A bookish day.

Today I went to the British Library, which I somehow missed on my other trips here. I'm glad I finally went -- the place is astounding, and I loved it on sight -- even before I got a look at the goods. There's an exhibition gallery there that contains the bulk of what people might be interested in -- codex bibles, the Magna Carta (!), maps, and works of literature important to the Empire. So, there was a splendid Alice in Wonderland exhibit (did you ever notice that people who love Alice in Wonderland are always more interesting than people who don't? Not to be a jerk-o about it...). There were several different volumes and issues of the work, including the author's original notebook with his little bits of illustration here and there. And some of the costume designs from the new movie coming out. Pretty lovely.

But the big thing for me was the little case of literature. I like Shakespeare, and think he's a cool dude and all, so was delighted to see some of the first printings pertaining to his plays and the presses of the plays themselves. But the big thing to me was getting to see Jane Austen's things. Her family apparently came across her writing desk in their attic (or something like that) some years ago, and donated it to the library. There was a bit of her original juvenilia. And it was lovely. Lovely to look upon. There was Bronte's notebook of Jane Eyre, and lots of other treasures from the greats. (It was weird how jolting it was to read the words "Reader, I married him" -- I had forgotten that line, but always liked it for its tone, and it came back to me the second I saw it -- a weird side by side moment in my brain.) Being there made me remember how it used to feel back in my innocent undergrad days -- a greenhorn walking around with her Norton anthologies, and just having my mind blown by all there was. Sometimes I wish I could get that back -- that fresh experience of loving the work so much, and all of the fresh surprises that came with it.

I went to Persephone Books today, on the advice of a very wise friend (you know who you are, Friend) and it was the kind of place you could stay all day, for ages and ages, despite how small it is. They do big work, and that's the major point: http://www.persephonebooks.co.uk

And drank a lot of beer. And had a sausage roll. And a delightful (but delightful) ham and cheese pasty. This city strikes me with its sheer size. This place is enormous. And sprawling, and just sort of wild with people. I'm having fun, but looking forward to the country, when we eventually go. I believe we'll go to Chawton (Jane Austen's cottage on her brother's estate) and then of course, I'll get over to Wales to see Jonathan P. I've not been doing well with time -- it's so strange not to always be checking your cell phone (not even your watch!) for the time. And I keep saying it's Wednesday, which it definitely isn't. Can't keep it straight -- who's Alice now?

Tomorrow, the big food market. And there's been talk of a dish that involves steamed potatoes and cheddar. Count me in, Daddy-o.

The price of a cup of tea.

Somewhere, quite some time ago, I remember overhearing somebody talking about this Buddhist saying about drinking tea. It was something about how to enjoy -- truly enjoy -- a cup of the stuff. To enjoy and get the full benefit of that tea, you must be in the moment, as in present for that moment, for that particular cup of tea. Then I guess you are truly Zen. That tea will be able to grant you as much happiness as a cup of tea is able.

Right now, I'm in the National Gallery Cafe, drinking a cup of tea out of a white paper cup. There's a drop of tea that has stained the side of the cup, and it all looks very painterly in the gray light coming in through the windows. There are other tourists in the cafe and a native or two taking a tea break. The cup of tea is okay, to be honest. It's not the best ever, but the scone I'm eating alongside of it is truly exemplary. A pretty little biscuit of a thing, studded with currants and with the heft of a ripe and juicy lemon. The important point, though, was the jam and the clotted cream. (So Britishy.) Pure and unadulterated bliss. Check out the Zen factor.

I love when this happens. It happens at home, too, but there's something about stumbling onto food you won't get anywhere at home that makes it sort of special. I didn't really used to like tea very much (and I still take coffee first!), but this cup of tea in this oh-so-English setting made me remember when my Mom and I traveled to England. It was my first time here, and we were two seconds away from collapsing with jet lag and travel exhaustion when we stumbled onto this little place called The Green Cafe. We went in and ordered a very bizarre meal, but first asked for tea with milk and a lump of sugar. It was a revelation. I'd never had tea that good. And I remember waking up the next morning in our B&B room (as it happened, just down the block from The Green Cafe) and having a cup of Pickwick tea, made with the electric kettle and a little container of milk they'd left for us. I sat in bed and snuggled in under the covers and drank the tea, and it was also remarkable. I've found Pickwick tea at home, but it doesn't taste the same as that cup. I guess you need the travel magic.

Today, I sort of just had a bit of a wander and we're going to head out for Indian food, about which I could not be more excited. I know tonight I'm going to crash like a rock, and in the morning my visit here will begin in earnest. But I want to see what other weird Zen moments are going to present themselves.

Postscript:

There were practical hiccups as well. Life can't just be Zen scones, of course. I also got lost in Heathrow (why is it so sprawling!?!) and surprised a pigeon who had gotten into our train car on the aboveground line back to Chris and Annie's. This pigeon let me know how he felt by pooping on my suitcase. I choose to take this as a sign of good luck.

Flyin' away on a wing and a prayer. Who could it beeeee? (Believe it or not, it's just meeeee...)

I shot this picture when I was coming home from Prague. I had to go from Prague to Warsaw to Chicago, and it was pretty much just insanity the whole way. But once I had gotten settled, and I knew I had all that time to sit there and feel shellshocked, I saw the moon through the window. It looks tinier in the picture than it did just looking through the window. You can see the frost build-up on the glass. (Is that glass? Plastic? I don' t know science...)

I don't mind flying. I don't really even mind airport craziness so much. I always get sort of sad flying home, even if I'm glad to be going home.

