London: Paying a Visit to the Former Landlord

​With over 20 years having passed since our last excursion to the colony-collecting capital of the world, it seemed inevitable that our families first trip across the Atlantic (at least, the non-aligned-with-Africa, Atlantic) would land us smack dab in the home of everyone's favorite broom-yielding wizard: This Guy

Oh yes, and also Harry. Totally also meant to include Harry. You know, the kid envied by parents around the world, due to his innate and "magical" ability to embody the most well-behaved child in the history of DNA-reproduction (despite living with parents most CPS agents could only dream of encountering). Yes, him. #parentgoals

(As I can already envision Julie rolling her eyes at this specific point of our traditional "pre-read," I'll try to move things along a bit quicker):

Day 1 - The 30-Hour Day of Sleepless Jello Legs

After a relatively uneventful 7 1/2 hour flight from Detroit (if of course you ignore the young girl across the aisle who impressively managed to cough for 97% of our journey without being offered a single sip of water from either unconcerned parent), we landed "across the pond" in the city that prides itself on tea, as well as properly waiting in line, for tea: London, England.

Having purchased a flight that arrived a solid 9 hours before our Airbnbs mid-afternoon check-in, we decided to embark on a day of exploration, encompassing great aspirations that the jet-lag from our sleepless flight would not significantly impact our ability to "keep to the left" when navigating the jolly-but-definitely-not-jolly-if-you-don't-follow-the-damn-rules, streets of London. (NOTE: The Ontario-based version is much more amenable to "sidewalk confusion").

With both Julie and I having visited the city in prior travels (i.e. more 16-bed dorm rooms, less offspring), we decided to complete a Cliffsnote verion of the various "can't miss" highlights which our Instagram had been involuntarily force-feeding us over the last few weeks. On about 45-50 minutes of sleep. All while exuding a slight "odor" that can only be obtained on select red-eye flights. What could possibly go wrong?

• Old London Wall - It's old. It's in London. It's a wall. You literally cannot name anything more accurately.
• Tower of London - Didn't realize you actually had to own a crown jewel to afford the lofty £33/person entrance fee. Aaaaand pass.
• Tower Bridge - Free to cross, free to photograph, free is always a winner in my book!
• Borough Market - The perfect place to ease those pains of hanger... with a £5 croissant.
• The London Eye - Another site that requires an Italian Job-esque bank heist to visit. Starting to notice a trend in this city...
• Big Ben - Just a larger, less-technologically-advanced version of the telephone/clock combo I won during my 7th grade magazine sale. Gotta love Ann Arbor's late 1990s obsession with fishing & hunting!
• Westminster Abbey - Apparently the "big watch" reminded the boys of the one by their bed. And that's about all she wrote from here on out. Still several hours from our impending check-in time.
• Buckingham Palace - One mile of walking, with the current count of "my legs are tired" up to 3 times per minute. Not sure this one is gonna happen. Sorry Prince William. Was kinda excited to compare hairlines.
• Trafalgar Square - Please read above and form your own conclusions as to whether this site was visited. Hopefully the double-decker bus we  randomly jumped on drives by?

Thus, with our tour of "lofty expectations" cut, expectingly short, we once again descended beneath the streets of London for our 37th tube trip of the day. Departing for the homey-but-not-really-homey-at-all confines of our Airbnb, with a classic grocery-store-purchased British meal of curry-a-la-rice in-hand, our wearisome bodies had just enough energy to last past the 5PM mark, before, as they say, "passing the F out."

Day 2 - Julie Finds Her Non-Seattle-Based Nirvana

After a much-needed fourteen hours of slumber (if of course you ignore the brief, time-zone-inspired "reverse nap" from 1am-3pm), our bodies were officially refueled enough to partake in the climax experience of our European adventure (at least, according to those lacking a Y chromosone within this family). An activity that is apparently so captivating, it has managed to earn a 5-star rating on TripAdvisor from over 38,000 people! (in a completely-comparable contrast, a mildly-reputable London-esque double decker bus tour of Austin only gets 235).

