Day 6 -- It's far hotter at the Equator

Thus far aside from updating things around here, I'm not sure who has been more glad I brought my laptop on the trip, me or Andy. Not that it really matters but I generally haven't been able to get on MY computer until he finishes his daily/nightly internetting. That's all well and good except for the fact that it means when he goes to bed I have to start mine. Oh, the problems of being so connected and too nice to push him out of the way...

A funny thing about travel is that one tends to lose one's grasp on which day it actually is. Not so much thinking Wednesday is Tuesday or Tuesday is Monday as is it realizing it's a different day but it might as well be Saturday as easy as Monday. I suppose this is one of the more positive aspects of vacation and probably why people look forward to them: aside from coming/going, it really doesn't matter which day it is. Since this trip in general has been somewhat laid back and since we got to London totally so, I've not felt a constant rush to get to the next place. Not to say we haven't hit the ground running each day and are exhausted by the end, but aside from a couple of trains, mostly in France, there's been nowhere we've HAD to get to. I think the trip's been the better for it.

Case in point, walking through St. Pancreas (probably not the Saint of internal organs but I'll go with it anyway) train station this afternoon, I spotted a driver/greeter as one sees in these type places. The type who hold up a sign--Mr. Manson, Donner Party, etc.--because they've no idea who they are looking for nor does the lookee know who their attendant is. I think I've over explained so if there's any still unsure of who I'm talking about, just drive to the nearest airport or train station and wait. Anyway, this particular fellow happened to have the name Juliette Binoche on his placard. Or so I thought so much so that I actually did a double take. Yes, an honest to God "huh, what. Does that say Juliette Binoche?" turning of the head twice.

Well, it did even though Andy's convinced I misread it.

What does he know? He has no idea who Juliette Binoche is. Some of the fine folks who read this may not either so I suggest you google her. What one won't find is that she is one of my two favorite French actresses. The other being Audrey Tautou, who most Americans unfortunately know from The Da Vinci Code and not the brilliant Amelie or several other fine flicks in which she don't speak anglais.

So I ask you, dear reader, what would you do if you were wandering through a train station in London and saw the name of one of your favorite actresses suggesting that she would be by momentarily. For a brief moment, I sort of shrugged and kept walking but then I thought, "We've got nowhere to be. This is the exit for the Eurostar from Paris and by gum, why not just wait around for a minute." So for once, I took matters into my own hands and told my companions to hang on and let me see if it really was her.

I guess it turned out not to be. I certainly never saw her and believe me, there's no way she could have walked out of the gate without me seeing her. So after being pretty certain that the train was empty and 'her' host had split, we carried on. I wept silently and chalked up yet another disappointment in my cruel life.

As an aside, that's my second near brush with greatness on this trip. I thought I saw Tony Levin (member of King Crimson who I'm sure no one reading this knows) in a cafe in Paris. Turned out to just be a tall, balding French dude reading Le Monde. Bummer. Back in 1997, I had a couple of celebrity sightings: 1) seeing Jimmy Page (Led Zeppelin) get out of a car at Abbey Road Studios and 2)crossing the street at Piccadilly Circus with George Lucas. He's really short, btw.

It appears that I've gotten ahead of myself and ended the day before it began. Therefore, up next, the beginning.

Whatever problem the had with the Tube line to Greenwich on Monday had apparently been fixed for it was working today. I can't say for sure but I'd like to think that Andy's kicking/screaming fit as to how he was an American and it was his right to go to Greenwich and stand (again) on the prime meridian had something to do with the London powers that be getting on their collective stick and making it so.

Greenwich, though still part of London, really has the feel of it's own separate little college town. Which, in fact, I guess it really is though I unfortunately can't remember the name of the college. That is, in addition to the Royal Naval College which houses all manner of synchronistic devices and plotting gear and the P.M. itself. Not really ever giving it all that much thought to these matters, but appreciative of previous deep-thinkers efforts in the field, I wasn't aware that the science of time/direction was such a science. While I wasn't weeping when it was time for us to leave the P.M., I admit to finding the whole scene quite a bit more enjoyable and interesting than I was expecting. Though not as enjoyable as the group of tourists from a certain Asian country who appeared to be in such awe to be at the prime meridian that they just didn't want to move so we could get our own little picture and move on. By the way, the hill going to the P.M. is one of, if not the, steepest I have ever walked. Honest.The afternoon was spent in Leicester, a city that by all accounts is just another city in England. Fairly big but nothing of any interest to really anyone. Which, of course, is why we had to go. Actually, there was a record store that I really wanted to go to there. So yes, Andy came to England to stand at the prime meridian and I came to go to a record store. Since I spent my entire time in Leicester either in the store, Ultima Thule, or on a train, I can't really say for sure that there's nothing much there. Andy and Daddy, however, wandered around instead of digging the through racks with me and much to concurred with the conventional wisdom: it is a city in England and that's really about it.


But about the Ultima Thule. It's run by two brothers who specialize in the obscure and arcane music that I love so much. They started a fanzine, opened a record store and started a record label developed to all manner of musical weirdness in a locale so remote that only the truly devoted (sad) would seek them out. Needless to say, they do not stock Lil' Wayne. I could run on about how cool it was and the ridiculous amount of records I bought but will simply say it was worth the trip. And kudos to Andy and my Dad for being patient with me and letting me spend some time there.

After we got back, Andy had dinner at the Indian restaurant here in the hotel. He said it was quite good. It was KFC for dear ol' Dad whilst I figured I take the opportunity to wander around Kensington a bit and see if there was anything I should see. Or at least on the other end of the street. I'd already been to one end of the block the other night but decided to keep going tonight. And it was a lovely evening for a stroll with temps in the mid 50's and winds around 20 mph. After discovering that there was a plenty of life, some of it interesting in our immediate area, I ultimately decided to go with what I had planned to eat all along, some local chicken place that serves Portuguese chicken, whatever that may be. I presume it's to do with the preparation and not the location said chickens were born,bred and processed though I didn't ask. I'm pretty sure the workers wouldn't know anyway and they were probably already scared since this was my second trip this week.

Maybe I'll take a picture next time and tell them you said hi.