Please, Sir, We Want Some More but....

It is our last day together in London, and trust me, we are moving slower than two 100 year old ladies with walkers in Disneyland. It was close to 9 am when we work up, that's over two hours late like our Eurostar from Paris. My knees are creaking, my legs feel like jelly and I could sleep the rest of the day if I wanted to throw away my last day here.

With no clear plans, Debra asked if I'd heard of the Charles Dickens Museum, and I was ashamed to say that I did not. He's always been one of my favorite authors and his house did not disappoint. It was further than we've been on The Tube all week - with the neighborhood being very quiet and residential. It reminded me of the Upper East Side - a place no one would come see you if you lived there.

Debra's moving slower than me - all the walking in Paris has put her legs in serious need of a massage. We stopped into a diner for some coffee and then headed towards our destination. I didn't quite know what to expect - but I didn't expect to find such a massive house. Dickens was indeed quite rich - the house was four floors and a basement. One of the guides told us that most houses at the time would have no more than two floors, so for sure, Great Expectations was paying the bills.

We spent a good deal of time exploring and reading about his life, and I could have spent hundreds of  pounds in the gift shop. By now, it was close to 2 and one of my companions was getting hangry. I was living in a real time Snickers commercial, so we stopped first to get Debra a muffin and then decided to maneuver our way to Westminster to find some food since that's the general direction we wanted to wind up.

The Tube was more crowded today than it has been all week and when we got to Westminster, there was quite a flurry of activity. Some of the exits were closed, so I immediately knew there was some security issue near Parliament. Sure enough, when we exited, we found out there was a suspicious vehicle. Blue flashing lights were everywhere and with Luisa's hunger growing even more hungry, we found another pub to satisfy everyone. It was packed - not nearly as charming at the one we found in Oxford Circus, but it has pints, chips, and most of all, Sticky Toffee Pudding.

As Luisa gobbled down her meat, her hangriness transformed into smiles, and I drank my pale ale in drama-less bliss. When I found out that neither of them had experienced sticky toffee pudding, I had to order it. I was excited to get rid of all my loose coins, but it seems I was stuck with an old pound and was one short - so I took out my credit card. It seems the UK is replacing all it's notes and not one vendor took an old pound. It's the most bizarre thing ever - they want you to go to the bank to exchange it for a new one and I kept thinking, can't you do that when  you deposit all your day's receipts?

Nevertheless, the pudding arrived, and it was promptly devoured.

"It's a good thing I didn't know about this before," Debra said, "Or I would have been eating it all week."

The pub was getting more crowded, so we took off across the street to take some goofy red telephone booth pictures and walk the short distance to Trafalgar Square. The wind was blowing, there was no rain, but there were tons of people. Too many for me so we captured what we needed to and walked down the steps to the Bakerloo line to catch a District train. For some reason, The Tube is packed today. It seems all of London wants to enjoy the weekend.

For sure, we've packed everything we could into this trip. I leave in the early afternoon and Debra the day after. I'll be back to my Blue Awning Home before it's too late, and I'll be left with even more incredible memories of Europe. If you've followed along, I'm hoping you enjoyed the jump across the pond and a whirlwind trip to the City of Lights that, as always, was magical beyond belief.

I can never tire of showing these cities to the people I love the most in the world. And I am always amazed at how small the world really is when I'm here. People are people, some are nicer than others and some pay you no mind. But whatever the case, there's always more to see - always more to do. But for now, even though we want more, we're too physically tired to enjoy it. We may go out for some glasses of wine, or maybe another decadent consumption of Sticky Toffee Pudding. But, from the looks of things, these ladies are done for the night, and even I might be hard pressed to go out.

In Walks Company

The only thing on our agenda today was, you guessed it - food and drink with a little bit of shopping thrown in for good measure. When I saw the bright light in the bedroom window, I wasn't quite sure what it was. I pulled back the curtain and lo and behold, a blue sky. We were quite overcome with the view and even though we knew it wouldn't last, it inspired us to leave home without our umbrellas.

