P is for Priest
They say the sun never sets on the British Empire. This is incorrect, although due to their climate, the Britons can be forgiven for believing it. I doubt there is a Briton within living memory who has ever seen the sun, let alone seen it set.
The first thing I noted when landing in Heathrow airport, that really brought home that I was in a different country was a sign I saw indicating the baggage reclaim area. In North America, we do not have a baggage reclaim area; we have a baggage claim area. I prefer the British formulation, which has the advantage of being a fairly accurate description. In the new world formulation, I just can't shake the image of businessmen carrying small flags with them on the plane, and sticking it into any luggage that happens to be near them while declaring "I claim this Samsonite AirTravel Deluxe in the name of Philip Johnson of 15 Chestnut Crescent". It really is an undiscovered country, you never know what you are going to find in another person's luggage. Gold bricks, cocaine, polyester leisurewear, you never know!
The trip over was fairly uneventful. This was mostly due to my being seated next to an Italian couple that didn't speak any English, a fact which I ascertained after 15 minutes of conversation.
I took the tube to my hostel, a student hostel in Bloomsbury named "The Generator" and described by my guidebook as "the ultimate party hostel". I have to admit I was a bit curious as to what could bring a guidebook, a bastion of conservatism and understatement, to describe a place as "the ultimate party hostel". I would soon find out.
I had just settled into my four-person dorm when a flyer was pushed underneath my door. It spoke of a party in the bar below the hostel (upon checking in I had received a drink ticket), with prizes for the best costume. The only requirement was that the costume had to be of something that started with a P. As the prize was the payment of a week's stay at the hostel (a 85£ value), I immediately decided that it would be a good idea to go and win! (My natural competitivity and love of costumes had nothing to do with it).
I went through my belongings and decided that the easiest (and cheapest) for me was to go as a priest. Perhaps not the best costume to pick up women, but it offer to some interesting lines (I hear you've been bad. Want to go up to my cell to confess? or Ever been with a priest? It's a religious experience!). Besides, I already had the black shirt and the dark pants. I only needed some pins to make the clerical collar.
That afternoon I had scheduled a visit to the British Museum. I decided to see if I could find some pins there. I first went to the cloakroom of the museum, explaining my predicament. The cloakroom attendant was sympathetic, but sent me on my way. I then tried the gift shop, but they couldn't help me either. I had almost given up hope, when I tried the information desk. I took their last safety pin, and with a hope and a dream, I turned my attentions to the museum.
The museum was a lot of fun. I saw the Rosetta Stone, the Elgin marbles, the oldest chess set in England (12th century) and the Egyptian and Assyrian exhibits. When the museum closed, I headed back to the hostel, stopping at a convenience store to pick up a couple of sandwiches and a V-8 for dinner. I pinned some white paper to my shirt to make a collar, and covered by guidebook with paper coloured black and inscribed with "Holy Bible" on it. Then, I had a quick nap.
By the time I woke up, the party had already started. I immediately headed down to the bar, and milled before working up the courage to talk to someone. Finally, I struck up a conversation with a girl named Emily, who in a complete random coincidence, was a law student in tax from Australia. This led to some conversation. Emily was not dressed up.
The staff at the hotel were dressed as pimps and prostitutes. Since they were all men, this was less titillating than it sounds. In addition to them, there was a person dressed as a paedophiliac priest (a joke that I personally think has been flogged to death), a couple of female prostitutes, a philanthropist, three Pink Ladies (of Grease fame, they won the costume competition) and a Pom.
I mingled for a bit more, but pretty soon, the smoke overpowered me and I had to flee the bar. I headed out to the game room of the hostel, where they had some computers hooked up to the Internet. I sent a few messages, and read some others, and pretty soon my vision had cleared. I was about to rejoin the party, when my attention was arrested by a couple playing chess. I immediately pulled up a chair and starting watching them. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that they were both Canadian, from Vancouver. One thing led to another, and the next thing I knew, I had played a couple of games and three hours had passed.
We made a plan to meet up the next day at the Tate modern and I rejoined the party, which was in full swing. So much so, that an angel and a butterfly seemed to have spilled out and were dancing outside the bar. I heard them speaking Spanish, and I addressed in that language, asking them why they were outside the bar. Turns out that one was Argentinian and one was Uruguayan and that they had been thrown out of the bar for trying to smuggle in some vodka. I danced with them for a bit, then continued on into the bar.
I danced with various people for a couple of hours, but retired at 2 in the morning because I wanted to get an early start the next day. Mission accomplished, kinda. I woke up at 9, after having spent 3 hours tossing and turning to get to sleep. After the nuit blanche I had spent on the plane, and the little sleep I had gotten before that, I was completely out of it.
This didn't keep me from doing the British Library in the morning, and in the afternoon a tour that started at the Tower bridge, and followed the South Bank of the Thames past the Globe Theater, to the Tate modern, and ending at the Millenium Eye. From there, I walked to Victoria Station, where I got some good and cheap Indian food (<5£).
Today, I awoke later, at 10 or so, and after shower, breakfast and assorted sundries, I spent most of the day at the Tower of London, and the afternoon and early evening doing St-Paul's and various other monuments in the Financial district of London. I'm only in London for two more days, and I still have to see the National Gallery, the Temple, Westminster Abbey, Parliament, the Barbican and Notting Hill.
