This post is a continuation to my previous story of spending a day in London. Click here for that whole story.

THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I DIDN'T GET TO EAT ON MY LAST DAY IN LONDON.

The rest of the day was spent wandering at Oxford street and, unfortunately, ruining everyone’s afternoon when I made it my life’s mission to find a fantastic Indian restaurant. It was a recipe for failure from the start. I didn’t know any good restaurants in London, but my craving needed to be satisfied and I was hellbent on Mom loving Indian food once and for all. In retrospect, I was the one who betrayed the ‘go with the flow’ plan of the day.

When we were told there was an incredible Indian restaurant very close to Oxford street, I followed blindly and by blindly I mean I got us completely lost. We walked far more than we needed to and had to ask for directions constantly. But I couldn’t stop now. I had made everyone skip our scheduled meal with the group so we could have a nirvana-like experience with Indian cuisine. I had to find the place and an hour later I did. 

Tired, thirsty and starving we arrived at the place, but the embarrassment had only begun. The restaurant was beyond fancy with a narrow hall with an elevator in the end took us to the restaurant on the second floor. Everybody stared as we were seated and given steamed towels to clean our hands. One look at the menu and I began having a mini nervous breakdown. No plate on the menu was cheaper than 30 quid. Not even the appetizers.

This was the furthest thing from the idea I had in mind. I thought we could enjoy some curry and naan bread accompanied by acceptable customer service, not break our wallets at a high end place where the waiters have immaculate detailed uniforms. My breakdown led to frustration tears in the bathroom and me making everybody uncomfortable, even the maitre'd.

 My family continued to reassure me, telling me we didn't have to stay at all, and to my utter embarrassment we did leave but not before several waiters, even what appeared the manager asked us if we had found something wrong with the service. From their perspective, it did seem we became quite unsatisfied in a matter of a nanosecond. What was I suppose to say, though? 'You are too good for us?' No, no. We conjured up some sort of excuse and the apologized once again on our way out.

Still feeling defeated and utterly stupid, Mark tried his best to cheer me up and so did everyone else. We ended up eating in an Argentinian restaurant nearby and while it wasn’t Indian, it was still really good. With every bite, I felt better and got over my obsessive, highly dramatic moment.

I do hope someone out there read, who has tried a great bowl of curry, will understand that my reactions were not uncalled for. Sometimes you just have to have curry. And instantly. We all payed the price.

Back at the hotel, my roommate asked me why I had missed dinner with them. I told her we were in the search for some restaurant and it ended strange to say the least. I asked her how her evening had been and she said the food had been surprisingly delicious. They had stuffed their faces with curry and naan bread at a very cozy Indian restaurant.

If you have ever wondered what irony is, that day it slapped me square in the face.

Freedom Day in London | EUROPE TRIP

Day 4- London

It was our last day in England and we were allowed a free pass to explore the city as we wished, to spend endless hours in parks or watch three musicals in a row it we wanted, whatever tickled our fancy.

While attending musicals would have been great for me but disastrous for Mom,  I came up with a brilliant plan but it all had to seem spontaneous and relaxed because a  ‘free’ day isn’t about meeting schedules and time to the second. It’s about letting it happen.

Our first stop was Abbey Road, the Mecca for any Beatle fan.  After passing by the little Beatles themed shop at St. John’s Wood station, it was only a short walk away and before we knew it there was Abbey Road Studio, a gated white house to the left. The studio is closed to the public and just as well. I might have fainted if I set one foot inside.

Like ourselves, fans settle for leaving their appreciation for the Beatles on the walls of the gates. Some doodle John, Paul, George and Ringo’s faces while others write down a few verses of their favorite songs. Prepared with a permanent marker in my purse, I wrote down thanks. Thanks for the words, for the inspiration, for the funny and sad stories. Thank you for being my teachers and my friends. Thank you for the music.

We could have left it at that, but my aunt thought my late father, her brother, should stay as close to Abbey Road as possible. And now he always will be.

