Day 1 : Next stop – Heathrow…

I am not a morning person and I hadn’t had a wink of sleep the previous night. It was 5:30 in the morning. If I weren't standing in the British Airways queue I’d have been in a thoroughly irritable mood.

As it were, I was. My bags were opened and dug through, young women walked about holding folders, men walked about looking busy. This was the first flight from Bangalore to London direct by BA. Captain C who picked up his bag before me in the security check seemed reassuringly bright.

The flight was half empty. This improved my mood considerably. I could actually put my feet up and sleep if I wanted to.

Captain C announced on the speaker that they had misplaced the flight plan. I yawned hugely. Good beginning! Confident that they will sort it out, I settled down to catch up on my sleep.

When I woke up bright light was streaming through the window. It was a clear morning and I could see the landscape below. What a lovely sight it was - river Tigris, the cradle of civilization, wide and blue curved with a majestic calm igniting my imagination. I stared transfixed. Impaired by my high viewpoint, the snow peaked mountains looked like hundreds of chalky mounds someone left in the backyard. They must be magnificent, towering snow peaked mountain ranges.

Soon we crossed over to the Black sea and Europe. Everybody and his friend had warned me that November was a poor choice to visit UK, that it would rain throughout. It also seemed like many attractions would be closed but there were enough open according to my research that I had decided to take my chances. Now, I cast a worried look at the bales of white clouds billowing without an inch apart between them all over Europe.

However it was a fine day when we landed in London Heathrow. I was stunned to see how green London looked from above. Immigration officials here seemed much more casual than in the US. The lady actually smiled. I walked out to a gorgeous afternoon in London in no time.

SR suggested the tube to get to my friend’s house. A quick ride in the complimentary bus to the underground station and within minutes I was hurtling towards my destination in a mostly empty tube. We went past brick buildings two or three storey tall that looked a bit dilapidated.

I was to get down at Earl’s Court and change over. At Hammersmith, a voice came on the speaker and announced something I couldn’t understand. All I knew was it said quite a mouthful about Earl’s Court. This was a mighty blow to my ego. I couldn’t understand British accent? I needn’t have fretted. An elderly English couple asked the gentleman next to me what the announcement was. He replied the tube wouldn’t stop in Earl’s court. While I was reassuring myself that my ears were fine, it dawned on me I was heading for Earl’s court too. I made a beeline for the door closest to me dragging my luggage, while SR made a dash for the door closest to him. And I got stuck between the doors closing. I didn’t realize at the time there was a button next to the door to get it to open and so stood there one hand on my luggage unable to move either way, and not knowing what to do. The gentleman who had got down ahead of me slammed the door open with his hands and I got out. I was more embarrassed than anything. I might as well have written ‘tourist’ on my forehead.

After thanking him I got to figuring out what to do next. I stared at the tube map and realized I had to take a different line now.The blue colored line actually had a name and there were signs to a different platform. Tube rocks. SR didnt stoop to refer to maps or ask for directions. Then again, this wasnt his first encounter with the London tube. Within a few minutes, without further mishaps I arrived in CC’s house.

CC was very busy, they were having a Diwali puja. AC informed me there was a feast for forty people being prepared in an adjoining apartment. I figured this would be a good time for me to excuse myself. I told them that I’d join for the puja later and embarked on my first sight seeing expedition.

Walking down via Liverpool Street which I guessed to be an active office area by the number of suits I saw, was a pleasant experience. I gawked at the architecture, the roads (petticoat lane?), the cute London taxis and buses. Cool breeze whipped at my hair. I took a leisurely stroll looking for Thames. There it was – dark, silky flowing beneath the bridge. I took in the sight of the marvelous architecture of the buildings around, none jarring, and the other bridges in the fading light. I inhaled deeply. River Thames! Could Shakespeare have crossed the river at that very spot? And what was that bridge across? Could that be The London bridge?

I beckoned SR who claimed to have walked all over London and asked. He smiled and pointed at my knees - actually at a plaque behind me. Turned out the plain one I was standing on was the London bridge and the other one was the tower bridge! The London bridge with the gates where enemy heads were suspended had long gone in the great London fire. Yet another london bridge is in Arizona, USA it seems. No wonder it launched the nursery rhyme.

I walked back slowly drinking every building on the banks, towards the London Monument, the tallest free standing Doric column, whatever that means. Its height is the same as the distance from the starting point of great fire of London, I had read. Fire that destroyed more than 3/4 th of the city. This was designed by Sir Christopher Wren.

I looked up, slowly went around. I was actually looking at, touching something designed by Wren. Commuters rushed home around me, there wasnt any other tourist - the steps were closed, after all. I kept gazing at the stone column thinking of fire and destruction and the monuments we erect to forget. Then trudged back to the tube station clutching my jacket as the temperature began to drop.

CC’s house had a festive look. Both CC and AC were clearly very traditional. She asked me if I’d like to change to traditional clothes for the puja. I took the hint and borrowed a dress. Three swamis or sadhus or whatever they are called arrived from ISKCON to start the Diwali celebration. It was strange to sit in a London living room on vacation from India, and listen to a bunch of Croats singing about the ‘ayodhya vashi’. Later even more surprised, I watched fire works lighting the sky from two different spots celebrating Diwali.

I went to bed pondering about faith and fire.

