Chapter 90: The End of Chapters 30 through 90

(Figure 1: The City of London)

I am at yet another one of Europe's small, out-of-the-way airports, awaiting yet another budget flight to a destination half-way across the continent (Okay, actually I'm now in Madrid, several hours later, but let's play pretend for a moment.) I am far better rested and fed than for my overnight at Gatwick five days ago, but for anyone who has had to stay up for a night in an airport, they aren't exactly Hiltons. Heck, they aren't exactly Motel Sixes. Even so, it always gives me a chance to sit for a few minutes or hours and think, which is what I am doing here and now.

(Figures 2-5: Parliament at Night from the South Bank; The Tower Bridge; Trafalgar Square, looking towards the National Gallery; what is a Humped Pelican, and why does it need a crossing??)

This is the beginning of my last genuine day in Europe. It has been 167 days since I set out in early August, on a bright and sunny summer day in Minnesota. I will be returning to midwinter, a period of time whose length is matched only by its harrowing intensity. Seeing that the only people who read this are from Minnesota, or have lived in Minnesota at one point in their lives, they know what I mean. Every culture talks about the weather -it's only natural- but for Minnesotans, we speak of the weather as a mix of birthright, contact sport, and divine judgement. When I tell people from Europeans that in my home state, temperatures can stay below 0F (I just round it to minus 15C, which is the rough equivalent) for weeks at a time, they simply don't believe me. For them -many of them coming from places that have stopped seeing snowfall and freezing temperatures altogether except for the blusteriest of days- they just don't believe me. They can't. I'm finding myself looking forward to the experience with a sort of "Oh... yup. Bit chilly here," attitude. Even though it is sacrilege to admit, all Minnesotans feel the cold, and yes, we even shiver. The weather here, even in London, has been phenomenal. When I arrived, it was naturally cloudy, but it was no colder than it had been in Portugal. The temperature held for the next several days, and is still as warm. Today, it was even sunny! What luck! While it certainly has not been traditionally warm, like if I had been in Hawaii or Key West, the weather I've experienced all "winter" long is purely a joke compared to what awaits me. I shall savor my last moments of breathing air that doesn't sting in the lungs, or hurt the eyes, or render the face, hands and toes lifeless and numb. I will have to appreciate the color of a landscape not overwhelmingly white, a snow-free world. What a novel thought.

(Figures 6-9: The Clock Tower, aka Big Ben; the dome of Saint Paul's Cathedral; the Tate Modern from the Millennium Bridge; the Millennium Bridge and the Financial District)

While I refuse to call it the greatest city in the world -that title in my mind being held by New York City- I will begrudge that London is one of the greatest cities in the world, and no one can argue that it isn't an interesting and diverse place. I have spent the last five days here with my friend Chelsea from Macalester. As I believe I have elaborated, she is just beginning her trip around Europe, her grand adventure, while I am ending mine. It is a frightening thing, to go off on ones own, especially since she has never been outside of North America before this. I tried to do with Chelsea what Martha did with me, she inviting me to Spain to go through the kiddy pool of Europe, rather than jumping off the deep end. I only hope that Chelsea had a good time and that she is not frightened of what lies ahead. I believe she is prepared. She is leaving London tomorrow afternoon to go to Copenhagen. I told her she should visit the Tower of London, since that was perhaps the one thing we did not get the opportunity to see. What we did see was a spectacular and impressive list of sites and venues. London having no end of things to do or see, we went to... CoventGardenParliament(Watchedadebateeven)WestminsterAbbeyBuckinghamPalace(IcomposedanimprompturapaboutQueenElizabeth.Chelsealaughed)HarrodsWellington'sArchTrafalgarSquareTheBritishMuseum(Twice!)TheNationalGalleryTheNationalPortraitGalleryTheTateModern(I'dneverbeen.Itwasquiteneat)WalkedalongtheThamesTowerBridgeSaintPaul'sCathedralPicadillyCircusLeceisterSquareLondonCityHallTheImperialWarMusuemBoroughMarketTheLondonPhilharmonicPortobelloMarket(OnSaturdaywhenalltheantiquedealersarehawkingtheirwares)HydeParkSpeakersCornerMarbleArchandManyManyTubestations. Yow! We saw a lot, and while I did not eat fish and chips (I find it to be, well, awful) Chelsea did and liked it. We did eat Indian food, which was especially good, and I had a pasty from a street vendor. It was exceptional for street food. Okay, now the highlights.