Hungry again, which is amazing in itself, and since we needed to go back to Harrods for some presents, we thought we'd treat ourselves to their amazing granola, yogurt and honey. When we sat down, the server who waited on us before remembered us as well as what we had to eat and drink. We didn't even have to look at the menu until the French chef came to apologize that there was no granola or yogurt. In all of Harrods there were neither? I was "disappointed" to settle for a light, delicious and flaky chocolate croissant. Fully satiated, we picked up some gifts and made our way to Oxford and Bond Streets for some shopping.

Prior though, I'd convinced Debra and Luisa to join me at the new production of Company. While I've never seen the show, I knew the music well, and I was looking forward to the gender reversed musical.

I was still exhausted from our whirlwind tour of Paris and nothing I found in any store gave me the least bit of excitement. After googling pubs when we got to Bond Street, we discovered The Running Horse. From it's deep forest green chairs to its rustic fireplace and bar, this was a quintessential English Pub. We were in London glory. I ordered a pint of a new bitter and could not resist the Shepard's Pie. Even I had to admit that I have not been disappointed by the food on this trip.

As the ladies went to the loo, I noticed a nice looking couple at the bar look over at me.

"Are you waiting for the table?" I asked seeing them look a bit more sheepish.

They told me there were but to take my time.

"Don't be silly, come over here before someone takes it," I ordered, realizing that I must have been quite a shock to the reserved clientele they are used to seeing.

We took a few more pictures and started again on our shopping day. Along the way, we discovered that there will be a new Elizabeth line to the Tube opening at the end of this year. Not bad to have a whole Tube line named after you.

After Paris, shopping held no thrill and I wanted to get home so I could rest before meeting my old friend Jim before the show. The girls were set to meet me at the theatre and by the time Jim left me, I was feeling very festive.

It was great to see an old friend and upstairs at my favorite gay pub, we met some new people. Well, I did most of the aggressive meets, chastising the straight girls Jim and I met up there for taking up valuable gay real estate. Her brother was coming with his wife and they like gay pubs, she said. If her brother had a man bun like this girl, for sure I would have said something, but it was getting close to curtain so I had to dash.

When I met the girls, I excitedly told them that they were about to watch a Broadway legend at work and Luisa offered to switch seats with me. I was in the Grand Circle and they were in the Dress.

"Well," she told her mother after she offered her ticket "It's like a Taylor Swift concert for him."

I couldn't have been happier and could hardly contain myself when the musical started and we saw Patti on stage. No matter how many times I see the Broadway royal, it's always like my first. I knew were in for a fantastic take on The Ladies Who Lunch. And how perfect for Debra and I to watch a musical about friends telling someone to get married.

And a note to self - use the loo several times after downing four pints at the pub before the show. Never before has my bladder screamed at me for this much attention and I ran to find the nearest loo, returning just in time for my favorite number, Getting Married Today.

Before the second act, an older woman in front of us turned around and told us she saw the show in 1976. She must have heard us talking about marriage and love.

"Will you get married again?" Debra asked her.

"Good God, no," the woman said as if the words stung her tongue.

And then, it was the second act and as Patti sang her lyrics, "Everybody Rise," I literally thought the entire audience would obey her.

The show was recently nominated for a slew of Olivier Awards and it deserves every one. And alas, that ends our next to last night together in London. Some late night pizza and sodas and an uber ride back trying to get used to the driver on the right side of the car, we are home.

 The day wasn't the most adventurous of experiences, but it was because we were all together - enjoying something that we never take for granted that has made this day special. Who needs Company when we have us?

Brexit for All

Our last day in Paris turned out to be quite an adventure.

With Debra and Luisa up before me, we should have known something would be amiss. 

They were off to see sights I’ve seen before, including the Arc de Triomphe.

