Vince dropped us off at the Nuremberg airport for our flight to London. Frankly I was a little nervous. We had read in the post newspaper that the pilots of Lufthansa, the airline we were traveling with, were on strike. The paper declared that all their planes had been grounded yesterday and the airline had to scramble to find other means of transportation for their customers, bus, train, and even rival airlines. But if there were any problems we were given no indication of such.
The flight was a little late getting in, therefore a little late getting out, and late getting to London as well, limiting the time that we would have to stumble around before we met my friends from the Cats forum. The flight itself was pleasant, and the meal was even quite good. I have to say that bread over there is wonderful! After serving the lunch trays the stewardess went around with a large bin of assorted rolls. I normally don't eat a lot of bread myself, but I took one for the look of the thing. It was some kind of seed roll and it was far better that anything comparable I've ever had at home. And to top it off, after the lunch trays were cleared away she came around again, this time with a bin of complimentary chocolate bars. European chocolate, yummy!
When we got to London we had a fairly easy time figuring out how to get to our hotel, easy because the people we asked for help all spoke English. It was such a relief to be back in a country where we speak the same language…sort of. We took the airport train to Liverpool Station, from there to Euston Station, and began looking for the hotel. The directions I had off the Internet were a bit vague so we stopped a gentleman to ask if we were heading the right way. He turned out to be Irish and we had a little trouble understanding him, so he walked us to the corner of the street we were on and pointed us in the right direction.
I'd told my friend we would meet her in the hotel lobby around four PM. What with one thing and another it was slightly after four when we walked into the County Hotel, hot and tired. As I made for the front desk I cast an eye about but didn't see anyone who even slightly resembled the young lady I was looking for. So Dad and I checked in, got our room key, and when I turned to head for the elevator I nearly ran into a tall girl standing at my elbow with a big grin on her face. This disconcerted me a bit, which is probably why I stupidly asked, "Are you who I think you are?"
She nodded, grinned wider, and enveloped me in a hug. I'm not sure she ever actually told me she was Keenoled in so many words, but that is indeed who she was.
I apologized for being late, but she waved it off. She and her other friends, most of whom I wasn't familiar with, were all huddled around a table by the front door (though they hadn't been there when we first came in), and they promised to wait for us while we went up to our room to deposit our bags and change clothes.
The room was very nice indeed, with twin beds, TV, and a window looking out onto an attractive little courtyard. I would have been happier if we'd had a bathroom, too; all there was in each room was a sink, mirror, and towels. But upon inspection, the showers and toilets down the hall were clean and each in an individual closet that could be securely locked.
Satisfied with our accommodations we went back down to be introduced to Keenoled's friends, then we sat there chatting while waiting for another forum friend, Feliciradeya. Keenoled and Lisa immediately began talking about Cats, and about the shows that they'd seen so far this week. They informed me that John Partridge, who was supposed to be playing the Rum Tum Tugger (and played him in the video), was out with a bad knee. "Oh no!" I cried, disappointed. I had been looking forward to seeing him live to determine if I really and truly don't like him. (Sorry to all the JP fans, but he comes across as too arrogant for my taste.) But Lisa followed that up with the news that Jason Gardiner (video Alonzo) was stepping up into the role and I was thrilled. Jason had always struck me as having a ton of sex appeal so I was sure he'd do well as the Tugger.
This was more or less the kind of thing we talked about, a lot of girl talk. I thought to myself, Poor Dad, he must be so bored by all this. But then I glanced over and saw that he had dragged up a chair and engaged one of the girls in conversation. I heard a few snatches and realized that he was telling her about our time in Germany. Ah, I thought, he's taking after his father. My grandfather, even in his advanced years, has never had any problem chatting up young ladies.
Feliciradeya came in quietly and sat down across from me while my attention was elsewhere. When I turned forward and saw her I was a little startled. "Oh, hi!" I greeted her. "Where did you spring from?" We continued to talk a bit, then stood up to leave. Feli, who is more or less average height for a woman (5'4"), found herself standing between Keenoled (5'9") and me (5'7") and asked, "Why are you both so tall?" We grinned and shrugged. Just worked out that way somehow.
We walked to the New London Theatre and said hi to some of the performers as they headed for the stage door. Then we walked on to Covent Garden to meet up with some other fans. I was halfway expecting to see a 20th century version of Eliza Doolittle, but it wasn't like that at all. From there we walked back to the New London to meet yet more fans. All this walking was being done in dress shoes on my part, something I would come to regret later on.
In the theatre lobby was a rather interesting scene. Since this was the 20th anniversary of Cats in London, many of the fans had come dressed in their own home made Cats costumes. There was a whole slew of them there already, rolling around on the floor, cavorting, and playing with toy mice. After a few moments of watching this and taking pictures I was introduced to Kid, who like me is an irregular regular on the Cats forum at Musicals.net. He was very charming and I enjoyed talking to him, but I had to cut him short so that Feli and I could head into the bathroom and turn into Cats ourselves.
