summed up my feelings best: "We are not amused." I escaped to my brother's hotel and relaxed there for a few minutes, chatting with him and eating consolation wasabi peas, then we headed out to meet my former student, Anthony, for dinner. He graduated 16 years ago (I think--maybe 17?) and is a video game creator/programmer who just started up his own company with a friend. They are currently working on a very exciting project, and it was great to talk with him and hear about his life since college and the things he's learned and experienced along the way. Peter snapped a photo of us on the way out.

Check out his company's website here and learn about the new game they're creating, which has gotten great press and sounds wonderful (and unlike anything I've ever seen in the video game world, what little I know of it): http://foamswordgames.com/

Then back on the tube and to my still not-working-lock room, which, fortunately, the card with the special chip they finally granted me actually worked on. Glad I could use a card by myself for the very last time I needed to enter my room. To the hotel's credit, they did apologize profusely, gave me a bottle of champagne, which I passed on to Peter since since I don't like to drink the night before a long flight, and knocked a chunk off my bill (after some nudging from me). Still, lesson learned. The minute something like that happens, change rooms!

Now I'm at Heathrow after another entertaining and enlightening drive with Ibrahim, an immigrant from India, who lamented everyone's addiction to social media and blames the lack of face-to-face social interaction and physical activity/sport for the problems we're having today in politics and everything else. People all hate each other, he says, because of online socializing vs. real world socializing. He may have a point. He also gave me a good tip for getting good hotel deals in the UK and invited me to travel with him and his friends in the future.

Well, time for me to wrap up and get to my gate. Part of me is sad this trip has come to an end, but part of me is really looking forward to sleeping in my own bed with a decent pillow and seeing loved ones again, so I'm not leaving with much regret. Plus, I know it won't be long before I return. The saving will begin as soon as my next paycheck arrives...

Cheerio, and I will post one more entry when I get back home with some practical info that might be useful to you on your own travels. Also, to help me remember--I forget pretty much everything if I don't write it down. Thanks to you all for journeying with me and sending me so many lovely messages, comments, likes on Facebook, etc.--it really cheered me and kept me company along the way!