Yesterday afternoon, we headed out to Piccadilly Circus, a shopping district that reminded me a lot of Times Square in New York. Lots of big, lit up, moving billboards; lots of upscale shops; with lots of little touristy shops (read: cheap stuff for way too much money) stuffed on the side streets in between. It was fun walking around just seeing all the crazy last-minute Christmas Eve shoppers. We didn't even bother going into some of the stores because it looked like you could get trampled (particularly in the toy stores. One of the biggest toy stores had actually just closed down when we got to it, but there were people banging on the windows, as though the clerks would somehow relent and let them in!) Mostly, though, I was a little disappointed because there were all the same stores from back home. I did buy a really pretty and incredibly cheap scarf from a man with one of the cheap-side-stores, so that made the trip useful. And I got to see lots and lots of pretty lights, which I always love. (At one point I took off running because I spotted a particularly sparkly display, and Sam laughed and commented that I would be the easiest person to trap if anyone was ever really trying.)
Once again, we "went American" for dinner; my dad spotted a TGI Friday's and asked if we could go there. While part of me has definitely wanted to rebel against being such blatant (or wimpy) American tourists, I've realized that I need to be a little gracious and keep in mind that, because of all his medications, my dad has relatively little he is able to eat, and when we grab food out I think he wants to make sure it's somewhere where he knows the menu. Also, surprisingly, American food is about the cheapest thing you can get here (apart from Indian food, which I have to try before we leave!) The upside to Friday's was that they were handing out free Santa hats to everyone coming in that night, so of course, we got them.
After dinner, we went to a Christmas concert at Royal Albert Hall. It was possibly the most incredible venue I've ever seen coupled with one of the most beautiful concerts I've ever attended. The concert hall was HUGE; we estimated it probably seated over 10,000 people, and it was packed. It was round with multiple tiers of seating (kind of reminded me of what I imagine the Globe theater looks like from seeing pictures--but hopefully I'll know for sure tomorrow!) Thankfully, Mom had bought the tickets well in advance, and we were on the floor a little less than halfway back with a remarkably great view and really good sound quality. The concert was performed by a combination choir and orchestra, so some pieces were just orchestral, some were a capella, and some were all together. The orchestra dressed in wigs and what we Americans would call "colonial costume," although I'm not totally sure how they would identify that period over here. ("Colonizing costume"?) The choir was relatively small--I think 20 people?--with one Soprano soloist also in full costume. The program varied between traditional concert pieces such as Handel's Messiah and Pachebel's Canon (which were all incredible--great choral but even better orchestra, in my opinion) to carols that were sung with audience participation. Interspersed in the program were two dramatic readings: one from A Christmas Carol and another from the Book of Luke. I mentioned earlier that I sometimes feel like great art is a little lost on me; I feel less that way about music. I've grown up hearing choral music my whole life, and have sung in choirs some, so while I am by no means a music expert (that title belongs to Sam and my mom) I feel like I have a better appreciation for real music talent. Watching those bows flit across those strings like it was no effort at all; hearing the Soprano glide gently up to notes that I don't think I could reach even in falsetto; feeling the whole place vibrate with the rich sounds of the organ were all awe-inspiring. The size of the place (and the size of the enormous organ), combined with the lights and the costumes, lent the whole program this air of grandeur. Plus, I am now convinced that everything really does sound better with a British accent. (In fact, I think I remember our high school choir director trying to convince us of that, but I'm not sure we were really great pupils.) Everything was just so lovely. There was this delightful French couple sitting right in front of us; from what I observed, I don't think they spoke much English
at all (they seemed really confused when we all sang the carols together), but they just grinned so widely the whole time and clapped so heartily and called out "Bravo!" that I think I may have enjoyed it even more because of them. (Plus the old woman had the most lovely smile-wrinkle-lines; Andy laughed at me when I mentioned that I hope, when I am old, that I have smile wrinkle lines.) My dad said afterwards that it was possibly one of the most incredible experiences of his whole life. While it doesn't totally capture it, this is a picture Sam got of the stage with the choir and the orchestra. (The bald head in the foreground is the old French man!)Now onto today--Christmas day! Today was actually much more laid back; we discovered late yesterday afternoon that there would be no public transportation today, leaving us a little stranded. Andy and I had hoped to go for a walk this morning anyways, but when he woke up (before me) it was pouring rain--not a good morning for a walk. So, without transportation or much to do, we all slept in, which was a very nice Christmas present. Then we woke up, ate some sandwiches, and got a cab to St. Paul's Cathedral for an afternoon Christmas service. St. Paul's is an old Anglican Cathedral built in the 1600s; I haven't been to many cathedrals so I'm not totally sure how it compares, but all I can say is that it is huge and breathtakingly beautiful. Lots of gold-and-jeweled images on the walls and ceiling; marble everywhere; a huge dome in the middle with tiny little windows up at the top; stained glass windows along the outer and back walls. My dad was excited to go there not just as tourists but for a service. I agreed, but then it felt a little strange as a service to me, because it was evident that other people were there as tourists even though it was only open for service. (This probably says more about me than anything else, but I find it a little hard to pray with sincerity and focus when the man down the row is videotaping me and others praying!) Nevertheless, the choir was beautiful--fantastic acoustics!--and even more impressive when I realized that the sopranos were not women but little boys! I guess I realized that there are choirs like that but had never heard one live. I have no idea how they train them to sing like that but it's amazing. (On the other hand, part of me wants to grumble a little about not making roles for women in the church when there are places for them, but that's a debate for another day.) And it was wonderful just to hear the Christmas story read aloud in a church and sing "The First Nowell" (as they spell it here).
