How I Visited London, Made Mistakes, and Had Fun Anyway

When we travel, we make mistakes. Big or small, they frustrate us. I didn’t let my errors get in the way of my adventures, and I learned a lot about London.

I Traveled, I Screwed Up, I Learned, I Had Fun

In 2004, I visited London for the first time. All on my own. This was my first time outside of North America.

Buckingham Palace? Nope! I wanted to visit nerdy things like the British Museum. Not just controversial exhibits like the Elgin Marbles and Ancient Egypt collection. I wanted to see British history, like the Sutton Hoo exhibit with the famous Sutton Hoo Helmet. And the less-famous Lindow Man.

So I picked the Bonnington Hotel in the Bloomsbury area of London because it was close to the British Museum.

My First Misadventure

On my first full day, I went on a guided tour that started at Westminster Abbey.

I didn’t expect to be so taken by Westminster Abbey. But when you see the burial places of (and tributes to) so many famous people, you can’t help but be awed by it all. Sir Isaac Newton! George Frideric Handel! Poets’ Corner! Wait, is that Chaucer over there?! Baroque composer Henry Purcell! Not to mention kings and queens.

Because of restoration work and time constraints, we didn’t get to see all those tombs, but you are aware that you are walking alongside history. How can you not? We were close to the shrine of Edward the Confessor, who died in 1066! And the tomb of the influential Henry III.

One tour guide had the most gruesome tales. My kind of tour guide! One tale involved the Chapter House door and the robbery of the king’s treasure in Pyx Chamber. The punishment was right out of Game of Thrones as it involved flaying (eww) two deceitful monks. The Chapter House door is believed to be Britain’s oldest door!

The gleefully gruesome tour guide was also happy to see us supporting his beloved Westminster Abbey with gift shop purchases. The gift shop line got long, so he shuffled some of us off down some steps to another line.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t fast enough to keep up, and once I bought my items, I couldn’t find the tour guide.

I rushed outside to a tour bus, but it turned out to be the wrong one. I couldn’t find the right one in time.

Eek!

Lesson learned? Stick with the tour bus, silly! You can come back to the gift shop another time. (That would give you another excuse to visit Westminster Abbey again!)

So I was at Westminster Abbey, my tour bus was gone, and I was alone. Within sight of Parliament and Big Ben.

I did the natural thing. I panicked.

That moment passed. Next, I walked to the closest London Underground station; studied the (complex!) maps; and decided the best option would be to buy a pass. With a pass, I could use the Tube to go all over London.

From there, I decided to take my first “Tube” ride back to my hotel.

I learned fast. I had to. I became familiar with things like the famous recording that keeps saying, “Mind the Gap.”

I learned how to walk from the hotel to the British Museum. Sort of. Because it’s easy to get turned around in London. It’s a huge, busy city with streets dating back centuries. Also, the traffic goes in a different direction.

My Second Misadventure: An Accidental Cab Ride

First, a few words about the famous London cabs. London cabs (also known as black cabs and even hackney carriages) are iconic. They have their own page on Visit London. And their own page on the Transport for London website. The cab drivers must pass a rigorous test called The Knowledge to qualify to become a member of the Worshipful Company of Hackney Carriage Drivers. I bow in awe of their expertise.

After getting lost the first time, I walked around near my hotel. Soon, I found myself on a street that I didn’t recognize. Sure, I knew had to be near my hotel. But for the life of me, I couldn’t find the bloody thing! And it was getting late…

So I went into the lobby of a nearby hotel and asked for directions to the Bonnington.

But the clerk said he would hail a cab for me. A cab? I thought I must have gotten more lost than I thought.

Not exactly…

The clerk told the cab driver where to take me. As it turns out, perhaps I should have spoken to the cab drive myself…

One thing you don’t realize is that the glass between the passenger and the driver means he can’t hear a thing when you call out, “Wait! Where are you going?!”

I wasn’t in a Mission: Impossible movie, but it felt that way at times. The cab driver probably wondered why I kept waving at him through the glass.

We zipped by Baker Street. I glimpsed the Sherlock Holmes Museum and Madame Tussauds. And more!

Finally, the driver stopped in front of Paddington Station. Yes, Paddington Station as in the famous Paddington Bear. (That would be a 45 minute walk from my hotel!)

Uh oh!

I must have been staring in shock. Of course, I didn’t get out. So the cab driver got out and told me this was my shop.

“But I was supposed to go to the Bonnington!”

Oh, my!

The cab driver wasn’t upset with me. Once he got over his shock, he had a few choice words for the clerk who gave him the wrong location.

The cab driver offered to drive me back to the hotel and give the clerk a piece of his mind — and demand the clerk pay me back for the cab ride. I should have let him do that. Just to get to watch that encounter…

But I’d enjoyed the trip because I got to see things I knew I might not get to see. So I paid for him to drive me back to the Bonnington Hotel. I’m sure I overtipped him.

We both had stories to tell after that ride. No doubt, he told other cab drivers about this goofy American woman he’d met.

Lesson learned? Speak more loudly when asking hotel clerks for directions.

Back on Track! History Lessons Learned!

I found a cheaper tour in the afternoon and used it to visit the Tower of London and other sites. When I didn’t feel like such an idiot, I called the original tour company and got to take the rest of my tour on another day. (I didn’t mind that I got to see the Tower of London twice. That meant twice as many grisly tales.)

Thanks to the Tube, I navigated to other areas. I went to one museum after another. The National Gallery and the National Portrait Gallery and more.

I saw the Museum of London at their old site, near the London Wall (an actual bit of Roman wall still standing in London). They had one of Oliver Cromwell’s death masks on display, along with information describing how he had been put on trial and executed after his death.

I couldn’t resist saying out loud, “Wow, they must have really hated him.”

A British woman replied, “Yes! He was terrible!”

That’s what I call living history! Even centuries later, people still love to hate Oliver Cromwell.

Postscript

Along the way, I stumbled upon used bookshops. Discovered British magazines like Take a Break and Woman’s Weekly Fiction. Acquired a taste for Ribena and British chocolates.

Imagine my delight when I found Ribena for sale at our local grocery stores. Yet I resisted the urge to buy a used London black cab when I got home.

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