Backpack London: PS, Are You Greek?

My last day in London was fun, but you already read about that. There is one thing I have to mention before I take you on my Roma adventure...

Before I got back on the Tube (I LOVE SUBWAYS) to go to Heathrow, I wandered into the downtown version of Dalia's grocery store to buy rice pudding, as I am now in love with the British delicacy. Then, I went across the street to get another tasty sandwich from EAT, which is like Pret A Manger, but less expensive. If you're a NY person you know from Pret, and if you're not, then, just know that EAT is even better!

When I was in EAT, wearing my sunglasses, a long-sleeved shirt and the ever-present Aurora NorthFaceofStyle, the guy behind the counter asked me a question. (Editorial note: I was also wearing pants and shoes.) I pushed my sunglasses up like a headband, so I could see what he was saying better (I listen with a variety of senses), and he looked at my carefully.

His next words formed a hilarious question: "Are you Greek?"

I couldn't believe it. Is it my eyebrows? My year living in the AEPhi house and the accompanying occasional glitter consumption? Was there an errant bit of red glitter sticking to my face from 2001? Was I shaking some blue and gold sparkles out of my underwear like in 2002? I am pretty sure I don't look Greek, but I was flattered.

Maybe I had some eyemakeup left over from 2003?

Sneak peek of my adventures in the Vatican, but really, I just want to show off my sunglasses-head, Greek look.

First in Petra I get told I look Jordanian. Then, in London, it's Greek. I wonder what nationality guesses I will get when I go on my next adventure?

PS -- It's LEAP DAY! How cool is that? The next time I write anything on a Leap Day (unless I finish my first Rome post before Shabbat), it'll be 2012. I'll be 30. Oh, dear God. 30?! The horror!

Days 4-7: Of Penpal Reunion and High-End Shopping

Over the next couple of days, I was in and out of Central London, as I spent the greater part of the weekend with my childhood friend Dalia. Dalia and I met in a swimming pool in Fort Lauderdale when we were maybe 11. (No, I am not making this up.) She was on holiday (insert British accent here), and my dad had some doctor convention, so we became friends in the pool, and remained penpals and, later, email buddies. I always said I'd visit her, and she's visited me in Florida before, so I finally came to London to see her!

I went to the British Museum before I made my way to Dals, and I was overwhelmed by the contents of the museum. I liked that it was free, but after roaming around for a while, I realized I'd been to a lot of huge museums recently and I wasn't that into it. A lot of the British Museum's collection is from Egypt and Greece, back when the British kingdom ruled the world / took relics from their native lands.

I also was not on top of my game during this museum visit. I think I was really tired, because I had a lot of stupid reactions to things. For example, I saw the actual Rosetta Stone (as opposed to the fake they had on display in the Egypt museum). You would think this would be exciting for me, but the only thought I had was, "The copy in Egypt is bigger." Ditto about everything else Egyptian there. I was like, I SAW all of this. I'm pretty sure if I had been with my mother or Rafi I would've started whining and demanded they buy me a snack. Another example involves the Elgin Marbles. Elgin took these marbles from the Parthenon in Greece. I, being the fine-tuned instrument you know and love, wandered around for a while, looking for the display case with the marbles in it. There was not to be a single marble-related game, for the Elgin marbles are actually carvings - in marble - that were all around the structure. That was the end of my stupidity.

Ok, so it was pretty sweet to see Cleopatra.

I'm sorry, I expected you to be bigger... [Insert Obvious Response Here]

Taking funny museum pictures isn't so fun without Andrew ES, whom I love more!

Recording my presence outside of the British Museum.

Then I went to see Dalia. I spent the weekend at her place, and we hung around, talking about the last 15 years of our lives. She's pretty well-versed in what's going on with me. We spent a great time hanging around in not-Redbridge, wherever it is that she lives again. We hung around her 'hood, showed me the local supermarket (I love grocery stores), went out to dinner, watched super-nanny, and did lots of other fun things. It was a great weekend!

Dalia and I enjoy dinner in her hood!

On Sunday, Dals and I went into central London to go to Harrod's and Harvey Nick's. These are two chichi shopping malls in London that are integrated into the cityscape, like Macy's on 34th Street. But where Macy's is (sometimes) affordable, Harrod's and Harvey Nick's are filled with super-expensive merchandise. Harrod's, for example, has everything, from fancy food (think Zabar's, but cleaner and bigger) to electronics, from $600 shoes to a pet department. Oh, and they have clothes, too. Dalia and I spent some time eyeing chihuahua puppies, as she debated purchasing a dog. I stuck to my guns, saying that being afraid of dogs maybe should prevent her from buying one, so we went upstairs to electronics, and she got a Wiiiiiiiiii instead. I managed to spend a small amount of money (relatively) on a few (more) paperbacks, so I could have some Harrod's bags. I think, after this trip, I was traveling with 10 paperbacks, and a siddur to do my Liturgy homework, and a couple of pairs of pants.

