Markets this time. Promise.

My waking dream this morning had me being bombarded with water balloons by a blonde haired English kid on a balcony. I was on a residential street in London, supposedly Tanya's, but more the dream version of the street we're on, not the actual street, as there are no 2nd story balconies on this street. Anyway, I lure the kid out of the house and confront him about this, try to make him see reason, attempt to barter, all to no avail. He runs back in the house, up and out onto the balcony and the bombardment continues. I will say though that his aim was crap and he hadn't hit me yet. In fact, the water from the exploding balloons did not so much as splash up and wet the fine bespoke suit I was wearing. And no, I have not packed one of these. An adult lady then comes out on the balcony with a load of washing and I find myself able to speak with her and attempt to convince her to aid me in stopping the boy from throwing his aqua grenades. Surely an adult would see my side of the story. Apparently not. Instead she begins to taunt me and tell me off and, giving me and my fine suit a look of utter contempt she says "You, you, you market boy".  I am confused by this insult, so I naturally ask her to explain herself and what she intended by that barb. She admits to having no idea and gets back to normal insults. And that's when I wake up.

I'm not big on dream interpretation, but I have deduced the following two key messages from this one.

1. I am concerned about my relationship with Noah and Jake over the coming year and how I'll deal with my ever decreasing level of "authority" as they continue to mature, especially now that we're together all the time.

2. I should have finished my story about the markets yesterday so that the title and opening made sense.

It's amazing what weighs on you.

As I mentioned, Saturday Noah and Jake hung out with Eli and Gabriel. So the two of them left the house to go meet up with the other guys mid-morning. Simon was in the garden - he loves his garden, Tanya was doing bills and such, and I was lazing. Yes, lazing. Okay, maybe not truly lazing, but close I think. I read a bit, did some reading on places we'd be going, sent out some couchsurfing requests, stuff like that. That kinda counts as lazing, right?

Actually I was waiting for Tanya to finish up her stuff so tha we could head to Woolwich market to pick up a few things.

I mentioned Woolwich market before, as it is the one we saw the Sunday we first arrived, and it's where the boys and I have been doing much of our grocery shopping on our way home in the evenings. Well, it's alot different on a Saturday late morning. Its very alive with fruit and vegetable stalls, clothing stalls, and other stalls selling all manner of good. Mostly fruit and veg though. You can hear stall keepers drawling out, and yes, there is a British version of a drawl "Bananas. Pound for a pound." And what a great line. "Pound for a pound"; we should change our currency just so we can say stuff like that. All the tables out, covered in a variety of fruits and vegetables, each portion priced and sitting on it's own metal platter, waiting to be wisked into a bag when asked for. It's a good way to shop. Lots of farmers markets in Toronto; I don't use them enough.

Anyway, Woolwich was market one for the day.

After taking the groceries home Tanya and I headed into the core of the city, leaving Simon to continue with his gardening. First stop was the Borough Market, by way of Southwark Cathedral, where we sat for a brief little while listening to an orchestra rehearse for what we assumed was a concert that evening.

They ask you to buy a permit to take pictures of the inside of the Cathedral. It's only two pound fifty, and I think this an excellent approach, and much better than the "you can't take pictures" approach adopted by St. Paul's, amongst others. That said, I did not acquire said permit, so if you want to see what it looks like on the inside you'll either have to visit it, or do a Google images search, which I am not prepared to do for you.

And then we found our way to the market.

The Borough Market is an old market in Soutwark, around the corner from Southwark Cathedral, and fairly close to London Bridge. It's one of the oldest markets in London. The picture I included of it sucks, and it is the best of the lot. This is for a few good reasons:

1. I am not a very good photographer.
2. I do not like clogging up a bustling market where people are trying to either work or shop by waiting for that "perfect picture".
3. While you feel the energy and buzz of the market the moment you enter it, it's actually quite difficult to capture that in a photograph. What you feel in your bones ends up being a bunch of umbrellas. See point #1.

But it is an amazing place, full of lots of life, and really great food, and frankly, not only am I inadequate as a photographer, I'm also not a good enough writer. So I'll stop trying now.

Read Dickens.

In the streets near the market though is Neal's Yard Dairy, a cheese shop.

This one I think says it all. Cheese Monger, and really, really good cheese. And the best thing about a cheese shop? Who said "samples"? You are correct. Samples it is. Tanya and I could have gorged ourselves on samples had we so chosen. We did not so chosen though, and it was too warm a day to make any purchase and cart it around, so off we went.

I'll pause now to give Tanya her rightfully deserved props. Tanya is an excellent tour guide. I believe I mentioned previously how good she is at this sort of thing, and knowing about where she lives and all the interesting things in it. Well, ya, she's really good at it. And this Saturday was very much about Tanya showing me some of the areas that Tanya likes, all in this particular area of London.

So this lead us to Leadenhall Market.

No, I did not actually get everyone in the immediate vicinity out of the way to only have Tanya  walk into it at the last moment. This particular market is all about it's permanent shops, which are now primarily restaurants, and, given it's location, is pretty much closed on the weekend. During the week it is overflowing with people from the surrounding offices, but on the weekend, quiet. Too quiet.

Not too quiet though was one of our next stops, The George. We were getting thirsty and The George is an inn and pub in Southwark, originally established in the medieval period, that is noted for, amongst other things, being mentioned in Dickens' Little Dorritt. Tanya had brought my father and I here last time, so it was nice to return, grab a pint, and relax in their courtyard.

Our walk then continued and we passed this building.

I can't remember what it is called, though Tanya did mention it, and I asked her to repeat herself a couple of times in the apparently futile hope that I would retain such information. I can't ask her now as Tanya is at work and quite busy today, so not an appropriate time to ring her up and say "Hiya. Do you, um, remember the name of that building, um, that, I think you mentioned had a masonic temple in its basement?"

