We actually converted to Hinduism but Bridget isn’t a vegetarian so we went back

(Bridget’s actually Roman Catholic, and I’m Southern Baptist.  Could we be any further from Hindu?) 

In the morning, while everyone else got to go to cool museums (Imperial War Museum, V&A, etc.), I got stuck going to the National Gallery.  Fortunately, my tourguide was Allerd, this adorable Dutch art professor, probably early 30s, who I’m madly in love with.  The kind of guy, though, that you fall in love with, go on a romantic weekend retreat with to some Mediterranean Island, and he spends the entire time working on writing a poetry anthology.  But he made the National Gallery more fun that it would have been otherwise.  It’s kind of one of those museums that you really only need to do once.

Afterwards, Jessye and I picknicked in St. James’ park.  There was a HUGE “Free the leader of Burma” protest in Trafalgar Square that everyone, like the good little crazy-Emerson-kids that we are, joined in on.  Unfortunately, as is often the case with protests, few people protesting could tell me anything more than that the leader of Burma had been put in jail.  Crowd mentality at its finest.

Then had possibly one of the most painful lectures of my life, again with Dulcia, but at the Tate Britain.  In three hours we saw maybe six paintings.  I overall like Dulcia, and I would have been interested in the art, but it was cold and too little variety.  And I didn’t get to see the Millais exhibit that’s there (he’s one of my favorite artists!) which made me sad.

The real fun of the day, though, came that night.  Jessye, David, and Amanda went to see a play at the Globe Theatre, so Bridget and I were left to our own devices.  We ate ramen noodles and muffins and yogurt back at the hotel, then set out exploring.  We found Chinatown –or rather China Street; it’s not more than that– that I didn’t even know exhisted in London.  We spent some time exploring the overly crowded little shops, and then talking to a hysterical British guy trying to rope people into a comedy club.  When he found out we’re Americans, he started to say we probably shouldn’t go because the lead act was a Muslim woman, which was terribly narrow-minded of him.  I explained my boyfriend’s Muslim, at which point he yelled, “Oh, wicked!  I thought you were going to say your boyfriend is in Iraq.  Well it’s great, isn’t it?  My wife’s Japanese and I love it.  You can drop racist jokes in the middle of dinner and it’s okay because you’re family.  It’s wicked!”  He hardly seemed old enough to be married, though.  Then suddenly a great commotion down the street, and he yelled, “Oh, a parade!  Time to dance!” and ran off to wave his sign up and down in front of the parade, which was a line of dancers for Hare Krishna.  One man came up to Bridget and I and gave us a book about Hinduism and invited us to a big party Sunday night (which we wound up not going to, afraid of what we might get entangled in).  He asked for money and Bridget gave him a pound or something like that. 

Our adventures continued: the rest of China Town street, the bright lights of Picadilly Circus, the flashing callboards of West End, the happening clubs of SoHo, the naughty window displays of London’s own Red Light District, the teen hooligans flirting violently (literally!) in Trafalgar Square, the quirky indie movie&music shops.  We discovered quite a bit I hadn’t even found in my two weeks there in July. 

The most frustrating part is that we literally just missed a big free Mozart concert at St. Martin-in-the-fields, which has the organ that Bach and Mozart played, the one I wanted to see in July but that was closed.  They were shutting down the church after the concert, but Bridget and I snuck in behind their backs and wound our way up the stairs to see the organ.  She worried but I assured her that it’s not possible for Christians to trespass in God’s house.  We saw the organ, looked a bit more, then snuck out, but not before checking behind a few closed doors to see if we could find a way down to the crypt. 

Finally, tired, we set off in what we thought was the right direction to get back walking.  An hour later we wound up EXACTLY where we had started, having made just a giant loop around London.  Our feet hurt and we were cold, so we took the Tube back.  Then discovered my watch had broken; I hate not knowing what time it was.

More tea, more reading, then off to sleep!