KENSINGTON

In our circuitous route to our hotel-with-no-tube (explanation below),
we passed Mr. Holmes, and pretended we had someone to call.

Josh and I have visited London several times, including two years ago (see "Honeymoon, Year 12" and "Britishisms" for more). We love it, but this time we only had one night to spare, so we spent it all in the neighborhood known as Kensington.

Kensington runs along the southwestern border of Hyde Park, and is famous for its white Georgian townhouses, shopping, and museums. It's also an active commercial/residential section of a major international city, so it has the occasional dose of reality mixed into all the romance...

The Kensington Close
We returned to the newly-renovated Kensington Close Hotel after 10 years for 2 major reasons:

1. It's next to a tube (subway) stop, and 
2. It has a swimming pool.

Upon arrival, we discovered:

1. The tube stop was closed for maintenance.
2. The swimming pool was closed for renovation.

It was still lovely, just a bit...ironic.

British Museum of Natural History
The next morning we walked to the Natural History Museum to see the dinosaurs and were greeted by this sign:

Still, the museum was amazing, even before we walked inside. Its 19th-century history reads like a farce, and the building itself has been appropriately nicknamed a  "cathedral for nature," with animal gargoyles and plant imprints across its terracotta tiles.

I didn't take this picture, but it was too good to omit (and too much for my little phone camera).

From giant wasp nests to an ancient armored anteater to the life cycle of a mosquito in 28x scale, the exhibits were cool. The new Darwin Centre includes an 8-story cocoon with interactive displays that make entomology...fun. Really.

Apparently the museum specializes in skeletons and taxidermy -- on a grand scale. It made us really want to come back with our boys.

It is also impossible for a museum to describe such a huge cross-section of natural history without discussing evolution, so we were both thankful that I had worked through some issues I'd had with science growing up. It was probably the first time I've been able to visit a natural history museum and just celebrate God's creativity in revealing himself to man, rather than feel defensive.

My Sandwich Soapbox
Now I'd like to take a moment to discuss the sandwich. In our household, it comes in two varieties: PB&J or ham/turkey & cheese (plus its radical cousin, grilled cheese). We are not alone. Most of the stores and homes I visit offer the same. There may be an occasional tomato or avocado slipped in. Or chicken salad (though this is basically the cold-cut sandwich chopped & mixed). I'd even jump for an egg salad if you can find one. But in most U.S. run-of-the-mill convenience aisles, I have yet to see a chevre baguette with prosciutto and sun-dried tomatoes. Or an egg and mackerel sandwich on wheat.  Some Subways even refuse to carry my favorite: seafood (metaphorically speaking) salad.

THIS IS NOT THE CASE IN EUROPE. These people (including the eponymous Earl) are on to something. Here are a few examples just from this trip, at ordinary walk-up stands or chain lunch spots in Paris and London:

And this was just the tip of the iceberg. I didn't have time to take photos in the airport (hardly foodie heaven) of the hoisin chicken wrap, the roast beef with horseradish sauce and arugula, or the smoked salmon sandwich.

I used to wish Pret a Manger would come to the U.S. so we could get the mackerel sandwich. Then I discovered something really depressing: When they came to the U.S., guess which sandwiches they offered on their menu? Ham, turkey, cheese. Not a mackerel to be found.

Yet, there is a ray of hope. I have seen a considerable improvement in the food England has to offer over the past decade. I feel sure the U.S. is on the same trajectory. It just has to trickle down from some Food TV sandwich wiz to the 7-Elevens of the world. Someday.

In the meantime, my boys may be choosing to buy lunch at school for the next few weeks, just to avoid Mom's crazy experiments.

Leaving - Or Trying To

We checked out Sunday morning and left our luggage with the bellhop so we could visit the museum. Then we returned to get our luggage with plenty of time to travel less than 2 miles to the bus stop at Marble Arch. There were 3 problems with this plan:

1. The bellhop could not locate my suitcase.
2. The only local tube stop was still closed.
3. The World Triathlon Finals were taking place that very day at Marble Arch, so no taxi would take us there and buses were taking hours.

Enter my knight-in-shining-armor, Josh Denny. Somehow, 20 minutes later, he (alone) found my suitcase in someone else's room. When I asked him how he found it in someone else's room, he said he figured out that the bellhop had delivered it to the wrong person. But HOW did you find it IN someone else's room? He just shook his head and shushed me. I had my clothes; I asked no more questions.

Then, we grabbed our roller-derby luggage and hauled it several blocks to the next tube station, which was open, and rode to Marble Arch in time to catch the bus to Oxford and meet his colleagues for dinner at a cozy pub, where I promise you, all was right with the world again.

  For more, see OXFORD, Part 1.