Walking across the desert, I continue to ponder our upcoming trip to Europe. And then I think back to our first trip off of this rock, and our wonderful day in London on the end of that 2003 trip. I wrote to Christian, who was on missionary for our church at that time, the following letter:

All good things must come to an end, and our time in the native land, Wales, had to come to an end on Saturday morning. We awoke at 5:30 to shower and place things into our bags before heading back to London. It was drizzling as we headed down the golden staircase, past our bakery and restaurant one last time. I think that I would have cried, but I was too nervous about missing our bus. We had heard the on Saturdays, the bus from Laugharne to Carmarthen had a tendency to be late, so we were relieved when it showed up only a minute late. We were the only people on the bus as we headed into the dark to Carmarthen.

When we arrived in Carmarthen, we walked across the parking lot to wait for the bus that would take us to Swansea, where we would change buses for London. We had only about 3 pounds left, so I left your mother with the bags and went to look for an ATM. This was kind of a stupid move, I concluded, as it was dark, and I was in a strange city, and I would be carrying cash. But I really wanted some cash. So I found a bank, and it spit out the money–it’s an amazing world--and I headed back to where your mother was waiting. Nothing was amiss.

Shortly thereafter, a man in a bowler hat came over. He asked if this were the bus to Bristol. We explained that we did not know where the bus was going ultimately, because we were headed to London and had to change buses in Swansea. He said that must be the bus that went to Bristol, then. His conclusion did not necessarily follow to us, but oh well.

He then said that he wasn’t going to Bristol, but that his wife was. She was waiting in the car for the bus, but he just wanted to get out and talk. Man, could this guy talk. His wife probably kicked him out of the car so she could have a few minutes of peace. He was a farmer. He asked us when we were returning to the States. When we told him that we would be leaving the next day at about 2:30 p.m., he said that we would be flying over his farm about 2:48. I told him that we would wave.



He said that he had been to the United States on two occasions, the last time about 25 years ago. He had visited, of course, Florida. (Is there anyone in Wales who has been to anywhere in the States besides Florida?) It was 25 years ago that he was last in Florida, but had a wonderful time there. His wife was going to see her parents who lived in Bristol. Her parents were elderly and somewhat sickly. On and on he went. I listened with about half an ear. Strangely though, usually I don’t like the incessant talkers, but I really kind of liked this guy.

His wife wandered over and we were introduced. In a couple of minutes, the bus came, and we all boarded. I think that the wife wanted us to sit near her, but the seat around her were taken. We moved further back in the bus. We rode the hour to Swansea in relative silence, and exited the bus. She wished us a happy Christmas as we left. What a nice thought.

We found the line for the bus to London, and began our 30 minute wait. I went into the shopping center while your mother waited with our stuff. I was trying to find some breakfast foods and a newspaper. A drug store was open, and I bought a couple of odd ball things to eat and a paper, and headed back to your mother. Our bus was just coming up, and people, as they do in the UK, were ignoring the established line. For the first and only time, I saw someone get mad. “Look,” the guy taking our tickets said, “You are going to have to line up behind these people if you want to get on the bus.” He meant us. I felt vindicated.

I don’t know if it was because we were tired or because we had, in our short week’s time, become accustomed to Wales’ face, but the trip back into London was nowhere near as memorable as the trip from London to Wales. We sat and read the paper, and tried to sleep. The bus stopped at the same rest stop. We walked inside.

At that moment, I knew that we were back in civilization. There was a sign in front of the Burger King, announcing free refills of Diet Coke. I became teary and hugged the sign. Alas, we did not have time to take advantage of western culture’s greatest achievement–the free cola refill–as we had to get back on the bus. But I knew I could find one somewhere.

We arrived back in London at about 2:30. We picked up a cab, and headed to our hotel, The Marriott Park Lane. I thought that the Country Hall Hotel was nice. Amazingly, this hotel was even nicer. From our room, we could see all the world, or at least all the world traipsing through London that day, from our hotel room, which overlooked Hyde Park.

