London, episode 10. In which we let the games begin.

As you might have guessed, there is a (very) long story behind this favorite travel photo. It actually began in 1976 if you can imagine that far back.

Although I like to imagine I am the most famous product of New York's Sleepy Hollow High School, that is far from the truth. At the time of the 1976 Montreal Summer Olympics, and even today, that honor likely rests in the very capable hands of the Olympic gold medalist today known as Caitlyn Jenner. Jenner attended Sleepy as a freshman and sophomore, before moving away from the area about the time I was born in September of 1966. Nevertheless, when Jenner won Olympic gold in the decathlon (crushing the previous record), the young athlete known as Bruce Jenner made it a point to celebrate at his former childhood home. Shortly after his win in July, I remember meeting Jenner as part of a large crowd assembled in Patriot's Park, adjacent to the Warner Public Library in Tarrytown, where an appreciative assemblage of locals gathered to celebrate Jenner's Olympic victory, his personal success, as well as our own small town pride.

Spectating (via black & white television) the Montreal Olympics that July is the first memory I have of experiencing the passionate excitement and poignant suspense of an Olympic Games. Those early emotional memories and my hometown pride in Jenner's success, along with similarly spectacular accomplishments by athletes the world over including Romanian gymnastics legend Nadia Comăneci (then only five years older than my nine-year-old self) planted early seeds in the part of my brain devoted to travel planning that began taking further hold in 1988 when Rosa Mota would earn Portugal's first ever (female) Olympic gold by winning the women's marathon in Seoul after having earned the bronze in LA in 1984.

It was an ardent combination of childhood memories and national pride and my love of all things British that merged in serendipitous synthesis when Mari and I took that meanderingly long walking tour along the Thames after our sensational orbits aboard the London Eye. Among the casual pedestrians and fellow travelers who greeted us along our ramblings that day was a spirited group of young British gymnasts exhibiting their skills and talents as they sought public support and advertised the upcoming (still five years away but "upcoming" nevertheless) summer Olympics. I remember telling Mari that day, still just a few days into our first London visit, that we should come back for the Olympics, that I had always wanted to attend an Olympic Games in person.

I didn't really know it until that moment, I suppose. I had never really imagined myself as part of such a large spectacle, but memories of past Olympic highlights suddenly filled my brain and the travel bug that had finally led Mari and me to our first trip abroad together clamored for further attention (and another sampling of Nando's).


The photo above outside Wembley Stadium was taken early in the morning the day prior to the Men's Football (soccer) finals. The following afternoon there would be no time (nor space) to stop for a photo as nearly 90,000 fans flowed towards the stadium for an experience I will never forget (more on that colorful event in a future post).

No, this photo happened early on Friday as we made our way to Wembley arena (at left) for a preliminary round of rhythmic gymnastics when we actually had time for a bit of a breather and were stopping for a selfie when we met one of the thousands of local volunteers who were strategically positioned along spectator routes to provide information and direction to tourists and wayward sports fans.

Friendly and more-than-helpful as we had come to expect, our photographer was an older local gentleman who was proud to volunteer his time to help make London2012 a successful experience.

He volunteered also to take a souvenir photo of us and even lent us his foam-finger directional pointer which was being used by all the volunteers to help keep the spectator traffic flowing smoothly.

While there is always a story behind every photograph, I promise not to get (too) carried away over the next few weeks as I reminisce and share our London2012 experience.

I hope to inspire you and provide some practical planning tips should you have your own Olympic inclinations.

Remember, the countdown to LA2028 has already begun!

la28.org

Be sure to visit (or revisit) my previous Olympics special to brush up on some of the planning logistics. Click on the "Summer Olympics" label in the right-hand column to go directly to my May 2, 2015 post.

London, episode 9. In which we love a parade.

It was during our first visit to London that I enjoyed my first visit to Paris. If you recall, we chunneled to Paris on the Thursday of our 2007 Spring Break, spending a very long day walking and touring and walking and snapping photos and walking and (you get the idea). Previously pictured (Paris, episode 4) was our sole souvenir of that memorable (and very long!) day, a colorful souvenir poster purchased from a vendor along the Right Bank of the Seine as we meandered our way towards the Louvre (and towards tourist exhaustion).