Yes, apparently a masonic temple was recently found in the lower levels of this building. It had been boarded up at some point - potentially during one of the wars - and had not seen the light of day since. And that's why I included the picture and wrote a little bit about the building, even though it's likely frustrating that I have little to offer you all right now. At least a year from now, if I look at this picture again, I'll have something that reminds me why I took this picture.

Yes, this blog is for me as much as it is for you. More so in fact.

We then headed off to Spitalfields Market and Brick Lane. I mentioned both of these, and possibly mis-spelled them, when I wrote about Jake, Noah and I going on the Jack the Ripper Walk. Well, that walk was in the evening, the market was quiet, and we didn't actually go to Brick Lane. Now though the market was alive with stall upon stall of various wares. Tanya and I skirted the edges of the market just to pass through. One of the interesting things about the market that Tanya informed me of is that, I guess like many of the markets, they have had to fight, to a certain extent anyway, to keep them alive and well and living in London. The markets are prime realestate and people are always looking for new places to build, and in London, that is becoming harder and harder to find. So these Victorian open air covered markets tend to be targets. Spitalfields is an example of one where they found a happy medium where there is some new development within the space, but it also retains much of it's original feel and openness.

I hope I got that right Tanya. Correct me if I'm wrong.

Alas, no pictures of it from me, and no pictures of Brick Lane.

Brick Lane, or perhaps just Bricklane, is not a market, it's a street, or series of streets near the Spitalfield market that I was primarily thinking of when I wrote the beginnings of yesterdays blog entry. So this is the amazingly busy streets, live music, street art, street food, walking, rumbling, screaming, buzzing place that I was trying to describe, but can't possibly do justice.

I know the picture I would take though. I thought of it on Monday. If I had thought of it, I would have taken a picture of the rows of huge pans, that street vendors were serving up steaming mounds of curries, stir fry, and lord knows what else from. I can see this picture, steam rising from them, the hand of the vendor holding a large spatula in focus, and the coloured blur of the crowd in the background.

The above is proof that a picture is worth a thousand words. Try to picture it please, it will save us both some grief.

Saturday concluded with Tanya and I meeting up with Noah and Jake and heading off for Fish 'n Chips at a place near Baker Street (yes, we went by 221B), where they've been serving them up for a very, very long time.

I feel like I've been saying that alot. "Serving them up", or something like that, "for a very, very long time". Well, that's the amazing thing about London and what I believe I enjoy the most. Its true. Many of these shops have been around for ever. How cool is that? Cool. Very, very cool.

Sunday was a day with a little bit of everything in it. Sunday morning we all, including Simon this time, headed out to Wapping Market.

Wapping Market is an outdoor market that had only been open for two weekends. This was its third. You'd never know. Again, the food, the wine, and the rest of the wares. Just a feast for the senses. The guys picked up some brownies and donuts, that were some of the best I've had (yes, they let me sample, which was very kind). Tanya and Simon each picked up sandwiches that looked fantastic. I tried some wine.

This is the bottle that Simon bought. I had bought just a glass of the Chardonnay - it was that kind of day. Le Grappin is a little vineyard in Burgundy that is owned by some nice folk in London. We got to talking about the wines, I mentioned I was from Canada, and bless the man, he likes what Ontario is doing in that department, especially with the Chardonnay. And oh my pride. It's not like I have anything to do with wine production in Canada, other than being a consumer of it of course, but still, when you're abroad and people say they like something Canadian, well, it feels good. And besides, we both agreed that we were very tired of California, and the obsession with the vanilla finish lots of oak puts on a Chardonnay. Canada - yes, lots is barrelled in oak, but you don't generally get that finish. Le Grappin? No oak.

And there you have it.

We continued our walk along the Thames. The "Thames Walk", as it is called (and it is, there are signs all over calling it that), runs along the north bank of the Thames for quite the distance. We took the walk from Wapping to The Docklands Museum.

Remember how I said I liked the place names and street names in London? I would love to put this down as a return address.

Anyway, yes, we went to The Docklands Musem, or, Museum of London Docklands, as it is properly called. This is a museum that Tanya and Simon have been wanting to go to for awhile, and today was the day. So something new for all of us.

Like many a museum in London Docklands is free to visit, but requests a small donation. The museum itself has a single subject matter - the history of the docklands of London. (You may have sorted that out already.) It is three floors in an old storehouse on the Thames, so the building itself is wonderful to look at with it's wide plank floors and massive timbers. Taking the lift to the top floor you then work your way down, starting from pre Roman times, through the Romans, through medieval, through and through and through, up till present day. Addressing slavery and immigration to London and the diversity of its community and culture. Dealing with the wars, and the importance of that area along the Thames and the massive damage it took during the bombings. And dealing with the redevelopment of the area with places such as Canary Wharf, brought to you by Canada's own Reichmann brothers.

It covers alot. And I know I've said this, but I'm going to repeat myself, I really do enjoy museums that have a single topic. It's easier to focus the mind on one continuous topic, and it provides an end to end picture. And I like that sort of thing. While there I was also reminded of Thames: Sacred River, a biography of the Thames by historian Peter Ackroyd. Ackroyd has also written an amazing biography on London titled, funnily enough, London: A Biography. If you're interested in that sort of thing I highly recommended them. If you're not, then your loss.

We left the musem, and Simon, as he wanted to spend more time there and would meet us at home later, and headed off to Greenwich.

Yes Greenwich, home to time, the Royal Navy, the royal deer, a lovely park, a pie and mash shop where you can get eel, and all sorts of other fine things.

All of these fine things are accessible via a tunnel running under the Thames.