If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have known what music is capable of. Life would have been immensely grey without knowing ‘Norweigan Wood’ ‘I get by with a little help from my Friends’ and our song ‘In my Life’. Without him, so much would have gone by unnoticed. Yet, if someone were to ask me which is one the greatest gift my father gave me, I would say the Beatles and all the memories that are played to their melody.  So thank you, Dad. Thank you. Always.

We couldn’t leave without attempting to recreate the iconic picture, all of us walking coolly to the right. But after getting the direction wrong, Mom taking my place as Lennon and also stopping in the middle to smile at the camera, I was disappointed at my ‘crew’ and we called it quits.

Soon it was lunchtime and we headed to Covent Garden to check out the activity. With quaint shops, gastropubs and street performances in every corner, Covent Garden is one of those districts that no matter how many times you’ve been there, there is always something new to enjoy and explore. I always find it so familiar when I recognize shops and places I have seen since my first visit to London 8 years ago. I always remember a pub called The White Lion where I had my first pint at the age of 16. I remember with every detail the taste of the chewy cookies from the tiniest shop called Ben’s Cookies, wedged into a little corner in the Covent Garden Market. In that same building I never forget to look down to the first level where you always see a gigantic pan used to cook  an enormous paella. Even though it’s irrelevant to Covent Garden’s vibrant energy, I always search for these things, like little treasures I left behind and I want to make sure they are still where I left them.

Once again, I was in luck. The square was invaded by tons of tent booths selling all kinds of food, refreshing drinks and pastries. Even if you weren’t hungry, it was just as fun to walk by slowly and notice all the delicacies they were selling- freshly squeezed lemonade, tubs of olives stuffed with peppers or cheese, soaking in brine and olive oil and thick slices of cheesecake and poppy seed muffins drizzled with lemon glaze. The sizzling sound of grilled meat being tossed with peppers and onion meant to be stuffed into a soft roll made my mouth water. After walking by all the tents, we were starvin marvin.

Mark and I opted for that grilled meat sandwich and savored it as we strolled by Jubilee Market. They were selling every type of trinket like journals bound in aged leather, glass clocks, vintage necklaces and band T-shirts. I found a black Abbey Road tee for nine pounds. It was fate. I couldn’t leave it. But my people performed a small intervention before I walked away with three new journals and five bracelets and ten tops. I have an avid love for useless things.

Afterwards we went to experience London Eye, a must for every first timer. I had been on it two years before and I was immediately filled with regret I hadn’t done this on my very first visit to London. It was an experience that for some reason brought out my inner child. Maybe it’s because it resembles the biggest ferris wheel ride you will ever be on, but it had helped me appreciate the city more. I wanted Mom to have that as well.

The queue for London Eye was long but we were told not to worry. It moves quite fast. Before we had time to worry about how long it would take, we were given 3D glasses and taken to a room to watch a short film about the construction and meaning of London Eye. The observation wheel, which looks like a huge white bicycle wheel with 32 capsules, was added to the city to welcome the millennium and eventually became a symbol of London like the Eiffel Tower for Paris. Frankly, there is no better way to observe the city than this.

We were lucky it was one of those rare sunny days in London because as we ascended slowly in the glass and steel capsule, we were able to see every bit of the city. The forty minute ride seems slow, giving us enough time to stop all the buildings illustrated in the guide we got beforehand. As it keeps moving, the panoramic view broadens and if you are lucky, you might get to see up to 40 kilometres in all directions, as far as Windsor Castle. Even though it was a bright day, I wasn’t able to spot it.

By the time our ride was over, it was almost time for dinner and I had this amazing idea to get my family to try proper Indian Cuisine. But that is a whole other story. Really. Click here to know all about it.

Getting to Know London | EUROPE TRIP

Day 3- London

At seven o’ clock in the morning, still disoriented and tired, I faced one of the hardest choices one makes in their first days in England. Do I have my bagel with coffee, what I’m used to, or tea, what should I be drinking? It is no easy decision. I could have a 40 minute conversation arguing both sides. But there was no time for that and as much as I had become fond of tea, by force and overabundance, I stuck to coffee for the extra boost of energy this long day would require. Pardon, Britain.

