I get up and haul my backpack down the 2.5km hill to the Chamelet train station. There, Colin and I board the 11:12am direct train to Lyon.
At Gare de Lyon Part-Dieu,there is time to stop for lunch... even a French-paced lunch! lol. We stop briefly at every patio restaurant outside the Gare, trying to find one that is cool in temperature and appealing in food. Finally, we pause for a Monaco at the Brasserie des Etoiles, which is next to the Restaurant/Café des Vosages where Colin and I ate big salads and had Panachés on a previous trip. (Why not "mix things up," I figure.) I order a salad with the same name as an excellent one I ordered in Lyon: salade aux croustilles de chèvre. Sorry, Brasserie des Etoiles, Bouchon Lyonnais Chez Louise has it all over you on this salad. In Lyon, the salad came topped with two lovely little toasts adorned with delightfully salamander-melty chèvre cheese and a drizzle of honey. Here, I received two greasy deepfried brics of cold unmelted chèvre on top of a wilty salad. Colin says his fries taste like they were pre-cooked and reheated. On the way back into the Gare, I notice a really neat mural of the Lyon Crayon, and have to snap a quick pic.
At Lille, we must go to a special Hall for train passengers continuing onward to the UK. One must allow plenty of time for the transfer, because there is a thorough inspection required by the UK. We've heard we need a minimum of 30 minutes to get through security. Since we only have 35 mins, we're a tiny bit nervous about time. There is no room for error here. We follow the little British flags leading us to Hall 4, and walk what feels like a very long time inside the station before arriving at the check-in gate. We wait in one line for the French passport check, then are put into another line for the UK passport check. They scan all our carry-on baggage just like at an airport. To my surprise, all of this does not take very long. While I wait, and before I get too close to the security area where photos are prohibited, I snap a picture of a very pretty building just outside the gate. A little research tells me it is the ca. 1620 Porte de Roubaix, inside the Parc Henri Matisse.
After everything is stamped and x-rayed, we are allowed into the train waiting area, where I find three surprises: a room full of portraits of white guys with improbable ages; a fully stocked children's table with coloring pencils, games, and books; and an incredible plethora of electrical plugs to recharge all my various devices. I sit down an use their powerful free wifi to fire off a blog post.
Finally, the doors are opened and we must all go down several escalators to get to the Eurostar train, which appears to have been sitting on the tracks for a while. Why would they not let us down onto the platform before this? Because Britain. (Like how I did that? lol) We rush down the platform to Car 16, almost the farthest of all the cars. At the start, there are many people on the platform, and uniformed conductors helping people locate their cars. By the time we reach Car 16, there is no-one. We sincerely hope we can get on before the train leaves. Fortunately, we are fit and we make it. We hop on and soon we are heading for London.
We step outside and the first thing we see is an iconic London red bus. I gush: "Look Colin, an upper decker!" To which he busts a gut and tells me, "It's called a double decker." (I'll let you work out the difference on your own.)
I am blown away by Saint Pancras station: it is like a palace!! I've never seen a train station like this. It is incredibly ornate, with spires and wrought iron accents.
Next door is King's Cross station. We don't see anyone from Hogwarts, but then again, it's not September. I am really more interested in finding the Queen's Head Pub or the Euston Tap, which should both be right around here. I want to go right now, but Colin is not sold on drinking before we find our hotel and drop off our stuff.
Colin promises me that if we rush over to the hotel right now and get settled in, we can go to a few pubs on my list while we are here. I agree, on the condition that we can go to one of them tonight. With our deal brokered and filed, Colin plots out a route to the hotel on his phone. We are about 3km away .
Leaving Saint Pancras, we cross Euston Road and head down Argyle Street. There is a very unique looking 1960s-vision-of-the-future building on the corner. I also like the little row houses here, all trimmed in black wrought iron and white-washed wood. It appears that many of them are actually hotels, but there is also a Salvation Army "Faith House" discreetly tucked into the mix.
Argyle Street bends left and we follow it past a neat little park with an outdoor gym. We turn right onto Grey's Inn Road, where I am so fascinated with a blue-trimmed brick building on my right that I miss noticing that we are passing the Queen's Head Pub just around the corner on the left.
We turn left onto Ampton Street, where I am amused by the Apartment addresses. This one below says "3: Flats A, B, C" above "Flat 3A, Flat 3B, Flat 3C, No. 3 Ampton Street." In case you are not sure you are at #3. Or can't figure out that "Flats A, B, C" means "Flat A, Flat B, and Flat C." Because Britain. This area seems very "functional," in that most of the apartment buildings are very plain brick squares.
We follow Highway A201 until Farringdon lane, which we take to the Vine Street Bridge. From here, I can see The Shard and Saint Paul's Cathedral: my first big London Landmarks! Yay!
At Vine Bridge, we work our way around the overpasses to Highway A5201 (Clerkenwell Road), and then follow Clerkenwell Road to Highway A1 (Goswell Road). We can definitely tell we are entering the financial district. Everything seems so much "busier" here, compared to the quiet of Chamelet. At Goswell Road, we turn right and walk until we see the awning for our hotel: the Citadines Barbican London.
We get into the room and immediately notice the balcony! We totally did not expect to get a balcony! We spend some time admiring the view. Looking towards the Thames River, we see the Barbican Estate and the Gherkin. I'm thrilled.
We booked this hotel online through expedia, not expecting much for the price we paid. However, I just want to add a shout out to this hotel. The staff are amazingly helpful (more on that later), the rooms are more like little apartments, very clean and complete in amenities (including a full kitchen with granite counter-tops and even a dishwasher! Did I mention the balcony?), there is strong free wifi throughout the rooms and lobby, and there is an "office" setup in the lobby that guests can use for free to check their email, write up documents, print things, etc.
