Pin balling through London

We had a lovely weekend planned which involved us heading into London both Friday and Saturday.  On Friday we were going to The Shard for the view and lunch.  Boy did we get lucky with the weather as Friday was a beautiful day with hardly a cloud, certainly no rain, and even very little pollution it seemed.  

 Looking at the maps, it appeared we were only about a mile away from the location so we set my hubby's phone to a GPS mode and started following it out of London Waterloo Station.  As we weren't positive where we had to go, every time we saw a sign that offered a map of the surrounding area, we would stop and look to see where we were and how far we had to go.  Mostly it was rather in a straight line so no worries and we ambled towards the Shard without a problem.  Good navigation.  And nice to walk along on top of the streets rather than riding below the streets for once.  After our lunch and view though, we hit the tubes to go back to Waterloo and head home.  

Saturday
 Hubby and I had a nice Sat in London last weekend.  We had tickets for him to attend the Craft Beer Rising Festival which is a yearly gathering of different brewers, mostly from the U.K., and their brews and a good many of them started as home brewers or still do beers in the home brewing fashion.  As my husband has been a home brewer for the last 40 years, this festival interests him a great deal as he gets to talk to the brewers and exchange ideas and gather tips, yada, yada.  Much better than the beer festivals where there is just a wall of kegs and everyone is drinking as fast as they can.

So to the Craft Beer Rising, had a lovely time, talked to some great brewers who are quite proud of their stuff, only tasted a few that were less than stellar, and then out and on for the rest of our evening.   

We had tickets to see Agatha Christie's Mousetrap and a nice dinner before hand with one of the special Pre-theatre dinner restaurants that offer you a two course meal for a reduced rate in the hopes that you will also buy a bunch of drinks and maybe desserts, etc.    As we didn't want to retrace our steps to the metro tube station where we had arrived for the Craft Beer shindig, we set up my hubby's phone to a GPS mode to follow it to our restaurant.  It had been quite easy on Friday to follow it to get to The Shard.  Of course, it helps being able to see your building over all the other buildings too.

    We wandered around the neighborhood first as there were several markets in action but nothing really worth buying that day.  And then we followed the GPS to the tube station.  Oddly enough, his phone told us to exit at Embankment which was at least a mile from where we wanted to be.  It would have made much more sense to exit at Leicester Square which is smack in the middle of the theatre district but for some reason, the GPS/phone was playing tricks on us.

Fairly easy to get to the Strand from Embankment but then we were sure exactly which way it was telling us to go, so we navigated by the combination of GPS-phone instructions and stopping at every map on the street again to ascertain where we were and where was the restaurant and where we wanted to turn.  Felt like we were pin balling from sign to sign.  Hit one and spin off in another direction until you hit the next one and then spin off some more.  What's wonderful about London and a good many large UK towns and even European cities is that these maps are up and about the town and make it quite easy to find places.

So bouncing around and we found our restaurant quite early actually.  There was a comic book store right next to it and I don't think we've been in a comic book store since my teens but we went in to see as we had the time.  My gosh!  Exactly like The Big Bang Theory.  I looked around for Howard and Leonard and Raj and Sheldon.  They could have been there.


And then to dinner and then the show, both which were quite enjoyable.  Heading back to Waterloo, we managed to snag a cab but the trains were delayed.  First time we've been caught out and had to detour to Staines and get a cab home from there.  geez.  not a cheap night. 

The Agony of Being Mangosteen-less

We lived in Singapore way back in the mid-90's.  At that time, we were bold and adventurous (and I believe we still are in MOST categories) so we tried most every type of food that came our way.  My hubby and I both learned to love a lot of the "exotic" fruits of Southeast Asia which includes but is not limited to: lychees, rambutans, star fruit, dragon fruit, mangosteens, passion fruit and others. And in the true spirit of adventure and culture immersion, we tried everything, including jackfruit and durian.  Didn't really like jackfruit much but durian - OMG.  For those in the know, durian smells like the back end of a weeks old dead dog thrown into a never-cleaned overflowing outhouse.  It is so bad that it is banned from subways and buses in Singapore.  Walk into any market and you can tell if they stock durian or not.  Yep, that bad and yet we still gave it a go because oddly enough, it is loved by many in Southeast Asia and they swear by it's sweet taste.  We tried the durian ice cream and the durian creme puffs (on different days as it took awhile to work up our courage again).  Held our noses, held our breath and nope, nothing worked to kill the stench that flows into the back of the mouth and made us gag so durian is definitely a thing we will never eat again, probably.

