Scene 15: The London Eye (Hostel)

Despite what you may have assumed from the name of my hostel, it is not by the London Eye. Don't worry, I was unaware of this as well.

It's very nice. A large common room, a pool table, a TV, four computers for anyone who didn't bring a laptop, plenty of work seating, etc. etc.

You can't check in until 4 p.m. (it's 11:30 a.m. at the moment), but that's alright.  I was planning to leave as soon as I got here anyway. And once the kind cleaning woman smoking outside helped me get into the luggage room, my suitcase was safely secured from harm. (If not necessarily other people who are given the key to the luggage room).

The hostel is good. It was not too far from the tube station and it's sunny outside and I'm not quite sure where I am (Lambeth North? Who named these places?), but that's alright. There's a huge concert in London this weekend and literally everything in the city was full, except this- praise the Lord- for two nights. It's expensive, but I have somewhere to sleep. I consider that an important travel staple.

I have a lot to be grateful for (acknowledged) but it's been a rough morning and I want to be in a bad mood about everything. A personality flaw, I know.

I won't complain here. I've found that if you don't verbalize negativity, it's a lot easier to get around. So.

YAY FOR THE SUNSHINE. I HAD COFFEE THIS MORNING.

It only took me five seconds to check out of my last hostel, and not too long to get to Paddington Station, and I had to top-up my Oyster Card (what I swipe in tubes/trains/buses to go places) in a queue that stretched about 10 yards, but I got to read more of my book, and Lambeth North is one short of the last stop on the Bakerloo Line, but I got to read more of my book, and I'll be traveling who knows where and doing who knows what until 4 p.m. today, BUT I'LL GET TO READ MORE OF MY BOOK!

I'm really glad that I spent an exorbitant amount of money specially ordering this book from Waterstones (a popular English bookseller), because they didn't have a copy in any of the stores and it's not released in the US until October and its written by one of my favorite authors and its very good and it came in to the store right when I needed to begin reading it.

Don't ask me how much it was, I'll only tell you how much I'm enjoying it.

I did a lot this past week, none of which I wrote about on here, and practically none of it what I'd planned to do with my time.

Don't worry, I'll fill you in. Mostly. I spent a lot more time in my head than outdoors, this week. Sorry.

Some uninteresting news for anyone not concerned with my safekeeping and well-being:

I secured housing for the duration of my time in London. This sounds like an easy and simple task, but I assure you that it wasn't.

For now, the London Eye Hostel. For the two days following that, Blue Skies, again. Don't look at me like that. It was all that was there! And better an evil I know than one that I don't.

After Blue Skies, the Astor Quest for 4 days. It came highly recommended and by the time I got around to clicking "confirm" on the slog-through that was hostelworld.com on Tuesday night, it could have been in Surrey for all I would have cared. Anyone who hasn't been to London won't appreciate that statement.


(I've become one of those obnoxious city people. You know, the New Yorker- type person, who looks across the river and goes, "Brooklyn? Seriously? But it's so.... far."

"Lambeth?" I find myself saying. "But isn't that across the Thames? It's so... far. And do they have Tesco there?"

Surrey, to me, is like New Jersey to a New Yorker. Incomprehensible. Only for the sake of better school systems.)


After the Astor Quest, I am back to Piccadilly, my first and favorite hostel, full of only girls and with purple duvet covers. After the 8 days there, I'm on my own for three weeks as I travel by national rail to who-knows-where (I certainly don't) and then I'm back to Piccadilly for the four days leading up to my stateside return.

As you can see, I defined and clung to some idea of comfort or home in London and it was Piccadilly Hostel. When in doubt, go home. Dash the expense.

(Except not really, I'm on a budget, but do I need to eat on Wednesdays?)

So, this week I must find out where I'm going come July 15th and make sure I can get there. I've found that living on the edge is quite my style. I travel dangerously*.


Until next time, when you actually find out what I've been up to,

Brooke




*Just to clarify, 'dangerously' to Brooke Odom is defined as 'without clear plan or direction and with no guarantee of breakfast or clean linens upon arrival at a place of rest.'

Scene 14: The Great Hostel Ex-Change

I have moved! I am now residing at Equity Point Hostel near Paddington/Kensington/Notting Hill.

Today I voyaged out of Tulse Hill (goodbye, place of drunken debauchery and half-priced pizza!) and left behind my hostel friends there.

(It really is worth pointing out that Blue Skies Hostel, for all its faults, did have wonderful pizza. 4 GBP on Mondays and Tuesdays!)

Here are a few of the hostelers:

(This is Nici. She works at Wimbledon!)

(This is Ani and Katri, from Amsterdam. Or Poland. Or...)

Everyone I met at the hostel was so wonderful. This morning, the stragglers in my room were Carol, a midwife from Cornwall who's going to school to learn how to do dentistry in third world african countries, and Kate, an Australian who's traveling for fun with her boyfriend. Both lovely women.

In this hostel is a woman named Virginia, who, wait for it-- went to Chapel Hill! That's right, I'm staying with a fellow Tarheel.