After dropping our bags, we're ready to hit the town! We head out to find The Old Red Cow Pub, one of the pubs on my list that is really close to the hotel. It's just a couple blocks down Goswell Road, then one block right on Long Lane. Regrettably, I don't think to read the full review until we are half way to the pub... which, unfortunately for us in our shorts and running shoes, includes: "this City-side craft beer bar – full of suits sloping off work early on my visit – will be just the ticket." Oops. However, I am still greatly attracted by the promise of "four cask and 10 keg taps [of] talented micros," so we decide to scope it out from across the street, and if it's too fancy, we'll move on to a less formal pub.
We're surprised to find the inside tables nearly deserted. Everyone is lined up at the bar, collecting their pints of liquid gold, then taking them outside. I pick up a stray menu while we wait our turn. The food doesn't seem to be the reason to come here. On the other hand, the beer menu, written in chalk to the right of the taps, really gets me fired up. "Kemosabe IPA!" I poke Colin. "Oh no wait, they have a Sessional IPA! Oooh, I'll get that." Colin gives me a look of shock. "I thought for sure you would go for The Kernel!" I scan the long list of 12 beers, "The Kernel IPA with Citra and Cascade Hops. How on earth did I miss that one?!?!?!" It's all so exciting.
France is not known for its beer, and the countryside of France offers the dizzying...um, I mean very boring... options of 1664, Kronenbourg, and Heineken--very light lagers with very low alcohol and negligible flavor profile. I've tried to support the fledgling French microbrew movement, but most of the very few local micros I've found have been very... um... homebrew. The promise of a 7% Citra IPA from a high quality brewery has my head reeling in excitement. Citra and Mosaic are my favorite hops: if you put it in the beer, I will drink it!! (BTW, if you want to know what the various hops do to change the flavor of your beer, check out this website... great job, Mike Reis!!) However, I am stuck with a conundrum: after drinking French beer for over two months, I'm not even sure I can handle a "real" beer...
Colin proposes a compromise: we'll get a pint of the low alcohol (4.2%) Hop Stuff Sessional IPA and another pint of the brain-busting Kernel at 7.1%, and share them. Like good locals, we take our pints out the door... and notice that the entire alleyway is also filled with Red Cow patrons! Coming from Vancouver Canada, which seems allergic to all kinds of outdoor drinking, it seems truly awesome. North American hops in a British beer downed at an outdoor pub: it's the best of all possible worlds! :D The sign on the wall beside us claims that "Ye Olde Red Cow" is at least as old as 1854, because there is a painting of that era depicting the pub. The sign also boasts that Peter Ustinov used to drink here... his favorite drink was a "Hot Toddy" to which he added his own "secret ingredient." We spend time trying to guess what that might have been. We then playfully argue over whether the beers taste more "Portland" or "BC."
Through the other side of the market, we find ourselves on Cowcross Street. We spot a Paul's, but decide we are not quite that desperate yet. ;) We are still hoping to find the Pho place. We pass Farringdon Station and continue on to Farringdon Road. Old meets new everywhere in this busy district.
We circle around and around trying to locate Pho and end up back near the Smithfield Market. With still finding no hints of Asian food, and watching every restaurant starting to fill to capacity, we give up and go into Polpo, and Italian tapas bar (the nondescript red restaurant beside Attilio in the photo below). Despite its outward appearance, it seems pretty trendy inside.
We order a carafe of 2013 Terre di Giumara Nero D'avola wine, which is disappointing, and three tapas (crab and chili linguine, broad bean and mint crostini, coppa peperonata and goat cheese bruschetta), which are all right. The main thing about the food is that it just feels a little amateur, especially considering the prices they are charging. The bill comes to £45 ($90), which is shocking. Three quarters of the bill is the wine, which is sad, because we don't really want the second half of our carafe, but force ourselves to drink it because it cost so much.
Of course, after so much beer and wine, we have to search for the washrooms, and discover a very cool secret of Polpo: a Negroni bar hidden in the basement! Now the world is divided into two types of people: those who love Negronis (like Colin's family--BTW you guys have to read the comments on that article), and the rest of us, who can't stand them. Now, this little hidden bar is so cool, I would drink a Negroni. Unfortunately, we are just too full of wine to indulge in any more liquor at this time.
After paying our bill, we stumble our way into the street, deciding on the spot that from now on, all suppers will be cooked in the hotel suite kitchenette. On our way back to the hotel, we stop at a Waitrose and buy ingredients for pasta and a few assorted snacks. Aaaaand.... we finally pass the Pho place we had heard was in the area. Colin lets out a moan of despair.
I don't really remember the entire walk home (you can tell that the last few photos here are getting kinda blurry), but I do remember seeing this really cool glow-in-the-dark street art (see below), and making Weshley Arms jokes every time we passed an English pub. It is a really good thing that London has painted "Look left" and "Look right" on their crosswalks. I would have been lost without them.
Back at the hotel, I laugh along with Anglolift's polite, "Please mind the door; the door is closing..." and am totally reminded of: "Donna Noble has left the library; Donna Noble has been saved." It makes me momentarily sad, then super happy: tomorrow is Dr. Who's London--the self-guided tour!!
I had originally tried to book two spots for BritMovieTours' Dr. Who Walking Tour of London, which I had been eyeing several months before we ever set a date to go to London. Sadly, it seems I have waited too long to register, because Thursday's tour is now full, and we will be leaving too early on Sunday to take Sunday's tour. So, with the help of www.doctorwholocations.net, and my own TV trivia memory, I have picked out a couple dozen places where Dr. Who has filmed over the years, and combined it with The London Toolkit's walking tours of the city. It's going to be a great way to see the more--and less--famous landmarks of London. Stay tuned...
Sounds like a wonderful day.
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