Today was the day that held the greatest anticipation for us in our tour of London. We had decided to visit the Tower of London and the British Museum, both some of the most historic and famous sites in London. Both also take several hours, so we knew we were in for a long day.
Of course, the day couldn’t start without going back to Emirates Stadium (home of Arsenal Football Club, for the uninformed). Yes, we’d already been there once. No, we hadn’t done all the sightseeing we wanted, or bought everything we planned.
So we caught the tube for the short ride to the stadium, and took a quick walking tour of the exterior of the stadium. After picking up a few more souvenirs, and getting a couple (dozen) pictures, we got back on the tube to head for central London.
Once there, we walked around the tower, saw some of the medieval weaponry set up in the walls, and headed in to the castle itself.
For some of you who might not be aware, the Tower of London isn’t really a tower at all. It’s a very large castle. Not one of those namby-pamby fantasy ones like at Neuschwanstein either. This was a proper Medieval castle, with dungeons, dual walls, portcullises, crenellations, and a moat. Admittedly, the moat wasn’t as impressive as it might have been, having been filled in part way and turned into a sunken grassy lawn, but the castle was still a serious defensive fortress.
Another indication that the Tower of London was a real castle, and not a mere palace, was that the castle is an entire complex, housing what was once a bustling village of several thousand people within its walls. In fact, the governor still lives there (complete with machine-gun equipped guards), as do many of the Yeoman of the Queen’s royal guard.
So, we headed into the castle. Directly upon entering the castle, we ran headlong into a Yeoman, who was preparing to start a guided tour of the castle. He immediately began shouting in his best parade-ground voice to gather around him, and feeling that disagreeing with him might be a bad idea, we did so.
The Yeoman proceeded to take us on one of the best tours I’ve ever been a part of. To become a Yeoman, you must have served for 22 years in the military of England, received a number of commendations and service medals (good conduct, etc.), and have achieved a certain rank (at least that of Sergeant Major). Apparently the job also requires good acting ability, as our Yeoman was a very talented and entertaining guide. He told us much of the history of the tower itself, how the moat had once been actually filled with water that was flushed by the Thames every day (bad idea; when tide is low, the moat merely becomes a muddy path), and how they fixed this by hiring an expensive Dutch consultant who said, “dig it deeper”. He also told us how this was an even worse idea, because now the river couldn’t completely flush the moat, and it was used by all 2,500 people as a sewer, as well as the dumping grounds for the local butchers. It was also apparently used as a play-pool for a pair of polar bears, because the king couldn’t figure out what to do with the animals after receiving them as a gift from another monarch. The bears didn’t last too long there (cholera), and neither did the deep moat, by English standards (a mere 500 years). It was filled in and turned into the grassy lawn mentioned earlier.
The guide also told us about the Tower’s history as a prison and execution area, which was not the Tower’s original purpose. Apparently the Tower wasn’t actually that great of a prison; 1 in 40 prisoners escaped from it. The first prisoner, in fact, escaped. He was an old bishop, who managed to get the guards drunk and use the ropes binding the wine casks to climb down the outside of the wall. We learned that a Scottish guy did actually enter the Tower through Traitors Gate (a water entrance, by the way), but spent less than a half hour there before being taken out to be executed at the commoner’s execution grounds elsewhere in London (insert several comments about the uncivilized nature of Scots; our guide was an Englishman through and through).
After the tour we decided to see the Crown Jewels. The jewels were lined up in cases and along side it people stood on a moving walkway to see them. Beside the walkway were descriptions of every jewel on display. Of course, most people just hop on the walkway and get a glimpse of the gems on their way by. I had to read every description for each display before hopping on. As I explained to Lib, “It has a bunch of cool stuff about the coronation ceremony and the significance of all the items. Otherwise they’re just pretty jewels.” This didn’t seem to move Lib much, however. Apparently she did just want to see the pretty jewels. After the jewels we saw all of the golden plates owned by royalty, not the most interesting stuff.
The last thing we saw before leaving the Tower of London was the Royal armory museum in the White Tower (the big famous building). This tower had originally been the royal quarters, and was where some of the original prisoners were held. Now it held a display of many of the kings’ armor, weapons, royal artillery, and statues of various kings and their horses. It also held a massive display on King Henry VIII (put together by the History Channel for some anniversary this year). This display was very flashy, and while it drew your eye, it was rather hard to read every single descriptor as is my normal practice, due to the lights in displays flashing on and off and then strobing brilliantly at you. The scrolling video displays, showing armor spinning in 3-D with statistics scrolling by like something from a Bond movie, also looked neat, but seemed out of place in this Medieval setting. Once again, it also made it hard to actually learn about the piece of armor, because you had to sit through the entire video to get the full story. The biggest problem with the whole display, of course, was that King Henry VIII wasn’t a particularly nice fellow, and it seemed a little out of place to have 3 entire levels of the building dedicated to him, with banners saying things like “Warrior, Sportsman, Monarch” everywhere. As our guide said, there were a couple of other things you could append to that list.
