August 2, 1984 - Day 3
Today we woke up to another glorious day, and according to our itinerary, it was the day of our London city tour. We went down to breakfast, and the young Filipina server added an extra slab of bacon on our plates, just because we were both from back home and "nice people." I was a bit puzzled at that, until I realized that some of the folks from home tend to treat our overseas foreign workers as second-class citizens. You know, "I can afford to travel at leisure, and you're just a waitress."
Hunh. If some of those folks stopped to think that the "waitress" is earning something like Php 50 for every British pound in her salary (and could therefore afford to shop in Rustan's if she wasn't sending the money home to finance her siblings' education and build a house for the family), maybe they'd act with some common decency. Or maybe not -- common decency, like common sense, is quite uncommon these days. Traveling experience has taught me that the basics of good manners -- "Please", "Thank you", "Excuse me", and "I'm sorry" go a very long way in terms of service.
Now, that bacon...British bacon is nothing at all like our paper-thin slices that fry up into crispy strips that burn if you remove your eyes from the pan for so much as a moment. The bacon at the Royal National is about 3mm thick, solid meat, all the fat towards the edge. I felt full just looking at it! And there were *two* of those monsters sitting on my plate, plus a small hill of scrambled eggs and hash browns on the side. Cholesterol up the wazoo, and delicious to the last bite.
The assembly point for the tour was at the hotel lobby, where other people taking different tours with the same company were gathered. A shuttle minibus collected us and dropped us off at Marble Arch, where we were sorted into different transports -- Ma and I wound up on a double-deck red bus, one of the things that reminds you that you are really in London.
From Marble Arch, we went past Hyde Park, from which one could see the Albert Memorial, this intriguing structure of marble and stone, which was built to commemorate the life of Albert, the Prince Consort of Queen Victoria. We had Speaker's Corner pointed out to us; how very fascinating to have a place for the average citizen to literally get on a soapbox and rant about whatever his passion of the moment may be. The only rules that apply, as I recall, have to do with not speaking treason against the Crown, and not defaming other people.
Across the way from the Albert Memorial is the Albert Hall. It's a circular concert hall, and is famous for its concert series called the "Proms". Then we were whisked past the Houses of Parliament, which was in the middle of being cleaned of accumulated grime. I'd always thought the stone was a natural gray color, but it turns out that it's actually a shade of golden beige. Surely the sight of the morning sun on a newly cleaned Parliament Building is something to lighten the spirit. This is where I learned that Big Ben is not the clock tower, but the bell inside the clock tower.
Westminster Abbey was our next stop, and most of it had already been cleaned, the stone warm and welcoming in the sudden shade of the day. St. Paul's Cathedral followed, equally beautiful and impressive, but less intimidating than the Gothic architecture of the Abbey. The former makes you crane your head to look at the sights, the latter invites you to sit down and contemplate the mysteries of life.
The Tower of London next. Awesome. Imagining the historical figures who walked through those forbidding gates -- and whose ghosts may still take a look around at night -- is enough to make a person pause in their steps. By contrast, Trafalgar Square, while full of its own historical associations, is brimming over with life, and not just because of the flocks of pigeons that keep Lord Nelson's statue company all day. The Square sits in one of the busiest areas of London, with people coming and going, and vehicles using the rotonda to get from one street to another.
Into the very heart of London, or "The City", the area enclosed by the original boundaries of ancient Londinium. Here we find the financial institutions that were the foundation of the Empire's fortunes, where money from "trade" (which the aristocracy thought as somewhat beneath them) helped to sustain business and created a prosperous middle class, whose daughters married into the aristocracy, their dowries helping to prop up old and ancient names.
We passed the Horse Guards at their Whitehall residence, then the bus swung back onto Oxford Street. I was literally bouncing in my seat as I spotted names familiar to me from reading any number of books about London: Marks and Spencer (carried in Manila's most elite shopping establishment), Selfridges, and British Home Stores. Taking a closer look, it seemed that the Bally stores were having their sales right on the sidewalks in front of their stores...lots and lots of shoes!
