London + Family = Christmas

You know you've grown up when both your parents tell you not to move home, and your brother says he'll move out if you come back.

Honestly, that's the basis of three conversations I had when my family came to visit the 19--30 of December. To be fair, my parents were telling me not to go back to a town of 200 people, but to stay in a vibrant, large city with all sorts of opportunities. And the truth is, I don't think I can ever live with Colin: we'll end up fighting constantly. But luckily for us, this time we were fighting with my parents so much we actually got along for the first time on any vacation.

What is it about being back with your family? When I'm with my friends and flatmates, I never lose my temper. Sure, I might whine and complain a bit, rage at the world, but to walk down a street shouting and cursing towards one of them is impossible. It's as if I save up all my bitchiness for my family. So yeah, Mom and Dad, sorry about all that. Colin, you still need a haircut. But maybe me yelling at you about it for 45 minutes was a bit much, so I apologise for that, too.

Not to say that we didn't have a successful holiday. I think my family liked London, and I certainly enjoyed having them here. My cousin asked me last night what I liked about having them here, and I answered that what I probably relished the most was their delight and questioning over little things that I take for granted, such as:

Left or right? When you're on an escalator, you stand on the right. When you're on the river, boats stay in the right 'lane.' All other times the Brits use the left. I never noticed the escalator thing--it seems normal to me now.

Traffic Signs My dad was obsessed with traffic rules and regulations, and constantly asked me what certain signs meant. Since none of my friends nor I drive, I was hard pressed to answer. I just never pay attention anymore.

Pubs For the first time ever, my mom ordered something at a pub. She was quite pleased, and also because she had discovered something new: the brass holder on which pints sit for a few minutes before the foam goes down. Apparently we don't have these in the States. Who knew?

Eurotrash Living in chi-chi South Kensington, and with the fam in oh-so-posh Chelsea, we were often confronted with Eurotrash. They have to be seen, as an explanation can't do them justice. My favourite example was when we were in the local patesserie and a guy pulled up in a Porsche, came in and spoke Italian on his mobile while ordering pastries in French. He had tousled highlighted hair, tight spray-painted jeans, and the ubiquitous sunglasses. In December. So yeah, it was fun to point out Eurotrash to the family.

Vocabulary "What's an 'off-license'?" my family would ask. "Look, it says 'Humps ahead,' on the sign!" they'd point out with glee (okay, I pointed out with glee). I enjoyed being able to explain these new points of British language to them, but am surprised by how easy it was to "talk American" again. All of my carefully cultivated Britishisms went out the window after 12 days. I even caught myself saying 'elevator' and 'pants' instead of 'lift' and 'trousers.' The horror!

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So what did we do for 12 days, you ask? Well, considering it's Britain, we did jack all for three days. I've never been here over the holidays before (last time I was in Europe my parents took me to Italy for two weeks--I know, I know.). So I was unprepared to have EVERTHING be shut down on 1.) Christmas Eve Day, 2.) Christmas Day, and 3.) Boxing Day. Okay, I'll give them Christmas Day. But Boxing Day (Dec. 26th)? Our American sensibilites were offended when, emerging onto the King's Road with plans to max out the credit card, my mom and I found not a shop open. The four shops in the city that were open were inundated with crowds, and we contented ourselves with loudly discussing how much money they would make if they opened on Boxing Day.

That's something I surprised myself with: the huge amount of complaining I did. The old standbys came out (how your choice to wash your hands is scalding hot or icy cold water), joined by complaints about the milk (doesn't keep), amount to walk to the supermarket (too far), black cabs (too expensive). I'm sure that they all got the impression that I hate living here, when it's just the opposite. It's just that at work, I can't complain about certain things since they're all British and wouldn't understand. And sometimes I just like whining. Big surprise.

Right. So what did we explore? I'll attempt to be as brief as possible (touch wood).

FRI. 19 DEC.:
Met the parents after my Christmas lunch, very sober thank you, and walked them around the South Bank, across the beautiful Jubilee Walkway on the Thames. London is the most beautiful city at night.