The most interesting thing we saw in the Henry VIII exhibit was a display on his armor and how it changed over his life. Apparently, Henry was a very avid sportsman, taking part in both Jousting and Foot combat games. As such he had many suits of armor made for him over the years. His first suit, at age 24, was that of a powerfully built, tall man. He was 6’1”, with broad shoulders and a slim waist. Over the years, the waist expanded in size, while the height slowly contracted. By the time he was 54, his armor looked like northing more than a metal beach ball with a few odd spiky bits. One thing that was consistent across all the suits, though, was the codpiece. Our guide had mentioned this disturbing part of the armor as well, calling it “one of the first experiments with psychological warfare.”
I thought it best to leave this historical part of this entry to Steven and take over from here. Also, the following incidents are still a point of agitation and I don’t want him to “edit history”. After our wonderful time exploring the Tower, Steven was a happy, happy traveler having read most display inscriptions and having soaked up all the tour guide had to offer. He was giddy with excitement and relished explaining in more detail things not covered in the tour. The next part of the story needs some explanation before I can continue. There were three things Steven wished to accomplish while in London: 1. Buy a raincoat 2. Eat at a proper hole-in-the-wall fish and chip shop 3. Purchase a pair of Wellies (rain boots) for me. Having now been in London for several days it was a severe disappointment that Steven had not been caught in a torrential downpour nor had he eaten any fish and chips. But low and behold directly outside of the Tower the greasy aroma of a true fish and chips shop hit our dear Steven. I had not thought I could have seen him more elated. He rushed over to the shop and bought two orders of fish and chips. After dousing our fish in the famous brown sauce and burying the chips in a mound of ketchup I found a perfect bench under a tree to alleviate our now roaring stomachs.
We each had a bite of fish and one chip before a pigeon decided to release it’s contents on both of our lunches and down Steven’s shirt. It put a bit of a dent in Steven’s perfect day and it probably didn’t help that I could hardly contain my giggles at the unfortunate events. The situation didn’t improve, no matter how hard I tried to explain that the giggles came out of disbelief. Steven was able to change and had resolved to go back for more fish and chips but I couldn’t get the sight of a pile of steaming pigeon-poo on the chips out of mind to be able to stomach the dish at that time. It figured that just when Steven had let off a bit of steam we passed a large poster, surrounded by people of the hippie persuasion, appealing to us to “help the birds”. We wandered around not in the best of spirits until we stumbled into the Borough Street Market. It, like our Cambridge B&B, was a mini oasis in a troubling day. The market was full of excellent smelly cheeses, breads, and sweets which instantly grasped Steven’s attention. We settled on a cheddar cheese, a loaf of crusty bread, chocolate cheesecake and chocolate mousse cake. We ate our meal in a courtyard outside of an old church. Our good moods had returned and with Steven’s poopy shirt stuffed on the side of my backpack we headed to Stamford Bridge, home of the Chelsea football club. Like traitors we walked into the official stadium shop with our Arsenal souvenirs tucked away in the backpack. Steven decided it was necessary to buy a jersey so he would have a shirt to wear. (Since the pigeon incident he had been wearing a thin running top). Since realizing that, given time, I would probably be converted to being a Chelsea fan by way of Steven’s fanatical explanations of the Chelsea team during the season, I too purchased a jersey. We took the tube back to central London and decided that while in London it would be necessary to see the new Harry Potter movie. On our way to the theatre we walked passed Trafalgar Square. In the square on the fourth plinth as a part of modern art an artist has decided to put a different person doing their occupation on the plinth every hour. This hour happened to be a photographer who had set a rope circle down below for people to step in to get their picture taken. Most did the typical stand and cheesy smile routine. Steven and I decided that after a rough experience with modern art two days before we would make the most of this experience. So we walked in the rope circle and did a dramatic movie star style smooch to the cheer of the crowds around us. We left our first public art performance and headed to the movie theatre. It was the most wonderful movie theatre imaginable. The screen was huge and had an actual curtain. We sat on the top level and had great seats. Two and half hours later we decided that although the movie wasn’t great it was a once in a lifetime experience. Beyond tired we headed to the subway to get to the B&B. It was packed full but we squeezed our way through. Noticing a rare empty door on the train I grabbed Steven’s arm and thought I was very clever having found a door that no one else was going through. Well the joke was on me as my shoes squished and went sliding through what had once been the contents of one’s stomach. Now I could empathize with Steven’s morning experience. This put me in a slightly grumpy (slightly???) mood the rest of the way. We made it back and snuck into the house so as not to wake anyone.