Look! Harrod's!

At Harvey Nick's, which is apparently known from Absolutely Fabulous, Dalia and I barely bothered with the schmancy clothes and went right to the cafe, where we ordered really, really expensive drinks made out of fancy things like avocado and kiwi (they were tasty, I swear). We also took lots of pictures of ourselves, trying to get the PERFECT profile picture for Facebook. Behold:

Harvey Nick's has some tasty stuff to drink...That Diet Coke was like 10 dollars...

Where'd she go?

Standard SBB.

Not as bad. I like my hair in this picture.

As we were playing around, I noticed these two, crazy-looking people walk in. I pointed them out to Dalia, and she gasped. Apparently, the Cheeky Girls (for real) are the Clay Aiken of England, if Clay Aiken were twins from Transylvania. Their most famous song is something along the lines of "touch my cheeky bum." Barf. Anyway, they looked fake and horrible and hilarious. Things started to heat up when Dalia and I entered into a dare-contest that didn't go anywhere during our snack. After we left the table, however, Dals decided that she wanted me to take a picture of the Cheeky Girls, but when we walked back, they had left their table. Sadly, we thought the game was over...until I saw them walking in the food store, so I played the nerdy tourist and got her in a picture with them. Hilarious! She may have pretended that she didn't care to take a picture with them, but honestly? She LOVED it.

The Cheeky Girls + Dalia.

After the malls, Dals and I went to the O2 center, where we went ice skating. Our hour on the ice was fun, although the skates were the MOST uncomfortable skates I have ever worn. EVER. Anyway, I taught Dal how to skate, and twirled around a couple of times before we made our exhausted ways back to her house.

Dalia's gliding skillfully on the ice!

That is actually my own leg. Flexibility still intact!

Reheated pizza, Peanut M&M's and Diet Coke never tasted so good as we watched TV and played with the Wii. Her internet was down, so I didn't do school as originally anticipated, but no worries. I got my bags ready for my trip to Rome, which commenced the following day. Before Rome, however, I traipsed around London (after a few hours of doing schoolwork for JTS. Really.). The resulting pictures follow here.

London Bridge!

London Bridge, as it turns out, is not falling down.

You are on Shoe Lane. Yes. Yes, I am. (My favorite bus sign ever.)

Last London picture, and I finally get the self-shot + Tube sign in the same snap!

It was really great to see her, and hang out with her parents, who had plenty of tips for things to see in Rome! Thanks to my fabulous London hosts! I hope to see you in Israel, or New York, soon!!!

There was morning. There was evening.
The fouth day.
There was morning. There was evening.
The fifth day.
There was morning. There was evening.
The sixth day.
There was morning. There was evening.
The seventh day.

Days 1-3: Of Hostel Environments

I also had some pretty fabulous experiences staying in a hostel. I've never done it before, except for Beit Gesher with Pilgrimage, and that totally doesn't count. Trust me, if you're going to stay in a hostel, stay at the one I stayed at in London. It was fab-u-lous, and while I was not born yesterday, the hostel certainly seemed to have been constructed yesterday. It was brand-spanking new! I wouldn't say I made any friends, but we had some interesting conversations. Below gives you an idea of the setup of my days in the hostel.

Anya's backpack, now stuffed with myriad Borders purchases.

The hostel room "refrigerator."

The view from my "refrigerator." Hostel was on Bolsover street, close to Oxford Circus.

Hostel Locker!

Hostel Bed + SBB's stuff!

Just as an FYI...I love the Tube!

Day 3: Of Towers and History (Boys)

The next morning, I woke up refreshed and determined to make my way to the Changing of the Guard. I wore WAY more clothes and made my way to Buckingham Palace AGAIN. I staked out a similar spot on the fence, again, and set to wait, again. This time, I came prepared with sustenance. I sat and ate my breakfast and watched the tourists mill around. Over the course of 45 minutes, I saw millions of people wandering around, got crushed against a fence, and marveled at the pomp and circumstance of the transfer of a key.

Aurora The Wonder-North Face holds my spot for me.