Finally, the tour bus returned to Marble Arch, and it was up to us to find our own way back. We took another bus to Euston Station, and ended up walking two blocks down to the hotel. I am breaking in my new shoes with a vengeance, and they seem to be breaking in my feet in the process. Ouch!
Friday, June 30, 2006
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
[LONDON LIGHTS 1984] DAY 2
August 1, 1984
London, England, United Kingdom
Somewhere between Frankfurt and Brussels, we were hit by another round of clear air turbulence. The good news was that we'd finished breakfast; the bad news is that the sausages were lying in an unmoving blob somewhere in the depths of my stomach, and every lurch of the airplane sent a wave of mild nausea over me. This is the most basic reason I dislike nonstop, long-haul flights so much -- the shaking of the plane as it goes over mountain ranges or plows through weather disturbances. Blargh.
It is here, while in German airspace, that the flight captain informs us that our ETA is 0545H, fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. I sit up, forgetting my discomfort, as I realize that the captain is also apologizing for getting us into Heathrow several minutes early, as those who have arranged transfers from the airport will now have to wait instead of being able to go directly to their destination. That's a new one in my books...it's more common for the captain to apologize for being late.
The landing was perfect, the rear wheels making contact with the runway with barely a jolt through the plane. Given that my usual seat on trips abroad is right over the rear wheel carriage, this makes it easy for me to determine just how well the pilot knows his plane and his runway.
Getting out of the plane and getting into the baggage claim area was a breeze. There was an interesting moment while Ma and I were walking through the immigration hall -- this Filipina woman who had been sitting about two or three rows in front of us, was on the phone talking very loudly to the person on the other end. Loud enough for people's heads to turn and wonder why she needed to be almost yelling at nearly six in the morning. Even the airport seemed half-asleep at that hour! Ma and I were wondering if the woman wasn't some sort of jilted mail-order bride or something fanciful like that, while we stopped briefly in the washroom and tidied up before facing the immigration officer.
Immigration was fine, the officer looked at us, looked at our passports, reviewed our forms, and stamped our passports. He almost smiled at us when we thanked him, but of course he had to see to the next person in line. Guess he wasn't expecting such cheerfulness at that hour of the morning.
According to the tour brochure instructions, we had to look for the A3 bus from Heathrow's Terminal 3, and ride it into Central London. The sun was up -- yes, there was sun! -- and it looked to be a glorious day of sunshine. The bus driver was so nice about helping us up with our bags, and also with making sure we stopped at the right place.
When people back home found out we were heading to London, there were many prophecies of doom, to the effect that the British are snobs. Hah, I know all too well that snobbery is not limited to the British -- anyone who has spent time as a transferee into an all-girls convent school where your classmates have not only known each other since the cradle, but their *mothers* were batchmates as well -- as I say, anyone in that position can tell you a thing or two about how the art of being a snob is practised in the upper classes.
My first impression of the British is that they're formal, more than snobbish. They don't run up and kiss you and throw open their doors within the first ten seconds; they're more of the Emily Post "how do you do" type. Not better or worse, just *different*.
We're going to be here for ten days. I can tell that we are going to have fun!
The Royal National is our hotel, and we're in Room 4032. I'm feeling a bit ditzy, and I don't really feel the jet-lag, despite having just arrived from a long-haul flight. Once the bags were up, and Ma felt rested, we embarked on a walker's workout -- from the hotel on Russel Square, past the British Museum (insert wide-eyed gaping here), to Oxford Street, where we walked up and down its length. Our eyes have seen Marks and Spencer, and it was good.
Upon our return from orienting ourselves to the shopping district, we discovered the Barclay's Bank just around the corner from the hotel, in Woburn Place. The dollar-pound exchange rate is good, and we are thankful.
