Hallow-London Express
Friday 31 October: Wake up MUCH too early to numbly dress, get Meredith up and at ‘em and into the stroller, and make our way through pre-dawn Paris. It’s a 15-minute walk to the Gare du Nord, and we find our way to the Eurostar check-in. At 6 a.m., the place is mobbed – apparently, the Eurostar people aren’t checking anyone in yet. We dutifully find the end of the line, good Americans that we are, and before long we’re moving. Of course, just as we’re getting to the actual check-in point they allow a whole bunch of people to skip ahead of us. On the up side, a friendly staff member sees that we have a child with us and lets us move along quickly.
We’ve barely gotten settled into a group of facing seats in the center of one car when the “doors are closing” announcement is made. Meredith is a bit too excited to sleep, and especially once the sun comes up, we know a nap is out of the question. Fortunately, we had picked up some small games and toys for her at a variety store in our neighborhood, which serve as entertainment for much of the journey. Breakfast helps, too. Bill goes to the dining car and gets us croissants, yogurt, and beverages. Remarkably good croissants, actually!
One of the activities we got for Meredith is a puzzle map of France. She has a similar one of the USA that we left back home, but of course we are much less familiar with the outlines of the regions of France than we are of the 50 states, and there are no dividing lines underneath the pieces to guide us, so we all learned some more about our foster home en route to London. Actually, Bill and Meredith learned a good deal more; I got to doze a bit!
We arrive in London just about on time, make sure to get our passports stamped, and wend our way into the Underground (or Tube) here at Waterloo station. Rather ironic that the trains from France should come to Waterloo, but whatever. Convenient vending machines and good directions from Sarah, coupled with a friendly (English-speaking, of course!) London transit worker get us onto the Northern Line in the right direction. Due to track work (there was a derailment a few days prior), we are forced to change trains anyway, but we get to Golder’s Green with few problems.
The London Underground is clean and quiet. The train platforms themselves seem much smaller than those in NYC and Paris, and the trains themselves are shaped like tubes. Bill had to duck his head getting on and off the trains – they are quite curved! The seats are upholstered and they are divided by arm rests, very comfortable.
We follow Sarah’s walking directions from the bustling station (and bus depot) into a pleasant, leafy, residential neighborhood. She welcomes us warmly, of course – it’s been more than a year since I’ve seen her, much more since Bill has – and helps us unload our stuff from the stroller, etc. Meredith about jumps into her arms, which makes all of us very happy. Sarah has to leave for school (she’s a grad student in counseling psych), but she gives us the lowdown on traveling and lunch options and entrusts us with the only set of keys to her place.
Sarah lives in a quite spacious studio apartment. A full bath, walk-in closet, and well-equipped kitchen are all adjacent to a comfortably-sized main room, which accommodates a desk and chair, futon, coffee table, 2 arm chairs, a dining table with three chairs, an armoir, bookcases, and other assorted stuff. The beauty part, we realize, is that Meredith is the perfect size to sleep in the walk-in closet, which even has a little window. In some respects, this layout is preferable to what we have in Paris. Who would have thought?
After Sarah’s departure, we spend some time deciding where to go. I suggest Picadilly Circus, since it’s central and always hopping, sort of like Times Square. We discuss the fact that there’s no such location in Paris. For all of its beautiful buildings, parks, theaters, and museums, there’s just no “downtown” Paris. Anyway, we get back on the tube and emerge into the crowds, drift around Leicester Square and are treated to a “performance” by the Swiss Bank glockenspiel, which is quite elaborate and plays such favorites as “In Dublin’s Fair City” and “Michelle, ma belle.” (I’m not kidding.) We decided we’re hungry and want to eat fish and chips. We find none. We buy a map. We wander around some more. We end up in Chinatown. There’s a place with a buffet that looks reasonable and good, but the seating is a flight up from the food, which seems like a bad configuration for a 3-year-old. No problem, they say, we have another restaurant.
Don’t know the address, says the proprietor, but it’s right by the Odeon. Can’t miss it.
Thirty minutes later, we finally come across the sister restaurant. We are cranky. There are no seats inside on the main level, says the host, but I can put you downstairs. Same shit, different restaurant. How about if we sit outside? I think, desperate to eat. “If you could just wipe off the chairs, they’re wet…” I say to the host. “Cool down,” he says. “We’ve been trying to find your restaurant for a half-hour,” I say. He waves me off. I cannot for the life of me figure out why. We eat at a tiny Chinese place next door where the staff is very friendly and lovely with Meredith. C’est la guerre, I suppose.
Meredith has been promised ice cream for dessert, and Sarah mentioned the Baskin-Robbins on the main strip near her house, so we tube it back to Golder’s Green for a cone (Mer) and two cups (Mom and Dad) at good ol’ BR. Then it’s back to Sarah’s for a nap. We are sound asleep when she gets back from work, but rise to the occasion, get dressed, put Meredith in her bear outfit, and get ready for Halloween in London!
We take a series of city buses all around town. Sarah knows the bus routes extremely well, and we have by that time purchased all-day transit passes that more than pay for themselves. We see the Thames, its banks alit. Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament, the London Eye (a big ferris-wheel contraption that British Airways put in for the millennium), Picadilly Circus (again), and downtown shopping with the earliest signs of Christmas decoration (Wedgewood’s window features enormous ornaments made from dishes and cutlery – quite beautiful and cleverly done!). We walk across the Golden Jubilee bridge, where Meredith encounters another little girl in costume. This girl wriggles out of her coat to show us that not only is she dressed as a fairy, she also has wings! We are much appreciative. That’s about it as far as costumed people go, apart from the drunk collecting money for the homeless who had vampire teeth and ghost stickers on his cheeks. He approaches us as we’re waiting for one of the buses involved in our tour, and Meredith is initially afraid, but she’s all right once he takes the fake teeth out.
We return to Golder’s Green around 10 p.m., tired and hungry and ready to get those fish and chips. Bill stays to take them away (in London, you take away rather than take out), while Sarah, Meredith and I go home to get into our pyjamas, or to get Meredith into hers, anyway. The fish is extraordinarily good – very fresh, very crispy, very tasty. The chips – England’s answer to frites – are a pale comparison to the French version, but decent nonetheless. After dinner, we get Meredith’s teeth brushed and Aunt Sarah tells her a very long and entertaining bedtime story. We’re bushed, but it’s been a fun day.
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