My very Parisian morning started with a breakfast of bread, croissant, coffee and juice, followed by a stroll around the neighborhood. While the rain had stopped and the sky a majestic blue, the wind was still there to remind me that it was winter in Paris. And, although the breakfast was satisfying, and I was quite full, I had to have an eclair. I cannot come to Paris and not consume one, so I found my favorite patisserie and devoured a chocolate one in record time. Feeling not a pang of guilt, I went in search of tissues for my mother. Yes, tissues. Ever since her first trip to Europe, Rosemarie is in love with the Kleenex of Europe because they are quilted and of heavier stock than their American counterparts. I shoved to packets in my backpack and then decide to walk to the Eiffel Tower to meet up with my travel companions.

Now, walking to the tower is quite lovely on a spring or summer day, and when one wears the right foot attire. For me, however, I packed shoes that were good for rainy days, not for walking over 45 minutes along the river Seine. But as I was already committed to the task, I continued onward. I texted Debra and told her that since we had all our bags, that I would sit out going up in the tower to avoid the security and possible questions from the tower personnel. 

Pretending to not speak English to avoid the gypsy scammers around the tower, I plopped down on the green bench with the most spectacular view of the tower in front of me. Staring up at it, I was really overcome with so many emotions  When you go to Paris, and you must go, I’ve no doubt your experience will be the same. Once again, gypsies approached, I shook my head and watched their attempts at tourist after tourist. With the sky a bright blue, suddenly, rain started to fall - I took out my umbrella and sat under it while the passing rain disappeared. I wish someone could have gotten a picture - I am obsessed with pictures featuring umbrellas.

Debra and her daughter had the time of their lives in the tower, but finally, I had to stick to the plan and texted them that it was time to return for our return train to London. Who knew how funny it would be when I said that we cannot be late. After a few more pictures - of course - we maneuvered the Paris subway to our destination. And, as soon as we arrived, I got a text from Eurostar that our train was over two hours delayed. It seems that we have been stuck in a Brexit mess. Looking at the crowd outside, I went to see the departure board. The checkin for our train had begun and it was not a pretty sight.

“We need to go,” I said to them when I got back, dumping my hot chocolate in the bin. (The drink was insane. The only way to describe it was literally melted chocolate bars) I fear I’ve gained five pounds just by drinking half. “That’s our train lining up.”

And as we stood there, a very handsome Eurostar representative asked if any of us were scheduled on the 17:05 train. I quickly raised my hand and we were summoned to the front. 

“There are issues with French customs,” he said, trying not very hard to hide his surprise. “We can get you all on a train to Lille and from there, the Eurostar to London. You will arrive at your destination by Nine O'clock.” 

With that, he handed us a white ticket.

“Please hold onto this and follow my colleague there in the yellow vest.”

And, like a Pied Piper, the next man, who was not as cute, maneuvered us down the station. In the crowd next to us, a French woman going to visit her daughter asked us details that we shared and she kindly translated some more news from the train staff that was in French. We chatted with her and I was struck by how nice everyone was. In no way would the train staff have been this nice in Penn Station. Amtrak would simply tell you to check the app and get a new train. The customer service here is refreshing and mind boggling, all at the same time.

Once again we followed our guide, who led us to a regional train to the northern city near the Belgium border. Running onto the train like rats escaping the 57th Street Station in Manhattan, we found a seat. However, Eurostar didn’t tell the passengers or the train staff that they were re-routing what seemed hundreds of passengers. Slowly, the booked customers evicted all the refugees, including myself, to the very back of the train. Along with us, another polite English woman who spoke perfect French. We knew she was from the UK by her passport. She was very appreciative when I told her to take the empty seat next to Debra - there was no need for me to sit and how long could the ride be, I thought. 

An hour later, we got to a very cold outdoor station. But, there were no instructions on where to go, so we blindly went up where we met again with the woman from the train. She was speaking French to a train station employee and then told us to follow her to the Eurostar departure, where once in the massive line, she said they told her that an attempt would be made to get us on the train. 

“They can hold the train for fifteen minutes, no longer,” she said shaking her head. “They a mess - nothing ever goes right with them.”