Hanging just above that souvenir print now is this little gem which caught our eye back in London three days later as we awaited the grandest and most colorful St. Patrick's Day parade we've ever witnessed. Having performed the previous day (on the 17th) at home in Ireland, many of the parade's musicians and performers were treating Londoners and out-of-town visitors to an exuberant encore. The London streets were not only lined with expectant spectators and boisterous tourists, there was also the occasional street vendor and local artist waiting to help the right tourist capture a special memory. Mari and I fell in love with this sweet little depiction of an iconic London image, a simply colored oil-on-canvas that we were thrilled to purchase from the artist. It now hangs framed on our "travel gallery" wall, waiting to greet guests in our entryway. Watching the parade that blustery Sunday morning with Mari is one of my most treasured memories. It was the final day of our first European adventure after all.

Or so we thought.


Pictured below my favorite image from London's 2007 St. Patrick's Day Parade (bagpipes!) is the incredibly photogenic and bucolic bed & breakfast Mari and I enjoyed the next day, the day our direct flight to Houston left without us.

Long story short (only because it's not really that interesting, not yet anyway), we arrived at the airport past the allotted window to check in with our American-sized luggage so our seats had been given away. (No on-line check-in a decade ago.)

As I am sure you are aware, there is an old adage which is old and an adage for a good reason: everything happens for a reason. That bonus day suddenly tacked onto our first trip to London was one of our best vacation days ever. We spent the day in a beautiful little airport-proximate town (main street pictured below B&B). We even did some shopping at a few charity shops and enjoyed a wonderful pub dinner.

There's more,

but I'm a gentleman

(so I've been told).

Before we get to gettin' and finally make our return flight to Texas, I would be remiss were I not to recommend a final favorite. Right down the street from our first London hotel, just steps from the Earl's Court tube station, Mari and I discovered a local chain restaurant (which has since expanded to DC and Chicago!) that would top our travel favorites list and which we would return to at least once every return visit.

My passionate Portuguese eye could not help but spot the colorfully iconic Barcelos rooster hanging above the doorway of Nando's. (You can barely see the round sign on the far right of our photo.) As soon as I walked in the door, a familiar spicy aroma greeted me like the warm welcome of family. It was a treat to speak in my native language to a very friendly employee who would walk us through the menu and take our very first order for peri-peri chicken. I would eventually learn that not all locations are run by Portuguese-speaking employees, but the generous welcome and helpful smiles I have come to expect from the Portuguese are certainly routinely observed.

Why is roast chicken such a big deal when London is known for fish & chips? Mari and I enjoyed absolutely wonderfully flavorful local food during our week's dream vacation. We sampled bits of everything we could, including the Lonely Planet London City Guide recommended "best" fish & chips (Costa's Fish Restaurant near Notting Hill) and traditional pub fare like shepherd's pie. Not a bland boring dish in site. The roast peri-peri chicken at Nando's is not traditional English, of course, but it retrieved some very distant, almost forgotten, but very fond memories.

Among my favorite food memories are blistering hot summer days at the beach with my parents during family visits to Portugal. I'm talking about a "day" at the beach not just a day at the beach. My dad would always want to be the first one out on the sand to claim a spot, the best spot of course (close to the water, but not too close). We would be packed up with enough supplies for a week, not just the day, and that included a striped beach umbrella which Pai would stake into the perfect spot like a beach pioneer, claiming our territory, then he'd sway back and forth with it in his own special tango until the pole was buried far enough that he needn't worry about the umbrella blowing away while he was napping. We would help Mãe spread onto the colorful sand one of her homemade quilts, made from pieced-together leftover squares of fabric rescued from the trash bin at whatever local sweatshop she was working in that year. There would be a basket full of goodies and treats to sustain us for a full day of sun worship as well as an ice-laden cooler loaded with sandwiches, sodas, and water (sometimes an occasional adult beverage for Pai).