There are many, many Filipinos living in London. Most of the senior staff at the hotel is Filipino, in fact. The Filipino population here seem to have adapted to British life very well, and as far as attitude goes, they come off better than Fil-Ams. Or maybe it's just me? So far the Fil-Ams of my acquaintance have this air of "I'm an American and you're not," as if earning American citizenship is such a wonderful thing. ::wrinkles nose:: To renounce your citizenship in a Third World country in order to become a citizen in one of the richest nations in the world, so that your children will have opportunities their peers can only dream of in your former country -- that I can understand. To be "in your face" about it...*that* irritates me.
But I'm in Europe to enjoy life and soak up the culture, not get all University-radical ::grin:: about things. Let's see what tomorrow brings!
London, England, United Kingdom
Somewhere between Frankfurt and Brussels, we were hit by another round of clear air turbulence. The good news was that we'd finished breakfast; the bad news is that the sausages were lying in an unmoving blob somewhere in the depths of my stomach, and every lurch of the airplane sent a wave of mild nausea over me. This is the most basic reason I dislike nonstop, long-haul flights so much -- the shaking of the plane as it goes over mountain ranges or plows through weather disturbances. Blargh.
It is here, while in German airspace, that the flight captain informs us that our ETA is 0545H, fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. I sit up, forgetting my discomfort, as I realize that the captain is also apologizing for getting us into Heathrow several minutes early, as those who have arranged transfers from the airport will now have to wait instead of being able to go directly to their destination. That's a new one in my books...it's more common for the captain to apologize for being late.
The landing was perfect, the rear wheels making contact with the runway with barely a jolt through the plane. Given that my usual seat on trips abroad is right over the rear wheel carriage, this makes it easy for me to determine just how well the pilot knows his plane and his runway.
Getting out of the plane and getting into the baggage claim area was a breeze. There was an interesting moment while Ma and I were walking through the immigration hall -- this Filipina woman who had been sitting about two or three rows in front of us, was on the phone talking very loudly to the person on the other end. Loud enough for people's heads to turn and wonder why she needed to be almost yelling at nearly six in the morning. Even the airport seemed half-asleep at that hour! Ma and I were wondering if the woman wasn't some sort of jilted mail-order bride or something fanciful like that, while we stopped briefly in the washroom and tidied up before facing the immigration officer.
Immigration was fine, the officer looked at us, looked at our passports, reviewed our forms, and stamped our passports. He almost smiled at us when we thanked him, but of course he had to see to the next person in line. Guess he wasn't expecting such cheerfulness at that hour of the morning.
According to the tour brochure instructions, we had to look for the A3 bus from Heathrow's Terminal 3, and ride it into Central London. The sun was up -- yes, there was sun! -- and it looked to be a glorious day of sunshine. The bus driver was so nice about helping us up with our bags, and also with making sure we stopped at the right place.
When people back home found out we were heading to London, there were many prophecies of doom, to the effect that the British are snobs. Hah, I know all too well that snobbery is not limited to the British -- anyone who has spent time as a transferee into an all-girls convent school where your classmates have not only known each other since the cradle, but their *mothers* were batchmates as well -- as I say, anyone in that position can tell you a thing or two about how the art of being a snob is practised in the upper classes.
My first impression of the British is that they're formal, more than snobbish. They don't run up and kiss you and throw open their doors within the first ten seconds; they're more of the Emily Post "how do you do" type. Not better or worse, just *different*.
We're going to be here for ten days. I can tell that we are going to have fun!
The Royal National is our hotel, and we're in Room 4032. I'm feeling a bit ditzy, and I don't really feel the jet-lag, despite having just arrived from a long-haul flight. Once the bags were up, and Ma felt rested, we embarked on a walker's workout -- from the hotel on Russel Square, past the British Museum (insert wide-eyed gaping here), to Oxford Street, where we walked up and down its length. Our eyes have seen Marks and Spencer, and it was good.
Upon our return from orienting ourselves to the shopping district, we discovered the Barclay's Bank just around the corner from the hotel, in Woburn Place. The dollar-pound exchange rate is good, and we are thankful.
