Saturday, April 26, 2008

Magical Mystery Tour (July 8, 2000)

Chunnel from London to Brussels
11:45 a.m. local time

London: "I was looking for some action but all I found were cigarettes & alcohol. . ."

The land of Shakespeare and the Beatles. The land of impeccable public transport and pretty blondes. The land of greenery and graffiti. . .London, that cosmopolitan nexus of everything politely cool.

Tourist spots were hit and more than often an awe to behold. Big Ben not quite so large while the Thames smelled of piss. Westminster Abbey a subtly grand site, along with the House of Parliament. Shall I recount the day? Last. . .no, yesterday 8/7/00 in Euro jargon.

Buckingham Palace seemed not too grand or lavish at all, though well protected by barbed wires. Met a Russian girl named N., pretty dark haired and a good mix of A. Hepburn and A. Judd. Regret not getting her number, though J. retorts about other chances. We shall see. . .

Bar scene & Piccadilly Circus. . .full of people and, did I mention, pretty blondes? Cheers. . .and a nice Italian restaurant. "Three o'clock in the morning," it's not quiet & there are plenty of people around. Sorry, Bono. This city does not sleep. . .though expensive as hell.

Yet in the end, the love you take is. . .Abbey Road, EMI Studios, Zebra Crossing & Magic! One of my life's minor goals has been accomplished as of 7:00 p.m. London time, July 7, 2000. (Hope the pix develop.) Jai Guru Deva, London, as the English countryside flashes before me and seedy Amsterdam awaits like a newly recruited whore in the night. . .

Ah, almost and almost regrettably forgot about the Tate and British Museum. Must apologize for this glaring error since my mind does not function with this dearth of sleep. Tate -- Ophelia and JWR Turner's Napoleon, Storm, and works only seen in history books now have been seen in person. "No one's ever takin' me". . .though I'm privileged to go myself.

British Museum. Parthenon. Winged Bulls. Rosetta Stone. Amphora Vases. Egyptian Sarcophagi. Greek Marbles. My words would shame their beauty. An out of body experience that will seldom be equaled in my life. Or, at least until Le Louvre. . .

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