Laurel Talley in front of Buckinham Palace and the Queen Victoria monument

Laurel: Matt and I permanently relocated to Hamburg, Germany at the beginning of 2007. Besides the great experience of living in a foreign country, we were very excited about the prospect of cheap, convenient travel to so many renowned and hidden destinations in Europe. One can get to Berlin in an hour or Italy in an afternoon. I have family in London, so naturally our first weekend trip was planned to visit them.

I went online to Ryan Air and found what seemed like the cheapest round trip tickets to London imaginable. The flight there and back was two euro-cents per person. Wahoo! I proceeded to book the flight with little hesitation. Of course I knew they would pile the extra fees on top of the price, but who can resist a trip to England for two cents?!! After everything was added up, including a fee for having one carry-on bag (and it’s even more expensive to stow it) we ended up paying about $70 US for the two tickets. Not bad. Matt and I chatted a little bit ahead of time about what we might like to do but didn’t make any concrete plans.

Matt: At this point what we SHOULD have done was grab a travel guidebook off the shelf and study it a little. However, all of our guide books and everything else we owned were in a dark warehouse in Northern Germany waiting for us to find an apartment. We should have at least done some web searching or gone to a local bookseller and made notes from one of their copies for free while sipping a nice mocha coffee.

Laurel: Both of us have visited London before so there wasn’t the usual feeling of having to see and do everything possible. I had never been to the costume exhibit at the Victoria and Albert Museum (I opted out as a teenager in favor of watching a football game at the local pub followed by quite a few pints) and Matt had never been to Westminster Abbey, my favorite church. I also mentioned I would like to experience the Tower of London if we had time. We were going to visit my aunt and uncle and their two school-aged daughters, so we figured they might have some things planned for us as well. Matt: Talley’s 12th Rule of Travel – Never assume your host in a foreign land will have plans for you or a guide book you can use. Always bring your own.

Laurel: We booked our flight for late afternoon, hoping to arrive in London around dinnertime. Cheap flights are generally not convenient flights, so we found ourselves flying out of Lübeck and into Stansead – both marginal airports located in the middle of nowhere. We heard from one of Matt’s German co-workers that there is a bus that commutes between the downtown Hamburg train station and the Lübeck airport every hour. We got out of the house a little late and leisurely made our way down to the bus station expecting to just wing it with the transport to the Airport. After a few conversations in broken English and German, enhanced by lots of sign language, we determined that the bus does not, in fact, leave every hour. Instead there is one bus for each flight leaving Lübeck each day, and we had missed our bus by a mere 15 minutes.

Matt: This was my fault. I shouldn’t have taken the bus information for granted. I should have hammered down the details myself and gotten us to the bus depot early! Talley’s 6th rule of Travel – Always plan your ride to and from the airport in advance. Once at your destination feel free to play it free and easy with transport, but ALWAYS make airport pick up and drop off arrangements in advance.

Laurel: Not easily defeated, we ran back to the train station and purchased one-way tickets into Lübeck. We then caught a taxi ride from the Lübeck train station to the airport, listening to terrible Musak and urging the driver ever faster as the traffic thickened and the minutes ticked by. I ran into the airport as Matt paid the cabby, relieved that I got to the counter with half an hour until takeoff. My jubilation was short lived, as I was informed that check-in had closed for our flight. Apparently, one has to check-in forty minutes to takeoff on Ryan Air or you will not be allowed on the plane. The grumbling associate even called the plane to see if they would let us through but access remained denied. In order to get seats on the next flight, leaving five hours later, we had to pay a fee. I won’t say how much it ended up being, but I can say that the fee cost more than the original tickets and all the add-on fees combined. I’m not bitter… Okay, I was furious! This is when my rant began about how “this would never happen in the States…”

Matt: When traveling or living somewhere outside of the USA we all like to point out to the locals and other expats how “We aren’t like those other Americans.” (The Brits are famous for this as well). We pride ourselves on being culturally sensitive and make it a point to either speak the language or attempt to while in other lands. We are not loud or obnoxious or demanding at restaurants and generally eat whatever is put in front of us without complaint. We all try to blend in as much as possible in both manner and dress – that is until we get pissed off. It has happened or will happen to every one of us at some point. You get cut off in London traffic by one of those black cabs for the thousandth time, your chicken breast comes back to your table bloody in Paris after you have politely sent it back twice, you get pushed and prodded into a Tokyo subway car like a sardine by a white-gloved tyrant, some German grandmother stiff-arms you out of her way in the supermarket, a Italian shop owner ignores you as you stand there with cash in your hand… All of a sudden you and the wife turn into South Alabama trailer-trash: The Duke and Duchess of Hazard County – loud, demanding, refusing to say a word that is not English, yelling for the manager/owner and all of a sudden before you know what is going on, BAM!! It just comes out: “THIS WOULD NEVER HAPPEN IN AMERICA/ENGLAND!” It is at this point that all the other Americans (or Brits) standing in a ¼ mile radius look at you, shake their heads with a mixture of pity and disgust, lean over and tell their friends how they “are not like those people…”