AND (let's make this even cooler), she's from Charlotte (like me), she majored in Communications (like me), and her boyfriend from UNC won the Francis L Phillips Scholarship (like me). 

Whoa.

:)

We have so far found postcard stamps (yeah, you'll get them, I promise), groceries, and we're about to pop out to a pub for a pint (and by 'pint' I mean Diet Coke). 

So long!

-B

Scene 13: A Garden and A Show

I have been on many wanderings in the Garden of Covents (or, Covent Garden).

I got my hair cut! Well, I got it trimmed. Don't be alarmed.

I sought out an infamous coffee place called Monmouth Coffee (thank you, Diana) which was fabulous. It's tiny, about 95 degrees inside, and has seating for about 5 1/2 people, with 20 people trying to order at any time of day, but it's worth it. Go. Order. Prove me right.

Wandering around Covent Garden is an experience, and not just because the Town Crier will suddenly appear in full costume and start yelling about something on the street corner.

One thing I've noticed about London is that everything is divided into nicely named places like Kensington, Paddington, Leciester, and Piccadilly, but that everything is essentially in and of the other.

They aren't even fully divisible on a map. You just point to a general area and go, "Yeah, they call that Covent Garden."

It's as though the different places were all soups poured together on a plate and they called it London. Little peas of Paddington end up in Kensington's stew and no one can tell if that monument is in China Town's Won Ton Soup or Piccadilly's Crab Bisque. It all just kind of runs together.

So this means that I'll be heading to what has been labeled "Covent Garden" and pass The Strand, and Charring Cross Road, and go, "Wait, isn't that Trafalgar?" and be standing in a Covent Garden bookshop looking across the street at a Leciester ticket booth. I'll be at the Covent Garden Comic Book Museum and peer out the window and see The British Museum, which is in Russell Square.

And the great thing about every London mailman and every Londen-er in general is that they wade through their city with the philosophy: "Well, it's all soup to me."

I found a lovely bookshop called the London Review Book Shop, which had a cafe through the History section. (Isn't that great? "Want a mocha? Walk through History.")

 I also found Nordic Bakery, where they make pastry rolls. And really, they are just rolls and rolls of pastry. So much pastry. Did I mention there was pastry?

Don't be fooled by its condensed size. I was un-peeling for a very long time.

There are many bookshops I have frequented, some chains and some independent. Some selling brand new copies, some selling second-hand. I do not love them equally, but I do love them all.

**

By the way, I have been doing research for my screenplay, but I won't update that here. Everything that's exciting to me is depressing to everyone else. 

"Oh, guess what? 50 men were massacred in their beds by English soldiers in the Scottish Highland winter, after which their wives and children froze to death in the snow because their homes were burned. Isn't that awesome?!"

Me, I see a cliff-hanger. You see the depravity of man.  Tomato, tomahto.

**

On Wednesday night I saw the play Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, with Allison. 

The title pretty much gives away the ending. Disappointing.

But the play was wonderful! A quote to leave you with its core message:

"We're actors. We're the opposite of people."

Agreed.

-B

Scene 12: A Tate and A Tart

On Monday, June 20th, I did a little walk along the Thames.

I stopped first at Patisserie Lila:

(The pig has a crown.)

Where I got a fruit tart:

That I ate in Caffe Nero next to a huge replica of Sir Francis Bacon's ship:

I then walked along the river path

and passed The Globe Theater:

Which was next to the Millennium Bridge:

All of this was on my way to The Tate Modern Museum:

Which I toured with fellow hosteler Soo, who is from South Korea:

Some exhibitions were puzzling.

First the art:

And the description, which totally enlightened me:

Some made me laugh.

Some were pretty.

And this was my favorite exhibit:

People who survived the Lebanese conflict donated items that held significance for them to the exhibit with a description. 

There were also movies playing around the room with the survivors explaining their donations. 

After leaving the museum I bought some roasted nuts, which smelled delicious.

Turns out they're not so delicious. Oh, well.

As I got supremely lost trying to get home I passed St. Paul's Cathedral:

And then I made my way through the rain back to Blue Skies, where the skies were most definitely not blue.

And that was a Monday!

-B

Scene 11: Hillsong, Burgers, and The British Museum

On Sunday, June 19th, I went back to Hillsong London for church. This time, my new friend Allison came with me.

Allison goes to UNC and is in London for an internship for the summer. A mutual friend told us to get together and last week we had dinner and I discovered that she's awesome.

Katie and Sarah also went to Hillsong, but to a different service. However, here's a picture Katie took of the worship:

After church, Allison and I went in search of lunch. What we stumbled upon was a restaurant named The Ultimate Burger.

It sounds ridiculous. The concept seemed a little silly. It was absolutely delicious.

My burger had bbq sauce (yeah, I know, in England!), bacon, tomatoes, onions, lettuce, monterey jack cheese, and a portobello mushroom. The meat was "traceable, prime scottish grass-fed beef," which seems a far cry from "angus."

These burgers were so tall.

When they arrived, both Allison and I were dubious as to whether we'd be able to finish them. We did. We proudly decided it was an American skill.

After lunch, Allison suggested dropping by the British Museum.