Luckily, I made friends with two lovely grownup people next to me at the fence. Hailing from Atlanta, we talked about their travels, where to go in London, what was too expensive for a student and what I absolutely HAD to see. They were interested in my studies in Israel, and I explained a little bit about my life in Jerusalem. We also talked about security, Bush and politics. You can talk about a lot while waiting for the guard.

The waiting paid off, when the guards (there are two, because they are switching) FINALLY showed up. The layers of people behind me pressed me forward at a weird angle, and I leaned up against the fence, flexing my tempermental feet every couple of seconds. Ouch. This stupid position, however, did give me a pretty good vantage point.

I enjoy my staked out spot, watching the guard.

This is one guard, one the side where I was standing. The other guard had these horrible, furry black hats. Made me miss streimels!

"Hi, Nigel. How's the wife?" "Oh, Katherine is having a good time with Quincy. Our little boy is quite the cute little chap!"

Things that ran through my mind during the changing of the guard:
1. It's over an hour? REALLY?!
2. Stop leaning on me!
3. Ohh...I think it's over!
4. Wait...no, I'm not in Petra. Then why are they playing the theme from Indiana Jones...
5. ...and Star Wars? What is going on here!?
6. I would really like a nice bottle of CocaCola Light.
7. Ohh...I think it's over!
8. I think I'll go to the Tower of London.
7. Are cellphone cameras so good now that you don't need a separate digital? How fascinating!
8. Ohh...I think it's over! YES! Off to the Tower!!!

My friends at the fence convinced me that I should go to the Tower of London, at least to see the crown jewels. I arrived at the Tower, and since I've returned, I have explained how expensive London was by stating the price for a student ticket. $26 / 13 pounds! Barf! But I paid it, joined a tour, and learned all about the creepy history of the Tower, which used to house the royal family, be surrounded by a moat of excrement and muck, houses the Beefeaters and their families, and, my personal favorite, stores and displays the crown jewels.

This is the Tower of London's crenulated walls and towers. It's pretty fabulous.

Quoth the raven, nevermore. Apparently, if the Tower's ravens leave the premises, the whole Kingdom will come crashing down. Superstitions. Love them.

This is a Beefeater, otherwise known as a Yeoman Warder. His dry, British humor and dislike of children was hilarious. Also, his uniform is quite fabulous, yes?

They don't let you close to the guards anymore for goofy, Austin Powers-esque pictures. So this is what I got.

The day was warming up, the view was beautiful and the only downside was that the crown jewels are in a no-photo zone. (Link gives you a peek, but does not do the jewels justice. Just imagine the ball dropping in Times Square at New Years and you'll have an idea of the flash!) Lame as that rule was, it was really ridiculous to see a 530-carat diamond that looked like a baseball. In all honesty, the jewels looked fake. There were so many, they were so sparkly, and it was just kind of crazy.

The Tower of London is next to the Tower Bridge, so I visited it on my way out. Before I did that, however, I had some English tea, with a scone and jam and clotted cream (worst name EVER of tastiest stuff EVER) and a piece of banana bread cake. Good deal (just $10!) for London...and really yummy.

The Tower? The Tower!? Rapunzel!! Rapunzel!!!! - Airplane!

After the Tower! the Tower! I wandered my way to the theatre district, and got last-minute TKTS to see the History Boys. The play was excellent, and although it was incredibly British, I managed to keep up. Seeing as how I hadn't changed my outfit, I ended up in the intermission bathroom line in jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and my backpack (beloved Aurora, pictured above). A woman in line, affected her snootiest British accent, asked me if I liked the play, and then said it must be difficult for me to understand. What she didn't exactly say was that she thought me a daft American prick who could never possibly understand highbrow British drama. Thankfully, she spoke in a language to which I could respond fully, and let her know that I was fully capable of understanding the plot, and oh, by the way, I am an educator and not only am I learning plenty from the play, but I understand a great deal of the issues in the play. (Part of this conversation took place in my head, but I did tell her off. A little.) It was really nice to be able to mouth off in my own language, one of the parts of my English-speaking life at home I miss so dearly.

Exhausted, I made my way back to the hostel. It was time for bed.

There was morning. There was evening.
The third day.

Backpack, Day 2: Of Heresy and Genius Bars

The next morning, I awoke in my really beautiful hostel room, ready to take over the world. I had the whole day until 7:30PM, when I had to meet my Genius at the Apple store. Off I went to Buckingham Palace.

Buckingham Palace, Take One.