Laurel: Apparently, the reason we were denied boarding on our flight was because the aircraft had already been weighed and fueled up. Ryan Air runs its flights on such narrow margins that they estimate the weight of the plane and passengers and put in only enough gas to make it to their destination. Matt: I would hate to be on the flight where Ian or Charlie or Patrick screwed up the math…

Laurel: Matt and I had dinner in the overpriced airport café and then shopped for German souvenirs to bring to my family at the overpriced continence store/book seller/gift shop in the terminal. I would have picked up a few bottles of our favorite Hefeweissen before the trip but thanks to some idiot terrorists headed from London to the US last summer, we are no longer allowed to bring liquids though security. Lucky the airport gift shop had a comparable Hefe and I was able to get German Kinderschokolade eggs for my young cousins and a tin of the original Lübeck marzipan for the grownups.

Our flight was uneventful, though a bit jerky; also there were no back seat pockets and all beverages had to be purchased, even water, to save on both the price of interior fitting and the cost of operating the fleet. Welcome to Ryan Air… In the five hours we spent waiting for our next flight, I talked to my uncle a number of times and we figured out a game plan for the cheapest and most convenient way to get to their house given the fact that we were going to be arriving after one in the morning on a week night on the outskirts of London. My uncle reserved a cab for us, which was supposed to be there when we arrived. Once on the ground and standing curbside our cabby was nowhere to be seen, so I called the cab company and got the driver’s cell phone number. Apparently, there had been an accident on the main and only freeway to the airport, blocking the entire road. The driver swore he would be there in forty minutes. By this time, we were so tired (and tired of waiting and tired of airports) that we told the cabby not to come and went to request a cab at the airport’s cab service desk. Our mouths fell open when the woman behind the desk told us our trip would cost seventy pounds (close to $140 US). “But we had a cab coming for twenty-nine pounds,” we protested, to which she replied “If you can get a cab for thirty pounds I suggest you take it.” It turned out that regular cabs are not allowed BY LAW to hang out at the airport – so much for free enterprise. You can only get a reasonably priced cab if you reserve one in advance. Matt: This little snafu was the driving force behind the writing of Talley’s 6th Rule of Travel…

Laurel: (I love that I’m married to a man who says the word “snafu.”) We decided to swallow our pride and see if our driver would come after all. Alas, one of us had accidentally shut off the cell phone and the other one of us didn’t have the cell phone security pin memorized, so we were suddenly without a phone. We threw in the towel and accepted the ridiculously expensive cab ride. Matt: Talley’s 4th Rule of Travel - Always have an unlocked cell phone with a full battery, a written list of home and destination contact numbers, and a SIM card that will work in your desired region of travel BEFORE you ever leave the house.

Laurel: Unfortunately, the comedy of errors did not end there. My uncle and aunt had gone to bed early and the plan was for us to call when we arrived, as they would not be able to hear the doorbell from upstairs while asleep. Once we were dropped off, we realized we didn’t have a phone to use. Then, it started to rain. After knocking and ringing the bell for a number of minutes without success we considered walking up to the main road in search of a pay phone but, we didn’t have any British hard currency on us (why can’t everything just take cards?) and had no idea how long it would take to find a phone even if we did. After standing there for some time, a group of women came walking past. I ran up to them: “Is there any chance I could use your cell phone for a minute?” One of the women just kept walking but the other stopped and looked at me, considering whether I was insane or not. I seized the opportunity. “We are traveling, just got here and my uncle is asleep and our phone is dead, etc, etc...” After eyeing me suspiciously she finally dialed the number herself and asked for my uncle. When she figured that everything was on the up and up she finally handed over the phone so I could ask him to please let us in.

Matt: When it started to rain I was no longer amused by our lack of planning. I was contemplating sleeping in the bushes when the women walked by and as the one ignored Laurel and just kept walking I had the sudden urge to fling poo at her like a monkey at the zoo – annoyed by the camera flashes and sticky-faced children making monkey noises. That woman and her refusal to stop was the camera-pointing tourist to my inner monkey.

Laurel looking lost in China Town while trying to find a good place to eat

Laurel: From Harrods on to the Victoria and Albert museum for cake in the tearoom, which was once the grand dining room of the queen and prince consort themselves. After a delicious snack we parted ways with my family and headed to the costume exhibit. It just so happened to be Fashion Week in London and there was a large exhibit devoted to London fashion of the 1960s. Matt patiently wandered with me for a few minutes until I told him to go on upstairs and check out whatever he wanted to see. I wanted to spend a good few hours reading every placard and inspecting every visible seam, and I didn’t want to feel guilty about it. I saw some truly amazing pieces in the permanent collection, but unfortunately did not make it far through the 60s exhibit because the museum closed earlier than we anticipated.

