Grace Mona

For once, timing-wise, everything went smoothly: we were at the airport exactly on-time in terms of group check-in, and exactly four hours early, in terms of flight take-off. Mostly, it was a good bit of waiting around. Check-in went smoothly; I ended up having to plug my phone into one of the airport charging stations, despite my initial reservations about connecting to a public charging port. I used my own cable, and so far, do not seem to have been hacked.

The flight was 7 hours and 19 minutes long, and for the most part I was awake. We took off at 10:25 pm, and the flight attendants came around with food at around midnight, though I didn’t take any, considering I was trying to get some sleep. I woke up every hour, until about 4AM, when I turned on ‘She Said’ on the back-of-seat TV and watched that. At one point, my glasses fell into the aisle while I was sleeping, and a flight attendant almost ran them over. Luckily, they survived the encounter, and I was not sentenced to the terrible fate of traversing London sans glasses.

First culture shock upon exit: we were oddly unencumbered disembarking the plane, and did not have to produce our passports or IDs once. Entering England seemed too easy. Second culture shock: the lack of coffee. I was in desperate need by the time we were had our luggage and were preparing to exit the Heathrow Airport and had to go hunting for a good cuppa’, which I did not find. The cuppa’ I found was mediocre at best.

We walked a bit, talked a bit, and bussed a bit. There is, interestingly enough, a statue of George Washington in Trafalger Square, which surprised me, especially considering the circumstances surrounding the original statue’s creation: the 1792 Carrara marble almost full-size statue of George Washington was erected to immortalize the ideals of America and the success of the revolution. Washington leans against a bundle of thirteen rods, meant to represent the strength of the colonies together and the agrarian society on which America was founded. In addition, he holds a walking stick as opposed to a sword, which was the typical accessory of British monarchs in their portraits and statures. He is disheveled in dress, missing a button on his contemporary jacket, and he has a bit of a belly; Washington exists in his natural state, in the marble statue erected in his honor in Virginia.

In the bronze, British replica, Washington stands in a square dedicated to the greatest British military victories, overlooked by Nelson’s Column and in the company of such British successes as Admiral Beatty and Admiral Cunningham. It was placed over a platform of imported Virginian soil, considering Washington is claimed to have said he would never again set foot on British soil. It was gifted to the British by America in 1921.

There were strange little statues all over London, which were baffling to marvel at but no less beautiful for their

uniqueness. One such statue was on a building located quite close to the London Eye, with nothing around it drawing attention to the statue itself, especially amidst the splendor of the architecture available for viewing in the Jubilee gardens.

The statue itself portrays a naked woman with a child beneath her, possibly representing birth. It is done in a style similar to Michelangelo’s grand marble creations and paintings. Michelangelo traditionally crafted women with very muscular bodies and breasts, almost as if the base figure were a man. She holds a basket, which could represent domestic duties, harvest, or health and food.

The line for the London Eye seemed miles long, but it went quickly. Each pod could hold 10-15 people, and the Eye was in constant motion. It took 30 minutes to make a full rotation, but the time passed quickly, in excellent company and with a gorgeous view. I was glad to have ridden this first thing, because it allowed me to see the big picture that London makes, with her splendorous palaces, parliamentary buildings, and shopping districts. As always, the Thames was rather mucky, but not overly busy. The weather on April 2 was pleasant – sunny, if windy, and as such we could see from Westminster to London Proper to beyond even that.

I hope to be able to go into the House of Parliament and the London Tower, as well as the most beloved, inspiring building in London: St. Paul’s Cathedral.

In terms of food:

When I walked into Go Falafel with Navya and Simran, I had no idea what to expect…but I was cautiously optimistic. I had reason to be: when we seemed a bit lost on what to order, one of the servers asked if we had ever had Falafel before, to which I responded, “no.” I’d seen them handing Falafel out in the street as a free sample, but I was not willing to brave the dirty hands of Londoners in order to try the delicacy.

Promptly, the cashier donned gloves and plopped six freshly crafted and fried rolls of Falafel onto a napkin. I ordered the favorite juice of my server, and delighted to taste an interesting concoction of ginger and fruit, called ‘Zing Juice.’ I loved the Falafel, and my hunger was silenced until dinner.

For dinner, I had high expectations: we walked into a restaurant which had a classy yet muted interior, consisting of rustic wood and low lighting. There were many shared laughs around our table, and when food came out – Spaghetti Bolognese – it looked delicious. It was not to be, though: in the wise words of Simran, it “tastes like cafeteria food.”

The restaurant itself seemed to sway; eventually, we collectively came to the conclusion that the rumbling of the street below, on which a number of trucks passed, gave the upstairs dining room the distinct feeling of having movement.

Our dinner had set our expectations low, and even still the dessert was rather mediocre. Overall, an experience I am not eager to repeat. We went to the hotel, about an hours drive, and unpacked.

The Moxy Hotel is rather interesting, especially when considering the vibes a school trip might hope to emulate. The first thing I noticed was the quote on the elevator doors: “We’re all mad here.” I thought, first, that we might have entered a wonderland-themed hotel, strangely enough. Instead, we entered what was more like Wonderland itself.

The full bar downstairs and comfortable seating, as well as all the games, including a pool table, create a hotel that is younger in nature. The images pasted around it, including scantily clad women and half-naked men engaged in playful fights and excessive drinking, imply a party atmosphere that has so far been absent from our experience of the hotel. Hostel-ish, with private rooms. Needless to say, the hotel has lots of character, and I’m here for it. Also, though, I don’t think I want to know what’s gone on in MY room. It would be very fun to come back here with a group of 18+ friends for drinks, fun, and exploring London.