After checking in and getting comfortable, we decided to go walk the streets. I had seen the original Hard Rock Café when we were in London the Friday before, and knew that if any place would feed me endless diet Cokes, it would be this place. We asked the concierge where the place was, and he said that it was a five minute walk from the hotel.

We walked in the direction that he pointed. After about 10 minutes, we still had not arrived at the place. We had, though, passed many fine hotels and restaurants and car dealerships with beautiful cars. I reminded your mother that she had the prior Friday promised me that Astin-Martin in the showroom. She denied ever making any such promise, telling me that I was so tired on Friday that I must have dreamed the whole promise. In fact, I could not recall if she made the promise in a real dream or a “real” dream.

We were still walking about 20 minutes after leaving, and were about to give up on the trip. Finally, we saw someone with a Hard Rock bag, and asked them how much further. “About two blocks,” the person replied. For once in our experience, a Londoner was not lying about directions. We hit the place in a couple of minutes.

The upstairs of the place was a bar, where they were having a private party. The downstairs, however, was just the restaurant. We were seated within minutes, and our server arrived a couple of minutes later. “Diet Coke,” I moaned. “I have spent the last week in Wales, and I need a Diet Coke.” She seemed to understand. She was a Asian looking gal with an obvious American accent. We asked her where she was from. Florida, of course. There must be a cultural exchange program between the UK and Florida. Now I understand what culture one can obtain in the UK, but what culture does Florida have to exchange it with? She brought the drink, and then a bad hamburger and fries, and we ate, watching and singing along to the music videos being shown. I was once again a happy boy.

After eating, we exited the restaurant and went to the separate Hard Rock Café shop. We bought Kate a shirt and a shot glass, and picked up a shirt for you. You thus have another present in your box.

We wandered back to our room, pondering an eternal truth. Why does it take longer to go somewhere when you don’t know where you are going then it does when you where you are going? Even though we took the exact reverse path back to our hotel from the Hard Rock that we took from the hotel to the Hard Rock, we were back within 10 minutes. I think that your mother was part of the reason for the decrease in time, as she hustled me past the Astin-Martin dealership. As to the other reasons, I guess the answer lies in Einstein’s Theory of General Relativity.

Back in our room, we wrote you and Kate a short note on the hotel stationary, and looked around at our accumulated stuff. I decided that there was no way that we were going to make it home, even though we had picked up a Rugby bag in Wales. We needed one more small bag. We again headed to our friend, the conseigor. We bought a couple of stamps from him, and then asked where there was a place to pick up a back pack. He said that there was a shop right around the corner. Into the shop we went, and came out with a cheap backpack.

We decided to head to a movie that night. The theater was a few blocks over. Unfortunately, most of the films being shown that night were shows that had already played in the U.S., and had finally made it over to the UK. One movie, however, Love Actually, was a British made movie. We went to that one.




This is not, for at least one reason, a movie that Mormon missionaries should see. It has the of the least sexy nude scene in the history of the movies. That the scene was not sexy was intentional. Other than that, the movie was wonderful. In brief,--.no, there is no way to tell you about this movie in brief. Rather, it is the story of eight or nine couples who either get together or fall apart during the few weeks before Christmas.

The most poignant story in the movie was the story told about a middle aged husband and wife. The man, played by Alan Rickman, is the boss of a graphic design firm. His wife, played by Emma Thompson, is an upper class stay at home mom with a couple of kids. A few weeks prior to Christmas, she finds a wrapped package which she thinks is for her. We know that it is a necklace to be given to the man’s office girlfriend.

The woman is excited as she wonders what it could be, as for the past Christmases he has given her a scarf. A few days before Christmas, the man and the woman are wrapping presents for their kids. Joni Mitchell is playing in the background. He says to her that he can’t believe that she still listens to this rubbish. She tells him that Joni Mitchell taught her how to feel.

