We Finally Made it to London!

Hello errbody. Mike here. So we woke up at 5:30 in York to pack our 12 bags of luggage into as few bags as possible. Turns out, we only made it down to eight bags. It was pretty easy once we decided to leave about 32 pounds of kids' clothes inconspicuously tucked between the beds in our hotel room. Yes, that's right. We left behind clothes for somebody else to deal with. 

Thirty-two pounds lighter, we headed off to the York train station. The cab driver who drove us from the train station to our hotel said, "This is the worst weekend you could possibly come to York because of the Christmas fayre and crowds." I brought this up to the cabbie who picked us up at the hotel and most of the conversation with him from the hotel to the train station revolved around how each cabbie has their own strategy to avoid the crowds--either from the Christmas fayre or York's famous horse races.

We arrived at the station. Or as the cabbie put it as he pulled into the station, "And here we are at the nightmare that is York train station." Cabbies don't work for the tourism association, I guess. 

Not too busy, but lugging eight giant bags of luggage around sort of makes you feel
like a freak of nature, even if you do have a family of three trailing behind you.

Merrit and Ollie are always completely unaware of the chaos and stress around them.
Here they chase each other around a pole while I get breakfast for all of us at
Burger King.

Fed and on the train now...
Ollie in his happy place: He only wanted to listen to the
White Stripes. I tried Bob Marley and the Beastie Boys.
But he had to have his "Seven Nation Army."

Merrit geeks out on Star Wars Legos.
So proud...

Yes we look like the European travelers in an Asti Spumante commercial.
Who would know that we are the parents of two boys--one of who was, just at this moment,
eating scraps found on the floor of the train while the other one continued to hit himself
in the head for no reason.

This was educational for me. Jack White, playing soulful rock and roll blues with a
steady R&B beat, puts Ollie into a blissful slumber.

Our train got to London at about 12:30. We pushed our eight bags into a cab, which
dropped us off here: The Wellington Hotel, our abode for the next three days in London.
The cage doors and aluminum safety panels were an extra feature that I wasn't expecting.
Also, didn't know ahead of time that the Waterloo subway station was literally across the
street from our hotel. 

I was really surprised by the interior of the hotel. Very classy and warm, like the
best English pubs that I've come to know. My favorite part was the painting on the
ceiling of the Battle of Waterloo, showing the tired and haggard but still
resilient and dogged British on the left and the cowardly, retreating, defeated French
on the right. 

Our room wouldn't be ready for another 45 minutes, so we took the opportunity
to hang back in the gracious bar/lounge area.

I really must say how impressed I was with the bar and lounge area. Classic art,
beautiful lighting, wood paneling, wood floors, classic English pubbery. (Yeah,
I just made up that word.)

Our room is now ready! And I get the opportunity to carry
eight bags, which weigh approximately 900 pounds each, up
three flights of stairs to room #23.

Winded and unimpressed after the second of three trips.

Trying to settle into our new room, we find that it has no heat. The thermostat
on one of the radiators is broken clean off, but is sitting neatly on the floor next
to the radiator as if to say, "We recognize that there isn't any heat in this room, but
as you can see from this porcelain artifact, we are fully aware of this--but believe
the charm of this room will suffice." Wrong.

I reached for the phone to call the front desk. Oh, there is no phone.

We also found out that there was no Internet, which makes me wonder what our
Hungarian, Polish, and Russian staff in the lobby really mean when they say "Free Wi-Fi."

Also, when you look in the bedside table drawer and find several brand-new pairs of
earplugs...that's not a good sign.

After seven trips down and up the stairs to talk with the management, we decided to
check out. I lugged all eight bags down three flights of stairs to the curb and hailed a
taxi.

We found an available two-bedroom flat just a few blocks away, and for just a fraction
of the price more. What a find! It has a little kitchenette, living room, balcony, Internet,
and--best of all--a view!

Ahhhhhhh, finally. We have arrived in London!

The view of the street below from our balcony on the fifth floor.

A quick walk from our new abode to a restaurant Mir picked out called Cubana,
a Cuban restaurant. Duh. 

This place was totally killer. Mir said, "I spotted this Cuban restaurant on the corner.
Let's try it out." She's got great taste. 

The place was full of '60s and '70s pro-labor propaganda from Cuba and
classic movie posters. Great music, warm colors, and brilliant lighting. The architecture
itself was hard to place. Obviously not a standard restaurant. Someone at some point
had a vision for this spot. It was very unusual!

Merrit enjoys his water with lime, strawberry, and mint.
Oh, and that lime-green tint comes from a Vitamin C tablet
that Mir plunged into it as soon as it hit the table. Good thing
she's always watching out for us, and our germs. And everybody
else's germs.

Mir and Ollie dig in to sweet potato crisps with fresh salsa. As good as it sounds!

Bang!

Kapow!

Spicy-coconut shrimp with rice and peppers. It was called something in
Cubanese, but I can't remember the name.

We returned from dinner to find out that housekeeping had come
through and made everything just so. Ollie inspects a towel
in the shape of a swan on the edge of his bed. 

WTF?

After we put the kids to bed, Mir and I hung out in the living room. Ah, Internet
connection. So good to have you back! Look at the city lights out the window! Wow.

Tomorrow and Wednesday, we plan to spend two very full days sightseeing in London. Stay tuned.