I looked behind us to find that we were the second to last and when we saw the train arrive beneath us, my hope to get on board started to fade. I love France, but stuck in Lille was not something I was looking forward to in any way.

Finally, we got to the counter, presented our white slip of paper given to us in Paris and were assigned three seats. Luisa got no questions at the passport control since she’s traveling on her European one, and her mom and I answered the standard ones before then going to the next passport control behind them to enter the UK. It seems at this checkpoint, none of the staff were interrogating customers like they were in Paris and they sped us through. As if were the last team to arrive at the pitstop on The Amazing Race, we got to our seats, threw our bags in the overhead and sighed.

“We made it,” I laughed. “What an adventure.” 

I then discovered that I was sitting in a backwards facing seat. I despise moving backwards, but I was so tired and grateful to be on a train headed to London that I didn’t care. Plus, the French boy with the big nose next to me made for a fine seat companion.

In about an hour, we were safely in London and never so happy to be home. Funny how we have been having so much fun that we think of our temporary apartment as “home.”

Easily getting onto the Tube, we got to our apartment, got rid of our bags and headed down the street to our neighborhood pub. Joining with the crowd watching the Chelsea match, we ate, drank some pints and had some great laughs over our 24-hour Paris adventures. I really can't believe  how a simple dinner in a pub can make me so appreciative of my life. These ladies are so much a part of my life that I can't imagine where I would be without them. (Probably stuck in Paris alone, bitter on a bridge of love.)

It was a cold evening in London and with the heat out once again in our apartment, I fiddled with the contraption like the flat manager did the day before we left and restarted the unit. My expertise dumbfounds even me.

We checked the Eurostar site to see if there was any other news and found a message that all trains to and from Paris were experiencing over two hour delays. Throughout the whole experience, it was exciting to be a part of the Brexit mess, and grateful we don’t have to deal with the chaos that is surely to come. Besides, when we return to the United States, we still have to put up with the mess our country made in 2016. For now, a night’s sleep and another day in London awaits. At least this time there are no backwards facing seats on the train. 

A Madame for the Monsieur

Four o'clock in the morning comes pretty quickly when you go to bed after 11 pm. We packed what we needed, or thought we needed, for Paris and set our alarms. Of course, I was up way before it went off and with the time difference to San Francisco, I found a good way to kill time by texting and shocking my friend David. There I sat, wide awake and when 4 am hit, I woke Debra up, but knew to wait to the last minute to stir Sleeping Beauty. Now anyone who knows me has experience with my planning, and this morning was no different as I cracked the whip on those two since we had to be at the train station over an hour before our departure. Trust me, the  Eurostar waits for no one.

On the way to King's Cross, we ran into some interesting drunken fools who were still out from the night before. Without a doubt they were snorting coke in the back of the train, which made for an interesting ride to Earl's Court. It was only the next stop so we didn't have to deal with them for long, but imagine our surprise when three stops later they were on the Piccadilly Line with us. They had to have gotten off at the next District Line Transfer and grabbed the same train. It was quite disturbing, but off they went again and I thought that if we saw them on the way to King's Cross we were in trouble. 

The station is beautiful and the line for security and Passport control was intense. There were countless amounts of people in line. Once on board, Luisa was asleep in less than ten minutes and we were joined by two French seat jumpers halfway through the journey. I could have asked to see their seat assignements, but I didn’t want to be THAT passenger.

We arrived in Paris right on time, and from the second we left Gard Du Nord I was whisked back to the initial feeling when I first landed in Paris. And to hear both Debra and Luisa’s joy as we walked to our Air Bnb made me incredibly happy.

Our apartment here was much smaller than our London flat but for a night it was perfect, and the bathroom was quite spacious for such an unexpected size. Located in a building that was being renovated, we made our way up the dusty stairs by our host’s cleaning lady who spoke no English or French. We used Google Translator to communicate. If you haven’t tried that when you travel, it is a must. No need to butcher a language you don’t know.

