well, my working weekend is almost over--thank heavens. yesterday was another rough day. though i managed not to get yelled at again, there were a bunch of little things that just weren’t quite right. as a guest, i can see why someone would love this place. as a meeting planner, i will never come here again unless ordered too.
as a guest, the highlight of the weekend was slipping away yesterday for a hot stone massage. it’s been years since i’ve had a (professional) massage and my recollection was that they are either painful or do nothing. but what the hey, it’s not my dime, right? i’ve been hearing and reading about hot stone massages for some time now, and if i was going to get a massage, it was the only choice. basically it is a swedish massage that incorporates the use of hot basalt stones. the theory is that the heat relaxes the muscles so that the massage can better penetrate, without hurting.
they place large stones in key positions on your body, on your forehead, under your hands, and several following the line between the center of your chest to your naval. then they proceed with the swedish, using the stones as tools to knead and massage. simply put, it was incredible. my mind has definitely been changed about massages, but i don’t know that i will ever go back to just a regular ol’ swedish again!
just a few more hours of meetings today before the four hour bus ride home, and getting home is going to be heaven.
in the meantime, on to london, day 4.
sunday morning was by far the hardest to roll out of bed. the hotel had a unique wake-up call system. the phone would ring, and an automated voice would tell you this was your wake up call, blah blah blah, then you can either press to get another one in ten minutes, or just hang up. a few minutes later a live person would call to ask if you had gotten your wake up call. now, if you chose the button that would give you ten more minutes, the phone would ring again and the process repeat. i so did not want to roll out of bed that morning, that i kept trying to fool the system, but realized that the automated wake up call required some sort of verbal response. if you just hung it up, it would immediately call back. smart technology.
several wake up calls later, i finally decided we should probably get out of bed.
we had the morning to kill before heading to church and meeting up with deb’s friend justin, and it seemed like the perfect time to go visit the british museum. we knew we’d be a little crunched for time, but since my only real interest was the rosetta stone and the elgin marbles, i figured we would be okay.
it was a gray day, raining on and off, though never very heavily, and we made our way by underground to the museum.
as we paused to ask strangers to take a photo of us outside the museum trip, their british accents, and their pleasant willingness to oblige, had deb and i commenting yet again how courteous the brits are, as a culture. both knowing that if we were in our home cities trying to enjoy an afternoon at the museum, we may have acquiesced but would have been annoyed. this experience was indicative of the entire trip, really. we found the locals to be extremely well-mannered, though not stuffy-- very friendly, and very helpful. whether it was someone helping with directions, or tube employee helping to deal with a faulty card, there was never any impatience or the slightest hint of annoyance.
proceeding on through the museum doors, we were immediately struck with the architecture. the great courtyard, which is two square acres, used to be an open air courtyard sitting between the two sides of the museum (although i’m not sure if it was a museum then). the courtyard is now covered with a stunning roof that still allows for a plethora of light. i think it’s safe to say that neither of us had ever seen anything quite like it.
The courtyard was one of the lost spaces of London, hidden from public view since 1857. The Great Court has increased public space in the Museum by forty per cent, allowing visitors to move freely around the Main floor for the first time in 150 years. Once in the Great Court, visitors can choose from a number points of entry into the galleries. There is now direct access west into the Egyptian Sculpture Gallery, east into the King's Library and north into the new Welcome Gallery of Ethnography. Inside the courtyard itself, two monumental staircases encircle the drum of the Reading Room and lead to the Joseph Hotung Great Court Gallery, and the Court Restaurant. From the restaurant level a bridge link takes visitors into the upper galleries of the Museum.
after several minutes of wonder and awe, we moved on towards the two priorities for the morning--the rosetta stone first and foremost. my interest in this probably goes back to my earlier confession that history possesses a certain amount of romance to me, and this tablet is no exception. i’m sure most of you have heard of the rosetta stone, but for those who may not know what it actually is, it’s a stone, that was found in rosetta.