Signing off,
Stinky Shirt Steven and Libby the First

Travel question of the day: Which is worse getting you and your food pooed on by a pigeon or getting vomit on your shoes?

PJ, the owner of the bed and breakfast, is an Arsenal fan through and through. He is a carpenter and worked on the new stadium and the surrounding apartments. In the morning we had a lengthy conversation with us about the team. He is probably in his last 60s, and tears up when he talks about some of the famous players and his work on the stadium. Before we were able to get out of the door he wanted to discuss Arsenal and our stay in London in great detail. We would learn that we needed to schedule in an extra half hour for breakfast every day to discuss our day’s plan with PJ and Breda (his wife). The Emirates Stadium is only three stops from the bed and breakfast so we made that our first destination of the day. The stadium was glorious. It was built to create an atmosphere on game day and despite Steven’s loyalty to Chelsea, even he was excited to walk around. We spent a good hour at the stadium and also found out that tours were already booked for the next three days. Our next stop was Westminster Abbey. The abbey was very impressive, but was more of a royal memorial than a church. It actually felt cluttered due to the sheer number of royal tombs and memorials. It took away from the majesty and I couldn’t imagine worshipping there. Each royal figure was trying to outdo their predecessor’s tomb and the end result was more like a childish show of one-upmanship than anything.
We next headed to the Apollo Victoria theatre to attempt to get “day-of” cheap theatre tickets to see Wicked. I was more than excited and this was only augmented by the elaborate marquee posters outside of the theatre. Believe it or not, there were very cheap tickets available for that night’s show; however, there were also more expensive, much nicer seats available as well. And, well, we were in London at the heart of theatre district and who could pass up those seats? Certainly not me. Before Steven’s jaw had time to hit the floor the tickets were purchased and I had skipped out of the theatre.
We made our way to the outside of Buckingham Palace, and after seeing the admission charge decided that the outside was indeed very pretty. We grabbed some lunch from a convenient Japanese restaurant and headed to Green Park for a bit of a break.
Afterwards, we walked to the Tate Britain to view some historic works before our big theatre date. Being the thoughtful fiancé that I am I thought that perhaps Steven would rather experience modern artwork considering he had gotten his fill of historic works in Germany. The Tate Modern was on the other side of Thames and there happened to be a boat going there that left in two minutes time. With haste I led the way, barreling across the street and down the sidewalk to the boarding dock. At the site of the two tourists at full sprint the nice man at the dock held the boat until we arrived. We had a pleasant ride down the Thames and made it to the Tate Modern. Unfortunately, Steven was not impressed with the museum and honestly I was not either. I overheard one elderly woman say to her friend at one exhibit, “I think it’s like the emperor’s new clothes.” It was amusingly true. Steven’s breaking point in the museum came after reading the very cerebral artist statement accompanying a mirror hung on the gallery wall, mine came after seeing a trashed room with an artist statement that I did not bother to read. We made it through the museum in a record forty minutes making it to every floor while walking the stairs. Steven admittedly found a couple pieces he enjoyed. We got out of the museum and crossed another London landmark, the Millennium Bridge. Being attached to the Tate Modern, it too had a very new-age approach to its design. And, like the Tate Modern, Steven wasn’t too impressed with it either. We did get to experience our first London rain. Luckily I had purchased ponchos and an umbrella in Germany for our travels. In fact, at the time I had been very smug for saving money by getting an inexpensive, 1 euro poncho instead of a nice rain jacket. I eventually managed to get the trash-bag-like poncho over my head in an attempt to stay somewhat dry. It was Steven’s turn to be smug now, as he passed on the poncho while laughing at me and used the mini umbrella.
We made it to the Apollo Victoria and really enjoyed the musical. It was excellent. The set was the most amazing set we had ever seen, with moving gears and even an animatronic dragon built into the stage. The only distraction was the drop of water leaking from the ceiling onto the stage. The character that played the disabled sister was wheeled in chair directly under the drip. It seemed like more of a deliberate move than a normal stage position. When we were exiting the theatre the stairways had flooded and by the time we reached the door it was a downpour. We ran to our station and slightly damp made it back to our B&B rather late (12:00). It turns out that it rained more in the six hours that night than it had in months.
Signing off,
Soaking Steven and Lacking Proper Rain Coverage Libby
Traveling question of the day: Why is there a lack of raincoats for sale in a city that is notorious for rain?

