KEW GARDENS: DAY TWO

Please, just take this time to relax for a minute, and enjoy a few photos from Kew Gardens.  Kew, as nearly everything in England, goes back centuries.  In this case, roughly 1299, when King Edward I decided to move his court to this bucolic neighborhood.  I can't say I blame him.  It's beautiful here.

So far, England has been a delight.  I've noticed that the parks and gardens have been filled with families simply enjoying the out-of-doors.  Kew is no exception, although today it seemed more a place of mums and grand-mums with their little ones--perfectly put together in pastel sundresses and little ironed shorts.  Most of my views have resembled a large painting I wouldn't mind hanging on my wall.  How lucky!

This is the Palm House, our first stop.  We've passed through the Victoria Gate with Cousin Gaynor and are planning our day.  The Palm House is all glass (hand blown) and wrought iron, humidity and equatorial forest.  It's been here since the 1840s, and the plantings are lush.  There is actually a much larger glass house on the property--The Temperate House--but it's currently closed for renovations.  In the meantime the Palm House does just fine.

Yes, we have some bananas, although they're a bit smallish.  At least, they look like bananas.  Kew lacks a bit in little signs which might help us identify many of its plants.  I think we're supposed to be smart enough to know.  But we're not.

We've moved beyond The Palm House and I don't have a clue what this might be, but I like it. If I weren't in this English climate, I might pursue whether or not it could live in Arizona.  Common sense tells me NO.

One last flower photo.  I promise.  I'm just so excited that my mystery flower and its little bees are in focus--more or less--that I wanted to show you.  It is a unique flower and coming from Arizona, where all of our bees are Africanized to some degree or another, it's nice to watch these calm little fellows gather their goodies for the hive.

Here is Kew Palace peering over or, perhaps lurking behind the rather sinister Medicinal Herb and Plant Garden.  Wandering through a medicinal garden makes me extremely grateful to be living in today's world with Walgreen just down the street.  The English of the 1800s were incredibly strong.  And trusting.  I saw plants that could kill or cure.  Learning the difference might take a toll.  This humble palace was home to George III and his family, one of a number of homes they claimed.  And, yes, I mean THE George III of American Revolution times.  You know, the one who was ever so slightly barmy.

Lovely vignettes abound at Kew.  One could wander for days here.  During our few hours, we actually covered only about a fourth of its 300 acres.

BC is taking a breather in this shelter formed from the branches of a mysterious plant (I can't find it's name) that has a tendency to twist and twirl as it grows.  And it appears to have been growing for decades.  I'm sure it's partially trained and partially natural, but it's time for him to move on before a leafy tendril reaches out for that wayward arm.

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These were a definite hit.  Found, appropriately enough, in the Water Lily House, these back-yard-kiddie-pool look-alikes are just that.  Lily pads.  I'm not sure if the small wilted one toward the center is still coming or just going, but they are fascinating.  We just looked at each other and laughed.  Lily pads make everyone happy.

We thank Gaynor, our delightful shirttail-cousin, for our day at Kew.  She had visited our Desert Botanical Garden this past spring where, unnervingly, a most social King Snake took an immediate liking to her. Fortunately, she's not a scaredy cat like I am, and took it all in stride.  Even more fortunately, Kew Gardens snakes (if any exist) stayed somewhere else during our visit.  Thus assuring that my day was lovely.  Thank you, Gaynor. 

HELLO, LONDON!

It's a wonderful thing that British Airways flies from Phoenix to London.  Nonstop.  Every evening.  And, during the flight, offers free wine.  I don't know how many they might offer, but I know you can have at least two.  Chances are you will want that much if you're flying steerage (as we were).  Steerage continues to be extremely cramped and crowded.  My guess is, the airline has reached the absolute limit on numbers of seats per square foot before murder and mayhem break out over the North Atlantic.  But, we also need to be real.  BC and I are on our way to a long-awaited trip to the UK and, in only ten somewhat uncomfortable hours, we will be there.  I think that makes us very lucky people.

We were joining a Road Scholar Program entitled "Quintessential Britain" in which we would learn the meaning of "quintessential" and then proceed to seek it out. But first, BC and I were to spend two days in London on our own.  Figuring it all out by ourselves which, since I'm able to write about it, we managed to do.  From the airport, we took the Heathrow Express to Paddington Station.  As we exited the train, we followed a black line painted on the floor periodically labeled "Taxi Line."  (It was nearly as if they knew we were coming!)  Eventually, we followed it out the door and into the short queue of travelers near the long queue of taxis.  Within a minute or two, we were loaded and on our way to the Radisson Edwardian Vanderbilt Hotel.