For a detailed report of my London Cats experience, click here.
After the show we had to wait a long time for the actors to come out; no doubt they were toasting the 20th anniversary show with champagne. But when they did come it was well worth the wait. Feli was kind enough to point most of them out for me, though I didn't always have the guts to jump out in front of them. A few of them were kind enough to compliment us on our makeup. As Jason Gardiner put it, "Some of you looked better than we did!" He gets high marks for that comment.
Walking back to the hotel we were all exhausted but happy. Keenoled in particular was on a major high after getting a hug from Jason and David Ashley (Munkustrap). Unfortunately, she was the one leading us and she led us astray. By the time we got back on track we had walked all over a good bit of London (or so it seemed to me) and my right big toe was starting to ache. I have arthritis in that toe, so I didn't really give it much worry at the time.
At the hotel once again we invited Feli up to our room to take off makeup and to wait for her mother to come pick her up. We chatted some more and I showed her some of my memorabilia from Cats in Stuttgart. When her mother called her from the curb I walked her down to the lobby and saw her off, then returned to my room, thoroughly exhausted. After a quick shower, in which I discovered that my toe pain was actually caused by a popped blister (ouch!), I collapsed into bed and was soon out like a light.
There was complimentary breakfast to be had in the hotel restaurant and Dad and I headed there around 8:30. And what a breakfast! The Brits really know how to do the first meal of the day, even though their coffee stinks. (If I ever go again I shall stick with tea.) We were expecting a continental breakfast, which to us means doughnuts and coffee, perhaps also bagels or muffins. Here they had everything your little heart could possibly desire! Bacon, sausage, cereal, rolls, eggs (both scrambled and fried), toast, and a few other things that I wasn't sure of so I left them alone. Plus juice, milk, coffee, or tea to drink. It was lovely.
We were about halfway into it when Keenoled et al came and joined us. We talked about various things, including plans for the day. They were going to see a matinee of Midsummer Night's Dream. I wouldn't have minded seeing that myself, but Dad wanted to see something of London and we only had that one afternoon to do it in.
Before going anywhere, though, I wanted a band-aid for my toe. Geez, try asking for something like that in another country. Dad asked the porter if they had any in a first aid kit or something. First of all the guy was German and a bit of an idiot I think (not that his being German had anything to do with that, mind), and second they don't call 'em band-aids in England. When the porter eventually figured out what we meant he sent us to a pharmacy. Or chemist's, or whatever they call it over there. I searched up and down the aisles (I'm the kind who hates to ask for help unless I know exactly what I need and how to ask for it) and finally found a box of 40 assorted size band-aids (or elastoplasts)…for three pounds, fifty-two pence. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think that translates to a little over six bucks in American money and it seems a bit much for forty band-aids, even if they do have medicated pads. But I needed them, so I bought them. Next time I'm bringing my own band-aids.
That accomplished we headed off to see some sights. Dad had gotten a brochure on a double-decker bus tour that went all over London. Since we didn't have a heck of a lot of time we decided to do that. The first bus picked us up at Russell Square and dropped us off in the theatre district. Dad and I walked around a bit and snapped some pictures. I was delighted when I saw a bus with an ad for Terry Pratchett's new book on the side. Now if only he could be that popular in the States.
After a little walking, Dad and I got back on the bus and proceeded. We passed Trafalgar Square, Green Park, crossed the Thames and saw Big Ben and the Parliament buildings. I was trying to take pictures as the bus moved along, but found it a bit difficult. The ride on the upper deck was not a little bumpy, and when I got my pix back several of them were half taken up at the bottom with the railing. *sigh*
After a bit of riding Dad decided he wanted to get off at Trafalgar Square when we hit it again so we did. It just so happened that there were several groups of morris men performing there that day so we stayed and watched them. I guessed they were morris men, though I have never actually seen any myself. But I've heard about them, and I figured that a bunch of mostly older men in folksy-looking costumes with flowers and bells who were dancing around banging sticks or waving hankies were probably morris men. I was confirmed in this when one group finished up their dance and left the "stage" area in front of the monument; their band followed them off and I saw "Chester City Morris Men" printed on the head of their bass drum.
When that was over we got back on the bus and headed on our way. Given our limited time before the show there wasn't really much more we could do. Dad wanted to see the Tower of London and I would have loved to go to the Sherlock Holmes Museum on Baker Street, but there simply wasn't enough time to do that and also get back to the hotel in time to eat and change clothes before Cats. So we kept riding till we got back to the theatre district. There we got off and purchased a couple souvenirs for the folks at home.