After a nice breakfast with the Harris family, (Steven continued to sample English foods, discovering set honey) we discussed books and movies. Rhiannon lent Steven the autobiography of Stephen Fry and let him borrow a Harry Potter audio book, which is also narrated by Stephen Fry. We made it to the train station, said our goodbyes, and had a very hot ride to London. Arriving at King’s Cross Station, the first priority was finding platform 9 ¾. Seeing as we arrived on platform 9 we thought this would be an easy task. After wandering around a bit we decided to give up. We stopped walking to turn the other direction when we noticed a sign in front of us, “Lost? Are you looking for platform 9 ¾?” Apparently, others had done the same as us and probably in annoyance at the tourists’ need for directions someone at the station had posted the sign with detailed map on how to proceed around the corner. After a quick stop at the site and a photo we headed to the underground.
The owners of the bed and breakfast we would be staying at gave us excellent directions and for the first time on the trip we found the place in one try. The owners were very pleasant and instantly commented on our young age, which seems to be a typical remark when we check in. We have discovered that bed and breakfasts (called pensions in Germany) are the way to stay in Europe and UK. The rates are cheaper than a hotel and the accommodations and way better than at a hostel. The biggest benefit, however, comes from the interaction with the owners. The owners are always able to provide the best information for site seeing and traveling. They also provide a historical insight to the area and are very friendly. Breakfast is included with the stay and they put the US continental breakfast to shame. Besides the offering of cereals, breads, jams, and yogurts, the owners will cook up a full English breakfast if you wish. After dropping our bags we headed back into central London when The Hunger struck. I, in my zombie-like state, was of no use so I passed the handy Rick Steve’s guide off to Steven and he was able to decide and navigate us to our restaurant, The Opera House. It is a hidden restaurant on the second floor of a building, so it was not a touristy place but a typical English pub. After a delicious meal of meat pie and bangers and mash, Steven surprised me by ordering dessert, a raspberry sponge pudding. With The Hunger abated we set off to wander. We managed to walk past Big Ben, Admiralty Arch, Parliament, St. James Park, 10 Downing Street (kind of, it’s all blocked off now), Government ministries, and the Horse Guard. One of the highlights of Steven’s day was when we walked through Trafalgar square and saw all of the monuments there. Thinking I had recognized the historical figure on the top of the large and impressive column in the middle of the square, I asked Steven “Is that Napoleon?” Steven couldn’t hush me quickly enough, and after scoping out the area to make sure no one had heard my offensive remark about Lord Nelson, he went on to explain that this was possibly the worst place in the world to confuse the two men. Oops. We walked to Leicester Square to see the Harry Potter movie but it would be playing too late, so we had ice cream and decided we would need to come back. We made it back to the B&B for a little R&R.
Signing off,
Snoozing Steven and Lounging Lib

Today was the day following our No Good Very Bad Day, and it actually went quite well. We began the day by having a nice English breakfast of sausage, eggs (scrambled), toast, fried tomatoes, and a variety of jams and spreads. From there, we proceeded to the train station where we caught the 45 minute long train ride to King’s Lynn.
At King’s Lynn, I was finally introduced to the Harris family with whom Libby stayed while she was student teaching in England. We ventured to the next town of Wisbech, where they lived. Once in town, we made a quick stop at Marshland High School, where Libby had spent two and half months teaching. We walked around the exterior of the art building, saw what had changed with the school, and peeked in the windows. Rhiannon and Rhosey, two of the Harris sister trio, then took us on a tour of Wisbech.
The quaint town is often used in movies and in fact Johnny Depp is buying a house near there after having filmed a movie in the area. They both got a laugh out of this, worrying that he might be disappointed with the amount of things to do. Later they took us to the Elgood Brewery, a famous point in the town, for a walk through the massive Brewery garden and to sample some goods. The garden was glorious. The English are very proud of their gardens and with good reason. We passed the garden maze and of course decided to give it a try. Our sense of navigation, perfected in the previous week, successfully led us through the maze after several tries. I imagine it would have looked funny to an outside observer, as four twenty-somethings all tried to pretend that they weren’t having too much fun exploring the 8-foot hedges.
After touring the gardens we headed back into the main part of town to pick up a variety of sausages for the cook out. The Harris family had heard I liked trying new foods, and were determined to give me a good selection to sample. Leaving the meats to the Harrises, I quickly headed over to the candy aisle with Libby in tow. In the time it took them to pick out a couple of sausages I had a basket full of my favorite English goodies: Toffee Crisp Bars, Cadbury Crunchies, Smartees, a variety of Biscuits, and Mars bars. After getting over their shock at my booty, Libby and the Harris girls added a few items of their own. Libby insisted we had to get some Jaffa Cakes (her personal favorite from her previous visit) and Battenburg cakes, while the Harrises suggested Lion Bars and a few other candies to try.
I was eventually dragged from the candy aisle and back to the house for a quick lunch of breads and cheeses before heading off to the new cinema. Of course, the cheeses were all traditional English cheeses, which were mostly delicious and definitely smelly. The Leicester Red and English Cheddar were excellent, and Libby assured me the Stilton was fabulous as well, although I was skeptical. Along the way I got to try Marmite (interesting is a good description), several homemade jams, and traditional cream tea. Of course, I didn’t actually drink the tea. But I did enjoy the scones and clotted cream.
After we were all finally stuffed from our “light” lunch, it was time for the cinema. It was a very nice little cinema, with leather couches and drink service. Certainly, it was the most comfortable theater I have been to. Unfortunately, the single screen forced us to watch G-Force, an action flick about talking hamsters. Despite its best attempts, I was able to withstand the movie until the electrical kitchen appliances went on the attack and I was finally forced to give up.
Fortunately dinner was excellent; the Harris girls cooked sausages, herbed potatoes, and even made black pudding (ewww… look it up) for us to try. While eating we watched the very funny English show Q.I. and I was introduced to the comedy of Stephen Fry. After a great day we headed off for some sleep.