SAT. 20 DEC.:
Treats for the 'rents: Borough Market for the mom, Imperial War Museum for the dad. Ostensibly these were Christmas presents (I gave 'experiences' rather than capitalist 'gifts'), but everyone tagged along. I love both places--'twas my third visit to each--and enjoyed the delight on my parents' faces, and even Colin's at the War Museum. My mom could've spent the entire day at Borough Market looking at the food, and it felt like we did spend the entire day at the War Museum. We looked at every single tank, gun, boat and airplane in the museum. It was different being there with people who know their history, and I was impressed by the vast (arcane?) knowledge of the Winters males. They ran around with glee, vociferously commenting on each new discovery. None of the horror of war seemed imparted on that visit, so although I was drained upon leaving, it wasn't with sadness but rather with the innundation of information about WWI and WWII and the evolution of tank construction. But hey, it's not every visit to a museum that you get your own personalised lecture on Rommell, the Desert Fox. Or learn that the Russians had the best tanks of WWII but no one knew about them, not even the Germans, and that they would literally roll off the assembly line fully staffed with soliders and begin firing, that's how close the battle was in Stalingrad.

SUN. 21 DEC.:

Massively enjoyed the Cabinet War Rooms, the heart of the war preserved just as they were in 1945 when the lights went out for the last time

Had High Tea in oh-so-elegant surroundings at the Orangery in Kensington Gardens next to Kensginton Palace, built for Queen Anne in 1704

Visited Leicester Square

Introduced everyone to Pimm's (a gin-based drink they float cucumbers and lemons in) at the local pub, the Queen's Head

MON. 22 DEC.:
Jetlag recovery for parents/brother while I had fun organising a closet at work (serious fun, I'm tellin' ya). Then off to see the King's College Choir (of Cambridge) at the Royal Albert Hall. Not quite what I was expecting--more carols and less opera singer/classical music orchestra stuff--but it was made up for in the end by rousing renditions of carols, including Once In Royal David's City. Now, my family is Methodist, and we like our hymns, but we weren't familiar with this one at all. Apparently it's very traditional to have a young boy (or in this case, the young boys of the choir) sing the first verse). Those silly Brits and their traditions!

TUES. 23 DEC.:
Swanky dinner on the 24th floor of the tallest building in the City, Tower 42, with the Gherkin and London spread about before us. The Gherkin's (see slideshow) the newest--and in my opinion--coolest building to grace the skyline, as seen in many background shots of "Love Actually." We enjoyed the succulent food and Mom even got the name of a vinyard owned by a personal friend of the sommelier so she can get a bottle of the fantastic dessert wine she had.

WED. 24 DEC.:
Took the Docklands Light Railway to Greenwich, that lovely town I visited with Esther in November. Unfortunately, the Cutty Sark wasn't open, nor was anything, for that matter. But we walked through the Market, past the Queen's House (designed by Inigo Jones), National Maritime Museum, and Royal Naval College and through the park (see view) to the Royal Observatory. After classic photos on the Prime Meridian and a drink at a pub, we took a lovely boat ride home and arrived, exhausted from our full day walking around.

Also discovered my first grey hair.

CHRISTMAS 2003
Slept in, as there were no presents to open or hot cocoa in Santa mugs like at home. Then Dad and I took a fantastic Dickens Walk for over two hours, led by a "frustrated academic," as Dad put it, who hailed from Platteville Wisconsin but has been living here 30 years. There were about 100 people in our group, and with six tours running it gives an idea of the fact that aside from the walks, there was nothing going on in the entire city of London on Christmas.

But the walk was amazing, and what I liked the best was how I would mention things to Dad on the sly and have the tour guide repeat what I said two seconds later! I enjoyed seeing the house where Samuel Pepys, the first modern diarist, lived (see his journal here) and picking up all the trivia that I love knowing so much. Come visit and I'll tell it all to you.

We also enjoyed a very elegant and fun Christmas Dinner at the fancy hotel on my street, literally 50 paces from my front door. We all pulled our poppers and wore silly crowns and had a fabulous time.

FRI. 26 DEC. (Boxing Day):
I already mentioned the shopping (or lack thereof). Then we all went as a family to see The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King at the Odeon in Leicester Square. 1492 seats. Yeah.

