Tag: Changing of the Guard

2006 - London

Wednesday, August 2, 2006

by Deborah GuberLeave a Comment on Wednesday, August 2, 2006

After a quick breakfast of fresh-squeezed orange juice and an almond croissant at the Patisserie on Gloucester Road, I tube over to Green Park to take pictures of Buckingham Palace, and then walk along the Mall through Admiralty Arch into Trafalgar Square. Somewhere along the way I realize just how much I appreciate the British aesthetic. Buses should be red and taxis should be black. Why do we in America not know this?

I am thoroughly impressed by the hustle and bustle of Trafalgar Square and am delighted to find Old Nelson fresh and clean and free of scaffolding. The view down Whitehall towards Big Ben is as wonderful as my guidebook claims. I snap more pictures and begin to wonder how long the 1 GB storage card in my camera is going to hold out at this rate. I grab my only real bargain of the entire trip from a nearby convenience store—a 40p bottle of water—and retrace my steps back to Horseguards Parade for the changing of the Queen’s Life Guard at 11:00 AM. The crowd is small, the horses and their riders lovely, and the action nearly imperceptible. People wait, then murmur and shrug, not quite sure if what they saw was what they were supposed to see, and then disperse.

I head back to Trafalgar Square and call my family on the cell phone and tell them it is time to do the “webcam thing.” This I discovered some months ago and resolved to stand in the square in view of the camera while I waved to the folks back home, the picture of which they would save on their computer for posterity. And so here I am, a grainy, indistinct mass standing in the center of a traffic island in Trafalgar Square, half a world away. We all think this is cool.

I head to the National Portrait Gallery and rent an audioguide tour, which takes me through a lively tour of England’s Kings and Queens. Then, I walk to the nearby church of St. Martin-in-the Fields for lunch at their Café in the Crypt. It sounds a bit strange to me and I pause to think about the tombs of those on which I trod, but alas I am hungry and head quickly for the food—a mushroom tart and cucumber salad.

In the afternoon, I rent another audioguide, this time for the National Gallery. This one is much less interesting, but the art is impressive all the same. On leaving Trafalgar Square, I walk up Charing Cross Road and buy my nephew the latest Harry Potter book in paperback, then across into Covent Garden for dinner. There is a “Punch and Judy” show and street performers pretending to be statues—quite successfully! I drop 50p into a hat and one of them springs to life and blows me a kiss. I enjoy a traditional Cornish pasty and chips al fresco along with a single bottle of diet Coke, and find myself missing the unlimited refills we enjoy in the states.

By 8:00 PM I feel completely knackered, but I am motivated to “power through” by late hours at the Victoria & Albert Museum near my hotel. Some of the galleries are closed, but the 15th and 16th century stained glass windows are a thing of beauty. I am glad I came.

2006 - London

Monday, August 7, 2006

by Deborah GuberLeave a Comment on Monday, August 7, 2006

An offer of free admission on Mondays means that I start my day with a brief tour of the Courtauld Gallery, where I see Van Gogh’s famous self-portrait with a bandaged ear.  Then, because I missed the Changing of the Guard at WindsorCastle, I decide to brave it at BuckinghamPalace.  Sort of.  Instead of planting myself in front of the palace gates like other mere mortals, I arrive late and stand instead by the Wellington Barracks.  The band is playing an eclectic mix of music, from Sousa marches to Puccini’s “Nessun Dorma,” and even throw in a few pop songs.  I like it.  Who ever said the Brits were stuffy?  There is a highly evolved sense of humor here.   

After the guard is inspected, I follow them as they parade toward BuckinghamPalace, then pause for a picnic lunch in St. James’s Park, which I bought earlier at a Prêt a Manger.  By the time I finish eating, the old guard leaving the palace provides another nice photo opportunity.  Perhaps I missed the major action in front of the palace (although given my experience with the Queen’s Life Guard on Wednesday, I am not so sure about that) but it is a pleasing compromise given the crowds.  

In the afternoon, I head to the British Museumto see the Elgin Marbles and the Rosetta Stone, but enjoy the Enlightenment exhibit in the King’s Library best of all.   

I made reservations long ago for afternoon tea at the Ritz at 5:30 PM.  I arrive early enough to wander through the Burlington Arcade first, followed by a turn through Fortnum & Mason, which I like much better than Harrods.  I am just in time to see their mechanical clock spring into action at the top of the hour.   

Tea at the Ritz is sublime.  I am a convert, now convinced that tea bags are the root of all evil.  The sandwiches are pretty good, too.  The clotted cream is not quite what I expected (less sweet), but a very nice accompaniment to the scones and jam nevertheless.  I chat with two lovely English ladies seated at the table next to mine, Judy and Gill, and take a picture for them.  It is their first visit to the Ritz, too, in honor of Gill’s birthday.   

Following tea, I tube to Leicester Square and walk to the Prince Edward theatre for an evening performance of “Mary Poppins.” I sit in the Orchestra Stalls, Row K, and have a fabulous view of the stage.  It is costing me a small fortune, but thankfully it is worth every pence!  The special effects are astounding.  How did they do that?  Just as appealing to me is the emotional range of the show.  It is much deeper and more satisfying than the Walt Disney movie, especially in the characterization of the adult actors.  When a statue in the park named Nelius comes alive by magic, I am reminded of the street performers in Covent Garden.  I love every minute of it, especially the choreography of “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” which, needless to say, is far more ambitious than what the Village People did to spell Y-M-C-A back in the 70s. On my feet, I join the rest of audience in applauding wildly at the end.