And while I still haven't come to terms with how a school-aged boy with poor eyesight, whose greatest accomplishment primarily involves laying in his crib during a classic "stranger danger" moment, won the heart of my wife... well, what can ya do? I guess buy her tickets to a tour of the studio where all 8 movies were filmed? #winningmorethancharliesheen

Thus, with fan-girl fully-activated, we departed for the infamous Leavesden Studios in Watford, England, ready to immerse ourselves in 3-4 hours of everything and anything Harry Potter. Studio sets, props, costumes, masks, slightly-overpriced butter beer. A world within a world, that only those who can properly enunciate "wingardium leviosa" can truly appreciate for all its grandeur (HINT: It's levi-oh-SAH... stupid ginger Ron). Nonetheless, the experience officially surpassed the heights of Julie's Top 5 list (sorry birth of kids, wedding, honeymoon). The rest of us? A few less-dramatic after-thoughts:

Me - "I still am struggling to figure out after who J.K. Rowling emulated the goblins of Gringotts bank? Something about them seems so familiar to me... short stature, long noses, a general fondness of money. I guess we'll never know? Luckily she doesn't have a reputation for controversy!"
Lincoln - "I'm hungry"
Finn - "I'm hungry" (we definitely are fully invested in emulating our older brother at this current moment in our lives. And food. Food all the flipping time)

Day 2 1/2 - Valuable Lessons Have Been Learned

With the wizarding aspect of our trip in the rear-view mirror, and the lingering effects of jet-leg surprinsingly reaping incredible parental rewards (9:30AM wake-up!), we arose for our final 1/2 day in London, in hopes of one last tour of the cities sights. 

Queue Finn.

Finn: "Hold my beer"

Now, a funny thing that our youngest child learned this trip, is that when you are on a form of public transportation, utilized by thousands of people each and everyday, it probably is not a good idea to take an ice-cream-esque lick of the "hand pole," as you are all-but-ensured to attain enough germs to take down the likes of Osmosis Jones (sorry, we're in that phase of parenting right now). Nonetheless, 18 hours later, with Finn's stomach starting to defy gravity (i.e. food no longer traveling in the downwards direction), and our flight to Amsterdam departing in less than 6 hours, and well, we have officially entered "panic mode." Something that we obviously handled in an extremely calm and totally relaxed manner, especially when navigating the various sub-optimal choices available to us at the time:

Option #1 (Nixed) = Stay in London until vomiting ceases. Issues with proposed option:

1. It may not cease for 48-72 hours
2. Older brother is notorious for a "weak stomach," which could extend this another 48-72 hours
3. Last-minute reservations are somewhat impossible-to-find during the "summer of Europe"

Option #2  (Nixed) = Skip the flight, find a train. Potential issues:

1. Easyjet's cancellation policy is as flexible as (Julie - "Mark, you absolutely cannot use a Celine Dion reference here")
2. All <12-hour train options to Amsterdam cost, at a minimum, $400/person
3. All >12-hour train option to Amsterdam sound about as enjoyable as running a marathon, barefoot, over a road comprised solely of loosely-placed lego blocks

Option #3 (Reluctantly Accepted) = F*ck it, we have doggy bags, let's hope for the best. Potential issues:

1. Ummm, use your imagination
2. What could possibly go wrong during the walk to the tube, the tube to the train station, the train to the airport, the airport shuttle to our terminal, the wait in security, the wait at the gate, the flight itself, the wait at customs (thanks Brexit), the wait at luggage claim, the train to Amsterdam, the walk to the tram station, the tram to our stop, the walk to our Airbnb. Nothing could possibly go wrong whatsoever during this time at all!
3. Really don't need a 3rd issue here. Just multiple extra sets of clothes

Add to that, Lincoln deciding this was the appropriate time to voice his boredom with our extended decision-making process (dude, read the room), and it's safe to say, we weren't exuding a whole lot of positivity at this point in time. Thankfully, with our Airbnb host providing us a highly-needed extended check-out time, Lincoln and I departed our adhoc quarantine zone for a quick visit to the British Museum. In hopes that Finn could "sleep off" whatever small box / plague / menengitis / chlamydia he had ingested 18 hours prior. While myself and our non-porcelein-hugging child, explored one of the greatest collections of ancient antiquities in the world. With the 27 minutes which our travels scheduled allowed for us. 

Several hours later, with the deadline to our departure nearing, queue Apppriorately-URL'd Video. Don't ask us how, don't inquire as to what deeds of good karma we have realized as of late, but the regurgitation gods were on our side this morning, with Finn miraculously declaring "I feel better" mere hours after his last "purge." And our, hopefully only potential disaster of the trip, officially averted. 

Onto Amsterdam.

​Onto the pics:

Next Stop: Amsterdam