The Trip Continues ...

London day 2 was full of touristy goodness. We started with a trip to the Tower of London (my mom wasn’t sure she wanted to spend the money, but I convinced her she’d regret it if she didn’t) and then we walked along the South Bank. It started out grey and rainy, but by the time we finished with the Tower and lunch, it cleared right up. We ended the evening with a trip to the Globe Theater where we saw a performance of Othello. This is actually the second performance of Othello that I’ve seen, and I think I liked the one in San Francisco better. For one thing, it was shorter. With the run time of four hours (including intermission), my butt had fallen asleep by the time the last line of the last act was heard. Also, this version was quite high on the melodrama, with characters uttering full soliloquies punctuated by death moans. Perhaps that’s how Shakespeare intended it, but I liked the subtle playing a bit better, I think.

London day 3 went fairly well. We grabbed savory tarts for breakfast at Victoria Station, then headed for a walk past Buckingham Palace to peer through the bars at the queen’s house. As it happened, there was a big parade, so we ended up just skirting the crowds and carrying on to our next destination: The Hard Rock Café.

My mom collects HRC shot glasses and other paraphernalia and was excited to hear that there was not one, not two, but three Hard Rocks in cities on our vacation itinerary. London being the original Hard Rock was a must see. We don’t have to EAT at Hard Rocks – only go to the gift shops. That was at Hyde Park Corner, so after getting turned around a couple of times, we managed to fulfill that goal. After that, it was back into the center of town to go to Sir John Soane’s Museum (why, oh WHY can’t I take photos in there) topped off by a visit to the Orangery in Kensington Park for high tea. Mmmmm, champagne, lapsang tea, clotted cream, little sandwiches and chocolate cake make for a fabulous meal. We walked around in the gardens a bit, then hurried back to the South Bank for some wine and absinthe tasting at Vinopolis. Then it was time to head back to the hotel to get ready for our big train trip to Naples.

This is where the story gets a bit more interesting. We got a cab to Waterloo Station in London without any problems and got on the 6:30am Eurostar from London to Paris. The plan was in Paris that we would stow our bags in lockers and take the half-day to do a quick tour of the city (perhaps having time to stop at the Paris Hard Rock Café) and pick up our bags before taking our overnight train to Rome. However, it turned out that our train station had no locker; we had to go “5 minutes walk” to Gare to Lyon to stow our luggage. So, off we went pulling our heavy bags behind us. The directions from the woman behind the counter were extremely vague (“Out the door and turn left.”) and, as it turned out, not entirely accurate. After two wrong turns, we realized that by “turn left”, she really meant “turn right,” and by “five minutes”, she really meant, “thirty minutes.” So, four sore arms later, we rolled into Gare de Lyon to store our baggage. After a quick lunch of baguettes, we hopped on the metro out to the Louvre. I had recollections of picking up Les Cars Rouges the last time I was in Paris (7 years ago), but had high hopes that it or another touring company like it would still be in existence. And I was right! We hopped on a “Tour Paris” bus and had a lovely two hour spin around more of the important monuments in Paris. We saw the Arc de Triumphe, the Eiffel Tower, various museums and other historical buildings. We ended at the Louvre and took a stroll through the Tuillieries before catching the metro back to Gare de Lyon.

Remembering our previous journey, we decided to take a cab back to the other train station. The cabbie told us it was only a five minute walk, but I politely called him a big fat liar (in French) and said we’d like that taxi anyway, thank you very much. Thus we made it onto our train to Rome with few more difficulties (aside from hefting our suitcases on the racks at the top of our sleeper car.)

The overnight train was an interesting experience. We were in a car with four other people, all French speakers with no English whatsoever. Thus I got to practice a little of my disused, rusty French. But, despite my lack of vocabulary (I’ve forgotten so, so much!), I was able to make myself understood to the other passengers in the car. One of them even complimented me on my accent, which was nice to hear. Being able to speak a foreign language is like having a superpower. The overnight train was sort of comfortable, though quite hot and quite cramped. Despite that, I slept fairly solidly, considering our exertion from earlier and woke up in Italy! Sadly, I realized that Italy is to my superpower as Kryptonite is to Superman. I know absolutely no Italian. I don’t even know how to say, “I don’t speak Italian.”

After a few hours, we arrived in Rome. I got tickets to Naples without any further incident, and a nice American helped my mom and I get our bags in and out of the train. I had heard the Naples was dilapidated, but I was a little unprepared for how run down it really is. Naples reminds me a big of some of the poorer parts of Mexico I’ve been in. Lucky for us (she says sarcastically), Italy must have just won a big football match as there were children in the street kicking around balls and lots of light blue and white balloons, flags and football jerseys around. My mom and I had a nice lunch at a café across from the hotel, and then we went in search of the Cathedral of St. Gennaro. After taking multiple wrong turns and walking about 75% more than necessary (have I mentioned that grid systems are highly underrated?), we found that Cathedral. It’s a beautiful church with gorgeous stone work and painted ceilings. Of course, no photos allowed (cry). Also, yet again the Catholic church proves to be a just a little creepy. They keep the bones of St. Gennaro in a gold bust of him on the alter in his chapel, dressed with an expensive looking brocade cape and hat. In addition to this, they keep the blood of St. Gennaro in a little casket on the side alter. Twice per year (I assume on his Saints day), they pull out of the little amulet of blood and wait for it to liquefy. While the wait for the liquefication process to occur, people lay the amulet on their faces and pray for miracles. I’m sorry, but if it is actually the blood of St. Gennaro, that’s just not sanitary. And if the priests are sneaking wine into that amulet, well then it’s just dishonest.

After that, we headed back to the hotel for an early night.