☺ okay, really, it is an ancient slab of stone inscribed with the same passage of writing in two egyptian language scripts and in classical greek. it’s origin dates back to 196 BC, and it was discovered by the french in 1799. translating the stone yielded a guide of sorts, which assisted in understanding many previously undecipherable examples of hieroglyphic writing. basically, it was a key to unlock previously locked translation barriers.
and seeing the stone was no disappointment. deb, who i think had been curious as to what the fascination with a piece of rock was, commented that it was ‘way cooler’ than she had expected. i have to agree, even though my expectations were higher. yes, it is just a big piece of stone with carvings i don’t understand, but the writings are so carefully inscribed, and the knowledge of the years it has seen make it difficult to remain unimpressed.
following the rosetta stone, we were on to the elgin marbles, which, fortunately--due to our time constraints--were in the same wing. the elgin marbles, also referred to as the parthenon marbles, include a large collection of sculptures brought to britain from the parthenon.
their ownership is highly controversial, as some say that thomas bruce, the 7th earl of elgin, had no right to remove them. the greeks obviously want them back. and so it goes. but until they get that worked out, they are on display at the museum. wandering through the halls deb and i could not help but be excited about future trips (as of yet unplanned) to italy and greece.
we were running short on time, which in the end was a great disappointment. though there were only two
must sees, as we made our way towards the exit, it was clear there was much more i
should see here. we paused for a few minutes before departing to gawk at the reading room in the center of the great courtyard. it is basically a
giant round library. i’ve seen movies and heard tell of libraries like this, but a part of me must have doubted their existence, because it was an absolute shock to the senses to see all those books gathered in one place. unfortunately, pictures can not accurately portray the size, but trust me, it was huge.
eventually, we pulled ourselves together and headed back to the hotel to get ready for church. we had planned to go all along, as it is always fun to visit other wards, but had learned the night before from matthew that this is the only singles ward in europe. so our curiosity was peeked even further.
we underestimated the necessary travel time and were late arriving. as we waited for the sacrament to finish, deb’s friend justin arrived, and greetings were exchanged before entering the chapel for the remainder of the meeting. the congregation was probably about 150 people or so, which given that it is the only singles ward, was a tad surprising. it was a reminder that no matter how much we complain about the lack of dating options where we are, we should in fact be grateful.
there was an american speaker and two english ones, and though i’m still not entirely sure what the unifying theme was, they were good talks.
after church, deb said hello to a few people who had spent time in new york at one point or another, and though we weren’t really sure how much time justin had planned to spend with us, he was ready to head back to the hotel with us to change, and do some meandering.
another tidbit we had learned from matthew the night before was that westminster abbey holds organ recitals every sunday evening, which are open to the public. since we had missed ‘visiting hours’ the day before, this seemed like the perfect opportunity to see the cathedral.
we stopped for a quick bite to eat, knowing that we would be having a larger dinner later on, and headed on towards our goal. when we arrived, we came upon the same phone booth we had taken photos in the day before--which had been lost on my wiped memory card. it seemed only natural to try again, and thanks to justin’s long arms, we were able to get some fun self-portraits
at the abbey we could not find any information about the recital, so we entered the gift shop in hope of getting some. while there, we ran into an acquaintance of justin’s , who ironically, he had been talking about only an hour before. an attorney from boston, and england transplant of about a year and a half, he was there with his visiting sister for the organ recital. the merry bunch waited in the queue until we were allowed in, and found the setting to be absolutely stunning.
there were four organ pieces, the first and last of which were not that pleasant. but the middle two were absolutely incredible. i was so grateful that matthew had told us of this unique experience!
after westminster abbey, we had some time to kill, before justin’s friend ian met us for dinner. i could tell that justin was a bit at a loss, since it was clear that we had covered a lot of ground during our time there. it was sunday night and most things were closed, and it was obvious that he wasn’t quite sure what to do with us. in my head, i was running through the list of activities i had compiled, and struck on the perfect one. abbey road. it’s just a road after all--it would be open, and i really did want to see it. he loved that idea and said that he had a friend nearby who was having some people over, so we could make a quick stop in there as well.