Anyhow. There are little flurries here and there outside the window, and hopefully nothing will prevent me from leaving and getting there on time. I think I've got everything I need, and I even remembered to pull out my passport last night.

Now, we wait and see what it all brings...

Tick-tock...

It's almost time to go...this is difficult to believe. I haven't been following a checklist of any sort. I just finished packing up. I hardly have any bizarre things in my suitcase for Annie or Chris. It's easier to live in London, so there's not much they need from the Americas.

I remember whenever we had somebody coming from America back when we were living in our apartment on Rooseveltova Street, we asked for stuff like vanilla extract, and brown sugar, to make chocolate chip cookies. We wanted random stuff, like cilantro. Well, we didn't need it, but we missed making the food we knew how to make, and generally liked to have around. My mother was the one who brought us the cilantro. And they searched her luggage. So that was fun for her to try and explain to the Czech customs officials. I remember my second Thanksgiving in Prague. We asked for a friend's mother to bring us pumpkin puree. And we had a huge crowd of Americans that year in our apartment. There was one apple pie and one pumpkin pie. People devoured the pumpkin. It's the little things you miss.

But in London, you can get what you're generally used to, it seems like. All I'm bringing is peanut butter from Trader Joe's, because it's just so damn good -- better than anything you can get in Europe anywhere. Maybe if more Europeans tried good peanut butter, they'd like it better. Same goes for Americans and tea. If we tried theirs, we'd like it better. Anyhow. There's about six jars of peanut butter in the bottom of my valise, along with the other necessities. Let's hope this gets us through.

My dog, Lou, is sighing unhappily next to my bed. I tried to hide the suitcase from him, but to no avail. I think he thinks any suitcase equals Prague. I've been smooching him and telling him that I'll be back, but he just gives me that reproachful look, and looks sad. Poor boy.

Let there be tunes.

There's nothing like escaping your normal life to make you think about what you really want. And the best escapes have a solid soundtrack. So, a couple of days before I set out for Foggy London Town, I'm posting a Britishy playlist, to which I shall be bopping. I'll probably play it before I land at Heathrow, and maybe on some of my wanderings. Here it is:

Waterloo Sunset, by The Kinks

Downtown, by Petula Clark

Born to Be a Dancer, by The Kaiser Chiefs

Do the Strand, by Roxy Music

The Rose of England, by Nick Lowe

English Music, by Destroyer

All the Right Reasons, by The Jayhawks

Streets of London, by Ralph McTell

Mayfair, by Nick Drake

Darlin' Wait for Me, by Richard Hawley

Half a Person, by The Smiths

Saturday Gigs, by Mott the Hoople

Mornington Crescent, by Belle & Sebastian

The Village Green Preservation Society, by The Kinks

A Foggy Day, by Frank Sinatra

A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square, by Tony Bennett

Postcard from London, by Ray Davies

London Calling, by The Clash

Some of these only say variations on the word "England" or the name London, or names of towns. Some are simply by British folk, and just feel like they've got that spirit about them. It's a little Kinks/Ray Davies heavy. But these songs work for my purposes. While in London, walking around the streets, I reckon I'll be listening to a lot of Petula Clark, and when I want some thinking time, I'll probably just return to my usual fare.

I'm calling this blog The 20 Tram because that was always where I got my best ideas in Prague. Or not even best ideas, really. I just had a lot of thinking time on public transportation there. I had an iPod before I went, but it really got a mad workout in Prague. I would walk out of the apartment, and settle the earbuds in my ears on my way down the steps. I would usually walk out into the early morning darkness, because my days started so damn early there. People would be scurrying to trams, buses or the Metro, and I would join them, with whatever playlist of songs I was into at that particular point in time. The best thoughts always came on the 20 tram. It wound from my neighborhood to the neighborhood where my school was located, and rattled past the castle and so many different bustling squares. All the while, those little white earbuds were pumping out music, and thus, the music became autobiography. I like how that happens.

I'm off to visit Annie and Chris in London. They're living there for the year, or have been living there for the year, while Annie's doing her second year of law school. I don't know how I came to know so many lawyers. I met a lot of Californians in Prague. The majority of these Californians were interested in the law as a career. One was interested in pushing the limits of the law. I loved them all. And now I have lots of people to help me beat the rap if I ever get busted for a crime.

I'm going back to Europe again after, let's see, about two years. That's how long it's been since I left Prague. I thought about going to visit Praha while I'm in London. I can't sort of can't stand being so close and not popping over. But on the other hand, I don't know if I can stand setting foot on Czech soil and knowing that I have no apartment there. No life or roots, and that I won't be able to keep it for more than a couple of days. Maybe it's best to go back when I have a better reason and set of circumstances for going back.

In the time since I left Prague, I got a Masters of Library and Information Science (MLIS!) from Dominican University. I'm in youth services. It's been a busy two years. Time is so funny. There are days when I'd tell you, "Oh, I got back from Prague a year ago." And then there are days I might say, "Oh, it's been what, three or four years?" I always feel like whatever point in time I find myself at, I've got this very strong spotlight on me that projects about four years back, and four years forward. And any memory or future hope that the light happens to hit is what's strongest to me, but also the most nebulous. Things aren't always a straight line, these memories and these future hopes. Sometimes they feel closer or farther than they actually are.

Anyway. My present to myself for finishing that program is to go see Annie and Chris. And wander around London for a little while. I like what traveling gives you. I like how it strips away everything but what is true about yourself. Or, it should, anyway. I like the new eyes it gives you. And if you're lucky, those eyes still work when you get back home.