Travel question of the day: Why would anyone eat black pudding?

Today was an interesting day for the trip. Have you ever read the book Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day? Today was a bit like our version of it. That isn’t to say that there weren’t some good parts too. In fact there were some very good parts. But the story doesn’t start there.
The story of today begins with Libby and Steven getting up bright and early to take a train to Cambridge. They had frantically found a place to stay the day before, deciding that Cambridge would be very interesting to see. They did not have internet at the time, so they hadn’t been able to do any research; they just chose the first place that popped up and would answer the phone.
So, Libby and Steven got up early, ate a quick breakfast at their hostel, and headed off to the underground. They successfully navigated their way to the train station, where they bought tickets for the trip to Cambridge. They took a short train ride over to the main station in London, and then settled in for the comfortable hour-long ride. The ride went wonderfully, with Libby and Steven talking, posting things on the internet with their new internet card, and enjoying the scenery.
When they got to Cambridge itself, however, things began to take a turn for the worse. You see, one of the things they hadn’t been able to get prior to booking their room were directions to the place they were staying. They knew how important directions were though, so they had looked them up on the train ride and written them down. They followed their directions faithfully, even taking a bus for a large chunk of the trip to shorten it. They were still tired from the previous day, and their backpacks were very heavy. They were soon on the street that they were looking for, and merrily set off looking for what promised to be a very cute bed and breakfast.
This quickly saw the house numbers on the houses (1, 2, 3 4…), and looked at their address to see what house number they were staying at. To their horror, they realized that the house they were looking for was 710! But not to worry, they thought. That merely meant they needed to walk seven blocks. Poor Libby and Steven were used to the way house numbers worked in the United States. There, the numbers were sometimes based on distance, so if you went seven hundred feet, your house number would be 700. Sometimes they also changed depending on the block. If you lived on the seventh block, you might have the house number of 710. But never, never, were houses numbered like they were in England. In England, Steven and Libby still had to walk past another 706 houses. So they set on their way. They walked and they walked but they saw no street signs, and soon they became very worried that perhaps they were going in the wrong direction. But then a very nice American stopped to ask them for directions. He happened to have a map with him. Steven and Libby told him where we were going, and he told them that they were very lost. He was going to the opposite side of town from where Steven and Libby were going. Since Steven and Libby had ran into him, they must have gotten lost and wandered in exactly the wrong direction. A closer examination of the map, however, showed that perhaps Libby and Steven were on the right path, and the nice man instead was extremely lost. So they parted ways with the now embarrassed nice man, who began heading back in the other direction.
Steven and Libby continued walking. By now, fatigue, hunger, and agitation had begun to set in. Libby was not delighted in Steven’s RIDICULOUS idea of renting a car, and Steven was not pleased with Libby’s RUDE remarks about his capabilities of driving in this foreign land.
Finally, after passing another several hundred houses and walking close to three miles, they made it to their bed and breakfast, which was conveniently located behind a bus stop. There they found themselves in a mini oasis, with a pleasant English couple that marveled at their long walk. “At last!” they thought, “Our day must surely get better now!” And so it did, at least for a little while. They put their packs down, enjoyed the cool air of the bed and breakfast, and once refreshed, set back out to Cambridge. Of course, this time they took a bus.
Libby and Steven found that Cambridge was amazing, and was like everything they had ever dreamed it to be. The city was full of gorgeous colleges, bookshops, restaurants and the typical college town buzz. They feasted on a delicious meal typical of the region, a fisherman’s pie and bangers and mash. They toured the famous King’s College and wandered through a park. They even took a nap in one of the gardens, resting their heads on their packs and gazing up at the sky. (This also gave them the opportunity to observe that while the Germans enjoy making out at public monuments, the English seem to prefer public parks.)
Deciding at last that it was time to head back, Libby and Steven made their way to the bus station. Buses, they had found, are a little different than they were in Germany. For one thing, the buses aren’t quite as new. That isn’t really a problem; they still work well and are clean. But it does mean that the buses don’t have handy screens telling you what stops they go to, or a voice announcing where you are at each stop. Because of this, Libby and Steven decided to ask the bus drivers if the bus would go where they wanted.
The driver of the bus they wanted assured them, “Sure, I stop at the cemetery on New Market Street. Just press the button when we get near!”
“Perfect,” they thought. “Our No Good, Very Bad Day is gone!”
But then, despite the bright “Stopping” sign glowing at the front of the bus, they passed right by the cemetery. They also passed right by the shopping center, the roundabout, the business center, and finally the edge of town. A fellow traveler on the bus noticed their alarm at this, and said, “Oi, were you trying to stop back there? You’re in for it now, we won’t stop until the next town!”
The bus driver had forgotten that he was supposed to stop. He hadn’t even paid attention to the alarm asking him to stop. He had just driven merrily on his way. When he finally stopped at the next town, Steven and Libby asked him what had happened. He had no answer, and could only say “I’ll go back there in three hours.”
So, our travelers were left standing on the side of the road, quite literally in the middle of nowhere, with only a signpost for company. But that was no problem, they thought, as the next bus would surely come in fifteen minutes and take them back. Except no bus came. Thirty minutes later, no bus had come. Finally, they used Libby’s brand new phone to call bus information. They were told that no buses would come for another two hours! By this point, Steven and Libby were more than a little upset. Libby may have started to cry, and Steven may have had some unkind things to say about British bus drivers. Libby resolutely began walking towards town, while Steven pulled out her cell phone to call the owners of their bed and breakfast. Thankfully, the owners were Nice People. They were horrified by what had happened on the bus, and drove all the way out to pick up our weary travelers.
At long last, Steven and Libby reached their Bed and Breakfast. They thanked the owners profusely, and took a nice long nap. And finally, the day got better. They read their books in the peaceful garden. They wrote down some of what happened to them. And Libby even got to call her family and talk for a while. The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day was over.

Signing off,
Tired Steven and Exhausted Lib
Question of the day: Too tired to think of one.

Day 9 was our first full day in England, and as such we decided to celebrate by taking the day a little easier than some of our previous days. We started the morning by writing some more of our experiences down, looking up where we wanted to visit in London, and figuring out what we needed to buy to survive in this country. Internet was still not readily available (something of great worry to me), so we couldn’t post anything on the blog or get directions easily. We still had trusty Rick Steves though, so we set off on the Jubilee line to central London.
One thing we had forgotten though: to eat breakfast before we left. Libby had eaten some of the leftovers from the night before (a banana and some flat bread), but I hadn’t had anything at all. By the time we reached London, it was nearly noon and I had been up since 7:00. Libby soon learned why breakfast is the most important meal of the day for me, as I entered a nearly catatonic (and extremely grumpy) state. It seems Libby isn’t the only one who has a Hunger alter-ego; mine just has to work harder to surface. After wandering around for nearly an hour trying to find some place to eat (along the way seeing the Eye of London, Westminster Abbey, the Millenium Bridge, Parliament building, and Big Ben from a distance) we finally settled for a touristy-style pub on Trafalgar square. It was expensive, the food wasn’t particularly good (fish and chips, with a healthy dosing of grease), but it was food and that’s all that mattered. Of course, if the German cheese and sausage hadn’t done our intestinal systems in, the fish and chips definitely delivered the final blow.
Much more cheerful (but now with hurting tummies from the grease) we set off to continue our day. We didn’t stop to see Trafalgar square at the time, promising to return later, but instead caught the underground to Picadilly Circus where the tourist information office is located. There, a nice gentleman got us a map, advised us on where to go shopping (and get a cell phone), where the best place to get musical tickets are, and even tried to help Libby figure out the differences in sizing for women’s clothing.
Since it was only a short walk down to Oxford street, where all the best shopping was, we decided to spend the rest of the day wandering there. We rapidly found a large cell phone shop, where we got Libby a cute little cell phone (it was nearly the same price as picking up a SIM card for my phone, and she should be able to use it back home). It is pink, and in her words, “so cute!” More importantly, we also got a pay as you go Mobile Internet card! We could now have the Internet wherever we wanted (I’m typing this from a train, in fact).
Both of these would end up being good purchases. The Internet card has allowed us to work on what would otherwise be rather long train rides, and the cell phone has saved us more than once.
The next stop was a department store across the street, where Libby picked up some fresh clothes, and debated long and hard on whether to get a (very) expensive purse. In the end, she decided to “think about it”, although it was difficult to leave because “It has a little dog just like Rudy on it!” She would later use this as leverage to drag me from a bike shop without purchasing anything.
We ended our stroll by heading to a nearby park where we sat on the grass and called the Harris family where we would be staying later in the week. We watched children play football, families walk their dogs, and oddballs argue religion in a corner of the park. It appeared that one particular corner of the very large park had been designed for such a thing; each post had someone holding a sign of some sort condemning everyone else who happened to be nearby.
At last, we decided it was time to head back to the hostel. On the way back from the park, I got my traditional ice cream (this time the traditional English “Double flake cone”), and as usual Libby rolled her eyes, and then proceeded to eat half of it. We got back to the hostel, Libby took a nap while I read, and then we washed some clothes, used our newfound internet, and finally went to bed early.
Signing off,
(Net)-Surfing Steven and (cell-phone) Loquacious Lib
(Bonus points to who can tell me how I know that last adjective)
Question of the day:
Why must Lib always eat half my ice cream?

We woke up early on Day 8 of our European Extravaganza to pack everything and leave Munich. We checked our bags at the hotel, paid for our rooms, got ripped off with paying extra for our “included breakfasts,” and met Susi at a bookstore. We went to the Alte Pinakothek Museum, which Steven would like to note was very similar to the painting museum in Berlin. We met up with Susi’s friend who is also an English teacher and did a brief tour of Munich. We had a wonderful lunch, chatted about all of the differences between the US and Germany, and exchanged English and German lessons. We said our good byes and Steven and I headed to the subway to catch our train to the airport. It was a perfect way to spend our last day in Germany.
We got through security at the airport but found out right before scanning our bags that we needed to drink our liter bottle of water and jug of fruit juice before moving any further. We already had our passports checked, so we could not go out to the bathrooms and there were no places to dump the liquid. With the security guard standing over us we managed to gulp it down. So how long does it take to drink two liters of fluids? Not long with the proper motivation. We made it through security with Steven’s bag full of electronics lighting up like a Christmas tree on the scanner (it did get checked), and headed immediately for the water closets. With the remaining euros in our pockets we headed over to the souvenir shop to spend our money on the German-English dictionary we could have used seven days ago, and (of course) candy to tide Steven over. After an uneventful two-hour flight we landed in rainy London. Heathrow had been completely redone since my last time there is preparation for the 2012 Olympics. It also turns out that the subway system is being redone, which caused some headaches. We did get to finally return the favor for all those Germans who had taken pity on us in the train station. Our underground train was running late, so halfway through the ride it was announced that the train would end and we would have to catch the next train. We dutifully hopped off, but noticed that a small Japanese family hadn’t been able to understand the instructions and were still sitting happily in the train. We got back on, and explained they had to catch the next train. Hopefully Karma from our similar experience in Berlin was satisfied. Once in central London, we decided against trying to navigate the buses late at night, and hailed a famous black cab to made our way to the hostel. By the time we made it there it was late and the only food we could get was at a Tesco store (15 minutes away) that was closing in 25 minutes. Which leads us to our traveling question of the day: What can 15 pounds in 10 minutes buy?
Dinner for Two,
Clean towels for the hostel,
And most importantly: Fresh boxers.

Signing off,
Lady Libby and Sir Steven

This post is dedicated to my brilliant mother. Despite her struggles with German class I still believe her to be the smartest woman I know and I hope this helps her.
I am also dedicating it to my father, for his relentless efforts in teaching me memory tricks instead of investing in vacations. Coincidently, he happens to be the smartest guy that I know. (Steven, no worries, you’re a close second).
This is how I survived a week in Germany with no German speaking skills:
Ich mochte = I would like, think: “I would like an icky moustache”;
Danke shcoen = thank you, think: “donkey chains” (Thank you Mark)
Bitte sehr = you’re welcome or literally very pleased, think of giving someone “bitter pears” (Thank you again, Mark)
My all time favorite! Get ready to visualize this. I came up with this little trick after many scoldings for the mispronunciation of the castle name Neuschwanstein. Think of a swan holding a stein of soy sauce. The castle is pronounced noy (rhyming with soy) shvan stein.
Hauptbahnhauf = main train station. I cleverly figured this out when we left the hauptbahnhauf in Berlin and arrived at the hauptbahnhauf in Munich via the bahn.
Strasse = street, learned that when trying to read a map in German for several days.
Platz = plaza, they have lots of platzs there.
Es tut mir leid = Sorry, learned that just because it’s fun to say, pronounced ssss toot meer lied. Can also think of as “Excuse me I lied!”
It’s amazing how much of a language is picked up by drowning in it for a week.
Off to England.
Gute nacht!
Libby

