London Hauling

Rule #232 in Saint Paul's Primer For The Aspiring Blogger (679 pages FL Publishing 2003) is simple:

Never promise nuthin' to no one.

But despite Saint Paul's best efforts to hammer this point into my head-including actually clonking me over the head with his weighty tome on more than one occasion- I still haven't been able to resist the urge to tease a forthcoming post once in a while.

Such was the case when I returned from my journey to Iceland and London some time ago and promised that posts on both subjects were "just around the corner". After kicking out a summary of my stay in Iceland within a week, I have had a hard go finding the time for London, a fact that more than a few e-mailers have reminded me of.

But a promise is a promise and I certainly don't want to end up being nominated for any more awards for failing to follow up. So without further adieu, I give you my quick and dirty observations on London.

London is an easy city for the tourist. Great public transportation, especially the Underground, and a plethora of must see sites make it possible to take it a great deal in a short period of time and still leave you wishing for more time. We spent four full days in the city. And by full I mean full I mean chock full of running around trying to see as much as possible. It wasn't a restful vacation but it definitely was an educational and fun one.

Our base of operations was the London Bridge Hotel, which, as the name implies, was in the shadows of London Bridge on the south side of the River Thames. Well, it would have been in the shadows if London Bridge wasn't the least impressive bridge spanning the Thames. If you tried to design a less attractive, duller bridge you'd be hard pressed. Great name, lousy structure. For most people the image that comes to mind when they hear London Bridge is actually that of the nearby Tower Bridge, which is a much more charming site.

We were a stones throw from a tube station, across the street from Southwark Cathedral , and a short walk from the restored Globe Theater, the Modern Tate art museum, as well as scores of pubs and restaurants. A bit more walking brought us within range of the Tower of London, St. Paul's, and the Monument (erected to commemorate the great fire of 1666).

Another impressive feature of London was the food. Not the quality mind you, but rather the quantity. Actually I found the poor reputation for English food to be rather undeserved. It's certainly no worse and, for my money, was usually better than your typical German fare. And the portions were certainly hearty. Americans are often castigated for our penchant for devouring large platters of grub, but the Brits can scarf with the best of them. When we stopped off for lunch at a pub, it was not unusual to see a man or woman shovel a plate of bangers and mash into their gullet and wash it down with a pint of ale. For those of you unfamiliar with the delicacy, bangers and mash consists of three sausages large enough to make a Packer fan drool, laid out on a bed of mashed potatoes, and covered with gravy. A meal that Homer Simpson could appreciate. Mmmm....bangers and mash. But the folks enjoying this culinary delight were not your Joe Six Pack or Sally House Coat types. They were well-dressed office workers on their lunch break. And they weren't morbidly obese either. Which seems strange until you consider...

The pace of the city. London is a city in perpetual motion. Rapid perpetual motion. My wife and I walk quite a bit. And since we reside in Northern climes we tend to stroll briskly. But compared to your average Londoner we looked like a couple of good ol' Georgia boys sauntering off to the nearby fishing hole. London at heart is a city of commerce and these people meant business when it came to getting about. Time is money, after all I guess. But the rush was not rude as it often is in large cities like New York. My wife noticed that when people run over you in London, at least they pause for a quick apology.

What was particularly impressive about the hustling and bustling was the women clad in natty business attire and high heels who moved as if they were wearing track shoes. Black boots were extremely popular with that set. In fact black was the color of choice for the Londoners we came across. Black coats, black suits, black skirts, black pants, black shoes, black umbrellas, etc., etc.

We arrived in London just a week after Bush's state visit and accompanying protests and were curious to see what the mood would be on the war in Iraq. From what we could tell it was mostly a non-issue. Other than a bit of fallout from Bush's visit (a spike in crime was reported because police resources were diverted) neither the war, nor those who opposed it merited more than brief mentions on the nightly news. Blair's proposal to raise tuition for college students and discussions on traffic restrictions in downtown London received far more attention. We were a bit surprised since the Iraq war was (and still is) front-page news in the United States. One of the reasons may be that...

The British have sent troops to fight and die in almost as many areas of the globe since the Second World War as the United States. Korea, Suez, Yemen, Malaysia, Northern Ireland, the Falklands, the Gulf War, the Balkans, as well as various small deployments to former colonies to maintain order. In some ways maybe they're more accustomed to it, and understand that casualties are part of the price that has to be paid.

And the concept of sacrifice is one that the British certainly can appreciate. At the marvelous Imperial War Museum (we spent five hours-I could have spent five days), among the many impressive exhibits, we discovered a database that listed the names of all the British and Commonwealth troops killed in the Great War and where they fell. Nearly a million dead all told. Although there are a few streets in London that bear my surname, it is not exactly commonplace. And yet when we entered it into the database and started reading the list of those who shared the name, we stopped after more than twenty.

Of course when you think of London and war the first name that comes to mind is Churchill. And I cannot recommend highly enough that you take in the Cabinet War Rooms when visiting the city. It is a fascinating glimpse at how Churchill and his staff spent much of the Second World War. And within a year or two, a long overdue museum devoted exclusively to Churchill is scheduled to open.

For me one of the great appeals of London is the history and tradition. You can almost smell it in the air and you feel it everywhere. At times you see an interesting overlap from the past to present, such as the Tower Guard and the 41 gun salute to mark the opening of Parliament. Modern weaponry mixes with ritual tradition.

I was warned before our trip to watch out for the large number of foreigners in London. One group in particular was mentioned as a particularly odious presence according to this source. And the tip was well warranted. For they indeed were everywhere.

I speak of course of the French. They, school children especially, swarmed over the tourist sites. All kids are somewhat obnoxious in groups, but these croissant chowing children seemed especially rude. The Chunnel apparently makes London an easy day trip for the French and it is not a positive development.

My worries that these continental interlopers might have a negative impact on the independent spirit of the Brits and endanger the special Anglo-American relationship were somewhat eased when I recalled that many of the war monuments we had visited in London were either dedicated to:

A. Celebrations of past British military victories over the French

B. Thanking the United States for standing by their side in the past

The British would do well to remember who their true friends were and still are. As long as they don't forget to Mind the French, the Brits will be allright.