The acoustic of this tunnel, while not equal to that of St. Paul's Whispering Gallery, is still quite extraordinary, as can be proven with the simple test of having a small child yell at her father who is dawdling along somewhere far behind her.

Clarion call indeed.

I need to go scramble eggs so I will keep this brief.

Greenwich is lovely, and to me is a reminder of why symmetry is never a bad thing.

It's also a reminder why painting the ceiling with something other than off white stucco can be worth the effort, as can be witnessed in the dining hall.

It is another of London's wonderous parks, including quiet walking paths:

Incredibly old trees

And ample room for frisbee.

What, you think Noah didn't bring it?

It also has an abundance of lovely flora and fauna. I have no idea what this is.

And lastly, it has exceptional chimneys.

Actually, no, it doesn't. The chimneys are a shot I took closer to home when we got off the bus near Tanya's. Sorry about the street lamp and "property centre" sign. I like the sea of chimneys that crop up throughout London, so I thought I'd get a shot of them, even if a poor shot.

Monday was Canterbury.

Egg's first.

To Market To Market

It's Sunday morning. Some of us are up, the rest will be soon. We're going into Wapping Market today, which is at the Brussels Wharf, which isn't all that far from Greenwich Observatory, that wonderful place that provides the context for all of our timekeeping. It's a line we intend to cross. Repeatedly. But that's not today.

For me, Rome is about piazzas. Not pizzas, though they are at that too. Gotta wonder about the etymology of those words. London however, I think London for me is quickly becoming about the markets. Each area we go into has there own, and they are a bustling space, alive with so many people, selling, buying, watching, wandering, enjoying their days, rushing somewhere, taking pictures, picking pockets, busking, spray painting, screaming, jostling, and many other words ending in "ing".

And I'm still ahead of myself.

Thursday was a school day, but I believe I've already mentioned that. School is going to be an interesting part of this trip. Figuring out how to schedule it, and commit to that schedule. Figuring out how to self-monitor progress and quality. Yes, assignments do get handed in to ILC (Independent Learning Centre) for marking, and teachers are available online to provide support, but it's pretty much in the hands of Noah and Jake. Where my hands fit into this picture remain to be sorted out as well. So there is lots of "sorting" to do as we get that particular ball rolling, and I am without a talking hat.  I think the toughest part is really about trying to have lots of flexibility to "do things" while maintaining the structure necessary to be successful in school. I don't think it's something that can be done willy nilly, but actually needs to have A PLAN. And a long running plan. Other aspects of the trip though, we're still trying to go for a "planning light" approach. So accomodating both will be interesting. I guess we'll see where that leads itself. And yes, be prepared to modify blah, blah, blah. I know. It's in my wallet.

Friday was a school evening, and was preceded by a park and gallery day.

We began by getting our butts down to Trafalgar Square, home to Lord Nelson's column, his lions, and the National Gallery.

Here is a rare photo of one of the lions at the base of Nelson's column.

"Why rare?"  - you might justifiably ask.

"Because there are no children between it's paws, or tourists clinging to its haunches"  I might snippily respond, showing signs of the annoyance I felt as I waited to take a picture of said lion, unmolested, in all it's glory.

The National Gallery is one of the many amazing spaces that is essentially free to go to in London. I say essentially as they suggest a recommended amount for donation, and helpfully provide you many a place to make such a donation throughout the gallery. And London truly is marvelous this way. Many of it's museums and galleries are free/donation based for the permanent collections. The City, and I emphasize "CITY", is fantastic that way. Now, unfortunately that does not seem to be the case for any of the royal properities open to the public. They cost a fair chunk of change. And let's just say that, the day prior having been the London Pass, the "let's do things that cost lots of money day in London" day; we were due for a "let's do the free things in London" day. I do have a budget, and I do have an estimated burn rate, and I am, amazingly enough, attempting to track them both. London hurts. Thank goodness for Tanya and Simon, as if we had to cover our accomodations, the only blog entry you would be reading about London would have been my opinions on Heathrow airport.

So yes, The National Gallery. It's a wonderful building to look at from the outside and even more marvelous from the inside as it is full of this stuff on it's walls that people commonly refer to as art. And some pretty amazing art too. They've got names of people I have heard of. And they're not part of a travelling exhibit brought to you thanks to the generousity of another museum or a family who has more money than god (not that god is flush or anything - who really knows).

I say all of this because, growing up and living in Toronto has meant I've had the Art Galley of Ontartio (AGO) at my disposal. And I've used it a fair chunk I would say, including having had personal or family memberships for various years. And don't get me wrong, it's a good gallery, with some very cool work. I'm quite fond of the giant hamburger for example.

Yes, you might argue that the AGO has Henry Moore. Ya, well, St. Paul's has got one of those. And you might say that they've got the Group of Seven. This is true, and I do not have a pithy response for that one. The National Gallery though has paintings people make jigsaw puzzles of, that three out of every five college students hang on their wall. Some into their mid-thirties. They have the things that apparently are universally agreeed upon to be "very, very good".

They also have things that are shite.

But they've also got Turner, and you gotta love Turner. If not, my father is going to be quite displeased with you about that, or at least wonder if you have gone soft in the brain.

Anyway, yes, the National Gallery. And around the back, the National Portrait Gallery. I was introduced to the NPG by my friend and colleague Steve Dalton, prior to my first visit to London, which, if you've been listening may recall, was with my Dad a few years ago. Anyway, Steve said it was his favourite gallery.  I like Steve. I trust Steve. We went to the NPG. He was right. So naturally I wanted to introduce the guys to it as well. Carry on the legacy.

