Saturday, September 5, 2009
Pussy cat, pussy cat what did you there?
Today we took the train to London. The recruiting company that hired Rick was offering a free walking tour of the city. About 20 teachers that were hired from mainly Canada and a couple from Australia also attended. There have been times since I arrived here in Dartford that I have forgotten that I am living in the UK. Apart from the accents, life is not so dramatically different from living in Canada, and it wasn’t until our tour reached the Tower Bridge that it hit home. Between the multitude of tourists passing us speaking languages that I couldn’t identify, the Thames River filled with row boats, cruise ships, and barges, and the beautiful stone towers at either side of the river linked together to form one of the many bridges in the city, I couldn’t help but weep. Unlike Toronto, Vancouver, or Ottawa, London is a web of streets and steeped in history. We couldn’t decide where to look first and I hoped that our cameras would capture was much as possible. How could we begin to share our experience with our friends and family? I would venture to say it was majestic, unique, diverse, magnificent, or wondrous, but I could go on forever and still feel as though I have not done the city justice.
The highlight of the day, though, was the variety of acts that took place in Jubilee Gardens. Anything from musicians, to jugglers, and mimes, and then contortionists, even artists, entertained and amazed us as we made our way through the park situated along the Thames. Of course, they were there to make a pound or two and the better the act, the bigger the crowd, and the possibility of return for them more promising. We stopped and took in some of the acts and at one point when the three of us stopped to check out some freakish routine, what I would like to call a creepy genie dude was waving Channing over. At first, I said to Channing, “Hey, little boy, I have some popsicles in my freezer,” which is our code for he is like the pervert on Family Guy (old man with the walker and Chris delivers the paper to him). Despite this, Chan willingly went over to the guy with the oversized gold coloured turban and a squeaky parrot hand puppet. All of the acts to this point had been fun and entertaining so when Chan stood next to him we waited for the drum roll. Instead, all he got was some weird old man dressed in a pathetic homemade Genie costume squeezing the hand puppet up his arm and saying, “How, how, how, how are you,” until he reached Chan’s shoulder. At this point, I think Chan realized that there was no “act” and he froze with an uncomfortable smirk on his face while we struggled with our cameras to take a photo. And this is when Murphy struck. Rick couldn’t get the darn camera to take a photo. “Now hold on a second, Chan,” Rick said. “Oh, wait, that’s not right.” In the meantime, Chan was blurting out instructions to Rick in a desperate attempt to get him to take the damn photo already. When it was all over and we finally got the photo, Chan said, “OMG, I feel like I need a shower.”
Our day out was exhausting and long and we must have travelled at least 10 kms on foot by the time we returned to the train station. We all felt that we could hardly wait to return to London again because today felt so surreal.
That night when we were all lying in bed with our feet aching and so feeling grateful to finally be resting, Chan piped up, “I hope you realize that I am scarred for life now,” cause he couldn’t get creepy genie man out of his head. Rick replied, “Sure makes me look good now, doesn’t it, Chan.”
Chan: “Love you, Rick.”
Rick: “Grrrrr.”
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment