London: Continued
The second day, we got up (fairly) early, and decided to start off our London experience by taking one of those bus tour guide trips. The original plan was to get off whatever stops interested us on the way, but we ended up more or less following the whole tour in one go.
We DID get off at Victoria Station to look up some info, but then when we got back on, there was another tour guide who was just *horrible.* "These buildings are privately owned, and they are owned under the condition that they all be painted the same color, and thus they are all the same color, because... they are... privately owned." Ugh. We couldn't bear listening to her, and so also got off on the next stop, Buckingham Palace, where we were then held hostage by needy kids.
Well, not the kids themselves, but by the whole train of cars that was driving them around London for some reason (These kids are underpriviledged and probably ill-schooled! Instead of giving them money for food or education, let's give them a ride around London!). The cars pulled in around Buckingham Palace, and blocked off all means of exit for half an hour.
After some mishaps and some further sight-seeing, we got back on our bus, to find our beloved original tour guide there again. We stayed with him until we had to leave to take a boat cruise, but when we came back, the new guide was very good too, so all was well. (Btw--the boat cruise had the corniest, best commentary tape ever, complete with cheezy sound effects and bad jokes. I recommend it highly! Also, London is gorgeous from the water.)
After the tour finished, we were dropped off on Picadilly, and (if I remember correctly) started looking around for the Oscar Wilde monument. The tour guides told us where to go, and we went, with the intention of taking photos.
Or rather, I had the intention of taking a photo or two or five. My sister had the intention of taking very specific photos with no-one around the memorial, which proved impossible, as the street it was on was very busy. Nevertheless, we did our best, and ended up circling the area the whole night in the attempt to find the street empty.
After our first luckless attempt to wait the crowd out, we decided to go do something else while it was still light, and come back later. We walked up to the Thames, and since Anna had mentioned wanting to go on the London Eye, we went there. The London Eye (a huge Ferris wheel) was located right next to the Tate Modern museum, and some great Dali sculptures. I was unimpressed by most of Tate Modern, but the sculptures I really liked. I'm not sure if they were a permanent display, or only there to commemorate Dali for a brief time, but they were quite stunning. I'm surprised how well Dali's dream-reality images lend themselves to statuary.
The London Eye itself was nice, and afforded a good view of London from above, but generally wasn't too thrilling. After coming down, we made another trip back to the Oscar Wilde Memorial, but it was still too busy there, only now dark as well. While waiting between our rounds of picture-taking, we had tea in the Sherlock Holmes cafe, which had exactly the kind of kitsch (not to mention pudding) I like.
We were also, during one of the picture-taking sessions, approached by some evil homeless guy, who pointed at the memorial menacingly and demanded if we knew that Oscar Wilde "was a pedophile, disgusting, he did it with little boys." Specifically, the conversation ensued somewhat like this:
Evil Homeless Guy: "That man--do you know that man there?"
Anna: ". . .Not personally."
EHG: "Do you know that man?"
Anna: "I'm familiar with his work."
EHG: "He was a pedophile, that man. He slept with children. He was a pedophile."
Anna: (going into a haughty faux-British accent): "No, no, he was a homosexual. It's entirely different."
EHG: (really repeating himself now): "He was a pedophile. He slept with little boys."
At this point, I was going to step in, but realized that trying to actually engage in a discussion here was useless. So instead, I smiled at the man brighly and replied, "Nope, only grown men!"
And with another sunshiny smile, took my sister by the arm and walked off.
After that, it was pretty late, but after dropping by the Picadilly Tower Records, we decided that since we were in the neighborhood anyway, we would try to find Heddon Street. Then followed a brief interlude where we got somewhat lost, and I kept telling my sister it must be on the other side of Regent St, but she insisted she was reading the map correctly. We went by lonely streets lined by closed stores; dimly lit bars; and narrow, furtive sidestreets. At one point, we stumbled out in front of a club, which was all lit up in fluorescently bright pink and purple, with black limos pulling up to the doors and flashy young things all around. Since we came to it from a lightless, empty alleyway, this sudden incongrous sight impressed me with an almost surrealistic quality. It felt somewhat like being in a dream, and wandering about a landscape over which you had no control, and where you didn't belong. Anyway, under the fuchsia lights, we checked the map again, and it turned out I was right after all--it was on the other side of the street, and very close to our initial starting point. We had wasted 45 minutes wandering about in scary dark alleys, but at length we found it. It was a bit late, but that was only good, since the Ziggy pictures were taken at night anyway. (For those not in the know, Heddon St. is the site featured on Bowie's "Ziggy Stardust" album cover.)
Being the good little Bowie fans we are, we took the obligatory Look-I'm-Where-Ziggy-was! photos, much to the befuddlement of the proprietors of a restaurant on that street, who had no idea what we were up to. They were sweet though, and offered to take pictures for us, but we declined.
An interesting fact of that evening was that, while the K. West steet sign was gone from the spot (we later met someone who told us who took it and when), and other changes had taken place, what remained was the trash. On the cover, Bowie stands amidst a pile of cardboard boxes tossed to the side of the street. There were no boxes, but right in that exact spot, there were trash bags! I found that greatly amusing.
(see here for photo: http://www.teenagewildlife.com/Interact/cp/files/1-314255-zigg3.jpg
and here for actual album cover:http://www.5years.com/largcov.htm
We got the angle of the shot wrong, sadly.)
There was also the phonebooth, though with a modern phone. Too bad. People had scrawled little messages on the booth and on the walls around it, such as "Ziggy Lives!" and others in that vein.
We took our photos, and went home happy, managing to make it to our hostel precisely at midnight. The Ziggy photoshoot was actually one of the best/most fun experiences we had in London. Which sounds strange, because all we did was take a pictures for half an hour in some small street next to a restaurant and a phone booth. But it was great fun nevertheless.