There are many, many Filipinos living in London. Most of the senior staff at the hotel is Filipino, in fact. The Filipino population here seem to have adapted to British life very well, and as far as attitude goes, they come off better than Fil-Ams. Or maybe it's just me? So far the Fil-Ams of my acquaintance have this air of "I'm an American and you're not," as if earning American citizenship is such a wonderful thing. ::wrinkles nose:: To renounce your citizenship in a Third World country in order to become a citizen in one of the richest nations in the world, so that your children will have opportunities their peers can only dream of in your former country -- that I can understand. To be "in your face" about it...*that* irritates me.
But I'm in Europe to enjoy life and soak up the culture, not get all University-radical ::grin:: about things. Let's see what tomorrow brings!
Saturday, June 24, 2006
[LONDON LIGHTS 1984] DAY 1
July 31, 1984
MNL - HKG - ABU DHABI - LON
So. We have ourselves a brand new airport building, and one thing is fairly evident: the lack of provision for the hordes of relatives that gather to send off or welcome their particular passenger. It is also HOT inside the new airport -- much more so than outside! Of all the times for the airconditioning system to die, it had to be today, right NOW, when the building has been baking under the sun for the better part of the day. Augh!
Thankfully, we didn't have any problems at the check-in counter, nor the immigration/customs counter. There's always that little uneasy moment when your breath hitches, even if you know perfectly well that you have nothing to feel guilty about! Made sure we had our boarding passes, and luggage checks; paid our terminal fees and were allowed to enter the duty-free area.
Took a look at the overhead menu at one of the snack bars. Hamburger and Root Beer at PHP18 *each*! Gracious, what is the exchange rate coming to...
BA 020 boarding starts at 1745H - the aircons appear to be working in the transit lounge, for which everyone present seems truly grateful. The heat outside is withering.
We arrive at Hong Kong's Kai Tak airport at 1945H, after leaving Manila at 1800H. It's always an wondrous thing to arrive at Kai Tak -- the plane appears to descend right into a mountain range, straight through a narrow corridor with mountains on either side. The view outside the window makes it look like one gust of wind could make the plane brush its wingtips against a solid wall of green. Then just when you can't stand any more suspense, the plane bursts out of the mountains.
Then you realize that the runway the plane is heading towards, is a wide strip of concrete with deep ocean on three sides. Yikes! There's a momentary chill that runs down your back at the thought of the plane shooting off the concrete into the water; and suddenly you've touched down, the plane is slowing, and...you've arrived!
We have ourselves a layover until 2100H, when the flight leaves. Boarding time is at 2030H, which means the time we should present ourselves at the gate. Subtract 15 minutes to travel from the duty-free area, so we ought to be at the transit area by 2015H. Effectively, that means we can hang out at the duty-free for about 10 minutes, since we got off the plane at around 2000H.
Changed some Philippine pesos into US Dollars, and then went window-shopping at the duty-free area. Not much else *to* do, since we were heading for Europe; no sense in bringing along baggage to lug around for the next several days, right? More than enough souvenirs to be found along the way.
The Hong Kong-Abu Dhabi leg was approximately six hours and 50 minutes of flying. I don't remember too much about it, since we were served dinner and the cabin was then blacked out for those who wanted to sleep through the flight. I got a brief glimpse of the inflight movie titled Harry and Son starring Paul Newman as Harry and Robby Benson as Howard, before nodding off to sleep.
Landing at Abu Dhabi, my legs were rubbery and I felt as though I'd left my brain at home. But I wasn't so far gone as to appreciate the transit lounge where we were allowed to stretch our legs while the plane refuelled for the next leg. It was a circular area, with an open balcony that let you look down at the rest of the airport. I have a blurry memory of the fantastic gold jewelry that was on display, and not much else, before we were bundled back into the plane.
The Abu Dhabi-London segment was plagued with clear air turbulence halfway through. CAT is one of the things that make flying a misery for me; especially on long-haul flights like this one. I will forever cherish the memory of the Captain telling people to remove the spoons from their coffee cups at the end of his usual "We regret to inform you..." spiel.