A quick note and then I will move on from this topic. Galleries aren't for everyone. They're not like museums or science centres or other such attractions. Art Galleries I think demand much more of us in terms of audience participation. And you're not sure what to look at, or why you're looking at it. And they seldom provide enough information to help you interpret everything around you. So it's hard work. And it's not work we always feel like doing, or necessarily "get in to". Which is all good.

Our trip to the National Gallery and the NPG felt kinda like Goldilocks and Three Bears, with each of us, I think anyway, being a different kind of porridge.

It's Tuesday. Please mind the gap.

If you take public transit in Toronto you may wonder at the 'mind the gap" signs on subway car doors. The gap is a uniform size in all stations, and you would really have to put some serious effort into it being some sort of tripping hazzard or obstacle of any kind. London however is quite different. When they tell you to mind the gap, you should heed the message, and heed it well.

Gaps between trains and platforms range from slivers to canyons. Trains are not always flush with the platform so there can also be a reasonably sized stepping up action to board a train as well. You really do actually have to pay attention.

Anyway, it's Tuesday. Perhaps I should say "pardon the gap".  Much has happened since Sunday morning when I was last writing, but I'll get to that. Now, back to being porridge at the gallery.

It's not the best of metaphors, but hopefully you get my meaning.

Post Gallery we headed off to St. Jame's Park. London is also about parks. St. Jame's Park connects with Green Park which practically connects with Hyde Park, and they Kensington Gardens, which combined make, well, make a lot of park to walk through. Which we did.

St. Jame's Park is home to a variety of water birds. I believe I've already introduced to you the pelicans. This one is called a coot. I am curious if this is where the term "old coot" came fom. Here's one person's opinion. Anyway, I don't think I've seen a coot before, and found them quite the striking bird. Especially their feet, which appear to be encased in rubber halloween skeleton gloves.

The rain took the opportunity to visit our particular spot of London at this time so we took to some lawn chairs, made our way to shelter under the trees and enjoyed our books for an hour or so.

Three comments here:

1. The weather has been warm and sunny almost the entire time. Little rain for us in London. I am told this is rare. I am fine with that. Knock on wood.

2. The lawn chairs are for rent. Yes, you rent them. Sit awhile and someone will show up and ask for a pound sixty per hour, and then print you up a little receipt. No, they do not chalk your foot. This particular shot is for my Dad.

3. I remain thrilled that both Noah and Jake enjoy reading. They had actually asked if we could stop and read for awhile before the rain had begun. Yes, they like to spend time in parks reading. All is not lost.

Eventually though the rain abated (I had to double check as I had started with abetted and that is wrong on many levels) and we stirred ourselves from our various fictional adventures to pick up on our actual one.

Which lead to water works:

and pretty flowers:

And eventually into Hyde Park to see my favourite tree.

I am quite pleased as I've talked about this tree several time and the guys wanted to see what the hubbub was all about. That in and of itself made me happy. Happier still I was made (hear Yoda there) by actually being able to find the tree again with little difficulty.

Why is this my favourite tree? Because you can go inside.

Simple things. They make me happy. Feel free to draw your own conclusions on that one.

Then there was frisbee. I believe I've mentioned this before. We brought a frisbee. Noah's idea, and an excellent one. He carries the frisbee around in his day pack everyday pretty much, and if we come across or deliberately go a find a green space large enough, like the fields in Hyde Park, then out it comes and disk throwing ensues. You may have seen a post to Facebook on this one. Right, we're posting to Facebook as well if you're interested.

We eventually left the parks and continued our walk. To where, we weren't quite sure, but it didn't really matter. Exploring is exploring and this was a day just for walking around. Now, one of the fun things about that are the unexpected places you run in to that you had no idea were there to begin with.

Like the Royal Albert Hall. Apparently how many holes take to fill it is a well kept secret.

And the Natural History Museum, which is beside the Science Museum and across from the Victoria & Albert museum. We popped into the Natural History one for a short bit. Lots of great stuff in there I am sure, however what I enjoyed the most in our short time was the building itself.

We were getting tuckered so headed our way home. Conveniently though we all now knew where these were, which worked out well for Saturday.

Saturday Noah and Jake went off in the morning to visit with their friends Eli and Gabriel, brothers originally from England who now live in Toronto. Noah met Eli at school a few years back and they have gotten on well since then. Eli is over visiting family and was staying in Brighton so they had arranged a meet up.

I hear they had a good day. You'll have to ask them yourselves.

At this point you may be asking what the heck is it about the market thing he said at the beginning. Well, that was my Saturday with Tanya.

I am hearing the voice of my father though, so, while the title of this blog now makes very little sense given its subject, I feel I should give him, if not the rest of you, a bit of a break.

At least we know where to pick up from.

London Calling

It's Thursday about 3pm in the afternoon here in London. We are at Tanya and Simon's home in Woolwich Arsenal. Plumstead Common. Aren't London names great?

Jake is on the couch working on math. Noah and I are at the kitchen table, he working away at anthropology, and I now sitting down to write a bit having spent the past several hours booking travel for other parts of the UK. We're with T&S until the 31st and then at a family farm near Eastbourne Sussex (yes, I've got family with a big dairy farm here - more about that another time, like when we're on the farm), and then off to travel a bit up into northern England and then into Scotland.

I'm getting way ahead of myself though.

It's been an interesting first several days here. I've actually tried to write about it a couple of times but have felt frustrated about what was coming forth from my finger tips, so have stepped away. Other days have been too darn busy.

London has been calling, and it's been a bit stressful I will have to say. Honestly, I think the boys are way better at it than I am. Since the moment we got here I've wanted to be on the move, total tourist, checking it all out, showing the boys the things I really liked when I was here a few years ago with my Dad, and discovering new ones with them. The boys on the other hand are pretty relaxed about it all. Happy to have a lie in, wanting to get into their school work, as they had decided that London would be when that started. They seem to be able to just ignore all of the awesomeness around them that is this city and just live.

