How I spent my Christmas Vacation

First day in London

After the plane trip, we took the from the airport to the Paddington Station of stuffed bear fame. My dad had a very difficult time with the ticket-purchasing machine because, while he is a very smart man, he is a complete moron when it comes to computers and doesn't know it. He insists on using the ATMs and other machines without help and then takes forever and gets frustrated and frazzeled as he fucks up such simple instructions as "enter number and press OK." He also still has it in his head that the best way to exchange currency is to bring lots of US dollars and go to the currency exchanges. This is not the case. I told him, my sister told him, but still he insisted on lugging around the Benjamins and, even dumber, going to the currency exchange counter at the airport. For those of you who have not traveled to ATM-filled countries with different currencies in the past 10 years, I will explain. Currency exchanges and banks all post their exchange rates. Some also charge a fee. The rate you get is much like gas prices in that they're around the same but they do vary and you can never be quite sure if a better one is around the corner. Now if you have an ATM card with any one of a few bazillion international ATM logos on it (chances are very good that you do, even if your bank is fairly local) you can go to any ATM that accepts said international bank logos. Most of the ATMs in the UK and urban Europe do. You use the ATM just like you would back in the good ol' U.S. of A. The bank then automatically converts however many pounds or Euros or whatever you take out into US dollars using the exchange rate posted in the Wall Street Journal. This rate is invariably better than anything you can find at a currency exchange, and so. much. easier. Even if they charge you a few bucks service fee.

That's enough on money.

The woman who had sat by my father on the plane was also on our train ride into London. My parents had been talking to her and then, half asleep, I also talked to her a bit. She's been living in Chicago for less than a year and lost her job and is trying to figure out what to do next. As we parted ways at the train station, my mother jumped in to say "you two should exchange phone numbers and get together back in Chicago!" At least it wasn't a Boy and I'm getting too old to be mortified by my mother. So I now have this random girl's phone number. She was perfectly nice, so if she calls me I'm happy to be friendly, but I do not want/need my mother setting me up with friends. I'd like to think I'm at least a little less pathetic than that.

From Paddington Station we took a cab to our hotel. The driver was still unloading our luggage when my sister came running out to greet us. She was very happy to see us. She'd already checked in and it was yap yap yap from all of us as we got our keys and went up to our suite at the Savoy. The Savoy is a very famous old hotel in London, now owned by Fairmont. My dad travels too much for work so he gets to be a platinum frequent hotel-stayer or whatever they call it at many chains. Fairmont is one of them, so one of our nights was freeeeee.

Our suite was gorgeous. Two bedrooms and the Greatest Bathroom Ever. My parents' bedroom had a huge king bed while Mark, Lynn and my room had a really good cot the firmest twin beds ever--so firm, it hurt my boobs to lay on my stomach. The ceilings were high and the corners of the rooms were slightly rounded, making for these funky semi-circle closet doors. The linens all felt like milk and the whole place had a charm generic hotels can't fake. The Greatest Bathroom Ever had a huge tub with spray faucet, b'day (however one spells it), separate glass shower with tsunami-esque shower head, marble everything, horrible wonderful lighted magnified mirror that showed every pore, and heated towel rack.

Only picture in which you can see any of our Savoy suite

After we all showered and changed and felt moderately human again (the Beauty and the Beast song was in my head the whole time), we headed out to wander around Christmas Eve London.

At this point, I was pretty out of it, having slept at best two of the last 24 hours, so the evening was a blur of shops (much stayed open for last-minute gift purchasing) and stories from my sister and lighted streets and cold and trying to buy my brother clothes while he wasn't in the mood. We ate dinner at a very nice French restaurant (dessert pictured on the right) and discussed trying to see midnight mass at one of the big famous London churches, but I was crashing hard and fast and we all ended up laming out once we'd returned to the Savoy. I like saying Savoy instead of hotel because it is more impressive. Yes, I'm a snob now. Mark, Lynn and my mom turned on a South Park marathon on MTV UK but I was asleep by midnight.

posted by Jill @ Saturday, December 24, 2005