Outside of the hotel, the group was guided to the tube, only a block away. There were still many unfamiliar faces and everyone was slowly integrating. But while we all still didn’t know each other’s names, the language made sure no one would get lost. It’s hard to find an additional Puerto Rican in England at this time that wasn’t part of our group.

We were scheduled for a bus tour through London but we had no idea what that entailed. And to my eternal disappointment, it was not a double-decker bus.

We drove around the city with our cameras in hand ready for any landmark while feeling weird about being on the wrong side of the road. Every turn seemed like a car crash waiting to happen.

Everyone took pictures as our tour guide pointed out all the big names- Westminster Abbey, Tower Bridge, London Eye and Parliament. With every landmark, he would add a bit of historic information that kept it colorful.

As much as I understand the practicality of a tour bus and how it’s a helpful introduction for the tourist, there is always something odd about it. Here we are, newcomers to this place, eager and curious, yet we are forced to admire it from inside a capsule of metal and glass. Look, but don’t go near it. Admire it, but only for a second and then forever with a photograph. You could go through every street of a city and never set foot in it.

However, I understood it was what we signed up for and if you want to see 11 cities in 30 days, you better pick up the pace.

Our first stop was back at St. Paul’s Cathedral, my favorite. I’m not sure why I love it more than Westminster. I think it’s because Westminster Abbey reminds me of royalty, of blue blood weddings and funerals, and St. Paul’s will always remind me of Mary Poppins and ‘Feed the Birds’…tuppence a bag.

 Yet we didn’t stay for long, to my disappointment, because it was almost 11:30 and it was time to head over to Buckingham Palace for the Changing of the Guards.

I’ve seen it at least four times in the past 6 years, yet it never fails to impress me. It’s fascinating; the magnificent palace behind them, their discipline and coordination has become a performance for all tourists.

Changing the Guard is simply the process that involves the new guard exchanging duty with the old guard at Buckingham Palace and Windsor Castle. The handover is accompanied by the Guard’s band and they play traditional military marches.

Observers and first timers gather around Queen Victoria’s statue that faces the palace while the rest line up along the main road where the new shift will march in. Everyone is looking for the perfect spot to photograph the Queen’s guards in their flawless formation with bright red coats and the iconic bearskins. Their discipline and grasp for tradition made me feel like I was suddenly in another time, a few centuries ago, as the marched to the beat of a drum and the melody of trumpets.

It goes by faster than you’d think, so it is always smart to arrive 15 to 30 minutes early.

Once it was over, we made our way back to the bus for the second part of the tour, which included passing by Hyde Park, historic buildings and a quick peek of Covent Garden.

We finished the day once again by the South Bank, this time with a closer and ample view of Tower Bridge, decorated with the five Olympic rings that signalled the games would soon start.

 

Dinner was scheduled at Wagamama and you could have anything you wanted, as long as it was a heaped bowl of noodles with chicken and a ginger sauce.

A rumour soon spread that we weren’t really eating chicken thighs but iguana meat. When the rumour made its way to my table, I paused a mouthful of noodles and mysterious meat still intact in my mouth. I really couldn’t back down now. That would be too much of a scene. Instead, I braved it and chewed slowly and carefully, waiting for the foreign meat to hit my taste buds. And in the end, it was actually pretty good.

After dinner, everyone was saying it was really a joke and no iguanas had been injured in order to prepare our meal. But even now, years later, I always tell people I had iguana for the very first time in London. And it tasted just like chicken.

Fighting the British Jet Lag | EUROPE TRIP

Day 2- London

The first day after any international flight is always a strange one. Your body is telling you it’s time to sleep but the city is indicating the day has just begun. The cool morning breeze, the bustling traffic and men in crisp suits are all signs of an awakening London.