The coolest thing was seeing the London Philharmonic, which we saw on Friday night under the direction of Marin Alsop (one of a handful of female conductors, but a highly acclaimed and extremely talented conductor nonetheless) for a program of Strauss's Till Eulenspiegel, Mozart's 22nd Piano Concerto, Ravel's Daphnes and Chloé, and Stravinsky's Firebird. We sat in the absolute last row of the concert hall (what do you expect for nine pound tickets?) but the acoustics were superb and the angle of the seats allows you to see all the way without obstruction. One day, I will have to go see the Minnesota Orchestra and get a seat in like the sixth row, supposedly the best seats in the house, and see how a concert sounds at close range. While all my life I've enjoyed and appreciated sitting in the back, it's kind of like watching Star Wars on a laptop that is across the room. At the concert, we were joined by my friend Marc from Montpellier, who is spending this semester studying history at the University of Colchester. His aunt lives in London, and I having informed him of my being in London sufficiently in advance, he was happy to join us. It was weird having, like, the two halves of my life that have never seen each other collide! Macalester! Montpellier! Wow! Yes, the universe did explode, but no one was watching, so here we all are.

(Figure 10: The London Philharmonic Orchestra in the Royal Festival Hall)

The second coolest thing was going to the British Museum. It is always cool to go there, and the first time, we only got through about a quarter of the place in the course of three hours. We saw the Elgin marbles, the Rosetta stone, various artifacts from ancient Greece, Babylon and Egypt, and also saw the North American collection. Here is a picture of Chelsea and I next to the Rosetta stone. Chelsea is sheepish about taking pictures, but I am indefatigable, and won out in the end. I thought about getting Dad a replacement shirt of the Rosetta stone, but decided against it, not being certain if he had worn out his old one. Aside from the great and notable things in the museum, they also had an extensive exhibit that was kinda the history of the museum itself. The museum was founded in 1757, which Chelsea exclaimed makes it older than the United States, almost entirely from the collection of one man, a British gentleman scholar and doctor, Sir Hans Sloane. Over the last two and a half centuries, the museum has acquired some seven million pieces from all continents and every era of humanity. The exhibit in question focused on the Enlightenment and the beginning of scientific discovery and the methodical analysis of the natural world. It is arranged in a setting filled with cabinets of artifacts and books and displays of centered around the various subjects of thought that began to be studied during the Enlightenment. All while looking at this, I kept thinking to myself how cool it would be to have a) my own collection of historical artifacts and b) in enough quantity to start a museum. Like Dad always taught us, never throw anything away. It might be useful later.

(Figures 11-14: Chelsea and I in front of the Rosetta Stone; a Rock Crystal Skull; Marc in front of the Benin Bronzes, part of which I wrote about in Shoot That Bird!!; an Egyptian sarcophagus)

The third coolest thing was going to the National Portrait Gallery. To the best of my recollection, I had never been before. While many of the portraits from before the 20th century were completely unfamiliar to me save a handful, it was neat to see a lot of the more modern figures - Queen Elizabeth II, Princess Di, Prince Charles, Gordon Brown, various British actors and actresses and scientists and businesspeople who I only know from reading the BBC daily. I was surprised there was no portrait of J.K. Rowling. The Gallery also had in exhibition the entrants and winners of the Something Prize for photography, the premier art award in Great Britain (it was either the Turner Prize or the Booker Prize). Those photos were really neat, including one rather fearsome one of Vladimir Putin. I am certain that there are more portraits than what I saw, because I have a deck of playing cards that are the faces of famous British writers from the National Portrait Gallery, and I could only find Lord Byron, Beatrix Potter and James Joyce (technically British during his lifetime). I will just have to go back to find the rest.

I find myself saying that a lot: "I will just have to go back." At the same time, I find myself saying: "This is the last time I'll ever see this place." I discussed this with Chelsea, and remarked that when I first went to Japan in 2006, I had the feeling that I wouldn't return possibly ever again. Less than two years later, I was back. The world is getting to be a smaller and smaller place in terms of difficulties. It is no longer a once-in-a-lifetime event to go to Europe. It doesn't take weeks or days to cross the ocean, but hours. Marc has been to London so frequently that I noticed him saying about the British Museum, "Every time I come here..." as casually as if it were his local grocery store. Grandma Anne told me that I am part of Generation something-or-other, but the point of my generation was that I and those my age are traveling great distances for long periods of time in profound numbers and numerous times. We've become like migrating birds, temporarily depopulating whole cities to fill up ones half-way across the world. Like the shift change on a global mill - one flock of young adventurers picks up and moves on while another comes in to fill up the gap. It is a big world, and there is too much to see. I will be dead before I get the chance to see even a fraction of all I'd like to see. Every day though we all find something new, even in repetition or habit. I am looking forward to rediscovering what I've always had and always seen. My friends and family await me, and I won't keep them waiting any longer.

(Figures 15 & 16: Chelsea and her fish and chips; Marc and Chelsea at the Portobello Road Market)

That, and my visa expires in two weeks and they'd kick me out anyway.

P.S., talk about coming full circle - the hostel I'm staying at in Madrid is about two blocks away from the one Martha and I were at in August, and I glance up at the maid, and she's the same one!