The British Airways steward was a sweetheart. Yes, I'm perfectly aware it was part of his job, but for someone who'd been on his feet for quite a bit, and in a shaking plane, to boot -- taking the time out to tuck in my lap blanket and offering to get me some water was a lovely thing to do.
London appears to be having a heatwave. @__@ That's a new one. But we'll see -- their heatwave might be our December weather, seeing as they live in colder regions and their average summer temperature is different from ours.
Our inflight movie was called Romancing the Stone and starred Michael Douglas (Jack) and Kathleen Turner (Joan). It's a combination of Raiders of the Lost Ark and High Road to China.
The movie contained adventure, romance, and comedy. Real life decided to add some suspense when the film managed to snarl inside the projector during the final climactic scene, and with nearly an hour before the final descent! For a moment, it seemed as though the economy section was doomed to land before finding out of Jack would escape the clutches of the alligator and get the girl! The crew managed to fix things with time to spare, and there was much cheering when the ending proved to really be a happy one.
MNL - HKG - ABU DHABI - LON
So. We have ourselves a brand new airport building, and one thing is fairly evident: the lack of provision for the hordes of relatives that gather to send off or welcome their particular passenger. It is also HOT inside the new airport -- much more so than outside! Of all the times for the airconditioning system to die, it had to be today, right NOW, when the building has been baking under the sun for the better part of the day. Augh!
Thankfully, we didn't have any problems at the check-in counter, nor the immigration/customs counter. There's always that little uneasy moment when your breath hitches, even if you know perfectly well that you have nothing to feel guilty about! Made sure we had our boarding passes, and luggage checks; paid our terminal fees and were allowed to enter the duty-free area.
Took a look at the overhead menu at one of the snack bars. Hamburger and Root Beer at PHP18 *each*! Gracious, what is the exchange rate coming to...
BA 020 boarding starts at 1745H - the aircons appear to be working in the transit lounge, for which everyone present seems truly grateful. The heat outside is withering.
We arrive at Hong Kong's Kai Tak airport at 1945H, after leaving Manila at 1800H. It's always an wondrous thing to arrive at Kai Tak -- the plane appears to descend right into a mountain range, straight through a narrow corridor with mountains on either side. The view outside the window makes it look like one gust of wind could make the plane brush its wingtips against a solid wall of green. Then just when you can't stand any more suspense, the plane bursts out of the mountains.
Then you realize that the runway the plane is heading towards, is a wide strip of concrete with deep ocean on three sides. Yikes! There's a momentary chill that runs down your back at the thought of the plane shooting off the concrete into the water; and suddenly you've touched down, the plane is slowing, and...you've arrived!
We have ourselves a layover until 2100H, when the flight leaves. Boarding time is at 2030H, which means the time we should present ourselves at the gate. Subtract 15 minutes to travel from the duty-free area, so we ought to be at the transit area by 2015H. Effectively, that means we can hang out at the duty-free for about 10 minutes, since we got off the plane at around 2000H.
Changed some Philippine pesos into US Dollars, and then went window-shopping at the duty-free area. Not much else *to* do, since we were heading for Europe; no sense in bringing along baggage to lug around for the next several days, right? More than enough souvenirs to be found along the way.
The Hong Kong-Abu Dhabi leg was approximately six hours and 50 minutes of flying. I don't remember too much about it, since we were served dinner and the cabin was then blacked out for those who wanted to sleep through the flight. I got a brief glimpse of the inflight movie titled Harry and Son starring Paul Newman as Harry and Robby Benson as Howard, before nodding off to sleep.
Landing at Abu Dhabi, my legs were rubbery and I felt as though I'd left my brain at home. But I wasn't so far gone as to appreciate the transit lounge where we were allowed to stretch our legs while the plane refuelled for the next leg. It was a circular area, with an open balcony that let you look down at the rest of the airport. I have a blurry memory of the fantastic gold jewelry that was on display, and not much else, before we were bundled back into the plane.