We DID get off at Victoria Station to look up some info, but then when we got back on, there was another tour guide who was just *horrible.* "These buildings are privately owned, and they are owned under the condition that they all be painted the same color, and thus they are all the same color, because... they are... privately owned." Ugh. We couldn't bear listening to her, and so also got off on the next stop, Buckingham Palace, where we were then held hostage by needy kids.
Well, not the kids themselves, but by the whole train of cars that was driving them around London for some reason (These kids are underpriviledged and probably ill-schooled! Instead of giving them money for food or education, let's give them a ride around London!). The cars pulled in around Buckingham Palace, and blocked off all means of exit for half an hour.
After some mishaps and some further sight-seeing, we got back on our bus, to find our beloved original tour guide there again. We stayed with him until we had to leave to take a boat cruise, but when we came back, the new guide was very good too, so all was well. (Btw--the boat cruise had the corniest, best commentary tape ever, complete with cheezy sound effects and bad jokes. I recommend it highly! Also, London is gorgeous from the water.)
After the tour finished, we were dropped off on Picadilly, and (if I remember correctly) started looking around for the Oscar Wilde monument. The tour guides told us where to go, and we went, with the intention of taking photos.
Or rather, I had the intention of taking a photo or two or five. My sister had the intention of taking very specific photos with no-one around the memorial, which proved impossible, as the street it was on was very busy. Nevertheless, we did our best, and ended up circling the area the whole night in the attempt to find the street empty.
After our first luckless attempt to wait the crowd out, we decided to go do something else while it was still light, and come back later. We walked up to the Thames, and since Anna had mentioned wanting to go on the London Eye, we went there. The London Eye (a huge Ferris wheel) was located right next to the Tate Modern museum, and some great Dali sculptures. I was unimpressed by most of Tate Modern, but the sculptures I really liked. I'm not sure if they were a permanent display, or only there to commemorate Dali for a brief time, but they were quite stunning. I'm surprised how well Dali's dream-reality images lend themselves to statuary.
The London Eye itself was nice, and afforded a good view of London from above, but generally wasn't too thrilling. After coming down, we made another trip back to the Oscar Wilde Memorial, but it was still too busy there, only now dark as well. While waiting between our rounds of picture-taking, we had tea in the Sherlock Holmes cafe, which had exactly the kind of kitsch (not to mention pudding) I like.
We were also, during one of the picture-taking sessions, approached by some evil homeless guy, who pointed at the memorial menacingly and demanded if we knew that Oscar Wilde "was a pedophile, disgusting, he did it with little boys." Specifically, the conversation ensued somewhat like this:
Evil Homeless Guy: "That man--do you know that man there?"
Anna: ". . .Not personally."
EHG: "Do you know that man?"
Anna: "I'm familiar with his work."
EHG: "He was a pedophile, that man. He slept with children. He was a pedophile."
Anna: (going into a haughty faux-British accent): "No, no, he was a homosexual. It's entirely different."
EHG: (really repeating himself now): "He was a pedophile. He slept with little boys."
At this point, I was going to step in, but realized that trying to actually engage in a discussion here was useless. So instead, I smiled at the man brighly and replied, "Nope, only grown men!"
And with another sunshiny smile, took my sister by the arm and walked off.
After that, it was pretty late, but after dropping by the Picadilly Tower Records, we decided that since we were in the neighborhood anyway, we would try to find Heddon Street. Then followed a brief interlude where we got somewhat lost, and I kept telling my sister it must be on the other side of Regent St, but she insisted she was reading the map correctly. We went by lonely streets lined by closed stores; dimly lit bars; and narrow, furtive sidestreets. At one point, we stumbled out in front of a club, which was all lit up in fluorescently bright pink and purple, with black limos pulling up to the doors and flashy young things all around. Since we came to it from a lightless, empty alleyway, this sudden incongrous sight impressed me with an almost surrealistic quality. It felt somewhat like being in a dream, and wandering about a landscape over which you had no control, and where you didn't belong. Anyway, under the fuchsia lights, we checked the map again, and it turned out I was right after all--it was on the other side of the street, and very close to our initial starting point. We had wasted 45 minutes wandering about in scary dark alleys, but at length we found it. It was a bit late, but that was only good, since the Ziggy pictures were taken at night anyway. (For those not in the know, Heddon St. is the site featured on Bowie's "Ziggy Stardust" album cover.)
Being the good little Bowie fans we are, we took the obligatory Look-I'm-Where-Ziggy-was! photos, much to the befuddlement of the proprietors of a restaurant on that street, who had no idea what we were up to. They were sweet though, and offered to take pictures for us, but we declined.
An interesting fact of that evening was that, while the K. West steet sign was gone from the spot (we later met someone who told us who took it and when), and other changes had taken place, what remained was the trash. On the cover, Bowie stands amidst a pile of cardboard boxes tossed to the side of the street. There were no boxes, but right in that exact spot, there were trash bags! I found that greatly amusing.
(see here for photo: http://www.teenagewildlife.com/Interact/cp/files/1-314255-zigg3.jpg
and here for actual album cover:http://www.5years.com/largcov.htm
We got the angle of the shot wrong, sadly.)
There was also the phonebooth, though with a modern phone. Too bad. People had scrawled little messages on the booth and on the walls around it, such as "Ziggy Lives!" and others in that vein.
We took our photos, and went home happy, managing to make it to our hostel precisely at midnight. The Ziggy photoshoot was actually one of the best/most fun experiences we had in London. Which sounds strange, because all we did was take a pictures for half an hour in some small street next to a restaurant and a phone booth. But it was great fun nevertheless.