Dad wanted to have fish and chips for lunch (or dinner as I guess it was by then) and asked the cashier in the souvenir shop where we could find them. She told us to go down the street we were on and we'd find a fish and chips place. Perhaps there was one down there, but we never found out. As we went further down the street I began to get increasingly uneasy, much the same way I felt when I was standing in line to see Rocky Horror Picture Show. The setting and characters were very similar.
As we walked past a seedy looking joint a provocatively dressed woman at a ticket window aimed her best come hither look at Dad and said, "Come here, sir,"
I didn't look at her twice, I just grabbed Dad's arm and hurried him on past. She was probably trying to lure him into a strip show; what she thought I would do in the meantime is beyond me.
"Dad, I think we've wandered onto a bad street," I commented nervously.
"I think you might be right," Dad agreed; he had been making his own private observations.
"Let's go back the way we came," I urged, and steered him around to the other side of the street so that we wouldn't meet that woman again. When we got back to the souvenir shop I was able to breathe normally again.
The bus to Russell Square showed up about that time so we got on, deciding to get dinner when we got back to the hotel. We found a little place called Bloody Mary's near the drug store where I'd gotten my band-aids and had our much anticipated fish and chips there. All I can say is I've had better. The cod was greasy and tasted of nothing much besides the batter, and the chips didn't really taste like they'd ever been part of a potato. So much for British cuisine, though I still love their breakfast.
Changed into our theatre attire before meeting Keenoled, and when I was looking in the mirror to brush my hair I was very disgruntled to notice that I had gotten a sunburn from being on the top deck of the bus with no hat. My nose was just as pink as could be. Both Dad and Keenoled insisted it wasn't very noticeable, but I don't believe them. I've got my pictures to prove it for one thing.
The report of the Saturday show can also be seen by clicking on the link above. And details of the party that followed.
After the party we went back with our group to the hotel. I told Keenoled that I had a present for her in my room and she and Lisa came up with us. I had put it in a gift bag with leopard print cows on it and Keenoled reacted immediately. "Ooh, spotted cows!" she exclaimed in delight. She reached in and pulled out a wad of tissue paper. "Paper!" she cried. Reached in, grabbed out another wad of paper, "More paper! American paper!" It's hard to say whether she was being exceedingly sarcastic or was just on a major adrenaline high from her two shows and the party. I tend to lean toward the latter, though.
Finally she got to the actual present and she went nuts. "Chocolate!" she yelled in rapture, pulling out several snack packs of Oreos.
I gave her a pleased grin and said, "I thought you'd like it."
Keenoled and Lisa stayed in our room for quite a while, talking on any number of topics, Cats, Midsummer Night's Dream, British sitcoms, basically anything that popped into their heads. I think it was about three AM when we sent them back to their room and went to bed. (Why is it we were always up late on Saturdays, which meant we ended up dragging into early morning Mass half asleep? Oh well.)
The German porter was completely unhelpful when we asked him where to find a Catholic church. While I was dressing the previous day Dad had gone walking and spotted St. Pancras just down the street from us. Their board out front stated they had an eight AM Eucharist service. So we went there…and found out it was an Anglican church. Huh, well. We went anyway, just for the look of it. The service is really not so very different from a Catholic Mass we found. It was kind of nice, hearing it said with British accents in that echo-y church. And the president and lector were charmingly friendly afterward.
Being an eight AM service it didn't last very long; we were back in plenty of time for breakfast. We ate again with Keenoled and Co., then packed up to leave. We asked a gentleman on the street to point us in the direction of Euston Station. I thought he had a weird-sounding accent, and then he told us he's from Belfast. Why is it that when we asked someone for directions they always turned out to be Irish? But he was very nice and set us on the right path. From Euston we returned to Liverpool and then finally Stansted. While waiting for our plane I discovered a vending machine with Cadbury bars in it. Yummy! I blew a few more pounds there. (And added some to my waistline no doubt.)
The flight was fine, but Vince seemed a little tense when he met us at Nuremberg. Something that had happened on the post I guessed, to do with his duties in the mailroom. Never did figure out what it was all about, but he informed us when we returned to our room at the guest house that he wouldn't be able to drive us all the way to Nuremberg for our return flight in the morning and how did we feel about taking the train there? I did not feel at all good about it. Mainly because we would have to make a transfer at one point and buy tickets for the second train on our own. I was sick at the thought. Vince, however, took great care in writing out detailed instructions as to what we had to do and where we had to go when we got to the Ubahn in Nuremberg, even going so far as to draw a picture of the ticket machine so we would know how to use it.
In the meantime I had another worry. How the heck was I supposed to pack all the souvenirs I had bought, especially the liquor bottles? They weren't gonna fit in my suitcase, not by a long ways. And frankly I did not wish to put the glass bottles in any bag that would go in the luggage compartment; I did not trust the handlers not to break them and get jaegermeister all over my clothes. (Wouldn't the customs folks love that?) Vince watched me for a while, then suggested that he lend me his seabag to carry the extras in. This seemed agreeable so I quit worrying. We ate microwave pizza and watched TV for a while, then Vince left and we went to bed.
