London, episode 11. In which the ticket's the ticket.

This is the first of many selfies my extended reach was able to snap back in July 2012. You already know some of the story, but allow me to sentimentalize the stage.

It was our first day at the London Olympics, but that Sunday was already the beginning of the second week of athletic action. If you recall (from my Olympics special), we succeeded in acquiring tickets to events only during that second week, so I was able to plan an extended adventure for us during the two weeks prior to our whirlwind week at London2012.

We began, immediately upon arrival in London, by storing our American-sized suitcases and heading to the CoSport ticket distribution center in central London. Since the first events of the games were still about two weeks away, I figured we'd make a quick errand of it before heading to a relaxing lunch and beginning the rest of the day's journey. I had not anticipated, however, that hundreds of other eager and similarly-obsessed vacation planners would have the same thought! About two and a half-hours later...

These graphically colorful and beautifully designed event tickets (pictured above are one ticket for each of thirteen different events) were the result of a lot of planning and a lot of time spent battling it out online in the 16 months prior to my marathon wait outside the CoSport offices. As mentioned previously (Olympics special) only two of these events were part of my original ticket request, but I'm nothing if not flexible. As more tickets to more events were eventually released in the months prior to London2012, I was able to find tickets to a wide variety of events, ultimately making our Olympics experience truly well-rounded. The thirteen events (over a period of six days) included table tennis, Greco-Roman wrestling, gymnastics, beach volleyball, synchronized swimming, weightlifting, rhythmic gymnastics, track & field, taekwondo, soccer, and volleyball. No swimming, no tennis, no diving... three of the five events Mari and I had originally requested.

With all our events scheduled for the final week of the games, Mari and I found ourselves with a wonderful opportunity to do a little exploring and tick a few locations off our travel wish list, including some fleamarketing, of course. What follows is a synopsis of my carefully-crafted, obsessively-overplanned itinerary (and published evidence should the authorities ever need a public admission of my disorder).

Fly from McAllen to Houston, then from Houston to Heathrow.
Train to Paddington Station.
Store luggage then pick up event tickets at CoSport office.
Late lunch. (Nando's!)
Retrieve luggage at Paddington, train to Brighton.
After two nights in Brighton, train back to Paddington, then to Heathrow.
Fly to Paris. (Revisit Paris, episodes 5 & 6, which included our first visit to Les Puces de Saint Ouen.)
After three nights in Paris, fly to Dublin.
After a longish weekend driving across Ireland and exploring its beautiful west coast (during which Mari's suitcase was delayed in Paris until our final Ireland day), fly to Edinburgh.

The second day in Scotland marked the half-way point of our trip

which meant an exciting morning at a local laundromat.

After three days in Edinburgh, train the beautiful English countryside to Stratford-upon-Avon.
Enjoy a very full day and night, including a Bollywood update of Much Ado About Nothing at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre.
Train to London the following day and thereby complete our feverish Olympics prelude!

Whew!

Mari and I would use the first two of our colorful event tickets that Sunday afternoon and evening at the ExCeL Centre, pictured at top.

As you may have already surmised, this was trip planning not for the faint of heart (or keyboard). Our three-week adventure was a trip of Olympic proportions, not to mention a trip of a lifetime.  Plane tickets, train tickets, rental car reservations, hotel room reservations, restaurant reservations, theater tickets, (not to mention that colorful array of event tickets pictured above), all purchased online months (some up to 16 months) in advance.

When we travel, I print a copy of every reservation and transaction and store these copies in a clear folder in chronological order of use (flight itinerary on top, then car rental reservation, then hotel reservation, etc.) only because I have a need (eccentricity? sickness?) and I have to do things this way. I keep the original e-mails and e-receipts in an e-mail folder, along with scans of our passports, because I've learned the hard way that you must always have a back up.

You should always

have a back-up.

Imagine my surprise (and patriotic delight) walking into the ExCeL Centre that first afternoon and finding Portugal playing Korea in a team table tennis quarter-final round! The hypnotically fast-paced and emotionally-charged match was a fitting harbinger of our frenetic week ahead.

A few hours later and a few doors down the cavernously massive hallway of the ExCeL, we would watch some very hard-fought Greco-Roman wrestling matches, triumphant (and bruised) victors pictured here.

At left is a final view down that cavernous hallway as I risked being trampled and turned around for a final photo glimpse late that evening.

Just a few of

our fellow spectators!

I am, as ever, thankful for the opportunity to meet my fellow pale blue dot explorers, thankful for seemingly endless blessings, so much sincere support, and such durable luggage that has seen me and my wonderful Mari through so many miles of smiles and camera exchanges.

I look forward to exploring our extraordinary and very full week at London2012 throughout the next few weeks with you (including our first fleamarketing visit to Portobello Road and a restoratively rural visit to a particularly persnickety but lovable Dowager Countess).

Maybe there will be a story (and souvenir) or two, too.

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.