It was always a big production.


I always had a book, of course, and a spare should
I be more than halfway through my current read.
(Always a planner!)

If we were at the beach during one of our Portugal summers, though, we always hoped there would be someone grilling and selling frango churrasco, butterflied whole local chickens grilled to blistering perfection after bathing luxuriously in a peri-peri bath. That smoky, peppery aroma (even a little bit of the Portuguese coast's salty, sandy surf) hit me like a furnace blast when I first walked under that festooned wooden rooster and opened the door into the Earl's Court Nando's restaurant. At right is my own Barcelos rooster (purchased by my mom for me during my last visit to Portugal in the summer of 1985).

I know.
Too long, too long.

My sentimental souvenir rooster has been plucked temporarily away from the kitchen rooster collection only for this special photo shoot. Sentiment and a remarkably delicious and authentic roast chicken has kept me returning to Nando's again and again when Mari and I have the good fortune to be in London.

Give the colorful site a good browse, especially if you plan to be in the vicinity of a Nando's.

Even if you are just Texas-close, it's worth the extra miles.

nandosperiperi.com

A carefully coordinated combination of temptalicious memory-inducing Nando's peri-peri chicken, rich and seductively-complicated royal history, and warm British hospitality has tempted Mari and me over and over to several London revisits. Our first return visit would be five years after this first 40th birthday celebration.

Our London2012 experience begins next time.

London, episode 8. In which we are caught off guard.

A whole lotta nothin' happened the first time we went to Buckingham Palace.

You heard me. I mean it was there and we found it easily enough and there were lots of tourists milling about waiting for the changing of the guard, but nothing happened. As Mari and I walked up to the gates to claim a good place for viewing the ceremony, we noticed lots of people walking away.

That's when I remembered that my little gem of a guidebook had noted that the ceremony took place daily at 11:00 AM, but only during the summer months. It was "sorta" every other day the remainder of the year. Well, it was Spring Break, not summer, and we were at Buckingham Palace on the other day instead of the every other day.

Not your fault, Lonely Planet, but there really is no way of knowing if it is every other day or the other day until you arrive at the palace gates.

Needless to say, we went shopping at Harrods instead.

Without the enormous crowds we would face the next day (which was the every other day during which the changing of the guard ceremony actually took place), Mari and I pretty much had the place to ourselves (if you want to ignore the few hundred other out-of-towners who didn't have the benefit of a dog-eared and colorfully-flagged guidebook to tell them they were here on the other day).

We made the most of our time without the next day's crowds and snapped lots of photos and video.

We snapped these last three photos the next day (the every other one) during the ceremony. The whole experience ranks up there with one of the most touristy (and definitely most densely crowded) locations and events we have ever viewed and attended, but you need to do it. The ceremony is pomp at its bona fide British best and is, of course, an important symbol of England's rich and lengthy history.

changing-guard.com

Visit this relatively new site for plenty of helpful visitor information (including a ceremony calendar!) as well as detailed information about related royal locales with their own can't miss events.

Getting back to Harrods...

Although not our typical travel fleamarketing location by any means, it's always a learning experience to shop at a department store in a country outside the United States.

In addition to what ravenously rabid shoppers might expect from a million-square-foot luxury department store, you will find spectacularly shiny escalators, preciou$ London and Harrods souvenirs, and incredible edibles in the fabulously foodie food hall.

I still extremely enjoy my two original Harrods purchases.

At top is a book-themed modern mantel clock that serves as a primary daily reminder of how quickly time has passed since that first London trip.

The sharp Stilton once luxuriously housed in the porcelain jar below has long since been savored, but the now companionless crock holds lasting epicurean memories (and the occasional secret stash).

Search Harrods' online shopper's paradise for useful visitor information and for a sampling of your own future treasures.

harrods.com

Our search for the best fish and chips begins next time as our first London visit comes to a savorily satisfying conclusion complete with festive fanfare (it was St. Patrick's Day after all) and an unexpectedly delayed (by more than a day) departure.