I will write again from Edinburgh, which is my next stop. I hope to see Madevi there.
The first thing I noted when landing in Heathrow airport, that really brought home that I was in a different country was a sign I saw indicating the baggage reclaim area. In North America, we do not have a baggage reclaim area; we have a baggage claim area. I prefer the British formulation, which has the advantage of being a fairly accurate description. In the new world formulation, I just can't shake the image of businessmen carrying small flags with them on the plane, and sticking it into any luggage that happens to be near them while declaring "I claim this Samsonite AirTravel Deluxe in the name of Philip Johnson of 15 Chestnut Crescent". It really is an undiscovered country, you never know what you are going to find in another person's luggage. Gold bricks, cocaine, polyester leisurewear, you never know!
The trip over was fairly uneventful. This was mostly due to my being seated next to an Italian couple that didn't speak any English, a fact which I ascertained after 15 minutes of conversation.
I took the tube to my hostel, a student hostel in Bloomsbury named "The Generator" and described by my guidebook as "the ultimate party hostel". I have to admit I was a bit curious as to what could bring a guidebook, a bastion of conservatism and understatement, to describe a place as "the ultimate party hostel". I would soon find out.
I had just settled into my four-person dorm when a flyer was pushed underneath my door. It spoke of a party in the bar below the hostel (upon checking in I had received a drink ticket), with prizes for the best costume. The only requirement was that the costume had to be of something that started with a P. As the prize was the payment of a week's stay at the hostel (a 85£ value), I immediately decided that it would be a good idea to go and win! (My natural competitivity and love of costumes had nothing to do with it).
I went through my belongings and decided that the easiest (and cheapest) for me was to go as a priest. Perhaps not the best costume to pick up women, but it offer to some interesting lines (I hear you've been bad. Want to go up to my cell to confess? or Ever been with a priest? It's a religious experience!). Besides, I already had the black shirt and the dark pants. I only needed some pins to make the clerical collar.
That afternoon I had scheduled a visit to the British Museum. I decided to see if I could find some pins there. I first went to the cloakroom of the museum, explaining my predicament. The cloakroom attendant was sympathetic, but sent me on my way. I then tried the gift shop, but they couldn't help me either. I had almost given up hope, when I tried the information desk. I took their last safety pin, and with a hope and a dream, I turned my attentions to the museum.
The museum was a lot of fun. I saw the Rosetta Stone, the Elgin marbles, the oldest chess set in England (12th century) and the Egyptian and Assyrian exhibits. When the museum closed, I headed back to the hostel, stopping at a convenience store to pick up a couple of sandwiches and a V-8 for dinner. I pinned some white paper to my shirt to make a collar, and covered by guidebook with paper coloured black and inscribed with "Holy Bible" on it. Then, I had a quick nap.
By the time I woke up, the party had already started. I immediately headed down to the bar, and milled before working up the courage to talk to someone. Finally, I struck up a conversation with a girl named Emily, who in a complete random coincidence, was a law student in tax from Australia. This led to some conversation. Emily was not dressed up.
The staff at the hotel were dressed as pimps and prostitutes. Since they were all men, this was less titillating than it sounds. In addition to them, there was a person dressed as a paedophiliac priest (a joke that I personally think has been flogged to death), a couple of female prostitutes, a philanthropist, three Pink Ladies (of Grease fame, they won the costume competition) and a Pom.
I mingled for a bit more, but pretty soon, the smoke overpowered me and I had to flee the bar. I headed out to the game room of the hostel, where they had some computers hooked up to the Internet. I sent a few messages, and read some others, and pretty soon my vision had cleared. I was about to rejoin the party, when my attention was arrested by a couple playing chess. I immediately pulled up a chair and starting watching them. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that they were both Canadian, from Vancouver. One thing led to another, and the next thing I knew, I had played a couple of games and three hours had passed.
We made a plan to meet up the next day at the Tate modern and I rejoined the party, which was in full swing. So much so, that an angel and a butterfly seemed to have spilled out and were dancing outside the bar. I heard them speaking Spanish, and I addressed in that language, asking them why they were outside the bar. Turns out that one was Argentinian and one was Uruguayan and that they had been thrown out of the bar for trying to smuggle in some vodka. I danced with them for a bit, then continued on into the bar.
I danced with various people for a couple of hours, but retired at 2 in the morning because I wanted to get an early start the next day. Mission accomplished, kinda. I woke up at 9, after having spent 3 hours tossing and turning to get to sleep. After the nuit blanche I had spent on the plane, and the little sleep I had gotten before that, I was completely out of it.
This didn't keep me from doing the British Library in the morning, and in the afternoon a tour that started at the Tower bridge, and followed the South Bank of the Thames past the Globe Theater, to the Tate modern, and ending at the Millenium Eye. From there, I walked to Victoria Station, where I got some good and cheap Indian food (<5£).
Today, I awoke later, at 10 or so, and after shower, breakfast and assorted sundries, I spent most of the day at the Tower of London, and the afternoon and early evening doing St-Paul's and various other monuments in the Financial district of London. I'm only in London for two more days, and I still have to see the National Gallery, the Temple, Westminster Abbey, Parliament, the Barbican and Notting Hill.
I will write again from Edinburgh, which is my next stop. I hope to see Madevi there.
posted by Patrick Kergin at
1:19 PM
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