SAT. 27 DEC.:
The King's Road--the most famous in Chelsea--is several miles long, and we walked all the way down it, and along the Thames and back. I love the fact that no matter where you walk you'll end up passing something interesting. Here we were, walking past the beautiful Albert Bridge, and on our left is a plaque saying Henry VIII had a manor house; this right before we passed the house of the discoveror of penicillin, and a church where Thomas More used to be a parishioner.

SUN. 28 DEC.:
One of the most amazing days of the trip: we went to Leeds Castle. While a castle, it's not in Leeds, but rather in Kent, a county southwest of London. After a hour's trainride (enjoyed by all, especially moi who drooled on Colin's jacket), we disembarked and took a coach to the castle. Disappointingly, my friend Callum lives close by and arrived at the station to say hello minutes after we'd left. But by then we were visiting "the most beautiful castle in the world" (see photo).

The walk up to the castle took ages, but was filled with marshy grass criscrossed with beautiful brooklets and willow trees, with tantalising glimpses of the castle. As we neared it, we saw it's situated on a lake formed by the River Len, parts old, parts new. It was listed in the Domesday Book, and six medieval king's lived there. Henry VIII added the huge bay windows, and Isabella the She-Wolf of France (Edward II's wife) was once refused admittance so the castle was beseiged. It's had a long and colourful history, not the least of which how it was owned and refurbished by the "Anglo-American heiress," Olive, Lady Baillie.

Now, I love the fact that they refer to her as "Anglo-American" considering she was a scion of the nouveau riche oil baron family the Whitleys (related to the Vanderbilts). The nearest "Anglo" in her American lineage was her great-grandfather. Now, the last time I checked that does not a Briton make! But they can't admit that an American could have bought one of their castles. I find it interesting.

Because of Christmas, the rooms were decorated in a profusion of flowers and oraments and fabric that was absolutely breathtaking--I cannot do it justice and wish I could show you all, or take you there. It was amazing to be in a liveable castle that's not a folly, as most of the ones I've been to have been mere stones and mortar. The banqueting hall, for example (and because I have a photo from this great site), was just as it was when Henry VIII lived there. And the rooms Lady Baillie lived, such as her bedroom, in showcased the magnificence and hedonism of the 1930s. The dining room was my favourite--cascades of white flowers, tinsel, glitter, with a bare tree hung in tinsel and ornaments. They kept plugging the fact it can be hired out for conventions and weddings, so I told my parents to start saving up. By the time I find a husband perhaps they'll be able to hire a guesthouse.

We wandered through the gardens and aviary, reminiscing about my long-lost cockatoo, and over to the maze. Now, looking at it (bottom of thispage), it doesn't look that hard, but believe me, it is. Dad, Colin and I tried taking every right turn but ended up at the entrance again, so went back in for another go. Finally we got to the overlook, a neat feature that lets the guide shout out directions to those incapable of finding their way to the centre.

MON. 29 DEC.:
We all did our own thing in the morning: Dad and Colin to the London Eye and Westminster Cathedral, Mom to the V&A, me to the laundrette. Mom and I enjoyed a fantastic lunch from the Bagatelle patisserie before joining Dad and Colin in the British Museum. In a crowd of about 2,000 people Dad was recognised by a lady from Rockford, who just joined a board that my mom serves on. Small world.

We pushed our way through the crowds and saw pretty much the entire museum. Well, all the interesting bits such as Roman Britain. Then a stop to the Highland Store to stock up on our Scottish heritage (I just figured out I'm 1/32 Scottish, which James tells me isn't enough to wear a kilt. I don't care--we're Boyds, damnit!)

I joined some friends in Covent Garden for part of a birthday pub crawl, before getting Colin for his Christmas present--a trip to a whisk(e)y bar. But it, alas, like so much of London, was still closed, so it was back home to the flat and a tearful goodbye.

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I told my parents I'll next see them in three months (if I can't stay here, I'll travel for a month to Switzerland, Germany and Austria before returning home), or in seven (for the Wise Family Pig Roast in August). Who knows?

Next up: Paris for New Year's Eve!

Thanks for reading,
Love,
Theresa