After church we came back quickly to change, and then got the same cab to come back to take us to dinner. (Needless to say, by the end of the day we had become friends! This is a side note but, while he was incredibly overpriced, he was a fun part of our day. He told us about his childhood in Lebanon, his views on the current state of immigration into England, all the different foods he knows how to cook, a little bit of recent English history, and pointed out Tony Blair's house, which looked surprisingly normal from the outside minus the two guards marching back and forth in front of it.) Dinner, like I mentioned earlier, was at a pub owned by Gordon Ramsay. It was really lovely and homey, but as soon as we sat down at the table I realized I had made a grave tactical error. I had checked prices and the menu online before putting it on the list of potential places to eat; I chose it partially because the prices, while expensive, did not seem exorbitant, and the food was fairly simple pub fare so I expected Sam would enjoy it. When we sat down, however, the waitress handed us a menu with a fixed menu and a (very high) fixed price for a 5-course meal. I watched my dad's eyes get really wide and quickly realized my mistake. It was too late at that point though; in order to get the reservation we had to give them our credit card number so they wouldn't fill the table with someone else. We talked about it for a few minutes while she brought our water, and after he got over the initial shock of it at all and explained to me that one should always ask about menus and prices on holidays (and realized that I had never been to a nice enough restaurant to even realize that fixed menus existed), he decided that it would be alright. It was more than we budgeted for but not completely out of our trip budget, and we're just going to try to be careful to limit extra expenses for the rest of the trip. I was also relieved because, at the very least, we quickly realized that our money was worth it. We got a five course Christmas dinner where, as my dad noted, each course was equally incredible. First course was a soup made with honey and some sort of "sweet root vegetable" (it wasn't carrots or sweet potatoes; it was in the turnip family; anyone know what that is?); then I had a "prawn" (shrimp) cocktail; followed by turkey with potatoes and cranberry glaze; pear and cinnamon crisp with vanilla ice cream; and coffee and mini mince pies. It was all delicious and elegantly presented; that Gordon Ramsay knows what he's doing!
And while apparently he's a jerk, his staff were all very sweet. They took a family photo of us: in this picture, we are wearing our Christmas crowns, part of English Christmas tradition. They came out of these little boxes called "Christmas crackers," which are named because they make a "cracking" noise when you break them open. I forgot to take a picture before I broke mine, so the best way I can describe one is that it is in the shape of a giant tootsie role: a cylinder with crinkly wrapping on either end. Our waitress instructed us all to link arms, then each hold on to one end of one another's Christmas crackers (so that you had one hand on one end of yours, and one on the person's next to you), and pull hard until they all snapped. They did with a lot "crack," and out came the crowns, a little prize (I got a keychain with a flashlight; Andy, Mom, and Sam all got other types of keychains, and Dad got a pen), and a card with a silly joke on it. It was fun to participate in a tradition like that. And the dinner, once again, was incredibly delicious. I just may not get birthday presents for another 10 years. :)
I'll close with the last verse of a hymn we sang last night that struck me anew as a very meaningful Christmas prayer, even though I've heard it many times before:
Oh Holy Child of Bethlehem, descend to us we pray,
Cast out our sin and enter in. Be born in us today.
We hear the Christmas angels, the great glad tidings tell.
Oh, come to us, abide with us, our Lord, Emmanuel.
Merry, merry Christmas.
1 comment:
Happy Christmas! :) Glad the restaurant fiasco turned out ok in the end. We had Christmas crackers too! Though your presents sound much cooler than ours. Enjoy the rest of your holiday in London!
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