Jerks.

I mean, that's the whole point of this trip. To live. Not to tourist. I've been saying that the entire time up to our departure. Put to the initial test, I am failing. And doing so brilliantly I might add. So I need to take a few pointers from the boys. I need to breathe. I need to relax. It will all be here next time, so whatever we see and do, we see and do. And those things will be great, as will the rest of whatever we get up to.

And it's not like we have been on the go non-stop since our arrival. But I've been wanting to, and it's been driving me a bit batty. Thankfully Noah and Jake, while not necessarily so patient with each other, cut me a decent amount of slack. Thank you gentlemen.

Apparently this is going to be something I will need to remind myself of on a regular basis. Hopefully I figure it out over time and hopefully that will make this gnawing feeling of "get out and do something damn it" subside. We'll see. I expect Noah and Jake will be able to help me with that process. They already are.

With that now partially exorcised from my system I can now say that we have seen a fair bit.

We got here Saturday night and Sunday was a lazy day with a walk around the neighbourhood. Pretend Tanya has just got three new kittens and needs to house train them, so upon arrival to their new home, puts them immediately in the litter box, so that they can then explore from that point, and orient themselves accordingly. So, while not as cute, we're the kittens, the house is London, and Tanya and Simon's house is the litter box. Their house is quite lovely, so not the best metaphor, but you get my meaning. That was Sunday.

Monday was St. Paul's Cathedral, that wonder designed by Christopher Wren post the fire of 1666. It boasts the second largest free standing dome, right after St. Peter's in The Vatican. The three of us having been in St. Peter's last summer, had this one on the top of our list. And unlike our trip to St. Peter's, this time we climbed the dome. Firstly up 250 odd steps, or about 30 metres to the Whispering Gallery - where the acoustic allows you to breathe heavily into the wall and have someone here you on the other side. Then another 120 and a bit steps or another 20 metres to the Stone Gallery where you get to wander outside. And then finally up another 150 odd steps or around 30 metres to the Golden Gallery, where you are again, outside, on a small, oh so small balcony.

Have I mentioned my thing about heights yet? I have a thing about heights. Silly, irrational thing, but a thing nonetheless. I'm working on it.

So you can't take pictures inside St. Paul's. You can though, take pictures of London from the two upper galleries. London looks something like this from that high up.

It is a remarkable view, and that's just one angle.

Above is the front of St. Paul's. Below is the front of Westminster.

 I believe that in all ways I prefer Westminster Abbey over the Cathedral. Why? Well, to begin, the architecture appeals to me more. Apparently I like my gothic. I could, and did, take lots of photos of the abbey. I'm just sparing you.

Second though, and I can't show you this either because interior photos are not permitted, the inside of Westminster is essentially the stone version of The National Portrait Gallery. It is filled to bursting with memorials of the who's who of British history. And I think the thing I like most about history are the people. Not necessarily what they did, as people can often suck, but more so the moments when I go "Hey! I know you!" I like that little connection. Also, aside from the people who suck there are also many who don't, so it's nice to take a moment and think about them.

Oh, and so no one is worried that we actually did this, as it would be nuts to do, we did not see both the Cathedral and the Abbey in the same day. We did however see the Abbey and the Tower of London in the same day, which is equally ridiculous, but I'll get to that.

In between the Catherdral and the Abbey we saw pelicans. Yes, pelicans. They live in St. James park and we stumbled by them purely by accident. A lovely serendipitous moment mind you, as Noah had come across their existence while surfing through Atlas Obscura, and now we had a chance to see them. Check that one off the list.

Pelicans were on Tuesday. Tuesday was originally to be Westminster Abbey followed by a guided walk around Old Westminster with London Walks, a tour company providing, you guessed it, a variety of walking tours of London. I cannot speak highly enough of this group and our guide for this walk Judy. It's also, for London anyway, quite affordable. Well, we didn't get going soon enough to do the Abbey justice given the following formula: arrival time + abbey queue + abbey visit time + getting our butts to where the tour started + food < tour start time.

There just wasn't time. So we walked, and looked around, and got some food, and then did the tour. Judy took us by many a splendid place filling our minds with the history of Westminster both the abbey and of course the house of commons and house of lords in what is officially called Westminster Palace, as it was, afterall, a palace, right up until Henry VIII went on a building spree, moved to Whitehall, and never looked back. Or something like that.

Above is a small portion of the parliament, you may recognize it as the recently renamed Elizabeth Tower. Big Ben, as EVERY tour guide will tell you, is actually the bell.

The walk got us wandering through some of the residential streets in and around the abbey.

What is fascinating about this home, aside from it being a block or so away from where Lawrence of Arabia once lived, are the two signs painted on the wall. The S on the bottom right indicates that this home has a lower level that the then owners made available as a public shelter during war time bombing. As this house is early in the block the the sign in the top left indicates that there are shelters on the street.

The closed blind indicates that current owners are tired of people photographing their home.

The tour ended up back at the abbey. Good reason for another picture of my favourite building in the city. It helps that while doing the tour there yesterday the audio guide played little bits of Zadok the Priest. Boy I love that tune. Oh, and Jeremy Irons narrates the tour. And who doesn't love the voice of Jeremy Irons. Sure, he's no Morgan Freeman, but for touring an abbey, an excellent choice.

Post tour we headed on home by way of grocery shopping in the Woolwich market. Some stuff at a local halal butcher, others at Tesco. Don't know Tesco? Think big, everything store. The UK version of Walmart I suppose. Convenient. Inexpensive. Works for me. Why Tesco works for me in the UK and Walmart doesn't in Canada? I imagine it has to do with not thinking about it much. I am going to keep it that way for another week or so I imagine.

