Disorientation

London is big. London is expensive. London is exhausting. The last couple of days we have walked so far, and seen so little, that it is discouraging. There is simply too much of this place: history, buildings, artwork, good food, etc. etc. that even with the extended stay I feel as if I have barely scratched the surface. Going to Oxford was a good example. We got up early in the morning under the mistaken impression that tickets would be cheaper and ended up spending way too much money and time on the trains to our destination. Once there, I again found the ancient street patterns to disorienting to navigate correctly and we ended up a an ancient Norman tower that had no listing on my planned sightseeing route.

The tower was actually the site of an old prison after the days of knights and robber barons, and the tour was very nice, allowing us to go up to the top and gaze upon the dreamy spires of Oxford. Most interesting was the fact that the prison had been made into a four star hotel, and one of their staff allowed us to see the transformation of the place inside.

After that, our wanderings in Oxford at least took in some of the highlights. Two other old towers one could climb for a few pounds admission, a visit to Blackwell’s bookstore (most impressive) and then over to the Boedlian Library which had to be the most disappointing. Their free exhibit room was closed, we decided against paying a steep fee for the thirty minute peek at the place, so we had to content ourselves with a walk around the outside of the place and a few minutes in the very heart of the interior square.

We also went to the Radcliffe Camera and the nearby science museum before having a drink in a canal-side pub and heading back to ondon. While I am glad to say I have seen Oxford, I do not believe it was worth the nearly two hour journey by tube and train both ways.

Yesterday we walked down to have a look at St. Paul’s cathedral and the Cheshire Cheese pub. The first was more large than it was beautiful, and admission to the second was about the same price but included a cold cider and some fish and chips. Sixteen pounds to simply enter a church to gaze in silent reflection at its marvels could not compete with the chance to refresh ourselves at one of London’s oldest watering holes, a place that reeked of antiquity, having been rebuilt after the great fire of 1666. We enjoyed our break deep underground in a place where one of my height would be in constant danger of banging his head.

Our return march last night took us to the upper end of Brick Lane, a place of fashionable shops, trendy nightclubs, and crowed streets. Now we know why all the rowdy people pass by our place at night. They quickly pass by the dismal curry joints on our block while headed to the action just a about a half mile away.