Vince brought his seabag with him and I quickly packed the liquor and coffee, plus anything else that didn't fit in my suitcase. The seabag is basically a huge drawstring duffel bag, but it also had back straps, making it easier for me to carry. He drove us to the Bamberg eisenbahn and bought tickets for us, then gave us money for the Ubahn tickets. (We had given him all of our leftover German money since we wouldn't need it anymore.) He put us on our train, then ran alongside waving as it pulled out. Awww, how sweet. I'll miss the kid. *sniff*
We actually had no problems at all. Followed Vincent's written instructions carefully till we found the Ubahn and the ticket machine. Then I puzzled over his picture, trying to match up what he had drawn with what was in front of me. He had labeled the button we needed to push for tickets to the airport train "flugerhafen". All very well, but the button on the machine was labeled "airport". Don't laugh, but this threw me off; I was looking for something German and wasn't expecting the English.
While I was puzzling over this a gentleman with very good English came up to me and asked if I needed help. I explained what I needed and he showed me what to do. I had been on the verge of figuring it out myself, but it was nice to have it confirmed anyway. We bought our tickets, told the man "Danke!" and hurried to our train.
Got to the airport with no problems. Then I remembered about the Lufthansa strikes. Oh dear. But there didn't seem to be any difficulty. When we checked in the woman actually told us we were early and bumped us up to a sooner flight. Cool! Dad mentioned something about the strikes and we found out that they were still negotiating, but the pilots were only striking on Thursdays. That's handy!
The transfer at Frankfurt went smoothly. I almost feel like an old hand at this. And the flight back over the ocean was a lot nicer. We were on a 747 near the back where the fuselage begins to taper in. Because of this they had to leave out one of the three aisle seats, but there was still some room beside the window where it would have gone. Gave Dad and me some more foot room, which we appreciated.
The attendants this time were about 50/50 men and women, all of them young and cute. Makes for a nice flight when you get eye candy like that. Spent part of the time trying to figure out the customs form. Vince had told me I wouldn't have to declare anything other than the coffee and liquor, but the form seemed to expect you to note every little purchase you had made overseas and its value. Nothing doing, I couldn't even remember most of it without looking at my receipts. So I just put down the coffee and liquor as instructed by my worldly younger brother.
About two hours from home we were served a light but starchy dinner. I had a rude surprise when I tasted the salad. It had little pink things in it that I took to be slivers of tomato (I love tomato). It was salmon. Urgh! My mouth was all set for tomato and got that instead. Besides the fact that I was sick of salmon by that time. I'd had it in nearly every in-flight meal. But there was a chocolate bar for dessert so I consoled myself with that.
I have some advice: If you are prone to motion sickness, as I am, do not have a drink with dinner on a trans-Atlantic flight, you will regret it. I had whiskey and coke with my dinner (rather generous helping of whiskey, too) and I had a real problem during the descent. We kept going up and down and up and down, and my stomach was going up and down, too. Oooooog, that descent seemed to take forever! I really thought I was gonna have to make use of the little airsick bag. But we finally touched down, and my dinner stayed down.
Our flight was early (3:15), and Mom and Gordon were supposed to pick us up at four. But what with the time it took to get to the terminal, collect our luggage, and get through customs, we shouldn't have worried. We took forever at the baggage carousel for instance. There must have been a couple hundred people pressed up near it, waiting to grab their luggage, to the point that when Dad and I finally spotted ours we couldn't get to it. Then there was an airport employee who was trying to keep the people back and acting like he was trying to clear a murder scene. It was a bit ridiculous. But we finally got our bags, and then it was on to the next hurdle.
We got through customs fine, but there were others who didn't. The family before us carried a white package that the official had to search by hand because one of their sniffing dogs had smelled something funny in it. And behind us we saw a cute little beagle sitting up in front of a man with a huge load of luggage; the dog's body language clearly said "Search this guy, he's got something! Where's my treat?"
But we passed through smoothly. We declared the coffee and liquor and denied that we had any fresh fruits or vegetables.
"On your trip have you stayed on a farm or been in the countryside?" the official asked.
I thought of Altenburg and answered, "We went hiking on a German hillside."
"Were there any horses or cows around?" she pressed.
I shook my head, "Not that we saw."
She seemed satisfied and ushered us on through.
We finally got to the welcome area at around 4:30. We were at the extreme end of the building, so I left Dad to watch our luggage while I jogged through the rest of the area to find Mom and Gordon. As luck would have it they were on the opposite end, but we hooked up soon enough. Collected Dad and the luggage, found the car, and headed for home. It was a great trip and I wouldn't mind doing it again sometime, but not without plenty of time to prepare and to recover from this one!