We wasted no time in dropping our off our bags, and I took the girls to our first planned stop Notre Dame. Our hunger, however, demanded that we stop first and we found a quintessential cafe not far from the church.

“We are in Paris!” Debra said as she opened her menu to look for her first French meal. I, of course, knew what I wanted - A Croque Madame. It was the first lunch I ever had in Paris and there has never been any comparison to it when I order it in the United States. So after she completed her order, the waiter says to us, 

“Ah, a Madame for the Monsieur and a Monsieur for the Madame!” 

I don't know how the French do it - but every time I get that sandwich the crust is crispy but not burnt and the middle a soft lightly toasted ball of gluten. Savoring every bit of our food, we took our time before I walked them to the most spectacular church in the world. Not knowing it was Ash Wednesday, we were pleasantly surprised to see the mass going on with a full choir accompaniment. Debra and Lusia went further down to look at the church and I decided to be a good Catholic and light a candle for my relatives. Of course, being good, turned into bad since I should have put a 2e offering in the box before lighting it, but really, shouldn’t prayers be free?

Since we had tickets for a Welcome to the Louvre tickets at 2pm, I kept the ladies on a strict schedule. And as we made our way there in the rain, they both agreed that Paris is magical. Walking across the bridge that formally had the locks on it, we noticed that some remained firmly in place on the pillars. 

“Ah, Love has died but it’s still trying to cling to life,” I commented  before leading them down the Pyramid entrance to the world’s most famous museum.

Now, our tickets clearly said to meet under the Group Registration sign for our tour, and when it reached 1:59, there was no tour guide. We found a Museum employee who told us we had to go INSIDE the group registration, which the ticket clearly did not stipulate. When we approached the counter, we were told to “go very quickly” to pick up headsets and make our way to Room number 6. I was pissed that the tickets didn’t tell us the complete instructions but we made it just as our tour guide began. She was a tiny French woman with a heavy accent but spoke impeccable English that she was always doubting was understandable. We then had to follow her to the entrance before the tour officially began. 

I went to grab our tickets and realized, I no longer had them. The woman behind the audio tour desk took them from me when she gave me the headsets. I very quickly found the mobile version on my phone and we began our journey through the museum - crisis averted.

For anyone wanting to get a quick overview of all the art and to see all the major sights, this tour is a must. We covered them all, Venus Di Milo, Winged Victory and of course, the Mona Lisa. Along the way, our guide chastised those foolish tourists in the galleries enough to take pictures with the flash or have food. She was a wealth of information and by the time the tour ended, my feet were exhausted because I packed shoes that were good for rainy weather and not for walking long distances.

Debra, however, was in museum heaven and when she wanted to attempt a visit to the D’Orsy, I instead suggested a stop for wine first to go over a game plan. By this time it was close to 4:30 and with all us fighting the residual of a 4am wake up call, we decided to head back to the apartment and get recharged for dinner and the night time Sienne river cruise.

It’s amazing what a hot shower can do as I was immediately rejuvenated.  Ignoring the fact that I primarily used up the hot water before Luisa had her chance, we set out to the base of the Eiffel Tower to get our tickets.

Now, in all the times I’ve been to Paris, I’ve never seen the famous landmark at night. After exiting the train station (which was too much like the New York City system for my taste), we were treated with the most breathtaking sight. There is nothing like seeing the tower for the first time and there is nothing quite as spectacular as seeing it lit up and sparkling every hour. Even I can’t put into words what it’s like to stand under its beauty and my two girls were equally awestruck. Picture after picture was taken and I could not shake the thought at how far Debra and I have come and how neither one of us ever imagined that the road would lead to Paris. With one incredible picture taken, we headed down to the dock.

It was 45e for the three of us and for some reason I didn't want to take out my ATM card and knew Luisa had a 50 Euro note she wanted to break so I asked for it. “I’m a starving student,” she said. 

“Well, you’re not starving while I’m here, so hand it over.” 

Fear not, I paid her back.

