Them tricksy brits

LONDON BRIDGE IS OUT OF TOWN, MY FAIR LADY

         We walked across the Tower Bridge, but didn’t bother to cross the London Bridge because I’ve already been across the one in Lake Havasu, Arizona. So, been there, done that. From my Arizona London Bridge experience, I already knew that that the original bridge was bought for a couple million dollars by some rich American guy, and then shipped over and reassembled piece by piece in a small city in western Arizona. What I did not know was that the Brits funded their brand new bridge with the money from the sale of the old one. Cunning blokes. I’ve got to give them props for taking advantage of American vanity.

         Another British trick: the Tower of London is not a tower! It’s a historic fortified castle encircled by a lovely sunken lawn that used to be a moat. These guys are so sneaky!

London Bridge #1 in Lake Havasu, Arizona

I’M A VINDA-LOSER

         After that, we met up with Adam (Emma’s boo) and Richard (Emma’s partner in crime) to go get some Indian food on Brick Lane. I had already eaten Fish & Chips at the pub and had eaten awesome homemade bangers & mash that Adam prepared us for lunch. Indian seemed like the logical next step in my exploration of London’s cuisine. 
        Brick Lane is a street that’s crammed with Indian Restaurants on both sides. This means you get to bargain with them about how much you’ll spend on your meal. I suck at bartering, so we elected Richard as our leader and he was able to get us 30% off the menu with 2 free drinks a piece. Not too shabby! All of the menu items are named differently than the Indian restaurants in the United States, so I was pretty lost. I remembered liking the Vindaloo at home, so I tried to get that, but the waiter shook his head and vetoed my order. He said it was too hot. I was a little offended, but I decided to heed his warning and ordered a slightly milder dish. By the end my eyes were watering and my whole head was overheating. France is making me soft. I’m no champion of spicy foods, but I bought Hot Chili sauce here and was extremely disappointed. French cuisine does a lot of things right, but they wouldn’t know spicy if it smacked them in the tastebuds.

REMEMBRANCE

         Sunday it was drizzling and dreary outside, and looking much more like the London that I had been expecting to see. We went to see Westminster Abbey and Big Ben. There was a huge veteran’s parade happening in honor of Remembrance Day and there were hundreds of men and women marching in uniform. Most were around my grandparents’ age (so probably WWII vets). It was moving to see so many people out there in the rain marching or being pushed in wheelchairs. I felt proud that our countries have been together on so many things.

         We started to get really cold so we decided to go into the National Gallery to escape the wind and rain. It was funny entering into such a famous place so casually. We sat on a bench and stared at Botticelli’s Venus and Mars while we regained the feeling in our toes.

PUDDIN’, PAH-STIES AND SUNDAY ROAST

         When we’d had our fill of art, we went to a pub to get a hot drink and play Apples to Apples. The pub was teeming with drunk vets slapping each other on the back and exchanging stories. We got tea and I ordered pudding with sticky toffee. Call me a American, but when I hear pudding, I think JELL-O pudding. Much to my surprise, British pudding has nothing in common with the Cosby stuff. Except for maybe sugar. Those Brits are so tricky! The pudding here was a chocolatey cake with a toffee sauce.

what I thought I was getting:             

                 

And what I got:

Different from what I was expecting, but a pleasant surprise.

         On the way home we stopped at a train station so that I could buy a pastie (pronounced with a short “a” sound like “apple,” not “pay-stie” like those stickers exotic dancers wear). This pastie is like a giant turnover filled with meat. Scrumptious.

         When we got back, Emma and I skyped with Tom Anderson. His sound didn’t work so he just typed to us and mimed things. This was ridiculous, but then again, so are most of our conversations.

         Adam’s parents have a weekly Sunday roast dinner with his whole family. Emma usually goes and so I was invited along and got to try some more homemade british food. It was really tasty and comforting to be surrounded by a family, even though it made me miss my own. After dinner, Adam’s grandpa drove us back in a British car! On the left side of the road! It was whacky.

The next and final installment of the london saga will be up tomorrow.

à demain!