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Rain, Shakespeare, an Iron Dragon, a Birthday, and the 39 Steps, London Days 3 and 4

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Shakespeare, an Iron Dragon, Birthday’s, and Rain. London, days 3 and 4.

Day 3

I will be brief. There have been technical issues with uploading entries from my phone (my last ones have all been with my laptop, which I did not have access to for a few days). It decides to erase my work as I try to upload it. Computers–I tell you.

On the morn of day three, we journeyed across the city with a guide telling us about all the different places Shakespeare lived, worked, and hung out at. He even showed us a few other places of interest relating to him. (Relating to Shakespeare that is, not to the tour guide.)

We started near a bank, where he pointed out a statue of Shakespeare next to one of Bacon and Sir Issac Newton.

We went by a monument of the 7 Stages of Life, where he recited a speech given by Jaques in As You Like It.

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We also toured three places where Shakespeare used to live. Not one of them was still standing. Only one had a plaque showing that it was Shakespeare’s residence. He isn’t well received in London, apparently.

Our guide told us that Shakespeare was actually a very rich man, contrary to my belief about him. I assumed he had been a “starving artist” who barely made anything off his plays. Technically, I was right about not making money off his plays. He was a brilliant businessman and he made his money by owning the theaters in the city, not by writing his plays.

After the tour, we walked to the Tower of London. Inside was the most organized army gear, weapons, and armor I had ever seen in one place. There were some gifts given to the British by the Japanese, Native Americans, and Germans, to name a few. There was also this handsome fellow:

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After the Tower, I made my way back to the hostel. I was exhausted. After mucking about the hostel for a while, I decided to get something to eat from a place down the street titled “The King of Falafel.”

I spoke with the owner for a little while, where I just asked for “his most popular dish.” He then asked me if I wanted something on it that I didn’t quite catch, but I agreed anyway. I was feeling adventurous. A woman wandered by the store and asked if she could come in if she didn’t smoke. This is a silly thing to ask, as there really isn’t any reason to prevent someone from entering a store while not smoking. The shopkeeper agreed. She walked in, promptly started to smoke, and was asked to leave.

Outside, I heard her ask how to leave. She called Luc a Yankee, then proceeded to bother the other patrons, who shooed her away.

My wrap was pretty good.

Day 4

On day 4, it rained. But I have a jacket, so I was just fine. I’m prepared! We toured the Globe Theater, had a workshop with one of the actors, had a waiter point us toward the site of the Leaky Cauldron entrance in Harry Potter, stopped by the site of the original Rose Theater, found an open-air market, celebrated Ronnie’s birthday (her first, according to the cake), and watched a hilarious show titled 39 Steps.

London, Land of the Church! Day Two

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There are a lot of churches in London.

No, seriously, there are a LOT of churches in London.

First, a disclaimer: this posting is dated about 24 hours, as jet lag finally caught up to me and I crashed in the evening, unable to do anything except stare blankly into the brightly colored walls of my room, drink water, and try to rest. But now back to you previously scheduled programming:

Eleanor, our guide for the day, told us that there were over 80 churches that she knew about in the Old London Area, which doesn’t include many of the suburbs, or even most of the area that feel like it should be London. (Why draw city borders in a random intersection?)

Our day started with an interesting breakfast: coffee (which I didn’t drink, as I’m caffeine-averse), juice, or milk, accompanied by ham and cheese sandwiches, corn flakes cereal, mixed fruit (the canned, school stuff), and some stuff that no-one was quite sure whether it was gravy or oatmeal by looking at it. Fortunately, my guess of oatmeal wasn’t terribly far off, as I had already smothered it with granola before someone said they thought it was gravy.

Turns out it was grits of some sort–at least that’s the conclusion we decided after we ate it.

English food is incredibly bland.

After breakfast, we were lead on a tour of London. During the tour, in fact, Eleanor stated that we don’t really need to mention the food to any English people because they all already know–which is why there’s so many other nationalities’ food available in England.

We passed a number of sights, including the British Library,

St. Paul’s Cathedral – did I mention that there are a lot of churches in London?

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The remains of a Roman church, containing both a public garden and a private residence that was purchased a few years ago for 10 million pounds, if my memory serves me correctly (where the city rejected the buyer’s build permit to put an elevator in for the 6 stories up to the residence)

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Postman’s Park, the location where a memorial to the “everyday heroes,” civilians who passed away doing a great service to someone, such as saving a life, is

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The London Bridge while it is allowing passage for a ship to sail through

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The infamous OXO headquarters, who built their company name directly into the window panes of their building to circumvent the “no advertising” law

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Westminster Abbey, where Kenzie and I walked around one of the smaller churches nearby (the Abbey itself was closed at the time)

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James Park

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and Buckingham Palace.

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Afterwards, we parted company with Eleanor, and Kenzie, Hannah, Rachael, and I headed for the National Gallery.

