It's London Baby!

So I went to London for a few days this past weekend. Now, understand, I adore that city. If I could, I would move there right now. London is vibrant in a way that LA never could be; it has the same energy as NY, but with a much deeper sense of history and pomp and circumstance.

Unfortunately, I went to London this time around with a friend, let's just call him David. David, while he's a very very good friend of mine, is someone I should never ever travel with. I think that from now on when someone says "I'm not that into museums" it means "As soon as I walk in, I will want to walk out. I will scoff at everything in the museum and insult the valuable objects contained therein." I think that will help me in the future. I also realized that when someone says "I snore" I should interpret it as, "When I am asleep the sounds that come out of my mouth will keep you awake all night. Chainsaws, pneumatic drills, and a large roaring lion have nothing on me. The walls will vibrate, the floor will shake, and you will remain sleepless till sunrise." That will also help me in the future.

Thing is that I did have a great time when I wasn't trying to sleep.

In a very sort of old tyme move, I saw "The Pirates of Penzance" at the Savoy Theatre. What would be better than watching a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta than watching a G&S operetta performed in a theatre that was built especially for them. Granted, the first performance of "Pirates" was in a little beach town, but the Savoy is still the home of Messrs. Gilbert and Sullivan, and I did sense a sort of historical communion that night.

I also went to high tea at a very lovely hotel, The Landmark London. Not the same as the Ritz or Claridges, but a very grand hotel, all marble and sweeping staircases. The tea itself was faboo, with impeccable service and some rather delish strawberries and fresh cream. Of course some of the conversation was incendiary; my friend spent a good hour telling me how the Ashkenaz rabbis need to be "educated" about how what they're doing isn't really Judaism. Rather than really arguing, I just tried to point out how that isn't the best way of promoting understanding. More on the Ashkenaz/Sephardic problem at a later date though...

Sunday, after a night of sleeplessness, I wandered around Hyde Park and other areas, with a British friend. He was much more accommodating about doing "cultural" things and I got to see Apsley House, the domicile of the Duke of Wellington. The house itself was rather lovely, full of wonderful artwork and all the gifts of china and silver he received for stopping Napoleon. And the death masks themselves were a treat; not necessarily a delightful one, but a visual treat nonetheless.

Sunday evening was a blast-we had dinner at this Lebanese restaurant, Levant. The entryway leads to a long stairwell, the stairs covered in rose-petals and the hall full of incense. The restaurant itself is almost like the cave of a sultan, with low couches smothered in silk pillows, low brass tables and leather stools. The food was pretty good and they had all these nifty Middle-Eastern flavored cocktails. My friend's cucumber infused vodka, however, was a bit earthy for my tastes.

Monday morning brought the great expenditure of money in the name of the goddess Make-up. They could see me coming a mile away, I swear. But I do believe that the red and hot pink eyeshadows were more than necessary. And no, I'm not a hooker. I just like their makeup.

The flights, well they deserve a separate post to themselves, but suffice it to say now, that British Airways has a ways to go before I start recommending them to my family and friends. Who knew they were such an employer of the French??

I think I just need to schedule another trip to the UK to take the nasty taste of this one out of my mouth. When two out of four days of your trip are agony, you just need another one to replace it.

I'm off to look for flights....