European Vacation - London Calling Day 1

I was awoken from a deep slumber by the tolling of church bells and immediately knew I had broken the first rule of jetlag – don’t oversleep. I looked at my phone and sure enough, on the first day of our trip it was already 10.30am…. ugh. I dragged myself out of the bed and knocked on mum’s door to awaken her as well. I had forgotten to set my alarm or explain to mum the importance of getting up at normal times to avoid jet lag – she clearly would have slept another few hours had I let her. I had booked a day trip out of NYC to London to try and avoid jet lag as I knew neither of us would be able to sleep on a flight, but still our internal clocks were set to American time. 

The AirBnB host had generously left us some quality coffee and morning treats to help us get started, which we indulged in as we slowly gathered our wits, took showers, and prepared for a day of being a tourist. While mom was getting ready, I ran over to the cell phone shop at the local train station to purchase two electrical convertors – oversights on my part but only 30 pound for a set of two, much cheaper than buying them in the US. 

By the time we got out the door, phones charged, and shoelaces tied, it was already 1.30. Since the sun would be setting at some point during the 4 o’clock hour, I knew our explorations would be cut short. A good friend of mine had prepared a thoughtful and detailed itinerary for us, but it had assumed a slightly earlier start than we would be making!

Our first stop was The Old Operating Theatre Museum & Herb Garret, near Tower Hill and Borough Hall just off the Thames River. As my mom was a nurse, I suspected that she would be keen on visiting, but the hours were limited and for such a short trip we would only have the one opportunity to do so that afternoon. 

It was a short tube ride from our Baker Street adjacent flat, but being Sunday, the train was packed with weekend revelers. My Idaho-based mom has visited me many times in NYC, but not since the pandemic had she been so exposed to so many people in such a confined space. I could sense her anxiety rising, but the straphangers were all so joyous and festive that it was hard not to laugh along with them. 

 At our stop we followed hundreds of people through a warren of tunnels, stairs, and escalators to arise above ground amid the Borough Markets, with the Shard looming over us. It’s a breathtaking site to be surrounded by so many historic buildings while something as modern and extravagant as The Shard looms nearby. 

As I got orientated, I pointed us towards the museum, concurrently informing mom that the museum was in the attic of an old church and the only means of access was via a tight, stone spiral staircase. The staircase is so narrow, in fact, that they have a stoplight at either end to inform attendees when it was safe to proceed.

The museum was packed with historic medical artifacts, from saws for amputations, leeches for blood cleansing and a variety of pokey-proddy things for addressing an array of STDs. The highlight of the museum is the operating theatre itself, in which other doctors would line up on elevated rows overlooking the stage upon which surgeries were performed. 

It’s a small museum, but very engaging and accessible – especially since the space was once, itself, a medical facility for the poor. 

After an hour visiting this chamber of tortures, we descended back to ground level and mingled with the locals (and other tourists) at the Borough Market, indulging in pastries and mulled wine (a shot of rum for 1 pound extra? Yes please!).

We then ambled along the riverfront where we found a replica of The Golden Hinde, the boat our distant “relative”, Sir Francis Drake, captured during his explorations. We considered reclaiming this long-lost family heirloom but decided to take the tube over to Westminster instead.

It was too late in the afternoon to try and go into any of the historic buildings at Westminster, but during our wanders we came across a military parade outside of Green Park.

We strolled through the beautiful park, which was heavily populated with a variety of waterfowl, some of which made it clear that our presence was not welcome. As twilight fell, we followed the lake paths to a magnificent mid-point, Buckingham Palace. It was my first time there, and I’m not sure if the roads surrounding it are typically closed, but the drunks, families, bikers, and tourists by the hundreds were all wandering around in front, below the statue of Queen Victoria, all pleasantly engaged.

By this time, mum’s legs were acting up, however, and it was time to beat feet through the rest of Green Park to the nearest tube entrance. We knew that between some recent back and knee problems, extended walks would need to be kept to a minimum, and after 4 hours on her feet it was time to go home. Once we got home, we rested for an hour then went to a lovely English pub, The Larrik, for a nice English dinner. While the service certainly took its sweet time – as it can do in England – the food and drink were fantastic. Then home again, back to bed, to sleep off our jet lag and get a fresh start on what would be our last full day in London.