However, we did like and love a good many of the other fruits.  My absolute favorite is the mangosteen which is a small ball of hard purple (and it is also banned in some hotels because it will stain their towels).  You push on it until it breaks open and inside is some lovely, tasty white flesh - sometimes with some seeds and sometimes not.  I learned that I can easily eat a dozen of these things at a single setting.  Love, love, love mangosteens.  So it was with great disappointment that I learned it is incredibly hard to find mangosteens in most countries outside of Asia.  I guess that it does not travel well.

Fast forward past several years without mangosteens then our first year here, my first visit to Borough Market and I discovered one fruit and vegetable stall that had mangosteens in stock.  OMG again!  Hallelujah!  Yippee!  I cleaned them out of their entire stock that first day.  Oops, OMG a third time.  Yikes.  the price is somewhat way, way, way, way higher than anywhere when you can buy them closer to the source.  OUCH.  I think I paid 3 or 4 pounds each!  But I love them so much that I didn't care.  And very sad to say, I didn't share either.  By the time my husband got home that day, the mangosteens were just a happy tummy memory.


Luckily I don't live in London and don't get to go to Borough Market that often or our grocery budget would be way out of hand, but every time I do, I have found the mangosteens again and bought all I could carry or all I had money to get.  Then one day I discovered that you could also get mangosteens at some of the markets in Chinatown, close to Leicester Square.  Much cheaper but also much less in quality.  Sometimes a mangosteen is sold past it's prime and the white flesh inside is brown and yucky and almost every mangosteen I bought in Chinatown was either in this condition or very close to it.  So no longer do I consider Chinatown to be a place to find good mangosteens - back to Borough Market whenever I can.


 Last Thursday, my daughter and I headed to London as she still had a few Christmas presents to buy (yes, we just had Christmas as she didn't get here until this week) and I headed to Borough Market to my fruit and veggie stall to get my fix of mangosteens.  I walked through, walked through again, went through a bit faster looking desperately all around me and then went very slowly through checking bin by bin and no mangosteens!!!  Surely I've just missed them and they have moved them somewhere else.  There was the dragon fruit, the star fruit, the lychees, and other good exotic fruit but I was not seeing my purple passion!  I went up to the clerk and asked and he informed me that they had sold out of mangosteens the day before.  Oh No.  I had based my entire trip and my day on getting to Borough and getting those little purple balls of glory.  Someone else has decided to hoard mangosteens.  Some evil person got there before me and stole my wonderful fruit.  Some nasty, evil, devious, evil and triply evil person took them all.  I was bereft, crestfallen, depressed, glum, and sad.  Yes, mangosteens are that good.  


No plans to go into London for probably the next month or so.  drat it all.  I will go again though and if they are out again, I may have to try Chinatown again and if they are bad again, I may have to fly to Singapore, just for mangosteens.  Some say that the durian is the king of fruit but I think it is the lowly, lovely mangosteen.   And please stay away from Borough Market if you plan to try them.  get some in Chinatown again, or better yet, don't get any.  Leave them for me, a true enthusiast and affection-ado of the mangosteen.

The Court at Barbican

The Court at Barbican Station

            Recently I had to go to the Russian Visa Application Center on Gee Street which is closest to the Barbican Underground station.  First time, it was raining and I’d gone during peak time and was trudging down the street in what I hoped was the right direction.  Across the street from me were 3 ladies sitting under an awning outside of a coffee shop.  When I returned to the underground station, I passed them on the same side of the street and they were all drinking coffee and cackling with the delight of old friends getting together and talking and gossiping.

            My first trip was fruitless as the Visa Application Center didn’t like my letter of introduction so I had to get that fixed and then return.  Again, I was going in the early morning rush hour time (approximately 8-8:30 a.m.).  As I pass by the café on the opposite side of the street, again I notice the three old ladies (OK, I am old too but I’m fairly sure they were all older than me by at least 10 years).  Again they are enjoying themselves in front of this café and drinking coffee or tea and gossiping and laughing.  I noticed that someone stopped and joined them for a few minutes and then I was past and almost to the Center.