We boarded the boat just as the Eiffel started her hourly sparkle light show. And after I bought us some wine on board to toast to where we were, the cruise began. Now, in case there was any doubt, even cheap wine in Paris is good wine in Paris. Those two tiny glasses got us so tipsy that Debra was waving to boys across the river and when one boy on the bank blew her a kiss, the cougar on board blew one right back. This after I pointed out two would be lovers making out under the Pont Neuf and telling the ladies to look at love before it died. 

Seeing Paris lit up at night along the river should be on anyone’s list of things to see in the city. And with the rain falling again, our cruise ended and I decided to uber back to the Marais instead of dealing with the Metro.

Our driver had a bit of an issue finding us underneath the tower but he delivered us to the neighborhood I know well. We were famished by this time and quite tipsy and to my great joy, the restaurant my friend David and I went to and the first one I took my mom to eat as well was still there and open for the night. Of course, with David, there was still smoking allowed, but the thing that hasn’t changed is the food. Still delicious, still very French and still the best you’ll find on the street. We were stuffed, so as much the profiteroles were calling, we passed and headed back to the apartment. By this time, the rain was unleashing another torrent of water and it almost made me stay home. But it’s my one night in Paris, as Debra reminded me, and “you have to go out.”

Alas, this Monsieur found no Monsieur. But fear not, love was plentiful all around me, but real or pretend, I was certain no locks would be found to commemorate the occasion.

Tell Patti Hello from Pino

It's toasty warm our West Kensington Flat, but that wasn't the case before we left for dinner. When Luisa and Debra came back from Kensington Palace, my friend noticed there was no hot water and the apartment felt chilly. Sure enough, the boiler had malfunctioned again. Seeing no way to reset it, she once again called Robin, the manager of the building who was over at our place within fifteen minutes. He turned off the system, fiddled with the valves and we were back in business. He once again apologized for the mess up and told us the plumber would return again to look at things in the morning. We'll leave the key in the lockbox as we will be off to Paris for the day.

With the heat coming up, I changed into my very BRIGHT red pants, donned my lime green fedora and off we started for our night. The trains were a bit off as we waited ten minutes for our District Line car - we've never waited more than two. I chose the place for dinner after I read
Playbill.com a few weeks ago, which featured Broadway legend, Patti LuPone answering questions from her fans. She's starring in an acclaimed version of Company here, and one of the things her fans wanted to know was what was her favorite place to eat in London. Without hesitation, she said, in typical Patti fashion, "Giovanni's. Best Italian Food in all of London." So, I immediately texted Luisa and told her to make reservations for us.

Tonight, our trains were off by some few minutes and when we reached Compton's, the doorman let Luisa and I in without any issue, but he stopped Debra to look in her bag.

"You've been here before?" the muscular guardian asked.

Debra moved her still flat head of hair away from her face. "No, my first time."

"You know this is a gay bar?"

She laughed, not even telling him how many she's been in over the years. "Oh, yes, I know."

The pub is so inviting. Warm, cozy and, of course, full of cute men. We took our IPAs to the back lounge area and started talking with two really nice British men. One who had family in Florida and one who didn't like Paris. I ignored the fact that he said that and we talked some more before moving to the front of the pub, and after they asked if I were Luisa's father, which when I thought of it, was quite funny. I could be if it weren't for one major reason why - though technically catching her into this world should count for something. We finished up and since I can't see my phone without my glasses, we had Luisa lead us to Giovanni's.

All I can say is thank you, Patti. This incredible find is a must eat whenever you are in London. And for the discerning movie fan, the front door was the one used by Emily Blunt in Mary Poppins Returns when she goes to visit her cousin, played by Meryl Streep.

With a seating capacity of no more than 50, the dimly lit restaurant was perhaps the best Italian food I have had outside of Italy. The wine was incredibly smooth and when it was paired with my fresh gnocchi, I thought there could be nothing better. Luisa had lasagna while her mother had roasted  chicken in a butter sauce with a tiny hint of chili spice that was so incredibly tender, it practically melted on the fork.

