Hard Boiled Eggs and English Women

Waking up in London: March 31, 2009

There is a nice feeling in waking up to strangeness, in a different bed and room. After contorting myself into and out of the shower, I plod down 3 flights of stairs to the basement for breakfast. I have a few minutes at a table by myself, and I try to learn the lie of the land: white toast, Cornflakes, hot tea, and a single hard boiled egg served in an egg cup. I peel and eat the egg. I eat half a bowl of Cornflakes and a slice of toast. Then, I am joined by 2 elderly women, and I realize that I will, indeed, be forced to converse with strangers. I'm not sure which bothers me more: rattlesnakes or having to talk to strangers in such close quarters. But, the conversation turns out to be bearable, and I learn that the women are in London for a couple of days, that they live in northern England and often travel together. One has an ex-husband, and I never learn about the other. We speak of many things: the music they listened to in the '60s; American soldiers in WWII wooing English girls with nylons and chocolate (the British soldiers were at such a disadvantage); visiting Canadian soldiers because they had eggs, which were uncommon; of Radio Luxemburg, which apparently played music of the '60s before any other station.... We also speak about traveling, of how important it is to get off the beaten path and away from typical tourist attractions, to get lost.... I notice that they do not simply peel and eat their hard boiled egg, but instead use their butter knife to crack a circle around the tip. They then remove that tip and use a spoon to eat the egg, leaving the remainder of the shell unbroken in the cup. Strange habits, these Brits.

The rest of the day seemed very long, no doubt due to my body's confusion about just where and when it was. I wandered and, as prescribed by my breakfast companions, got lost. I also made my way to Westminster Abbey, which was nice but less impressive than the cathedral in Canterbury. Perhaps that Westminster was full of tourists (like me, admittedly), many wandering in large groups, made the experience less than fulfilling. Seeing where such authors as Dickens and Chaucer are entombed, however, was an interesting highlight--Dickens because he is one of my favorite authors, Chaucer because he is, well Chaucer. Many royals and writers are entombed in the Abbey, and in Poets' Corner I finally figure out that not all of the authors with names carved into concrete blocks are actually resting in the area beneath. Rather, only their names and something like "Born in London, buried in India" indicates that because the deceased were British, they deserved a marker in the Abbey. Go figure.
After Westminster I walked through St. James Park, around Buckingham Palace, and up to Soho where I discover that there is indeed a seedy side of London. I had walked through Soho on my previous trip, but on these wanderings I found an area of town similar to nothing I have seen since my days in the navy. This was not the "theater district" that London is known for. But, it is city-spice nonetheless, and I make sure that I take a taste. I also stop again in Covent Garden, and area of shops, street performers, and bustling crowds. And, at some point during the day, I came across an establishment that sells nice cars, like this one:
I discover, also, that after about 8 hours of being on my feet, I am frustrated by being lost most of the time. Try as I might, I cannot seem to navigate well using my map and compass (no, I do not let anyone see me using the compass). Exhausted, I return to my room via foot and underground, picking up for dinner a sandwich at the local Marks & Spencer grocery store.

A dull day, really, but exhausting.

Next time: Doing Battle