 

It’s always a blur, that first day, a combination of an out of body experience and your senses tingling with every new smell, touch and site. A Costa coffee, an introduction to our guides, a bus ride from Heathrow and one Adele album later, we arrived at Wembley to leave all our luggage, power through the jetlag and head on into the city.

London, the metropolis I grew to love without realizing. The first time I visited was at the age of sixteen and I was homesick and hanging on to a crush back home that soon fizzled out. Maybe it was due to my first taste of jetlag, hitting me with full force or maybe it was immaturity, but I disliked London quickly.

Years later, I met Mark and soon came the time to travel alone overseas for the first time in order to spend time with him. And then, without a killer dose of jetlag and hand in hand with a local, it was like I had met city for the first time.

Since then every time I visit it feels familiar and clear. When I step into her, touch her, I recognize her and she recognizes me back. England is so different from where I grew up, possibly the complete opposite, yet I can call her my home, a place I miss and its memories are alive inside me even as time passes.

London is the city where I learned my independence and let my freak flag fly, where I feel capable. London embodies late nights and long walks that are never tiring. It is my seasonal affair and comforting cups of tea. I know the city, the underground maps and I never feel lost or alone in it.

Now, after more than a year, I was back and I was with Mark once again. I hugged him hard and relished the deep sound of his voice as he kissed my cheek, the way he had eight months ago. Even though we hadn’t been face to face for the better part of the year, it always felt familiar and comforting to see him.

But our reunion was cut short when the guides scurried us to the tube, like lost little baby chicks, and we headed to Central London for our first quintessential English experience. Fish and Chips. If you’ve ever had the signature dish before, you know it can go incredibly great –flaky moist fish with a crunchy beer batter exterior fried to perfection- or horribly wrong – soggy, pale looking piece of fish next to frozen, out of  the box chips.

Our fish and chips were the latter; a testament to English cuisine the way Taco Bell represents authentic Mexican food. It just wasn’t. But rule number two to beat the jetlag is to eat, preferably clean food, but nonetheless eat. First rule is to hydrate. So we ate as much as we could of the overly oily fish and left the pub.

Luckily we were nearby one of my favorite areas of London, just a few blocks away from the beautiful St. Paul’s Cathedral and for the next hour, we were allowed to just be, walk and let realization kick in. Feeling somewhat self confident of understanding my surroundings (classic British Wanna Be syndrome), I urged my people –Mother, Aunt and Mark- to head down to one of my favorite walks in the city.

After passing St. Paul’s, we took a right and followed the signs that led us to cross the Thames via the the Millennium Bridge and down to the South Bank. I’ve walked over this bridge several times with Mark holding hands and the view of the city and Tower Bridge still surprises me. I can’t help but walk slower, even as the steel bridge shakes and trembles with every step people take.

Even though we are immediately greeted by The Globe Theatre, the reconstruction of Shakespeare’s theatre of centuries ago, I never forget to turn around after crossing the bridge and admire how it peeks out through the buildings and the river. 

The view of the sleek metal bridge leading your eye to the majestic form of the cathedral reminds me I’m in a city that has blended perfectly the old with the new. And I think that is my favorite part of London.

The key to curing jetlag is to not trust that shot of dopamine ensued by finally arriving at your destination. That dopamine will turn on you in a few hours and it will be replaced by grogginess, slow motion movement and your brain being invaded with the phrase ‘where the hell am I?”

So we settled for one more stroll through Leicester Square and witnessed a crowd shrieking and waiting in line by the Empire Cinema. Turns out, Katy Perry’s Part of Me was premiering and I managed to get a glimpse of Katy’s bright pink hair as she entered the theater surrounded by five body guards. Bonus, but I’m more of a Lady Gaga kind of person.

After a quick dinner, we decided to quit while we were ahead and we made our way back to the hotel. It had been the first time I’d managed a successful jetlag free day after a long trip. I slept soundly for a good four hours and at around three o’clock in the morning, I opened my eyes long enough to assess my unfamiliar surroundings and mumble ‘where the hell am I?’