On Christmas Eve, the woman can’t wait to open the present, acting much as a little child. The present is not the necklace, but a compilation of Joni Mitchell songs. She realizes that he has given the other gift, the one that she found in his pocket, to someone else. She goes off to cry, and in the background, a new version of Joni Mitchell’s Both Sides Now plays.

The song is significant. If you have never heard it, its chorus is, “I’ve looked at love from both sides now, from give and take, and still somehow, It’s love’s illusions I recall, I really don’t know love at all.” Mitchell probably first wrote and recorded this song when she was in her early 20s. I don’t mean to demean your age, but I know very few people who in their early 20s can sing this song with conviction. They simply have not had the experiences, the heartache, the joy and the pain, to look at both sides. In Ms. Mitchell’s new cover, she sings with a deeper, richer more poignant voice. Now in her late 50s, you know that she can and does sing this song with conviction. It’s simply a wonderful scene and a wonderful song.

Shortly after this scene, the woman confronts the man, telling him, in Biblical fashion, a parable, and asking the man what he would do if this were him. He realizes as she tell the parable that she knows about his affair. He apologizes. She does not accept, but instead tells him that he has by this act of betrayal made a mockery of her life. It’s a painful moment, as you ponder how you have betrayed and made a mockery of the one that you have loved the most. She asks him what should she do. Before he can answer, her children come running up to her, and she turns away from him, and puts on a happy face for them.

At the end of the movie, we see the man getting off an airplane at the Heathrow airport. The woman and the children are waiting for him. After the man has hugged the children, he gives the woman a kiss on the cheek. The woman’s face is wan and puffy, and you know that she has spent sleepless, crying nights during his absence. He asks her, casually, but then again, not so casually, how she is doing. She says, in a fashion neither convincing to us nor to the man, that she is ok. She has decided that even though he has made a mockery of her life, she will continue to be with him, at least for the children. To do otherwise would have her make a mockery of her own life. The family heads home together, but you know that it will never be the same now that she has been exposed to both sides.

In the hands of a lesser actress, this story would have been awful–a soap opera. Emma Thompson is too good, too smart, of an actress to play it that way. It is instead poignant.

Other story lines are lighter, and some our downright amusing. Hugh Grant plays the prime minister who, after telling off the American President, does a little dance to the Pointer Sister’s Jump. Good stuff.

The movie house was also great. When we went to buy our tickets, we were asked if there was anyplace in the theater that we would like to sit. I said something like best available. Unlike American movie houses, then, in this theater, we had assigned seats, with an usher to lead you to the seat.

The movie let out at about nine. It was dark out on the street as we walked back to the hotel. Christmas lights covered the streets, making London, or this part of London, simply beautiful. I crossed against one light, looking the wrong way, of course. A couple of cars apparently nearly hit me. I did not see them. A couple of kids walking the other way were shaking their heads as they passed by your mother, who had wisely not followed me. “He’s Superman,” one of these guys said to the other.

We made it back to our room in time to watch the last show of The Big Read. Tonight was the night that they were going to name England’s most favorite book. The five finalists were Lord of the Rings, Pride and Prejudice, the Philip Pullman books, a Harry Potter book, and A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. The people voted. They voted for Lord of the Rings. The commentators tried to be nice, but simple could not be. They would have all picked from this five Pride and Prejudice.

Since coming back from our trip, I have been reading books off the 200 books on the Big Read list. I have purchased the Lord of the Rings book, but I can’t make it out of the first chapter. It is awful.

Thus ends our Saturday. But a final post note. We found one of our yearly Christmas songs Christmas song. It’s Otis Redding singing “White Christmas” as you have never heard White Christmas heard before. It was featured in “Love Actually,” and when I heard it, I knew it had to be part of the Larsen song Christmas list.

So I ponder this, and walk and walk. I have walked 584,913 steps in 48 days. I have walked 276 miles since I left my home in Alameda. I have 38 miles until Lovelock.