London Calling — GIRLVETICA

The first leg of our vacation began in London. We stayed at the St Pancras Renaissance Hotel, a beautifully appointed 5-star hotel situated in the heart of the city, accessible to everything, and conveniently perched directly above the Eurostar train to Paris. The Piccadilly tube line runs into St Pancras as well, right from Heathrow airport, so if you plan it right you can have a seamless travel experience all around. No dragging luggage through the crowded streets, queuing for taxis, or racing to make a departure time.

St. Pancras Renaissance Hotel London as modeled by my handsome travel companion.

We arrived in London 9:00am local time, too early to check into the hotel. We dropped our bags and decided to walk around the corner to The British Museum. If you’re ever stuck for ideas or on a tight budget, the museum is usually open and always has free admission. The cafes aren’t too shabby either. Inside, the Rosetta Stone and Egyptian relics up front are always impressive, but the smaller displays are equally fun and should not be passed up. For example, we visited the Money Matters exhibition and learned about the evolution of currency. It wasn’t always coins and paper bills. Once upon a time it was knives.

Knife money originated in China and circulated between 475 and 221 B.C. It never really caught on in the rest of the world though, much to the relief of bartenders, strippers, and anyone who had a really nice purse.

Eventually, the hotel rang us to say our room was ready and we could officially check in. We made our way back over and grabbed the keys, eager to find our room and have a nap. There was one more art exhibit awaiting us.

Most hotels have generic abstract paintings, local photographs, or mass-produced still life on the walls. The St. Pancras Renaissance has none of this. Instead, the passageway leading to the guest rooms offers up a narrow corridor lined with life-sized, full-body portraits of creepy Victorian wait staff in period garb staring you down. Each has the kind of dead-eye gaze that follows you no matter which way you move or look at it. It’s precisely what Disney’s Haunted Mansion would look like if it were staffed by Downton Abbey. I took video, naturally. My personal favorites were Cantankerous Whisk Woman, Resolute Chicken Girl, and Bellhop Ghost of Casey Affleck

After a lengthy afternoon nap and some post-transatlantic flight hygiene, Mike and I headed out and into the pubs to throw back a few pints. Also meat pies, because regular pie is wonderful, but meat in a pie is divine. It was in one of these pubs that I realized I've never had a Guinness in my entire life. So I immediately rectified that. It was lovely. I now understand the fuss made about it. The only downside to this is that I'm now forever spoiled for the UK version of it because I came back to the states and it's just totally different here. Much like Cadbury chocolate.

Over beer and pie, we discussed our one goal for Sunday: locate a place to watch the Superbowl. American football, as we had to clarify now that we were in Europe, home of football alternatives. Superbowl LI kicked off at 6:30pm back in Boston, which meant the game started around 11:30pm in London. And, as we discovered, would be aired for approximately thirty minutes because most pubs close at midnight on Sundays.

With Plan A firmly in the bin, we transitioned immediately to Plan B: the hotel room television. It took a bit of searching and a false start on a Spanish channel, but we found the one local (English-speaking) broadcast of the game. With all the shops closed, we rang up room service to cater our very intimate, very late night Superbowl party.

By half-time, the Pats were down 21-3, the mini bar was empty, and Mike was inconsolable. I think for a time we laid in bed half awake with the tv muted and just hoped the rest of the trip wasn’t shadowed by ill omens. Somewhere around 3:00am we chanced a look at the screen. And that’s when the shouts began erupting. Thankfully no one phoned the front desk to complain about the two noisy American tourists making a racket about some Brady fellow in the middle of the night, so cheers to The St. Pancras Renaissance for having terrific sound proofing I guess.

We fell asleep sometime around four and woke up around noon on Monday. Mike asked me if the Patriots really won or if it was all just a jet lag dream. I confirmed that it was in fact reality. We then located coffee and outlined our goals for the day: Carnaby Street, more Guinness, more meat pies, Seven Dials, and the Crobar.

We began with a stroll around Carnaby Street, a district once famous for a cholera outbreak and more recently, a hotbed of music clubs and mod boutiques in the 1960's. The current incarnation is now home to upscale fashion brands and over-priced home decor. But there are a few independent shops well worth a visit.

We popped into The Great Frog boutique to ogle the skeletal jewelry worn by the likes of Keith Richards, custom jackets emblazoned with Motorhead logos, and leather wallets embossed with crossbones. Basically like an adult version of Hot Topic. I purchased a leather wallet. Mike added an enameled skull pin to his coat. Then we both made a swift exit before larger financial sins could be committed.

Lunch was had at The White Horse pub. Pint of Guinness, along with the Chicken, Chorizo, and Cider Pie. It doesn't get more basic, more traditional, or more satisfying than this. Also, gravy is delicious and should be served with every meal. The British know what's up.

Charles Dickens once said, "The stranger who finds himself in the Dials for the first time...at the entrance of Seven obscure passages, uncertain which to take, will see enough around him to keep his curiosity awake for no inconsiderable time..." And that is where we found ourselves Monday evening, meandering down each cobblestone street, poking into that shop and fogging up the window of another. I could have emptied my wallet at Le Labo and actually made a decent effort at it inside the velvet draped walls of Coco De Mer.

It took considerable effort to pull away, but there was one more item on our to-do list. Enter The Crobar, London's heavy metal bar and club. There were no live bands that Monday so we loaded up the jukebox, loaded up our mugs, and settled into the corner for a long, rainy night of rock music. Also we bought the coolest hoodies and t-shirts.

After happily reaching our saturation point at the Crobar, we wandered back to the hotel, but not before making one last unscheduled stop at King's Cross Station. Pro tip: You can stand in a 3-hour queue during the day to take two quick photos with the assistance of the Harry Potter shop staff. OR you can swing by at 10:00pm on a Monday night and have the entire place to yourself for as long as you like.