Yesterday was a big tour day.

Noah, Jake and I got up and out pretty early. I can no longer refer to them as "the boys" or "the kids" as the night before Simon would tell me they are not either of those things whenever I used one of those terms. Henceforth they shall be the guys.

So the guys and I got up and out early and over to Victoria station to pick up London Passes, this lovely card that, if you go crazy for a day or so running around like complete idiots, lets you save loads of money on various sites. With it we got: Westminster Abbey, The Churchill War Rooms, The Horse Guard Museum, a Thames river tour from Westminster to The Tower of London, and the Tower of London. Lots, lots, lots more is accessible with the card, this is just what we wanted to cram in and still allow a little time to eat and rest our ears, eyes, minds, and feet prior to going on a Jack the Ripper walk in the evening with the London Walks folk (not included on the card).

I'll skip further pics of the abbey.

Below though is one of the many rooms that makes up the Churchill War Rooms, the underground rooms that, as it name may suggest to the most astute of you, was used by Churchill and his wartime cabinet. Very neat and a fascinating look at one small but crucial aspect of the war. Basically a whole bunch of people lived down there for extended periods during the war. Churchill while he slept there only a few times (too bad given his private bedroom and dining room) spent much of this time there with his cabinet managing the British efforts.

From there we went to the Horseguard Museum (actually it's called the Household Cavalry museum, but the horseguards are there so ya, Horseguard museum it is). If you watched beach volleyball during the London Olympics then you know this place, or at least it's courtyard. The Horseguard are to the Royal family what the Swiss Guard are to the Pope. Their official protectors. There are two regiments in the Horseguard: The Life Guard, and The Blue and Royal Guard. Anyone in the commonwealth can apply for entry. No riding experience required.

Now, I do have a couple of picture of the guys in full ceremonial uniform but I'm not allowed to post them, so instead here is a really cool canon that's in the parade ground.

The funny thing is that I'm pretty sure I have a picture of this canon on my other SD card from the trip here with my Dad. The same is likely true for alot of these shots. Huh. Well, I'm not going to cheat. Only 2014 originals here.

The river tour was a nice relaxing trip down the Thames. I really do like the Thames. When I was here last Dad and I spent a goodly amount of time walking along its banks. Not so much this time, but I remain hopeful.

Anyway, we arrived at Tower Bridge, which, in addition to having two towers is also right at The Tower of London, which is why it actually has that name.

As a note, London Bridge remains wholely unremarkable. Great little tune, but boy, they sure were singing about something else back then.

And then into the Tower of London.

There is alot to see here. A. Lot. The crown jewels for example, if you're into the big shiny object sort of thing. Plus of course there is all the history of it as a working castle and royal residence, and of course of it's less nice history as a jail. I'd recommend this being something you take a day for, or at least, don't do it and another big thing, like for instance, an ABBEY, on the same day. My brain was mush. Total mush, and I did not get as much out of this as I would have liked to.

My fault, not the Towers. Don't blame the history, blame the dufus trying to absorb it all in one day. Again though, the guys rolled with it way better than I, and likely retained more information than I did.

This though I found kinda fun.

It's essentially graffiti done by one of the prisoners in the tower. Now, Draper was being held on charges of sorcery, which he admitted to doing at early points in his life but argued when arrested that he was done with. Just a phase apparently. Well, it would seem that smart people back in the 16th century can be just as daft as smart people now-a-days, because what did Draper spend his time on carving into the wall during his incarceration? A zodiac sphere. Yep, zodiac sphere. Somehow this didn't help his case much, though there is no record of what eventually happened to him, so who knows, maybe the stars did align in his favour. Ba-da-dum.

Then it was off to a pub for a curry and a pint (or two), and a quick meet up with Tanya who swung by on her way home from work. Tanya is super awesome that way. She and Simon are super busy with their work and lives, and they kindly open their home to us and then find ways to connect when and where they can, even if it does mean going 30 minutes out of the way. Super, super cool.

The evening was spent on a Jack the Ripper London walk. This, like the day leading up to it, was fascinating. Now, I am sure that there are literally dozens of different companies offering Ripper walks. I am equally sure many of them try to be "spooky" or sensationalize the whole event. London walks version? It is graphic. It is explicit. These things are true. And I had no idea how brutal these slayings were. I will not go into it; my mother is afterall reading this. But that is not the part I found fascinating. What the tour is really doing, is giving us a view into life at that time. The conditions people in the "east end" lived under. Who lived there, where they came from. Why they were there. The very important distinction between what is officially the City of London and other areas like White Chapel, Westminster, and the townships that morphed into what we think of as London today. The origins of those boundaries and the affect those boundaries had upon life in London then, and continue to have today. It's a history lesson with a bit of evisceration to help keep you focussed. If only they had that for Grade 11 math, I likely would have done much better.

No, no I wouldn't have.

And then we headed home to regale Simon and Tanya with the days events and to learn a whole lot about Simon, a black duffle bag, and a trip to Westminster. His story to tell, and a fine teller he is, so I will leave it to him. The one thing I will say about last nights conversation, is that I am very thankful for having friends who like to talk and share their stories, knowledge and opinions. I am just as equally thankful for having two sons who are interested listeners to these stories, and participants in these conversations with thoughts of their own to provide. I am hoping it is a small glimpse into the types of evenings we will be sharing this year with the people we meet along the way. That is the point afterall.

Having now written all this I am wondering what the whole first section was about. We're seeing and doing lots. London is a fantastic city. And we're finding our balance, or more likely, I am finding mine and the guys are keeping calm and carrying on despite my shennanigans.

Well, it's nearly 6pm here. Time to get out of my pyjamas and go get some groceries.