London, episode 7. In which the book's the thing.

Time for a confession. No need to gird your loins because it's probably not much of a surprise, actually, but I am a film lover almost as much as a book lover. I have previously reminisced romanticized early childhood visits to the Warner Public Library as well as early adult forays into book collecting. Libraries and bookstores have always coursed through my veins, thump thump thumping lovingly through my heart and soul all these years since their earliest discovery. The world of film has left its indelible imprint on my life as well, leading not only to an MA in film studies over 20 years ago, but also to an enjoyable nearly-decade-long stint as a movie reviewer for our local newspaper. For most of our thirties, Mari and I enjoyed sparring in our weekly column, sharing sometimes dissenting opinions, but always enjoying our forced weekly viewings and the resulting (mostly) publishable dialogue.

There was a lot of popcorn and secretly-stashed snacks involved!

Sometimes the skies open wide and the worlds of books and film collide in pure poetic perfection and such is the case with one of my favorite films (which brings me back from reverie to this here London blog episode).

1987's 84 Charing Cross Road has it all for film lovers, book lovers, and lovers of England and beloved actors (Anne Bancroft, Anthony Hopkins, Judi Dench) alike. Visiting the site of the bookstore featured in the biographical film was high on my list when visiting London that first time. As easily accessible as a tube stop (or opening a beloved book), the site of number 84 may no longer be home to Marks & Co. from Helene Hanff's memoir, but nearby booksellers such as the one pictured above will more than satisfy the romantic cinematic cravings of literary travelers.


Since our first London visit, a signed copy of Hanff's book has made its well-traveled way into one of my most beloved collections.

Her inscription seemed destined to find its way into my most welcome and appreciative hands, "To an unknown booklover."

That's me!

If a visit to a proper bookstore is a must (and it should be), then you must visit Hatchards, London's oldest bookshop, celebrating 220 years this year. If you love books, you must go.

hatchards.co.uk

I was lucky enough to find signed copies of a new novel still available from a recent store visit by John le Carré. The selection of children's books was quite overwhelming, too, and I was able to find a beautifully illustrated Paddington for my youngest nephew.

We visited the new Hatchards location following another favorite and quite stereotypical London afternoon pastime. Tea. Tea for two and two for tea and all that, yes. Prior to our first London visit, Mari and I had previously enjoyed a special 10th anniversary "high tea" at the Grand Hotel on Michigan's Mackinac Island, filming location of my favorite sappily-romantic film, Somewhere in Time.

These photos are from a more recent visit to London's Fortnum & Mason, after the department store's tea room was redecorated and renamed in honor of the queen's diamond jubilee.

Accoutrement aplenty, high tea service while visiting London is an indulgent treat satisfyingly savored with sappily-romantic spouses. Somewhere among those toweringly tempting treats (don't forget the cheese plate!) there is some tea, I promise.

Although not driven by sappy romanticism (or my not-so-secret movie crush on Jane Seymour), tea at London's iconic Fortnum & Mason (right next door to the new Hatchards location) was recommended by my little Lonely Planet London guide, so off we went in search of the elusive perfect cuppa (and hunka).

Explore both sites before your visit, but be sure to ink an entire afternoon in your itinerary to fully appreciate both experiences. Fortnum's food hall is foodie paradise. Don't go hungry!

fortnumandmason.com

(Select the Restaurants tab, then The Diamond Jubilee Tea Salon tab

to see photos, menus, and to make a reservation.)

I know, "Tea and books, Lou? You're in London, for crying out loud, and you're having tea and buying books?!" There were a few more items planned for that first visit to London, but so many more kept creeping onto my list that we knew we'd need a return trip (or two or three) before making any serious itinerary progress. Even fleamarketing took a back seat to typical tourist traps on that first visit, but they ain't tourist traps for nothin'.

We get the royal treatment, next time.

London, episode 6. In which I make not my thoughts a prison.

It really is a beautiful bridge, if that can actually be said about a bridge.  (I think it can.)

As you leave Borough Market, nourished and refreshed, and continue ambling along the Queen's Walk, you will find your sight-seeing sights locked onto the historic and magnificent icon of London's skyline you see here.

London's Tower Bridge is still almost a mile away, but as it comes closer and closer and grander and grander into view, that last half mile or so will melt madly away and soon you will be posing for photos like mad.  (Previously pictured was our own touristy photo, the result of a camera exchange with out-of-town Brits.)

Don't go too mad or you'll wind up locked up at the final stop on our (say it like you mean it) "three-hour" all-day walking-and-touring, photo-snapping, and brownie-snacking tour.  Once you cross Tower Bridge back to the North bank of the Thames, you will not be able to miss the magnificently medieval structure known as the Tower of London.

Originally constructed in the late 11th century, the Tower complex has served a variety of roles throughout British history, most notoriously as a prison. Unfortunately, our extensive meanderings and tourings (and snackings) deposited us at the Tower just after the final admission of 5:00 PM, but we did have time to watch the short film and wander around the exterior for a bit (and add a revisit to a future travel list).