We followed that with a dessert called Cassation Siciliana - a traditional Sicilian cake filled with 

sweet ricotta cream, topped with pistachio marzipan.  It was a taste like nothing I've had before and we devoured it. The owner, Pino was so incredibly nice. I told him that I'd seen Patti's video and he said that she has been coming there for years, and in fact, had the Company Opening Night party at his restaurant. He asked what I did, I told him I worked at NBC and he asked if I knew Paul Feig, who was having dinner at the table by the window. I told him I knew who he was but never met. When I told him I was seeing Company this Friday, he tells me to tell Patti, when I go backstage that I had dinner there and he says hello. I must come across as very sure of myself for him to think I know the Broadway Diva legend from just watching Playbill.com video.  

The check only came when we requested it, which is what I love about Europe. We could have sat there for hours without them kicking us out. I paid the check, Pino shook my hand, thanked us for coming and I told him I would send everyone I know to his incredible restaurant. 

With a light rain falling, we made our way to the Tube and are now back in our toasty warm flat. We have a 7am train to Paris so we need to be up early. The ladies have already showered, the flat iron will remain here for the night and I'll be up, as always, at the crack of dawn. 

Paris awaits to make me jump rope even more when I return to Los Angeles, and just maybe Patti can recommend a good place to eat there as well.

Harrods and the Flat Iron

I slept like a stone dropped into the Thames and this morning, Debra was even up before me. That never happens back home, and just to tell you how far we've come, I once again saw her without make up. I don't believe any man has ever seen that and I can still remember the first time it happened. We were staying at my friend Michael's apartment in LA and she very cleverly thought she was shielding herself from me as she got ready, but foolishly forgot that the mirror on the wall reflected her in the bathroom. It was a classic moment in our long friendship. This morning, she sat on my bed - flat ironing her hair and complaining how bad the flat iron was that she bought. It left her hair still puffy and unruly, but she managed to get through it. So after she finished and I got ready, Sleeping Beauty was awake and off we went to start our day.

We opted to go right to Harrods instead of stopping at Costa. Before Debra could get too overwhelmed with the Disneyland of Department stores, we plopped ourselves at the coffee bar in the first grand hall of food. With the most delicious honey spooned over my granola with yogurt and our almond croissant, we enjoyed a mocha and cappuccino. Alas, Luisa could not eat her blueberry muffin since food in other parts of the court area were not allowed at the coffee bar. We then commenced our trip through the massive store. Deciding against buying the 50,000 pound diamond green watch, we opted to start at the top of the store and work our way down.

What a fortuitous decision because on the way, we passed by a dry bar. And on display was the most amazing flat iron. The woman at the station asked if we wanted to try it, and Debra hesitatingly said her hair was a mess.

"No worries," the attractive British woman said. "Just try this out." The Jose Eber Flat Iron is not sold in America and, I kid you not, even for me who doesn't need a flat iron, that gadget transformed Debra's hair into a model worthy photo shoot. I took one look and said, "Well, I think you need an early birthday present."

"What?" she questioned? "You're insane."

Mental capacity be damned or not, I took out my credit card and gave her a welcome to London present. The Flat Iron can be used in any country, comes with a lifetime guarantee and with the flatness of her hair came a new Debra like the world has never seen.

"All this because your hair is flat?"

"YES. Just look at it!"  I must admit, from the morning on my bed to now, it was a total transformation. Her mood was a complete reversal and she was ready for more pictures and the Tube, and with Paris on the horizon for tomorrow, it could not have been a better purchase. Plus, I love making people happy. Just imagine if we were married I said.

"Oh, if we were," she said, "at this stage in our relationship, there'd be no presents."

We had a good laugh with the sales girl at that and after leaving with some free hair products, we stopped to fill out the VAT reimbursement and spent some more time wandering around the store.  I passed up the 500 pound Harrod's Green Loafers and we headed off to Kensington Park for tea. All we seem to be doing is drinking and eating, but what else is vacation and jumping rope non stop for? We wandered around the park for a bit before making our way to the Palace.