Glaciers, Geysers and Falls Oh My

Hugi likes to sing karaoke. There are two bars offering karaoke in Reykjavik, both apparently woefully neglected when it comes to the quality of equipment, or so our guide now troubadour told us. So yes, from the sublime to the ridiculous.

We went. We sang.

Back to the sublime.

Friday promised to be a long day, Hugi having been up till then telling us that it normally went 12-14 hours. He wasn't lying. So a fairly early start of out the door by 8am was agreed to. We did well for ourselves and were already to go by about then, and Hugi did well for himself and had already been out and picked up two new folk, Tom and Marcy, who I have already introduced you to.

A caveat. The order of this might be a touch off, and as the boys are still asleep and we are now in London, I don't have anyone to verify my shoddy memory. Sure, you may not notice, but maybe you've done a similar tour and are wondering about why all the backtracking. If you are such a person, then a) comment, as I'd like to know, and b) my sincere apologies for inadvertently altering the space-time continuum.

First was a trip to Fingvellir National Park. I don't know if the Vikings who held their first parliament here in 930 AD knew it or not, but they set up shop overlooking the drift between the North American and Eurasian plates. And no, they likely didn't. Yep, what you're looking at is, in some odd little way I guess, not part of either continent. A neutral zone if you will, devoid of William Shatner and his shennanigans.

It made for a nice first walk for the day, though this lovely ramp down had me in a limp by the bottom. Gonna be a long one.

From Fingvellir we went on to Geysir park, where there are, as you might expect by the name, geysers. Before getting there though a quick note on my use of the letter "f" in Fingvellir. The actual letter that belongs there is called "thorn", one of those fun, older letters that you find in Icelandic, earlier forms of English, Gaelic I think, and lord knows where else, and when properly rendered looks like a capital "P" flying at half mast. It is transliterated as "th". So why have I been writing it as "F"? Because I am a tool.

Geysir park, as I am now about to unnecessarily explain for the second time, is a park full of geysers. There are several there, but currently only one is going off. Conveniently it erupts on a fairly decent schedule of every 5-6 minutes or so, so we stuck around and watched a few times. I, sadly, did not get a picture of an eruption, though I believe Jake did, so go bug him for it.

They're all steaming though, as they are very hot. Go figure. Water exploding out of the ground up to 70 metres high. Yes, it's going to be hot. They figure it's been active for at about 10,000 years, with the first recording of it (I assume not on a GoPro) in the 13th century.

The geysers are quite influenced by earthquake activity in the area, hence why only one is popping these days. The others have been blocked up somewhere beneath. One good rattle though and who knows, we may get the whole field spewing forth. I doubt the little ropes that keep you from getting to close will be of much use if that were to happen.

Next was on to Gullfoss, or Golden Waterfall. This waterfall comes in two drops, one of about 11 metres, followed by another of 21 metres, and flows into the river Hvita.

Did I mention the rain? Sorry about that.

Conveniently, you're able to get quite close near the top of these falls, at which point a few water droplets on the camera lense don't matter as much. Somehow though that didn't happen on this one, though you may see bits of my thumb print from having "dried" the lense.

Spending time close to these falls I found myself asking whether Niagara Falls would be more majestic if there wasn't so much human stuff built up all around it? Being from Toronto I've been to Niagara Falls many a time to show it off to visiting friends or family, or of course, to show the boys when they were young. So maybe they've lost their luster for me, or have become common, taken for granted. Certainly a horrible thing to say about one of the seven natural wonders of the world - depending of course which list you look at. Anyway, that's the question I am left pondering because these falls, and many of the ones we saw in Iceland, well, while some are taller, none are anywhere near as wide, but they pack a huge wallop when spending time with them, one much greater in my opinion than Niagara, and I think that has to do with the area around the falls remaining relatively untouched. At least, untouched when compared to Niagara.

With the visit to Gullfoss done we had now seen the "big three" that make up what, in the Icelandic tourism trade is called, The Golden Circle.

But wait, there was more!

There was Skogafoss, another gorgeous waterfall we got to visit.

There is a stairwell up the right side of Skogafoss that leads to an excellent lookout area. I actually skipped the up part as I knew the down was going to suck on my knee. This turned out for the best, for, as it so happens, the top of Skogafoss is the gateway to about 25km worth of hiking trails that lead you past many a more waterfall. I would likely still be there.

The next stop was, surprisingly enough, another waterfall. See, I told you there were alot.

Seljalandsfoss has the notoriety of being the one where Jake was heard utter "I want to touch a waterfall". Well, see the smaller fall on the left side of the below photo, that's where Jake touched it. Or rather, that is where it touched him.

How did he get there you may ask? Well, conveniently, you can walk behind these falls.

Okay, I am now really disappointed. I was about to start writing about a local legend about how a treasure chest of gold was hid behind these falls, and that it was once found, but when they tried to pull it out the ring broke off, so it's still there. I was pretty sure it was Seljalandsfoss and not Skogafoss (they are pretty close together) because you can walk behind Seljalandsfoss, so it just naturally follows.  So why am I disappointed? I'm disappointed because I went to look it up so I could keep my legend facts straight for everyone, and, reading through a few blogs I discovered plagarism. Yes, word for word descriptions of this chest of gold legend (attributed to Skogafoss by the way). Plagarism. On blogs. Seriously people, if you're writing a blog or travel site or anything really, don't you think your own words might be worth it? Or at least cite it properly. And there is this crazy new thing I hear you can do. You can make a LINK to other information on the internet. How is plagarism the right choice here?

Sorry. Pisses me off.

This is getting behind Seljalandsfoss. I've been constantly amazed by how green Iceland can be; how life clings and abounds on this rocky terrain. No exception here. And an excellent reminder of how important water is to life, no matter what Nestles may tell you.

