Whistling Gypsy

Well, this is my first day in London, but I know this much already: I adore this twon. The buildings- the shop fronts which look unchanged from 200 years ago (even the computer stores manage this... don't ask me how) - the people, who don't mind chatting interminably with crazy kiwis- even the dreary grey sky, which is comforting homelike to a Christchurch girl like me!

I got in from Heathrow yesterday, but after battling queues there and figuring out how to use the Tube (which I also love), and finally finding my hostel (London Backpackers) along from Hendon Central, I was too exhausted to do anything much but sleep! The journey over was happily uneventful. I rather let myself down by crying at Christchurch International Airport, setting off Mum... at Auckland, I bought the London Guide by Lonely Planet (which earned its pricetag this morning in helping me to find Convent Garden and the Royal Opera house from leicester Square on the Northern line from Hendon... I was just in time to join the crowd queuing for day tickets before a whole deluge of tourists arrived at 8:30am... by the time 10 o'clock rolled around and the box office opened, the queue seemed to stretch to far more people than would fill the mere 67 seats available... but I'm getting ahead of myself.

From Auckland to London, I sat beside a very nice sailor called Alasdair, bron in Ipswich, who recommended to me Port Ellen, Islay, where his mother is from. He says it's like Picton, only less tree-ish.

We were held up for some time at Los Angeles Airport (or LAX as they call themselves, though why, I don't know. "Lax" is not a very positive adjective, not does it apply in any way to their ruthlessly efficient, unsmiling, Gestapo-like staff). They DID have free soft drinks in the waiting area, however, and I wasn't so churlish as to complain about the fact that it was the Pepsi range and not Coke that they offered (well, not much). Flying in and out, you have to marvel at the grid pattern the the city is build on. The perfect, parallel lines stretch endlessly into the horizon. There's just so much of it, too- so many houses, so many cars around the airport - miles of parking lots, as packed as car sales yards. I'm beginning to appreciate how very, very many people live in this world.

Flying over America, I noticed an awful lot of those circular fields that Mum wa saying are being implemented down south by wealthy North island famers. Maybe I've seen too many conspiracy theory-type programmes about alien crop circles, but they did seem too perfect and too clear-cut - rather as if done by a laser from space! We flew by the tip of Greenland... not that we could see anyhting as it was too dark and I was over the wrong side of the plane anyway, but still! Good to know! :D I can't wait to go dog-sledding there with the huskie puppies!

I landed in London yesterday afternoon, and eventually made it through Customs and Immigration. The former was funny; the man had been rather sternly interrogating the people in front, but after asking me where I came from, a huge smile broke over his face. it appeared "New" and "Zealand" were the magic words! He hurried me through in a very friendly way, and when he asked about dairy products and I mentioned the cheese and butter samples I'd brought with me from the AirNZ flight, he winked and said, "We'll never mind about those!" Darling man. I'd never had preferential treatment before, and I must say that I really liked it! :)

After that I bought a weekly bus pass, zones 1-3, on my shiny new Oyster Card (£27, ouch) and braved the Tube. I LOVE it - from the electronic "Mind the gap" reminders to the way that everyone studiously avoids eye contact, but covertly stares when no one is looking. As for conversation, that is RIGHT OUT. It's really, really funny.

Once I got to Hendon Central I dashed to an internet café to let Mum know that I was alright, then checked into the hostel, about which I am ambivalent at the moment. The kitchen's a mess, and there's nothing to dry your hands on in the bathroom. I took a quick walk up the road to Hendon Park, which is rather pretty. Greeeeeeen! I'm glad I came to London and not to Tokyo.

After that I got back into the hostel, my lovely new pyjamas (courtesy of Mum) and bed. I slept the sleep of the just, and rose at 4am, had a shower and read a camping guide in the kitchen until about 6am, when a nice English-born Indian chap named Suresh got up and made his breakfast. He told me where to get cheap phones... at the "Mall" (which English people pronounce to rhyme with "pal") in a place called Carphone Warehouse. Sounds good. He works in construction, doing something with pipes.

I headed out for a beautiful walk along Hendon Park until I got to the T-junction up the road, and wandered around. The streets are really uneven, and you get quite a good workout going uphill and downhill... it's not all flat like Chch, NZ. The shops are gorgeous! So tiny! Of course as it was still only 7am they were all shut except for the redundantly-named "Bakery and pâtisserie." From across the road, I figured out that a store with lots of cards in the window must be ral restate agent's (though you wouldn't know it from the store name- which I forget!). With this in mind, I looked at the shop next door which had the name "LAUND RETTES-" and how DELIGHTED I was, that this place renting out land should have such a good olde name... perhaps unchanged for 200 years- when I noticed that the "e" had fallen from the sign. Yes, as I am sure you realised straightaway, I was staring at a "LAUNDERETTES"! What in idiot I am... but in a city like this, so steeped in history, it's easy to let it all go to your head. :)

After chatting witha girl named Sara from Tucson, Arizona (which put the Beatles' Get Back into my head for the rest of the morning), I grabbed my things, took the train to Leicester Square, and queued there for several hours, while the cafés all around began to open up and the stalls in Covent Garden Market were erected for the day.