The restaurant was just as I remembered it when I took my mom in 2014. It's moved to a new location while the Orangery is being remodeled, but it's still chic and very English. With our tray of crustless sandwiches and tea, the three of us had the most civilized afternoon. I left the two of them go explore Kensington Palace and headed back to the apartment. Getting around this city is so easy and such a difference from the madness of Manhattan. The passengers let each other off the cars before they board and no one is cutting their nails or eating pistachios and throwing the shells at their feet. My faith in civilization has been restored.

Now, I'm ironing my very red pants for a dinner in Covent Garden at a restaurant recommend by Patti LuPone, who's starring in Company in the West End. We'll have an early night as our train to Paris leaves at 6:50 am and we need to be there an hour before it departs. At least now, Debra will happily be ready with very flat and fabulous hair.

A Blustery Day in London Town

Being able to sleep for only 30 minutes of a 10.5 hour flight makes for a very long day, and with a baby two rows in front, wailing about every two hours, it was an interesting day in Economy Plus.  With an easy entry into the UK, and my gold polka dotted bag already on the carousel, I made a fast exit to the Tube to meet Debra and Luisa at the West Kensington Station. Of course, the rain decided to unleash itself while I was waiting, but I pulled out my packed umbrella and was all set as we made our way to our rented flat.

This place is spacious, with two bedrooms and two full baths, although I will never understand the no shower curtain practice here. Even with the half glass, the bathroom gets quite a soaking, and I needed to shower and brush my teeth after that long flight. I changed into a fresh shirt, sort of did my hair, and we set out to get some lunch. We stopped at a sourdough pizza place called Franco Manca in Earl's Court and the food was delicious. The crust was light, just toasted enough so that it held the mozzarella and chorizo slices all in their proper place. The salad had what I think is the world's best tasting bacon. Thick and perfectly cooked, it could have served on its own plate to be my entire meal. I figured after that long flight, I deserved a glass of wine, so I had the waiter choose something for me. Whatever it was, it was smooth and light and went down way too fast.

After the late lunch, we headed to see Luisa's flat where she's spending the semester. Located in Kensington as well, the top floor apartment was literally 92 stairs from the bottom. Mind you, this is over 30 more steps than my tiny NYC apartment and I had a bit of PTNYCSD (Post-traumatic NYC Syndrome) as I made the trek up the staircase. Once in, I took a look around, marveled at how spacious it was and then promptly announced that I would not be making the trek up the stairs again. 

Since I'd planned to take them to Buckingham Palace on the first day, we made our way at rush hour to Victoria and walked the few blocks to the Queen's home. It seems there was an event going on, the gates had just opened, the guards with heavy artillery were checking car after car, and when Debra asked a little man what the event was he snidely said that he was going in to see the Queen. (Well, we could have deduced that much.) After a few more photo shots, with the wind picking up like a fierce queen herself without an invitation, we stopped at Costa.

I needed to stay awake as long as possible and having some caffeine would help achieve the goal. The coffee was delicious and after the perk, we made our way back to our flat for a quick rest before heading out to the neighborhood pub.

The Three Kings Pub is charming, unassuming, and the perfect place to unwind after a very long day. My goal was to stay up as long as possible and I think I've been successful. Debra ordered a Strawberry Lime Cider, which went down much faster than my Lager (in London, I switch from Vodka to beer), and after telling stories of our families and toasting to an incredible year that none of us could have imagined, we're back in the flat. We did stop at the corner store, where I discovered that my British Pounds I had from years ago are no longer valid as they've changed the look of them. We can go to the bank to have it exchanged for the new, which caused me to wonder why the merchant couldn't just take it and do the same thing? Who am I to question while feeling tired at last. So bundling up again, we walked quickly back where the blustery day has now faded into a winter's night. I'll sleep without a wailing baby and tomorrow we go shopping, have high tea and dinner on the recommendation of Patti LuPone. Now that's a story worth waiting for.