I say "dropping by" because it was 4:45 and they closed at 5:30. But to the museum we went!

I liked this exhibit introduction:

And this telegram:

Look at this art:

Now read the description:

Oh, were you thinking that, too?

I found a lion backpack in the gift shop. Ask me how lions relate to the British Museum- I have no idea.

After the museum, we walked through Russell Square on our way to Costa coffee where we had some biscuits and chatted it up. This is Allison!

Good, good day.

-B

Scene 10: A Big Ben Hello

WATCH ME

Scene 9: Lions, Waffles, and Trains, Oh My!

 On Saturday, June 18th, I set off for the day with two other hostelers, Katie and Sarah Magee.

These women are awesome. They're sisters from Louisville, Kentucky who saved up for a year to do a short tour around Europe. Both are awesome women of faith who were super excited to tour around London.

Being with them was a little strange, at first. I'd forgotten what it's like to travel around with someone else. I was used to my internal monologue, to my glancing observations. I don't have a camera, just my phone, so when I do take a picture of something it's mainly for referencing on this blog, so that you, the reader, will have an idea of what I'm talking about, or so that I will remember it when I look back on this trip.

I forgot that tourists take pictures solely to take pictures. The sky! The ground! The bridge! That bird!

I'm the exact same way with a camera in a new place, especially when I'm with someone else. Because, when you travel with other people, you get to be EXCITED about things.

The sky! The ground! The bridge! THAT BIRD!

When you're by yourself, the most you really do is pause an extra second and nod in silent agreement with your thoughts of, "Wow."

So, on Saturday, I got to be excited. And I had a lot to be excited about.

Even though I look like a tourist-- backpack, sweatshirt, hat, tennis shoes-- I rarely feel like a tourist. Mostly because I'm tracking down some place I need research from or wondering about real-life things, like, "Where's a grocery store? Where can I get my hair cut?"

The Magees were tourists and proud to be tourists, and I loved feeling like a Tourist instead of an American alien transplant. We went to Big Ben, Parliament, and Westminster Abbey.

I skipped across parks, leaned over bridges, exclaimed over latticework, and got to say a great many things about London I'd never realized I wanted to say aloud. Examples:

"Look at the Eye! It's so cool!"

"Westminster Abbey is so pretty."

"Look at the light on that building."

"The pigeons look dangerous."

"That church had wonderful toilets."

(One fun thing about traveling--you forget that there isn't always somewhere to use the restroom, let alone somewhere clean. So when you find a toilet, and it's clean, and even PRETTY, you'd like to tell someone about it. Which I did.)


---------I filmed a video of our excursion, and at some point I will post it here--------


I didn't tour Westminster Abby with them (done it before), but instead set out to get theater tickets for that night.

After purchasing the tickets I wandered around until I realized I was near the Covent Garden piazza, where I stopped in and bought this waffle, which smelled so good:

(I need to stop eating my food before taking a picture of it.)

The waffle was great until it made me sick. This occurred to me while throwing away the trash and I thought, "Oh, well that statement could be said about a lot of things; "It was great before too much of it made me sick.""

A funny thing about traveling: normal, mundane thoughts take on airs of great profundity. It's as though being abroad transforms us into more enlightened persons, and the secrets of the universe come to us in spontaneous prose.

"The weather turned rainy quickly." Ah, good things come to sudden ends.

"I wish I had my umbrella." Don't we always wish we had umbrellas stored away for life's sudden downpours?

Etc. Etc.

Don't worry; I'm trying to catch myself and refrain from an Elizabeth Gilbert/ Eat Pray Love evaluation of the world and my life and the mysteries of my soul. If I ever start expounding on how Big Ben's chimes are like the tolls of mortality, stop me.

Their friend Mallory joined us for dinner and the show. We ate at PJ's Bar and Grill, which was nothing like it sounds. Were you thinking of bar peanuts and onion rings? Picture linen tablecloths and calamari instead.

The waitress didn't bring our table a basket of bread, but instead carried a humongous basket of bread to every table filled with all different kinds, which she let the patrons choose. We really liked the bread.

Here's me and Sarah:

Here's Katie and Mallory:

And that night we saw... The Lion King!

Here's what the inside of the theater looked like before it started:

If we were this excited about the tickets...

You can only imagine us during the show. It was quite fantastic. Katie even took illegal pictures during the performance, until an irate usher caught her and made her stop.

After the show, we went to Charing Cross Station, where we needed to catch a train to London Bridge, where there would be a train to take us back to the hostel.

Going through the pass-swipe doors, Sarah and I made it onto the first train, but Katie... did not.

We yelled for her as the doors were closing, but she got there just in time for the train to start pulling away. She ran alongside for a bit as we frantically said, "London Bridge! London Bridge!" She kept yelling, "Two stops! Two stops!" as everyone around us on the train watched like we were a special advertisement for American Tourist Mistakes.

Leaving Katie Behind

We did eventually meet up with her at London Bridge, which was two stops away. And we made it safely back to the hostel, just in time for the party I wrote about previously.


By the way, earlier that day I danced with a mime.

And that was Saturday!

-B