Day seven of our journey arrived with us feeling more than a little worn down. On Susi’s advice, we had decided to visit Regensburg (as opposed to Nurnburg or Rothenburg), but we decided to get a later start than usual in order to try and recover somewhat. Incredibly we made it to our train 20 minutes early and had time to leisurely find our seats. After an hour and a half ride we made it to Regensburg.
Upon arrival we hopped off the train, and felt a now familiar sensation: A total loss of what to do. Even worse, our go-to man, our source of knowledge in crunch time, our ace in the hole, was of no use to us here. Rick Steves had failed to write about Regensburg.
Seeing there was nothing else to do, we put our tourist ways aside and headed out into the city to do what we do best: wander. Making our way down the main street from the train station our first stop became apparent. Rising above the city were the two largest church spires we had ever seen, done in a fantastic gothic style. This turned out to be the 12th century St. Peter’s Cathedral. This was by far the most interesting church we had visited. It was magnificent but not overdone. Gothic carvings and gargoyles covered the exterior, and the entire church was built in white, stained stones that exuded a sense of age. (Some of this was a show, however; the towers had been added by none other than King Ludwig II in the 19th century). The inside was equally impressive, with stain glass windows that rose for what must have been 60 feet, and the highest vaulted ceiling we had yet seen. The dim interior added to the ancient feel of the place, and not even the construction work being done on the organ could take away from it. Around the interior edge of the building there were the tombs of saints and priests that had served there, set into the floor. Each was covered with a large stone plate that you could walk on (if you so chose), with life-sized images of the deceased carved into them, and grave markers on the wall above. We felt like Indiana Jones, especially while writing notes in the moleskin journal from Deborah. And no matter what we did, we couldn’t quite shake the sense that if we were to step on one of the tombs, spikes would shoot out of the wall, or a large boulder would come rumbling down the center aisle of the church.
When we were finally finished visiting St. Peter’s Cathedral, we were once again slightly at a loss as to what we should do. We felt like we had already seen the most impressive thing in the city, and didn’t have any idea where to go next.
And then Libby got Hungry, and our next destination became exceedingly obvious. We knew that the best place in town to eat was supposedly the old Wurst stand on the Danube river, so we began heading downhill, hoping that eventually we would end up on the waterfront. Sure enough, five minutes later we emerged directly next to the stand. The only problem was that it was packed, and Libby now proclaimed that she couldn’t stomach another bite of sausage anyway. With Libby’s Hunger becoming increasingly insistent, we hurried back into the city looking for a café that wasn’t too crowded. Unfortunately, everything we passed was either packed to the limits, or an ice cream shop. I thought the ice cream shop was a fabulous idea, but with my life increasingly in jeopardy, I thought it best not to mention this. A half hour later, we finally stumbled back to the main square at St. Peter’s Cathedral, where we had seen a small café that looked promising. Sure enough, there was plenty of seating. We sat down, and soon were enjoying our lunch of… currywurst? Apparently Libby’s definition of “not another bite of sausage” was flexible. She was very proud of herself though, as for the first time she managed to order her meal entirely in German by herself.
The Hunger at last satisfied, we carried on. We still didn’t have a good idea of where to go, but we now at least knew where the waterfront and the historic stone bridge across it were. What we really wanted though was a map of the interesting things in the city. Susi to the rescue! We texted her with our dilemma, and five minutes later, we knew that the Alte Rathause (old city hall) had everything we needed: maps, historic sites, English language help, and bathrooms.
Twenty minutes of wandering later, we had our maps and were ready to continue. We went back to the waterfront and crossed the stone bridge to look at the other part of the city. From there, we got some beautiful pictures of the bridge and the water, and got to see part of the park that ran along the river. After a short exploration of this new area, we decided that the final thing we had to see for the day was the castle located at the opposite edge of the city.
The trek to the castle was relatively short, and certainly scenic. Along the way we wound our way through tiny little streets with gorgeous buildings rising on either side, saw several more churches (including a pretty, but very small and obviously newer Catholic church directly next door to the cathedral), and an interesting memorial to the persecuted Jews. When we came to the area surrounding the castle, the first thing we saw were two more churches. These two were especially odd, in that they seemed to share a common wall and entry area. The first, and smaller of the two churches seemed especially old; in fact it seemed more ancient than even the Cathedral we had seen earlier in the day. There were more of the tombs set into the floor of the building, and also into the walls of the entryway outside. The interior of the church had the feel of something well-worn; the floors were cracking (and several of the flagstones were loose) and the pews were completely smooth from use. This was possibly my favorite church of the day. Aside from its age, which made it special all on its own, it was also the least overpowering building we had been in. While still beautiful, like all old Catholic churches, it didn’t have the overdone gilding, or hundreds of paintings covering the walls, or even the massive statuary and towering ceilings of the Cathedral. The church was simple, and you could imagine a small congregation from a thousand years ago worshiping together there.
The next church over was yet another beautiful medieval church. We did not get to see much of it, however, except for a few glimpses inside through the window. All day long we had been seeing men dressed in tuxedos, women in formal dresses, and in particular a girl in an all white dress wandering around the town with cameramen. It all made sense as we saw glimpses of the wedding taking place. It seemed like a pretty posh affair, with a string quartet, a couple of incredible singers, and a guest list that probably topped 500. The fact that they had apparently rented out the cathedral and the car waiting for them outside the reception area was a flower-festooned BMW 7-series was the cherry on top.
Leaving the churches behind us, we finally made our way to the castle Libby had been waiting to see all day. It became obvious that it was more of a palace than a castle, but it still looked very interesting. It also became obvious that it was more closed than open. Oopsie. It turns out that it closed at 5:00 PM, and we had arrived at precisely 5:05 PM. It looked very nice from the outside though.
The castle being closed turned out to be a good thing, as we were both by this point utterly exhausted. We therefore headed back to the train station, this time walking onto the train with a comfortable 10 minutes to spare, and settled in for an hour and a half ride and an early bedtime. The train was extremely packed, and we ended up sitting on the floor in the bike area profusely sweating, but by this point we were beyond caring.

We returned back to Munich in the early evening and walked through the city. We stopped of course for ice cream before making it back to the hotel.

Traveling question of the day: Do Germans get food poisoning more often than we do, or are the US laws perhaps overly strict? The world may never know.
(Perhaps the German intestines ‘o steel play a factor)

Signing off, on the way to England,
Me and her.