The National Gallery. Lo and behold, every painting was related somehow to the Christian church: whether as a scene from the Bible or a parable or story relating to Mary, Jesus, or any of the other individuals in the Bible. I get the feeling that churches might be kind of a big deal in London…

After visiting the gallery (and taking photos, to the irk of the other visitors there), the four of us split into two groups, and Kenzie and I took our first successful subway ride (Which Eleanor said is pronounced the “tch-ube” instead of “tube” by Londoners. We gave our patronage to a local pub for a late lunch, where I had an excellent turkey burger and chips. (Remember, chips in England are french fries, not Doritos!) We then proceeded to walk in the opposite direction we intended to and found ourselves lost in the city.

Fortunately, after walking another block we spotted a landmark we recognized: a little park. Thus, we made it back in time to get ready to see Les Miserables.

As luck would have it, this evening was when jet lag finally caught up to me. I had been so busy up to this point that now that I had a free moment, I was utterly exhausted for the performance. Drowsy from lack of sleep (its hard to sleep in a different bed when you’re so used to the ones at home!), exhaustion from walking all day, and the realization that I would go about five hours without eating finally demanded my attention.

Thus, the moment the music made its first crescendo, I had a splitting headache. And forgot to bring an ibuprofen. Awesome. I was really looking forward to enjoying the performance, as I have somehow managed to go my entire life not seeing Les Mis. Not the movie nor the play, not reading the book nor the script. My opinion of the play, thus, was resting completely on this performance. Likely due to the headache, I had a difficult time hearing the lyrics of the first three songs (which also didn’t bode well, so I asked someone nearby to explain what had happened in the first act during intermission – I must be fearless!).

NOTE: Now that I’ve fought off the jet lag, I can say with certainty that it was a brilliant performance. Five out of five, would recommend to friends. Its obvious that a ton of work went into it, and the acting was, in my humble opinion, impeccable.

The Adventure Begins! London, Day Zero (and One)

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3 o’clock, arrive at the Duluth International Airport. (Why is it an international airport? There’s only 2 terminals–I suppose its because one flight a week goes to Canada.) Say my goodbyes to my family. No one in line for security, and the TSA agent seems genuinely happy to be working today. The day’s off to a good start!

I’m informed I’ve been randomly selected to be searched. I’m asked to stand off to the side. I wonder what algorithm they use to determine it? I know someone who look like he’s from the middle east who says he’s “randomly selected” every time he flies. Regardless, its a quick and painless procedure, as only 2 minutes pass before I’m cleared to go through.

We board the plane, and I introduce myself to my seat buddy, who I’ll call Janet. She’s a nice lady, traveling to Los Vegas on a business trip. I find out she works in Indian Affairs as a financial manager.

The captain tells us there’s weather in the Twin Cities (of course there’s weather, I’d be concerned if there was no weather at all), and that the airport was completely closed: no inbound nor outbound flights at all. The pilot wants to keep the delay as short as possible, and so because its expected to clear up in about 20 minutes, we are to wait patiently on the plane.

The man sitting behind Janet and I doesn’t handle delays well. He’s on his cell phone with Delta Airlines, trying to rebook his connecting flight for tomorrow. I’m pretty sure I overhear him saying that the airport is closed for the day and won’t start again until tomorrow. He asks the flight attendant to let him off the flight and help rebook his flight.

The 20 minutes pass, and then another 20. The man behind us is still restless and concerned. The flight attendant tries to soothe his worries, telling him that the plane he’s supposed to be flying out of the cities on is grounded in Milwaukee, just like we’re grounded in Duluth. Janet’s concerned she’ll miss her flight too, as her phone says her flight is still “on time.” I’m glad I had a 3-hour layover.

After an hour and a half, the weather finally clears and we’re cleared for take off. The flight itself is fairly uneventful, and we land safely, albeit not without some difficulties for some passengers. Janet’s plane is already boarding by the time we reach the gate, and Mr. Cell Phone Man pushes his way out of the plane, telling everyone that he’s “only got a minute before his plane takes off.” Janet nicely reminds him that everyone else on the plane is in the same situation.

I hope Janet and Mr. Cell Phone Man both make it to their flights.

The Twin Cities’ Airport is fairly quiet today. Maybe because its getting late on a Sunday night? We find our next gate and most everyone is cuddled around the charging station with their phones. I begrudgingly join them, deciding I should “top off” the battery on my phone, even though it still has 89% battery remaining.

A few minutes pass, and I start talking to the woman seated in the terminal next to me. She works for Pearson–a company I’ve heard about before! They make textbooks, and do other education-related stuff. She’s traveling to the United Kingdom because Pearson is trying to standardize the system they use between countries. She tells me each branch of the company has an Oracle database set-up slightly differently, and they want to make it all one system for compatibility reasons. I can’t believe I ran into another person who’s in the technology field on the trip!

They start boarding the plane, but one of the flight attendants is overtly concerned that passengers aren’t boarding fast enough. She joins the other attendants by snatching tickets and passports from passengers to check them on the flight. I make sure to be nice to her, but move quickly, as she looks like she’s had a rough day.

The plane itself was nicer (and larger!) than the Duluth to the Twin Cities plane. When the plane was preparing for departure, we were greeted with a hilarious video covering the safety protocols that included cake, 1920s film noir characters, a doll with an oxygen mask, a crazy cat lady, and six individuals performing synchronous reading of the inflight literature. The rest of the flight occurred fairly uneventfully. Finally in London!