Alrighty. Here's a good view of what Jake got himself into. It's the one on the right. He just walked out onto that bit of rock there and "touched" the waterfall. Thank you MEC for quick drying clothes.

All I can say is that I am very, very proud.

Next we went to the moon. I now take back everything I said earlier. Okay, maybe "take back" is the wrong term. I would just now like to say that yes, Iceland seems like a good place to practice for a moon walk.

An it just goes on, and on.

These are actually some of the many blacksand beaches along Icelands coast. Simon told me last night that the Canary Islands also have blacksand beaches and that that is where they tested the moon vehicles. Glad to see they spread it around.

Oh, and apparently the US crashlanded a plane on the moon.

 And if walking on the moon wasn't enough it was then time to go walk on a glacier. This shot is taken from the parking area. You can see the glacier off in the distance and some of us part way there. So no, not super far to walk. That said, fifteen years ago I would have been standing on the glacier from where I took this photo.

Global warming kinda sucks.

We did however manage to walk out a bit. While there were some slippery points much of where we were walking had enough dirt on it to provider purchase for our hiking shoes. Any further though and crampons would have been required.

The below is a fine example of the types of cracks in the glacier we were stepping over. They're nice as you can see hints of the blue ice that comes about from the extreme pressure this much weight creates. All in all, dirty things glaciers. But really awesome.

Looking at the map again I think this glacier is Myrdalsjokull, but unfortunately I cannot say for sure. Given its in the south, and we were in the south, it seems a reasonable guess on my part.

And yes, that's Noah and Jake walking along a ridge by the glacier. Not quite as nimble footed as Icelandic sheep, or ninja's for that matter, but they do a pretty good job of it.

Next was a set of cliffs and cave in and around Reynisdrangar. They have the notoriety of being where the recent film Noah starring Russell Crowe was filmed, but we won't hold that against them. Not that I've seen the film. I've just got this thing about Russell Crowe, and it ticks me off that someone so talented can be such a jerk, or so the media has lead me to believe, so I take it out in odd little ways. Why can't everyone be Neil Patrick Harris?

Anyway, as you can see it's a pretty good place to go for a lie down once you've drunk too much wine and want to get naked.

And it provides excellent shelter.

At least of course until the tides come in.

Now, I'm going to do something I didn't think I would do. I'm going to repost a picture, just so that it makes the following comparison nice and easy for all you viewers out there.

The first shot is of the Lutheran church Hallgrimskirkja in Reykjavik which I mentioned earlier. Notice the sides.

Now, these are the cliff walls.

Neat eh?

Our last stop was to try and see puffins. The boys and I did not see puffins, though others did when they wandered down to the beach.

We did however see this.

Now, this is not one of the trolls rocks that you may have heard about. We were in that area but, due to the all day rain fest, the visibility was about zero, so we didn't stop to just get wetter than we already were. That said, still gorgeous.

From there our merry band of eight headed back to Reykjavik.

The next day we got up and Hugi took us to the bus station where we dropped off our bags and then wandered around the city for a couple of hours. In the rain. I would not say that the boys and I were feeling overly inspired, hence the lack of photos and our arrival back at the bus station a very safe hour or so before the bus departed. We did however have a chance to walk along the docks, and chat with a fellow on a coast guard ship heading out the next day to patrol Greenland. Unfortunately they did not require any additional hands. Seriously. I asked. Just ask the guys.

Then it was off to the airport, and on to Tanya and Simon's in London, where I now sit, nice and refreshed, on Sunday morning in their lovely kitchen.

A couple of things to close off our trip to Iceland.

The first is a theme I've been going on about: being happy with the experiences had rather than being upset by those that don't. One of the things I had really been looking forward to doing was going to elf-spotting school. I think I wrote about this already. Anyway, it did not happen. The boys and I have no idea how to spot the places where the hidden folk continue to live. Being able to post a photo of my certificate proclaiming me a qualified elf spotter. Adding this to my CV. These are two things that I wish I could be doing right now that I can't as the schedule just did not allow for it. That said, amazing things were seen, and as the headmaster of the school emailed me last night about other options, I guess I'll just have to keep in touch and meet with him next time. Yes, there will be a next time.

The second is on couchsurfing. As this was our first experience with it I didn't know what to expect. I also want to be respectful to everyone I was with, so I will say the following. For the most part I very much enjoyed the experience, and enjoyed the people that I got to stay and travel with. I think as a bunch of strangers tossed together for a few days non-stop we did a good job of it. That said, when I was in university and moving out of residence I chose to live with one other person, and only one. Why? Because when it comes to relationships, where I am A,  I'm good with the A-B relationship, I'm good with the A-C relationship, but I struggle when there are issues with the B-C relationship.

That sort of thing did happen along the way. Noah and Jake were awesome about it. It didn't phase them and they hardly noticed it. Me on the other hand, less so. It was very difficult to keep myself out of it, and that, I think, is what I need to be doing. The core thing I do at work is facilitate, I'm not a fan of conflict, and I really like it when everyone is comfortable and getting their needs met. Not walking into the middle of a situation where that is not the case and trying to help sort it out is a hard thing for me to do, but likely the right choice to make given the year we have ahead. I guess we will see. And honestly, I'm not sure. What matters most I think is that the three of us feel safe and comfortable wherever we are, so I guess whatever I need to make that happen is the right thing for me to be doing. So maybe there isn't a "rule" to this one. Maybe it's taking each situation one at a time.

I have hopes for couchsurfing while in the UK, and have already received an invitation to go to the zoo from someone on the network. Another friend we just haven't met yet.

Simon is cracking eggs. Time for breakfast with the friends we've got.