Day 19 - English Spoken Here

Started early on Monday morning to make our way to the EuroStar terminal at Gare du Nord  for the high-speed rail trip under la manche, that body of water that those in Great Britain refer to as the English Channel but the French refuse to cede such a parochial name to.  Either way, the engineering feat that the two countries collaborated upon is really quite amazing. One can leave Paris in the morning and be in London for lunch.  I'm sure Gov. Brown is envious. I wonder if the "chunnel" would have been successfully launched if the first communities to be linked by high-speed rail were two rural communities in France or in England.  My advice to the Governor if he is reading this blog is to pitch the high-speed rail as an LA to SF thoroughfare and don't be shy about running that sucker right up the Peninsula into downtown SF.  Quit fooling around out in the Central Valley.  (Apologies for the political digression.) Meanwhile, back on the EuroStar......

The train itself is nothing exceptional except that it goes REALLY fast and is quite smooth and relatively quiet. I had expected something more futuristic looking like the monorail at Disneyland.  Instead it is rather plain and even dated. But it goes REALLY fast and got us to St. Pancras without problem save a delayed start.

Once in London, we were thrown into the complexities of a new (to us) mass transit system with passes to buy and color-coded maps to decipher. Just another day in the lives of world travelers but always challenging to old dogs trying to learn new tricks. With a little perseverance and assists from English speaking people, we made it to our hotel in Kensington. Cannot overstate how nice it was to communicate in English. We needed a break from the mental challenge of trying to think and speak in our crude  Francais.  

After checking in, we went to a nearby pub recommended by my brother.in-law who live here when he was in college.  We ordered drinks at the bar as is the custom but I overlooked giving the bartender a tip before taking our seats on the patio.   When Gail learned I hadn't left a tip she asked for a pound and proceeded to walk to the bar and kindly explain to the good barkeep that we had just come from Paris and were out of the habit of leaving gratuities.  She then engaged in a lengthy chat with the barkeep and the bar-back on topics of who knows what. It didn't matter. She was sooooo happy that English was spoken here.

John

PS. London pics will be delayed due to lack of the Gabay Apple.