I'm So Fly I'm Transatlantic!

Hello Everyone! Shout out to the family and friends! I flew out of New York yesterday on a 747 crammed into steerage with the quintessential crying kicking kid right behind my seat. “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” kick kick kick. Several glares later it became apparent that the fast asleep mother of this charming little argument for birth control was not going to stop her kid from beating the back of my seat like a jackhammer. Fortunately the pest settled down somewhere over Greenland, I got to watch the new X Men movie, and we were soon letting down over the north of England on approach to London Heathrow. I raised the window shade and was rewarded with a panorama of high clouds interspersed with a lush green patchwork of fields peeking through. England was below and the sun setting behind us tinted the clouds in a burnt glow. As we made our turn south of the city I realized that we were directly in the old battle of Britain airspace! I could picture the waves of German HE-111’s being raked over by Hurricanes with the sun glinting off the wings of the pursuing Me-109’s. One more turn left and the clouds broke long enough for me to spy the Thames in the distance. As we paralleled the river I spotted in quick succession the Tower Bridge, St. James Park, Trafalgar Square, and the Houses of Parliament. There was a small matter of the 35 mph crosswind on landing handled expertly by the BA pilots with a precise left wing low crab position until touchdown. Very exciting and bumpy and I actually saw the tire blast a cloud of white smoke when it squealed onto the tarmac. But, terra firma at last! My generous and wonderful hosts John and Jam met me at the gate, and we were off running through the Underground with two bike boxes and a very tired and confused Gavin. An hour long ride put us into Liverpool Station, a wonderful 19th century brick train depot covered with an ironwork and glass paneled roof. Open at street level on both ends, it looks like a picture straight out of the industrial revolution. Thoughts of Dickens and old steam whistles echo in my mind. As we push the handcarts that John has fetched from the house through the windswept streets, our voices echo off the of the 17th century brick buildings which surround us. I feel like I’m walking through man-made canyons of history. Later, after depositing our burden in the small kitchen of John and Jan’s 4 story brick house on Puma Court, Jan informs me that we are situated in Jack the Ripper’s old neighborhood and I visited an old favorite pub of his today which has been running since 1753! The East End of London was one of the world’s most famous slums around 150 years ago. Today it’s a bustling neighborhood filled with the young and rich. Teams of young men in black suits line up outside of bars at the stroke of 5pm swilling beer in public and trying to look tough. It reminds me of wood engravings of the same types of men, doing the same types of things, from the 1500’s which are in decoration at most of these same pubs. This is a casual reinforcement that Londoners have been lining up for beer for well over 500 years. Probably more like 2000. As I walked past the old Roman City Wall remnants today near the Tower of London, it became evident that what I deem as history, or at least what I have come to know as something worthy of historical note, is as shallow as the man I see casually leaning against this 1600 year old edifice to make a phone call while yuppies rush by it without even a second glance. Walking through the Tower itself is an experience that I can only describe as religious for me, and one that could actually likely fill a separate book. Needless to say I wandered around the fortress like a child in search of candy on Easter noting the increase in my pulse every time I saw something I recognized out of the large Time-Life picture book I read over and over again growing up. Seldom in the history of the world has a building captured the imagination of so many people. Certainly, I blame the Tower for being one of the reasons I decided to study architecture. They don’t call it archi-torture for nothing! He he he…….i’m sorry. Architecture joke. I sat and ate my late lunch next to the drawbridge gate while being heckled by birds and German teenagers. The sausage sandwiches smothered in HP sauce made me really stop and realize how lucky I was to be here at all. Jan had prepared a full English breakfast for me when I awoke in the morning, had shown me around the city even though she has trouble walking long distances, and now was coming back to my thoughts in the form of the home prepared lunch she made so I wouldn’t have to waste what little money I have on something like food. I ambled home as the rain increased to the sound of the Tower Bells toning the curfew, as they have for 900 years. All in all, as I sit here in their little house, which John tells me is new due to bomb damage during World War Two, I’m strangely at home. John and Jan have gone out of their way to make me feel so, but it is beyond that. Perhaps it’s the weather, grey and rainy, or the city, low and human scaled. Maybe it’s the closeness that I feel with my own past. I come from a place which is rainy and cold and is defined by a river. Beyond this there is a recognition that we are all encapsulated in bodies made from those of them who came before us. Maybe there are actual memories, or feelings, passed down in genes from generation to generation. I certainly feel weirdly normal here, at home, in a place where I have never been before. This city seems to remember me somehow and I am at peace here. Anyway......I will be updating this blog as often as possible on this trip, mostly daily. I've got a few days here, then a train to Portsmouth, a ferry across the channel to Cherbourg, and then I'm cycling and camping in Europe! Can't wait! Please enjoy the attached video of me getting crazy at the Tower of London, and please check back frequently! It's a long trip, and I'm sure I'll think of more than a few things to say. Word up Sid's Bikes, and keep it real. Miami has a long way to go before he can roll home! Peace. Gavin