An extended London layover in July of 2013 finally gave us the opportunity to revisit the Tower on a Saturday morning, which turned out to be a very popular family activity day, but which also provided ample time to explore the ancient complex and to view some of the special exhibits.

Although my wife is a true history buff, I suspect that one of the main reasons for our visit was because the Tower castle is also home to the Crown Jewels of England and Mari, as you know (and I love), has a particular penchant for the precious (and semi-precious).  She is not alone, as you can see in the photo to the right.  The nearly hour-long queue to enter the exhibit was well worth the wait.

When you visit the site you will find a wealth of information including a calendar of events and loads of historical anecdotes which will make you assuredly add a visit to the Tower of London to your own best-laid travel plans.

hrp.org.uk/tower-of-london

Our day's walk concluded, I had finally been able to cross a great many iconic London locations off my ever-expanding travel list, but the more I crossed off, the more I continued to add as this wondrous city continued to open its welcoming arms to us.

More familiar favorites and a few touristy must-sees next time.

London, episode 5. In which fowl is lunch fare.

Sometimes Mari goes a little camera crazy when we travel, but I am always grateful to have hundreds of digital photos (and memories) to sift through and edit when we return home.  We are back from our most recent adventure, which concluded with a five-day layover in one of my favorite cities.  Never ask me to choose between New York and London, please.  Either way, my New York or British accent lives with me about a week after returning home.

New York attitude never fades.

Here we are enjoying a final
escalator trip down into a London tube station last week.  This was our 4th visit to London and I can't help wanting to plan another revisit already.  So much still to see!

In the meantime, I'm excited to continue that first stroll along the Thames I began sharing with you before Father's Day.

During that first stroll ten years ago, the Millennium Bridge may have been closed for repair, but Mari and I finally had our moment crossing the bridge last week.  We had just left St. Paul's Cathedral (another first for us) and at left Mari caught me spreading my wings while finally crossing the bridge towards the Tate Modern.

Below is the view looking back towards St. Paul's.  Mari and I really enjoyed our recent visit to the historic cathedral.  It always amazes me to visit sites that old (late 17th century) and historically significant.  Stepping where so many others have stepped, so many great historical figures:  Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. visited in 1964, funeral services were held for Winston Churchill and Margaret Thatcher, Queen Elizabeth II celebrated her golden jubilee in 2002, and, of course, that first royal wedding that forever wed me with my love for all things British, Charles and Diana's 1981 nuptials.

It's not just the celebrated and historically significant figures that make St. Paul's great, but it is also a site where the not-so-famous are honored and remembered.

All along the time-worn floors of St. Paul's, English citizens are memorialized.  So many names and dates
I remember seeing etched on the stone floors, some with simple epitaphs commemorating short but thoughtfully-lived lives and family members left behind, others with descriptions long and poetic, challenging future generations to keep memories alive.  At first it feels funny walking along ancient stone floors that mark the graves of loved ones from long ago, but while ambling along and reading those names and dates I found myself immersed in a bit of very personal history, even if only for a moment, often the history of a local citizen whose charitable works were poetically eulogized in ancient scripts to be trod by future generations, perhaps even weary travelers from abroad.

Visit the thoroughly helpful site
to plan your visit.

stpauls.co.uk

Leaving St. Paul's and its history behind, we walked towards our first walk across Millennium Bridge, feeling satisfied and even energized.  After crossing the very modern bridge and then retracing our past steps as we passed the Tate and the Globe, Mari and I came to rest for a while at a future foodie favorite first discovered on that original 40th birthday Spring Break trip to London.

Within the many outside stalls of Borough market, weary travelers and famished Londoners alike
will find a bustling group of talented artisans and local producers anxious to serve up their bountiful harvest of fresh food as rustically simple or fancifully gourmet as you please.  On that first visit, my lean and hungry look was more than tamed with a hot grilled chicken sandwich piled high with tender greens and fresh ripe tomato on heartily yeasty bread, memorably satisfying organic nourishment after our meanderingly long day that was still not quite over.

Also memorable was the best brownie ever.

Not quite sure if it was my romantically distorted memory of being in London, Mari and I have returned to Borough Market for brownies twice more just to be sure, most recently as last week from the stall pictured above manned by a very friendly Frenchman.  The decadently fudgy brownie may be moderately romanticized, but it was still damn good.

Visit the colorfully helpful site before visiting the market.  It is loaded with useful information about products and vendors as well as articles, recipes, and an events calendar.  Be sure to sign up for the newsletter, too.

boroughmarket.org.uk

I am forever grateful to the independent spirit of the vendors at Borough Market and the varied carols I hear upon each visit.  I don't think Whitman would mind my extending his imaginatively inclusive metaphor to include our talented friends across the pond.

We conclude our day-long three-hour walking tour next time by crossing one final bridge... and it's a beauty.