Wait, apparently not yet. There’s a big sign that says “UK Border” ahead, so we must be in some sort of Limbo or something. The customs officer is suspicious of my alleged reasoning in England—I told him I was on vacation for three weeks (which is true), and he begins questioning me. Doesn’t three weeks seem to be a long vacation? No, I’m grateful that I’m able to spend so much time here. Do you have family in England? Yes. (I have a great uncle who lives here.) Will you be meeting up with him? Well, maybe, I’m not sure yet. (Looking back, it was definitely this answer that confused him.) I’m traveling with a group of my friends. Are they all here now? Yeah, they’re all going through customs right now. Eventually, he lets me through, after asking how to pronounce “Duluth” correctly. Now we’re finally in London!

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We go out to eat at a quaint little pub, and I discover my first language-barrier difficulty. I want to order a soda, so I ask for a soda. The bartender doesn’t understand. I try “soft drink” instead. Still no go. I ask her what they have that doesn’t have alcohol in it. Success! I order a Pepsi (I didn’t really want a Pepsi, I was hoping for a Sprite or a Sierra Mist or something, but I’ll take whatever I can get at this point that isn’t alcohol or juice). Fortunately, I’m not much of a soda drinker, so I’ll be perfectly happy with water from here on out. I just need to make sure I specify plain water, not carbonated water. Who knew that two individuals who seemingly speak the same language could have such difficulty communicating!

After dinner, we break off into groups and my group ends up wandering through London for a few hours. We saw a really cool crypt, Big Ben, the London Eye, and a whole bunch of other places I took pictures of but either didn’t catch the name of or don’t remember—I’m sure I’ll get a chance to see them again and get all their names.

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The Power of Saying More

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You never know who might be interested in what you have to say.

Part of my preparation for traveling to England was to add an international plan to my phone. (I admit it’s by no means necessary, but my family was adamant I needed it.) So after calling my phone carrier, they told me my phone was too old and I wouldn’t be able to use it abroad. Go figure, that’s what I get for not replacing my 6-year-old phone that’s worked perfectly fine for me so far.

Either way, the moral to this story isn’t that you should replace your phone (no point replacing what isn’t broken, in my opinion). It’s in what occurred when I went into the store.

Let’s say the representative who helped me was named Paul. Now Paul seemed like a nice enough guy, helpful, knowledgeable, all the stuff you hope the rep who’s helping you is. He compared a few phones with me, showed me which ones had the best battery life, and I picked my phone.

What’s noteworthy about this trip in particular is that instead of thanking him and then walking out of the store (what I did the other three times Paul helped me–I swear, he’s not the only employee, but it sure feels like it there), I said I was an app developer. Now I’m not really, not yet at least (I specifically picked out an android phone because I happen to know Java and wanted to learn how to develop). I didn’t have any real reason to say it, and I said it more to myself than anything, but Paul asked me who I was working for; it turns out he was a computer science guy too! Then we went on and talked for at least another hour (turned out him and I are both in school for computer science), until the manager came over and gently let Paul know that he had other customers to help. Paul gave me his business card, and I intend to let him know the next time I have some buddies over to play Pathfinder.

A second story. On one of my connecting flights to London, I sat next to a nice lady who I’ll call Janet. We sat there, waiting for our flight to take off. The pilot tells us our flight will be delayed because the airport we were flying to is experiencing weather. It’ll be about 20 minutes before we can take off. I introduce myself to Janet, and I find out she’s traveling to Las Vegas on a business trip.

We ended up sitting on the plane for an hour and a half before we could go, but it certainly didn’t feel long as she and I ended up talking about our relatives in Florida almost the entire time. Who knew?

These experiences really opened my eyes about how easy it is to connect to other people—just say “Hi, my name is Matt, what’s yours?” (Well, maybe you should use your own name when you say it.) Ask what they do, where they grew up, what kinds of activities they like to do, or mention something about you that you think is interesting. I’ve found people are more receptive to conversation than I thought.

CHANGING THE WORLD. ONE SMALL STEP AT A TIME.

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Deep down, we all want to make a difference. Some people want to have their names written in history books and have statues made in their honor. Others want to be the helper that no-one knows their name. But we all want to help in our own way. Maybe just by helping their children, or their neighbors, or maybe they don’t like any of those people and they just want to help their mother and father, or a child that doesn’t have any blood relatives.  As such, this will be an ever-changing chronicle of your story and mine, how we grow as individuals, and how we help those around us grow as well.

“The Journey of a Thousand Miles Begins With a Single Step”

Where does one begin when there are literally thousands of worthwhile causes? What should I strive to accomplish?

My answer: Me. Before we can be our most effective in our endeavors to help one another, we must first help ourselves. “A Scout is Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful, Thrifty, Brave, Clean, and Reverent.” Not only this, but we must also first have a level of physical fitness, mental prowess, and a strong moral compass to guide us. This isn’t to say we must first have a level of perfection before we begin, we simply cannot ignore the fact that oftentimes we are our own greatest challenge, and if we take even a single step to better ourselves, it will make everything we do just that much easier.