Day [-1] : The intreprid travel planner

Diwali eve! I was as ready as I could be, I had my visa and ticket, a bag full of clean clothes, even my jacket.

We had had heavy rains in the last few days causing train services to be disrupted. Bombs had gone off in terrorist attacks in Delhi. It hadn’t been a good week but things were improving slightly. The northeast monsoon that had thrashed the southern states seemed to have finally let up. I could hear the crackers going off outside.

I hadn’t done much in preparation other than having conversations with my friends from UK and friends who have visited UK.

JW (UK) : If you are going to Bath you could also go to Cirencester. Roman ruins. Oh and York – Viking center. Wales there are a few great places to visit.

NT( UK) : Hampton court, Kensington palace, Tower of London – don’t try to repatriate the crown jewels. Chatsworth – place similar to that of Mr.Darcy’s.

CV( India): Dont go to this place called Stonehenge. Waste of time.

SRP(India) : You got to see Stonehenge.

Me : Perhaps I could do a Kipling tour, with his connections to India. Oh how about Constable country? And perhaps Wales too? Shouldn’t I be seeing Southampton, after all that’s where the East India company ships docked.

CL(UK) : Lake district. York. Try the gingerbread shop in Grasmere.

My itinerary obviously still looked jumbled. I had concluded that with all these places to visit, I should keep things flexible. So I wasn't going to book any hotels, it was going to be a road trip. SR agreed cheerfully enough to drive, so I didn't have to plan ahead about trains etc. My sprain after troubling me for three days, after multiple pain balms, had subsided into a dull throb whenever I turned side ways. At least it looked like I could turn and see the countryside pass by.

I took my much-perused map and papers scribbled full of notes, stuffed them inside the bag and decided to settle for the night. The crackers were still going off, punctuated by boisterous drunken laughter.

CL from UK had suggested I read Bill Bryson’s ‘Notes from a small island’. I had dutifully picked it up the previous day. This I opened now. It was nearing one and I had to leave around 3:30 in the morning. It looked like they weren’t going to stop any time soon, I might as well read.

Despite my map full of yellow lines, I had managed to not touch most of the places he refers to in the book. That put the first damper. I started reading. He says right in the second paragraph – ‘If you mention in the pub that you intend to drive from, say, Surrey to Cornwall, a distance that most Americans would happily go to get a taco, your companions will puff their cheeks look knowingly at each other as if to say, “Well now, that’s a bit of a tall order”‘.

Uh-oh. Could it be they were right?

Day [-8] : A journey of a thousand miles

“Your visa is ready madam,” the bespectacled travel agent shuffled the papers importantly. I wrinkled my nose at the strong smell of roach repellent and stared straight ahead at the laminated partitions. I had sprained my neck badly the previous night - staring straight ahead was the only option. Neck is probably the worst place to get a sprain. I was moving about like a badly programmed robot and was generally getting odd looks. I peered at the visa and murmured “multiple entry” to show this was not my first trip abroad and I knew all about visas. Till that moment of seeing the visa, I had thought of the UK trip, thanks to a good deal from British Airways and a gift, rather abstractedly. Now it looked like I was really going. “And where might that be?” a cockroach quirked his antenna from behind a paper.

“Do you have any brochures?” I asked realizing my itinerary was as blank as my stare.

“Just search for it in the internet,” he responded helpfully.

Right. Internet.

After hunting for a good map of the UK and a trip planner in the net for half an hour I gave up. There wasn’t an app to match the folded old-fashioned paper map. I spread it up and armed with a highlight pen and google search, I went to work. I plotted my route, weaved lines, highlighted areas, drew circles, put question marks and was quite proud of the research I was putting in.

The world maps one is used to, skews up the country sizes quite a bit. I knew this, but still when I actually looked at the distance it was a bit of a shock. It looked like Great Britain would fit into just four states in South India. Yet, the Brits definitely know how to promote their island. How could they possibly have so many specialty tours for such a small place.

Jane austen tour, Da vinci code tour, Cotswolds, A train ride in Scotland, Roman ruins, Medieval castles, Victorian mansions, Bronte sisters tour, Harry potter tour, Cricket tour..

A renaissance person like me (Ahem) wasn't going to get tied to one specialty tour. After an hour, quite a considerable achievement considering my sprained neck, I had a map with bright highlighter lines running criss-cross all over the country.
One minor problem. I just needed about a month and unlimited money in my bank account. I actually had about ten days (I decided to worry about the money part later). Oh well, I’d have to pick and choose as I go along.


I stared at the map, folded it carefully and listened to the torrential rain pouring outside. UK here I come.

UK trip

This is a travelogue. A trip to the UK. Please check the links on the archive section on the right to read it.

Last day quote is from Dean Mahomet the first Indian travelogue writer, immigrant, entrepreneur...

Diwali

I cant come up with a single reason why I should remember diwali from school days with fond memories. I'd have to get up very early in the morning, would have to have an 'oil-bath'. This would invariably end with flakes of the shikakai powder irritating my eyes. And I hated crackers. Sparklers were okay I suppose, but I utterly loathed the noise from the crackers that would drown everything else for a few hours. Only bright side was the way it'd invariably rain in the afternoon.

Yet, there was something that I cant pin point. Something that makes me conclude, I did enjoy all those diwalis really. Just the magic of childhood perhaps?

Spending this Diwali in London watching the fireworks outside the balcony window.