The tour book told me to stake out a good spot for the changing of the guard. The book also said that they don't change the guard every day, but every other day, during the winter. Still, I stood and waited, and eventually saw some people with funny hats on horses go by with a bugle chorus that reminded me more of Spamalot than anything else. A policeman confirmed it - tomorrow would be the day for me! Oh well.

All of a sudden, I was able to understand British humor.

Freezing at Buckingham Palace. All I kept on thinking about here were Buckminster Fullerenes. I am a nerd.

The day was FREEZING, so I stopped off an bought some gloves, and then made my way to Westminster Abbey, where I marveled at a beautiful clock tower, before I even REALIZED it was Big Ben (love my brother Ben, just wanted to say it here), and then found the Abbey. I realized that their minchah-equivalent (where minchah is the afternoon Jewish prayer service), Evensong was at 5PM, so I decided to check out Leicester Square (pronounced Lester) and Trafalgar Square, before going into the Abbey. I took pictures with the Lions at Trafalgar, and ate some food, before I walked back to the Abbey.

Trafalgar Lions. Huuuuuuge!

I love me some Trafalgar Lions. The kid on them gives you a size idea of how huge they really are.

A fellow tourist who shared none of my languages exchanged cameras with me for this rare full-SBB shot in front of Westminster Abbey. I am SO cold here!

Big Ben. Love my brother. Love the clock!

Arch that leads to a park, where you can walk to Buckingham Palace. I was too cold to walk, but here I am at the other end, by Trafalgar Square.

The Abbey was fascinating. A few days earlier, my cousin Chava explained to me that Jews aren't supposed to enter churches and other places of non-Jewish worship so that we don't worship other gods. While I can see where she (and our very best friend the Torah) is coming from, I armed myself with a determination to be rebellious, as always, entering the Abbey remembering not to pray, but also remembering to learn and discover.

Learn and discover, I did! Up until this point, my visits to churches were confined to a childhood concert or play (something non-religious) at the local Catholic church (which I recall vaguely my mother didn't want me to share with people, oops), Hadar egal minyan, housed in a church basement in NYC, and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Like the Jerusalem church, I found fabulous artwork, in the forms of carvings, statues and paintings. But this was the first time I realized that church also means crypt, as many famous British bones rested beneath the stones of this church. Like the Hollywood walk of fame, any stone under your foot could read the name of some luminary. My favorite, naturally, was Poets' Corner, with both graves and memorial plaques dedicated to literary Brits. Jane Austen, the Bard, Chaucer and Dickens were some of the names that caught my interest. I even walked out into the gardens, where my favorite flower, daffodil, speckled the carefully-kept lawns. (There is no photography inside the Abbey, so check out the Wikipedia stuff.)

The aforementioned daffodils, my favorite flower. No photography means I can take pictures outside, right? Hmm....

After my wanderings, I hung around for Evensong. Flexing my heathen-muscle, I sat through service, with sung psalms, recited bits of Old and New Testament, and general prayers. To timestamp my day, there was a prayer for all "on this, saint Valentine's day, so that all people can find love of man, as they find love of God" or something along those lines. Suddenly, epiphany (in a church)! It was Valentine's Day! Brits aren't abnormally affectionate or prone to buy single red roses wrapped in cellophane and tied in a pretty bow, they were just celebrating V-Day as we tend to in the States.

After Evensong, I visited Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament from the outside, as their lighting is really pretty at night. I then rushed myself to a bus, as I was really cold outside, and went to the Apple store on Regent Street. Now, my iPod has served me faithfully since Summer 2005, and until that week had been the first iPod in history (speculation) to have its case break before the pod. So, when my iPod seemed to punk out beyond repair just before I went to London, I was optimistic. After all, I can borrow Rafi's iPod for the week, and a Genius will fix my own! Am I the first backpacker to travel with not one, but two iPods? Possibly!

The Eye of London looks like fun, but it costs like $26, so I settle for the free picture, instead.

Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament!

My Genius was sweet, and came equipped with a pleasant British accent (God, how I miss my mother tongue). She laughed at my rigged-with-an-orange-hair-tie case, and then marvelled at my iPod inside the rubber and plastic: "It's in such GOOD condition!" Then the fun ended, as she told me that my hard drive had passed on. I will always remember the good times we had together, at camp and on various trips to and from school and work and on my rollerblades. My Genius offered me a discount on a new iPod, but seeing as how a single day in London can cost roughly $15000000, I decided to opt out for the time being. My beloved Meredith is sending me her former iPod (she has moved on to newer technology and no doubt has some fabulously tiny and delighfully memoryfull Crackberry), a belated birthday present that brings tears to my eyes at the mere thought of it traveling the Atlantic, protected from the elements in a box padded with peanut M&M's (#1 BEST CANDY EVER) as I type these words. I miss Meredith severely.