Matt and I wandered around a bit and then took the subway to Leicester square with the intention of visiting Chinatown. Our trip coincided with the end of Chinese New Year and the entire area was decorated with lights and red paper lanterns in celebration. We went to a few bookshops while we were waiting to get hungry and then walked the streets of Chinatown looking for a good place to eat. We were hoping to find a place with a lot of Asians eating there but ended up settling for the only place with available seating. We got a table upstairs right by the window with a view of the people milling about on the street below. We had an okay dinner (including the spiciest Peking soup I have ever tasted) and then perused the “Out in London” guide to find some live music to visit since it was Saturday night in a big city. We did find a few interesting choices but determined that we were much more excited about our plans for the following day and so we headed home to spend some grownup time with my aunt and uncle and get a good nights sleep.

Matt: We got up fairly early that Sunday morning and after breakfast walked to the bus stop near the house and rode it to the tube. I had been to the Tower of London before, but Laurel hadn’t been able to make it on her last trip – too many ciders… We walked around with the Beef Eater tour, listening to the same puns that have amused millions of visitors over the years. Toward the end of the tour as the group headed into the chapel, we split off and walked the grounds and explored White Tower. Laurel only had one real goal for her visit to the Tower: seeing the Crown Jewels. I was rushed through the newly restored Armor display in White Tower so that she could get to the Jewel House faster. The keepers of the jewels have installed a genius of a system to keep make sure all the visitors get a look at the Crown Jewels without having to pile up behind and peer over the shoulder of a blue-haired lady with eyes filled with wonderment and jewel-lust. Installed on both sides of the huge glass cases filled with gold and diamonds and emeralds and rubies the size of an egg are flat conveyer-belt-type walkways that are much like one would find between airport terminals to hurry passengers along. The moving sidewalks at the Tower seem to go just slow enough so that you can take in the majesty of the sight before you and just fast enough so that the room doesn’t become crowded. Laurel is in full diamond-lust mode at the first sight of something shimmering and after riding the belt once through the display had to do it a second time. I practically had to drag her out and once outside got knowing looks from other husbands who were suffering their fate after doing the same with their significant others. Laurel: I cannot nor will not say anything to defend my love of jewelry aka sparkly things. If we had been in a museum devoted to the most incredible bicycles in the world, you better believe Matt would have been on that conveyor belt more than once, eyes glazed over and drooling.

A part of the inner courtyard of the Tower and view of the raven's quarters, Tower Bridge in the background

Matt: From the Tower, we made our way to the British Library to visit a History of London map exhibition. I have a great a love for old and specialized maps and the exit looked promising. Laurel agreed to join me, but I think only because the memory of all those sparkling rocks was fortifying her psyche. The exhibit was free and was packed all the way to the doors. I opted out of the experience as I loathe seeing an exhibition while being herded like sheep. We instead went upstairs to the library’s public historic book room. Screw the maps; we were both in book heaven! There was a Gutenberg bible, two copies of the Magna Charta, Scott’s Antarctic field journal, hand edited Mozart manuscripts, dozens of illuminated manuscripts, a first edition Milton, Shakespeare’s first folio, a da Vinci notebook, Lewis Carroll’s handwritten and illustrated Alice in Wonderland and the original manuscript of Handel’s Messiah. (Laurel wants to remind Matt not to forget the hand scribbled Beatles songs!) The place was stunning and I wanted to hunker down in a corner and surround myself with paper and parchment treasures. Just before closing time, we walked back toward the map exhibit and found it to be relatively unpopulated. The Library closed at 6:00 that night and they were almost pushing us out the door at 6:05.

We had eaten street food for lunch and were pretty hungry by the time we got back to the house. Laurel’s uncle ordered take out Indian from a local place and I have to say that it is the best Indian food I have ever had – bar none. The chicken and sauce were cooked perfectly and it had just the right amount of spice. Laurel, who professes to hate Indian cuisine, ate every single scrape on her plate and mopped up any stray sauce with a terrific garlic Nan bread.

Laurel: It is true that I have said I hate Indian food. I had two bad experiences with it years ago and I guess I just banished it from the menu of my palate. What a mistake that was. Since getting home from London we have been out for Indian many, many times. A thank you to my uncle is necessary.

Matt: The next morning we were up early to say good-bye to everyone as they headed off to school and work. After a quick breakfast of fruit and bread, we took off for Westminster Abby. Since we were visiting during the off-season and on a weekday, there were no lines and we were free to wander about with our audio tour. I do not have the words to express the beauty of some of the marble tombs there. The artistry that was showcased and the history that was represented in the mausoleums were awe-inspiring.

I found it ironic that the memorial statues of Gladstone and Disraeli were side by side as the two were bitter political rivals. Benjamin Disraeli, 1st Earl of Beaconsfield is probably my 2nd favorite British historical figure of the modern age (Churchill being first). He was one of only two people that could sit in Queen Victoria’s presence without having to ask permission. The two men traded the Prime Minister position a couple of times. Gladstone was known affectionately by his supporters as the "Grand Old Man" and Disraeli once quipped that GOM should have stood for God's Only Mistake.