            Yesterday I returned one last time to the Russian Visa Application Center to pick up our passports with the all-important and vital visa inside.  The Russian Visa Application Center gives you a very short time frame to pick up your documents.  I wanted to be there when the doors opened so I would be assured of getting our passports returned..  But at the time, I was rather too early (after three trips, I knew the way much better) so I stopped at the same café where the three ladies were sitting.  Before when I passed them, it was around 8:30 a.m.  Yesterday, it was 4:15 p.m. and yet there were the same three ladies sitting at their favorite table.  It seemed to be their favorite table because they were there all three times I passed and always in the same spot and always arranged in the same manner.  Not only their favorite table but favorite café and apparently favorite chairs as well. 

            I went inside to buy something to drink and sat down at the table next to them.  While they were all speaking English, it was with a bit of Eastern European accent of some kind.  Couldn’t really identify it.  I’m not ashamed to admit that I was quite actively eavesdropping.  After seeing them there from early morning to later afternoon and not knowing if they ever moved away or not, I was thinking there was more to the story.

            It was a good day yesterday weather wise.  There were many people on the street walking up and down.  About every third person was hailed by the ladies and stopped for a chat.   These ladies must live outside at this café during the day and were holding court with all the neighbors.  Sometimes there was hugs and air kisses all around and sometimes just brief handshakes.  Sometimes the person being hailed was just talked to for a couple of seconds as they continued to walk and passed out of hearing shortly.  Other times, the person being hailed would be halted and queried on their business, both past and present. 

            The three ladies were always happy to call out to the people passing and knew them all by name and seemed to know them all in great detail such as children, husband or wife’s name, pets, business, shopping habits, church attended, holiday plans, gardens, enemies, other friends, and troubles.  It was quite educational and fascinating to sit and listen to this font of knowledge coming from these three old ladies as they held their social court in front of this small café.  I know quite a lot now about the people and general population of people living around the Barbican underground than I ever wanted to know or thought I would know.  Probably wouldn’t recognize most of the people that stopped to talk though.

            After each “guest” had moved on and before the next “guest” was called to the “docket”, the three ladies would discuss and assimilate any new knowledge just received and glean through it for juicy bits of gossip, or sympathize with the problems, or discuss with disdain the choices made by some of the residents.  These ladies were the judge, jury, prosecuting attorney and defense attorney all rolled together in a neat package of three old ladies holding court every day at the Barbican.   Next year I will have to return to get another Russian Visa for a different trip.  I can hardly wait to see if they are still there in their capacity of the neighborhood court.

Not many gentlemen on the morning commute

Not Many Gentlemen on the Early Commute

            Had to take the early train into London this morning in order to turn in our passports for our Russian visas.  This was my second effort as the first time; our Letters of Introduction weren’t acceptable.  Both times, I went in early so I would get to the Russian Visa place early enough to spend a bit of time in London and to take care of any problems if I possibly could OR to go to the one other location where I might get a Russian visa but would cost me a heck of a lot more money.

            Trains in the morning at 12 coaches long.  People in the know walk to the far end of the platform because there’s probably a good chance to get a seat on coaches’ number 10, 11 or 12.  That was the case this morning although I just barely managed to find a seat before it was full and there were several women left standing and not a single man looked up from his paper to see if there was anyone less abled or pregnant or anything.  Not a single woman looked up either though so people are just not willing to give up their seats in the morning.  I wasn’t either.

            I had to go from Waterloo to Barbican Underground station.  It is not the easiest station to get to even though it has three undergrounds running past it.  First time, I only used two undergrounds but managed to get lost because the Metropolitan line seems to have numerous tracks and platforms at the station where I was so I thought I’d go a different way today and maybe it would be easier.

            I chose to go from Waterloo via the Waterloo and City line to Bank Station.  It only goes between Waterloo and Bank station.  I’m following the signs and when I get to the entrance, it is backed up all the way up the stairs and all the way up the ramp.  You could tell when a train arrived as the people would move forward a little ways and then stop until the next train arrived.  It only took me two times stopping and waiting before I was on the platform and able to move down a ways to where I would hope to get onto the next train. 

            The train arrives empty since it is only running between the two stops; it has let everyone off and now comes to pick up the people going back the other way.  There were station personnel announcing “Leave a wide gap in the middle for all people to exit the train” over and over again and then “Use all doors to enter the train and move all the way into the train” and finally “The doors are shutting now, do not get on the train, there will be another train shortly”.  I was close enough to be able to get on this train after everyone got off but just as I got on, the last seat was taken.  I am moving into the center of the aisle so I am standing in the middle of the car in front of 5 men, all of whom have their noses buried in a newspaper.  I turn around and look at the other side.  Same thing.  Standing next to me are several men and several women, some of whom look to be more tired than me and older than me.  I’m looking up and down the car and see several women who need a seat, one being pregnant and YES, one man gets up and lets her take his seat.  Not a single other man even looked around him to see if someone else needed a seat more than he did.  There were very few women sitting down but they all looked like they needed the seats.