I GOT A TICKET TO TONIGHT'S OPERA! Placido Domingo in Cyrano de Bergerac- full view, seated! Hurrah! In the queue, I met a nice man who works in shipping, who took the morning off work to "visit the doctor" ie. queue for the opera! Ha! He studied geography at uni, and was able to explain hurricanes to me, which is more than Mrs Jeffcott back at CGHS managed... ha! Two Swedish ladies from a choir were behind me, and also delighted to get tickets!

After that, I wandered around the Theatre Museum, which is really a beautiful place. They had a large exhibit devoted exclusively to the Redgrave Family. I knew of the most recent three generations, but had NO idea that it extended to the start of the 1800s. There was a lot of interesting stuff there, including a ballet exhibit (I spent a long time glued to a screen showing scenes from Nureyev and Fonteyn's performance of the Romeo and Juliet). God, it was gorgeous. I must see some ballet at the Opera House if I can. I also picked up a couple of postcards from the shop there showing old-time posters, once depicting the amazing Rubini in his great feat, "BEHEADING A LADY!"... too hilarious. They also had floors made up of old newspapers with ads, theatre reviews, etc., which was very interesting.

But the best part of the Museum for me was the ladies' bathroom, which was decorated THROUGHOUT with black and white tiles depicting scenes from all the major Shakespeare plays.



I MEANT it when I said "throughout."



Ha!

When I got back to the hostel, I was delighted to discover an e-mail from Mum, then talked with a Frenchman named Jeremy who praised my accent, then another frog named Alexandre (who only wanted to practise his English- the nerve!), then I put on my nicest clothes and set off for my first Opera!

Once I was up in the restaurant area, I spent about five minutes just gaping at theinterior- it's really stunning. All the columns and stairwells were festooned with real pink roses, donated by a Friend of the Opera, in memoryof someone famous whose name I didn't quite catch, as I was informed by a friendly but veeery lah-dee-dah woman from Kent, aged 83. She warmed to me because I was from NZ- she was so grateful for our contribution to protecting England during the war, you know! She also told me about a man named J---- (a pastor now the equivalent of a Bishop!) whom she is a great friend of, who was at college with Tony Blair. When Jonathan confided in Tony that he was giving the law up so that he could help people on the spiritual side, Tony said, "Oh, it's something I've grappled with too! However, I think that it's possible to help more people by going into government than into the ministry... but I admire what you're doing all the same."

Everyone here loves Princess Di. Said old lady was talking about the time Diana and Charles were at the opera, and she was getting all the attention and adulation from everyone... afterwards, Charles apparently shoved herroughly into the car, in full view of everyone, because he was so jealous of how well-loved she was. Camilla is NOT LIKED AT ALL.

Anyway, I then took the most expensive escalator in the world up to the top, and once I'd climbed a further couple of flights of stairs and entered the amphitheatre, I promptly got terrible vertigo! But what a view! I'll bring my camera next time and take a picture. So much red, gold and grandeur. It's classy.

Cyrano de Bergerac was wonderful- it's sung in French!- and the final act had some really beautiful arias in it- but the cast! THE CAST! Gush! Placido Domingo was truly amazing- I've never heard such beautiful singing, anywhere before (sorry Don and Freddie)- it was so effortless, and it's true what they say about his acting- he is really amazing. Just astonishingly good. Iam seriously thinking of going again next Tuesday and queuing up... it'll ruin me either way (heartbroken if I don't see him again, stone broke if I do... augh!). The soprano was Sondra Rdavanosky, and she was absolutely exquisite too. She made me cry in the final act- just as sweet and effortless as Domingo - all the cast were excellent. And I liked how at the end of it Domingo dragged them all forward with him for all the final bows... he wanted them to share in the glory, though the crowd were yelling"BRAVO PLACIDO!" He never once came forward by himself. Someone flung him arose and on taking it he gracefully joined hands with the soprano, leavingthe rose with her when he released her-- I don't know, he just came off as avery good guy. I think I'm in love. What a VOICE.

I was up in amphitheatre at the top, right bang in the middle (seat S54), which I'm willing to bet is as good as any seat in the house- a panoramic view of the stage, easy viewing of the English subtitles (which areprojected into the area just above the stage) and the SOUND! I've never heard such great sound. It's a really beautiful house. And I had my binoculars, chiefly useful for examining the set, which was so life-like and beautifully detailed that it was quite impossible to tell whether or not the jars on the shelves in the bakery at the back in Act 2 were real or painted.

Maybe I can write more about it later- some plot details for instance, instead of this gushing use of 'beautiful' and similar adjectives which quickly become meaningless to the reader- but right now I'm too emotional. I've never seen so much concentrated, unmarred beauty. I don't care about the world's problems at this moment... poverty, hunger, pish. Tomorrow my socialist self will reassert itself, but tonight, intoxicated by this splendour, I think, YES! Money should be poured into this, and this alone!

What a first day in London. Can I ever top it?!

And, if anyone has got this far- how the hell are you all?