The Abu Dhabi-London segment was plagued with clear air turbulence halfway through. CAT is one of the things that make flying a misery for me; especially on long-haul flights like this one. I will forever cherish the memory of the Captain telling people to remove the spoons from their coffee cups at the end of his usual "We regret to inform you..." spiel.
The British Airways steward was a sweetheart. Yes, I'm perfectly aware it was part of his job, but for someone who'd been on his feet for quite a bit, and in a shaking plane, to boot -- taking the time out to tuck in my lap blanket and offering to get me some water was a lovely thing to do.
London appears to be having a heatwave. @__@ That's a new one. But we'll see -- their heatwave might be our December weather, seeing as they live in colder regions and their average summer temperature is different from ours.
Our inflight movie was called Romancing the Stone and starred Michael Douglas (Jack) and Kathleen Turner (Joan). It's a combination of Raiders of the Lost Ark and High Road to China.
The movie contained adventure, romance, and comedy. Real life decided to add some suspense when the film managed to snarl inside the projector during the final climactic scene, and with nearly an hour before the final descent! For a moment, it seemed as though the economy section was doomed to land before finding out of Jack would escape the clutches of the alligator and get the girl! The crew managed to fix things with time to spare, and there was much cheering when the ending proved to really be a happy one.
Monday, June 19, 2006
First Post
Hello there!
Thank you for dropping by this journal. I hope you'll enjoy yourself while you're here.
In 1984, as a graduation present, my mother took me on a coach tour of Europe. We were gone nearly a month (in the days when the exchange rate of the Philippine peso to the US dollar was still fairly reasonable), and after Europe, we flew to the United States to visit friends in San Francisco.
It was my first major trip out of the country. I'd been to Singapore and Hong Kong on short summer vacations; day-tripped to Malacca and Johore Bahru. But it was for Europe that I made the specific resolution to bring along a thick notebook and a pair of good ballpens, in order to write down an account of each day of the tour. While adding weight to my day bag, it was always good to have my writing kit handy, to jot down details of the tour while the memories were fresh.
That first journal was originally intended to be a hard copy project, laid out in Aldus PageMaker and illustrated with clippings from souvenir maps and brochures. It resurfaced on the internet -- albeit in extremely bare-bones format -- as a journal on Blogger, but I removed it while I was in the process of eliminating various internet accounts that had either expired or lain dormant for longer than I had expected.
With the amazing developments in online journaling, I felt the urge to repost the contents of this maiden travel journal. The idea will be to retain that wide-eyed wonder of a first visit to the Continent, while making sure that grammar, spelling, and sentence construction pass the eagle eye of the readers.
Here's hoping you enjoy your stay!
Thank you for dropping by this journal. I hope you'll enjoy yourself while you're here.
In 1984, as a graduation present, my mother took me on a coach tour of Europe. We were gone nearly a month (in the days when the exchange rate of the Philippine peso to the US dollar was still fairly reasonable), and after Europe, we flew to the United States to visit friends in San Francisco.
It was my first major trip out of the country. I'd been to Singapore and Hong Kong on short summer vacations; day-tripped to Malacca and Johore Bahru. But it was for Europe that I made the specific resolution to bring along a thick notebook and a pair of good ballpens, in order to write down an account of each day of the tour. While adding weight to my day bag, it was always good to have my writing kit handy, to jot down details of the tour while the memories were fresh.
That first journal was originally intended to be a hard copy project, laid out in Aldus PageMaker and illustrated with clippings from souvenir maps and brochures. It resurfaced on the internet -- albeit in extremely bare-bones format -- as a journal on Blogger, but I removed it while I was in the process of eliminating various internet accounts that had either expired or lain dormant for longer than I had expected.
With the amazing developments in online journaling, I felt the urge to repost the contents of this maiden travel journal. The idea will be to retain that wide-eyed wonder of a first visit to the Continent, while making sure that grammar, spelling, and sentence construction pass the eagle eye of the readers.
Here's hoping you enjoy your stay!
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