            I understand that going to work through this madhouse every day probably is very tiring and very hard to bumper car your way through the subways but still, it would be nice if there were people still able and willing to let someone else less able to sit.  I’m hanging by the overhead bar and I can reach it.  The poor lady next to me is on her tiptoes to reach it.  Luckily it is crowded enough that she’s not going to fall over should she lose her grip.

            I reach Bank and exit the train along with everyone else and plot my next move to get to Barbican.  I figure out I can take one more train to Moorgate, change there and then one stop more to Barbican.  The train from Bank to Moorgate was not any better.  Crowded, crowded.  This time, I did not make the first train as I was standing on the platform.  The station personnel start announcing the same/similar mantra as they did at Waterloo “Make a large gap down the middle so people can exit the train.  Do not get on until people have exited the train” and then segue into “Use all doors and move all the way into the train” and finally “The doors are closing.  There is another train right behind this one. Please wait”...

            He made the final announcement just as I was about to see if I could squeeze onto the train but it was pretty packed with one man standing so close to the edge that I thought the door would hit him.  So I didn’t get on.  Then someone got off and that made a space but the station man was still saying “The doors are closing” so I didn’t move.  Two younger and much thinner ladies ran up and jumped onto the train right in front of me and squeezed into the mass of humanity.  The doors still didn’t close which was good because one of those ladies had to divest herself of backpack and coat or the door would have hit her for sure.  Finally the doors did close and no one was hit and the next train was right behind it.

            I made it on this time and moved all the way into the train and luck was with me because the doors on my side opened when we got to Barbican so I was first off the train.

Thank goodness I was only going one stop though because all the seats were taken again and nobody got up for anybody.

            Coming back was much better as there were seats every time on each underground and I made it home without too much trouble.  Tomorrow I get to repeat the procedure to pick up our visas but it will be much later in the day.  We’ll see how it goes on coming home. 

Definitely Rocked

We Will Rock You

This was our first trip into London for a theater show.  We really had no clue what We Will Rock You was about other than it had music from Queen, which we love.  Somehow we thought it was more of a concert but turns out it was a musical play. 

Thirty minutes into the play, we had to evacuate the theater which happened in a rather orderly fashion and no one stampeded out or knocked other people down.  Killer Queen was singing a song when two people dressed in black just walked onto the stage, tapped her from behind and helped her down off her perch.  I thought it was something that wasn’t supposed to be happening and I was right.  As she stops singing, mid song, and climbs down, she says, “We’ll be back.”  Then the curtains come down including a big curtain on the front that says “Safety Curtain” which I have never seen in a theater before.  People in the audience sat a minute and sort of waiting for an announcement.  Then people on the left hand side of the theater sort of all got up en-mass and started for the exits so all of us on the right side did too.  We got into the aisle and still just sort of stood there when some theater employees came to the fire exits and started yelling, “Everyone out of the theater now!  This way!  Out of the theater now!”  Everyone did start moving quickly now but still orderly and no panic.  There is no smoke or anything happening that we can see.

Standing outside in an alley, we just were waiting to see what was going to happen and if we should head for the subway and go home or give it some more time.  We heard sirens and saw an ambulance come racing towards the theater and then a fire truck.  We started moving towards the front of the theater so we could see what was happened.  It was very crowded so by the time we got to the front, the emergency personnel had either gone elsewhere or never stopped there anyway.  Another 10 minutes and people started going back into the theater.  We went back to our seats and were told another 15 minutes and the play would begin again.

So the night grew a bit longer than expected as we were allowed back into the theater later and the play continued on from the interruption point.  An explanation later was that a disgruntled employee had pulled the fire alarm.  We were also told that the disgruntled employee was known and would be dealt with in an appropriate manner.  All that aside, the play was a delightful little future scenario where music is gone and one dreamer must find Freddy Mercury's guitar where he hid it.  I was a bit unprepared to hear women sing some of Freddy's songs but it was good and their voices were superb.  It was definitely a British tongue in cheek and the audience loved it when one line was something like "the old dominion theater held these shows for 150 years and only had to evacuate the theater once!"  Our favorite part though was still the end though when they just sang Queen's songs without any added dialog.  It was an enjoyable evening.