That fun part of my day completed, and my psyche surprisingly intact (I was surprised at how un-devastated I was at my iPod's demise. I was sure one day it would happen and I would be decimated. Literally, reduced by 10% of who I am and what I want to be. This, however, did not happen. I just smiled and moved on.), I got a large dinner at Subway before trotting off to Notting Hill (not so eventful, but I did buy Cadbury Creme Eggs), and then, a conveniently-located Borders. I bought a few books, and went back to the hostel.

There was morning. There was evening.
The second day.

Backpack, Day 1: Subways and the Jews

I had a backpack. I had my winter coat. I had my camera, my wallet, my best New Balances, and reserved for running and traveling. I had my tickets, my confirmations, and my passport. So, as I left my apartment at 1:45 in the morning nearly two weeks ago, I had become a traveler. A backpacker.

I was born with wanderlust. I was born ready to leave my hometown in South Florida. I demanded weeks, then months at camp, starting at the age of 8. I traveled the United States on a bus, and loved it so much, I repeated the journey as an adult staff member. I visited Poland and Israel, Canada and Mexico, the Bahamas and South Dakota. While my friends went on spring break cruises, I found excuses to go to New York, DC or Chicago. So when I moved to New York, and later decided to spend a year abroad in Jerusalem, nobody was shocked. This year, I have gone to Cairo and Sinai, Jordan and Turkey. I have enjoyed Tel Aviv and Jerusalem and many other lovely places in this amazing and complicated country. I finally got the chance to be a backpacker, and I grabbed it up. This, and the following posts, will follow me in my forays into the Europe I've always wanted to see.

Out with a backpack (and another)! Also, check out the winter coat with hood and hoodie combo. No chilly SBBs in Europe, no siree!

Because I had already gone on a trip with Rafi, and he has been to many of the places I yearn to see, I went on this trip solo. That's right. I braved the world alone, although, to be fair, I did visit and stay with friends in both London and Rome -- but I spent days upon days by myself, and each airport proved what it's like to feel alone in a teeming crowd. As a result of my solo effort, the series of pictures from this trip are self-portraits, in modern, Facebook-style. Each picture (unless otherwise noted), was taken with my extended right hand. Enjoy the close-ups, and if I look fat, well, that's just the angle. There was too much walking for me to gain a pound on this trip. Ugh, pounds. I hate the stupid pound. It was 2 dollars per pound when I was there. (See, that? How I transitioned from chubby to money so seamlessly? I should write a book...or a thesis. I should be writing my thesis instead of this blob...)

The first day of my trip was not particularly eventful. I took the Nesher taxi to the airport, I checked in, I boarded my flight, and off I went to Milan, and then, London. I took the Tube (yay! I love subways!) to the heart of central London, and booked myself into a hostel. My first day consisted of a trip to the Apple store, to book an appointment to see a Genius, as my intrepid little iPod finally seemed to have kicked the proverbial bucket. I also went to Subway, and the Jewish part of town, called Golders Green.

The Tube had these great signs about being polite. LOVE them.

Cutest campaign ever!

I know it's ridiculous that I went to Subway, but I found London to be very much like New York: super-expensive, filled with Starbucks after Starbucks, with a terrific public transportation system, lovely museums, a bustling theatre (yes, theatre) district and movies theaters, I mean, theatres, that cost more than buying a DVD. I missed my frequent stops at Subway stores in NYC, after getting off The NYC Subway, on my way to work. Where else can that tiny bit of money keep me so full until I finally tore myself away from my super camping-related job? So I relished the return to Subway stores and subways, in the form of the Tube.

Sweet, sweet Subway Veggie Delite! YAY!

Then, after walking around Regents and Oxford streets, which can only be compared to the horrible crush of people between Times Square and 34th Street, I encountered a man in a kippah, that gave me directions to Golders Green. The road, I'll admit, would be very exciting to someone coming from Florida, or even the Upper West Side, as the whole road is lined, right and left, with Jewish bookstores, Kosher eateries and Judaica shops. But, coming from Jerusalem, I was not so impressed with the Steimatzky's bookstore. I was amused. But not impressed.

I went to an internet cafe, because my travels took place during my JTS semester, and I had to keep up with my classes. Afterwards, I had some kosher Indian food, stuck to chicken so I didn't have to hear a mad-cow lecture from my mom at some point in the future, and went back to the hostel.

There was evening. There was morning. There was evening.
The first day.