 

I was sure the Radisson Edwardian Vanderbilt Hotel would be labeled "quintessential" but it wasn't.  It was very nice, though. The hotel, located in South Kensington, is the result of nine adjoining townhouses built  by one Vanderbilt family or another, at some point in time being connected into one sizable hotel.  This results in a somewhat confusing, but always "old-money elegant" maze of hallways throughout the structure.  We were in Room #318  which was a bit smallish, but chic.  We had a large window that overlooked the pristine little homes of Atherstone Mews, and I was totally thrilled with the atmosphere.

 

Before we move on from the hotel, I have to tell you what I just learned as I was looking up some Vanderbilt details.  It seems that Kate Middleton (yes, that Kate) and her friends spent her hen night at the bar of the Radisson Edwardian Vanderbilt Hotel shortly before her wedding to Wills (yes, THE FUTURE KING.)  Had I known that Kate Middleton frequented this very same bar in which I was sloshing down a pricy Strawberry Mojito, I would have been beside myself.  It's pure luck that I took a picture of the bar, so now we all can visualize the type of place Kate chooses when she's ready to throw back a few.

Our adventures began in earnest on Monday morning as we had planned to take the underground to visit the Churchill War Rooms and then walk back to the hotel via Buckingham Palace, St. James and Hyde Parks, and Kensington Palace.  It was tourist season in London and it was crowded.  That's what I really noticed the most.  People were everywhere.  We were in line (queued) at the Gloucester Underground Station for twenty minutes or so waiting our turn to figure out the magic machine that reads your credit card and spits out the appropriate tickets.  It operated flawlessly!  Definitely cause for celebration.  Then we walked down the up staircase (must remember left...left) to the trains for the quick journey to Westminster.  Bruce has already noticed how clean and tidy everything is here.  We like that.  As we left our train, following the signs and the crowds to the exit, I concentrate on staying left, and walk briskly to avoid being run over. We're climbing the stairs when, just three or four steps from the top, we looked up to see the quintessential British view begin to appear.  The Houses of Parliament and Big Ben are only a few steps away.

Although the War Rooms are tops on our agenda, there is no way we will not walk around this historic area, aka The Palace of Westminster.  It's buzzing today.  Hordes of tourists are dodging oversized tour buses that slow down (ever so noisily) to disgorge even more tourists who adjust their backpacks while clutching their cameras and running toward the fence to take the perfect picture that proves they were really here.  Where?  Parliament:  The House of Commons and The House of Lords.  Speaking of which, we're being waved back as an expensive car begins to pull up to the gate.  Perhaps it's a Lord.  Surely it's a Lord.  It appears to be a very old Lord who needs help exiting the car while clutching his briefcase with a death grip.  Could he be meeting with the Queen?

And through it all, day after day, the most patient (and mostly unarmed) Metropolitan Police stand guard, answer questions, gently correct, pose for photos, and manage a smile now and then.  They are wonderful. 

We're back on track now to meet up with Winston Churchill in the Churchill War Rooms, deep in the bowels of the Treasury Building in the Whitehall area of Westminster.  These rooms (another maze) have been left exactly as they were when World War II ended and everyone walked out after the surrender of Japan in August 1945.  All the clocks are set to 4:58 (or was it 5:02?) which marks the exact ending of the war.  It's all fascinating as you realize the number of people who worked here, ate here, slept here, and the momentous decisions they made based on a constant stream of updated reports from the field.  It was dank and damp then, this self-contained underground world, and with your "personal audio device," you can experience as much or as little as you wish.

Some of the War Rooms house an outstanding museum covering the life of Winston Churchill.  We meet him as a bouncing baby boy--born during a party at Blenheim Palace where his socialite American mother (a guest) was a bit short-taken, and finish with a touching video of his funeral ninety years later.  In between we watch him grow up despite a number of questionable reports from his skeptical teachers, and unbelievably benign neglect from his parents.  But when Winston came into his own, he came in with a vengeance.  He was unique and he was magnificent.

"THEY'RE CHANGING THE GUARD AT BUCKINGHAM PALACE
CHRISTOPHER ROBIN WENT DOWN WITH ALICE
ALICE IS MARRYING ONE OF THE GUARD
A SOLDIER'S LIFE IS TERRIBLE HARD."
Says Alice

And so the classic poem goes for stanza after stanza.  It's all I could think of as we approached Buckingham Palace.  Because her flag was flying, we knew the Queen was in residence, but safely tucked away from all of her many subjects and tourists crowding her fence.  I'm not sure what we all were looking for.  I think it's just natural to try to get as close as you can.  There was no changing of the guard today, but the few guards there were dressed in their best as they solemnly marched between the guard-boxes.  It was good enough for me.

Our long flight was beginning to catch up with us as we slogged through beautiful Hyde Park, and finally, realizing I  was not going to make it as far as Kensington Palace, we turned the corner for the short walk to our hotel and a neighborhood pub we had discovered last evening.  Day One has been very, very good.