during the longish tube ride to st. john’s wood, justin was a cornucopia of information. when passing a subway performer who was extremely talented, i recalled that the day before there had been an incredible violinist performing as well. he told us that there used to be so many performers that they all clashed with each other, so the government decided to paint little arcs or ‘stages’ to designate performance areas, and allow people to sign up for time slots. if you are performing in a station, it must be under those circumstances. i thought that was quite brilliant actually, and from what i had heard, these ‘performers’ had serious talent.
we also learned that they are starting to enclose the tube tracks because of too many jumpers. the stations that have not yet been enclosed have suicide trenches dug between the racks, so if you want to kill yourself, you have to lay down on one of the actual tracks.
he told us about the man who died in his flat, and about a really incredible sounding play we were bummed not to have seen. basically, we picked up a lot of random interesting information from him. every once in awhile he would say something, and i would have to ask him what he meant. i have forgotten many of them, but i do remember he used the term ‘round the houses’ to mean the opposite of getting to the point. i was also hihgly amused to learn that they often refer to regular coke as 'full fat'. this journey to abbey road had turned into quite the learning experience!
when we arrived at the crosswalk of fame, justin looked at me and said ‘we’re here. is this what you expected?’
it was. however, what i didn’t expect was how busy the street would be. there were flashing lights on either side of the crosswalk, which supposedly means that cars have to stop if you want to cross. but i admit, i was slightly embarrassed about forcing cars, no doubt carrying locals, to stop, while we attempted to get the abbey road photo. it was made even more difficult by the fact that deb had never seen the cover. justin was doing his best to direct, and being a total sport, but eventually we all gave up.
we headed around the corner to his friends house. they were members of the singles ward, and when we arrived it appeared that the rest of the ward was visiting. justin was as surprised as we were. it was a bit overwhelming--i’ll admit it. it’s difficult enough walking into a party where you don’t know anybody when it’s your turf. but when it’s someone else’s, there is a certain protective defensive thing that happens--especially with the girls.
but, we made the best of it. i met a girl from british columbia which reminded me of something i had read recently. apparently there is such a problem with public drunken urination at night in vancouver, that they are installing public urinals. these urinals are at street level, and completely innocuous during the day, but at night rise up out of the ground. there are no doors, so when i say public, i mean public. i guess they figure that if you are going to pee in public anyway, it’s better than on the street.
as i was having this conversation with bc girl, justin commented that they have them in london. i was shocked. in all of wandering time in london, deb and i had not seen one. or maybe we had, and it did not occur to us what we were really looking at.
we mingled a bit more and i ended up in a conversation with the hostess, louise. i immediately took to her, and all of the sudden felt sad that we would not have more time there. but ian had arrived and it was time to head out for dinner.
with a couple more in tow, we tried abbey road again. we were terrible at taking direction and the end result was like night and day (no pun intended) from the original.
on the way, as luck would have it, we passed a public urinal! and bless his heart, without prompting, justin popped in so i could snap a picture.
in considering the food options, they decided our best bet was to head to soho. a notoriously gay area of london. though i had been trying to steer the group in another direction, sheer logic landed us at an ‘english’ restaurant. i was afraid of english food, i’ll be honest. and to date we had had some really good food. i didn’t want that spoiled on our last night. as we perused the menu on the door, a young man dressed completely in black and with more hair product than i’ve ever used, came to the step, put one hand on his hip, looked us up and down, waved one finger as if to point out our unworthy appearance(although i felt like we were a fairly attractive group!), and said ‘no.’ i admit it, i was not quite sure what was happening. then he said ‘just kidding.’ in the lispiest, most affected voice i’ve ever heard. it was fabulous! and i can say one thing about our london experience--it certainly was diverse!
contrary to my greatest fear, dinner was awesome. the service was good, the food delicious, and the company was excellent. there is not much more to ask for from an evening as far as i’m concerned!
dinner marked the conclusion of the evening as justin and ian both had work the next day, and it was already late. the four of us walked back to our hotel where we took a couple of parting shots and said our farewells.
what must it be like to lose your companion of 58+ years?
