London: The Eternal City

I stepped off the train in Paddington Station and struggled through the pandemonium. Was it really more than 30 years since I had last been in London?

I bumped my suitcase along narrow crowded streets enveloped in the smells of restaurants, the sounds of British accents and the blaring of traffic. Everything seemed so compact, old and, well, grimy. The ubiquitous black taxis I remembered were now emblazoned with gaudy advertising. Double-decker buses rumbled past. I was excited.

After unpacking in a room barely larger than a closet at the Olympic Hotel, I strolled to Hyde Park. The Albert Memorial soared skyward like an over-decorated rocket whose carvings and elaborate wrought-iron-work still celebrate the halcyon days of the Victorian empire. Across the street the rotund Royal Albert Hall watched sedately.

I crossed Exhibition Road to the Victoria and Albert Museum and visited the Nehru Room to see an unusual and controversial exhibit: a model tiger eating a British soldier. A short walk took me to the cathedral-like Natural History Museum. An enormous dinosaur skeleton dominates the huge domed lobby.

Next morning, I took the tube to the Tower of London, the home of the British crown jewels. The ramparts gleamed in the sun as I imagined the many bloody executions in centuries past. I meandered across the colourful Tower Bridge. Up river, the London Eye, a giant Ferris wheel, turned slowly, an in-your-face modern landmark.

An amble westward along the Thames took me into the business section, where the crowded streets were full of people in natty suits. I went into the Guildhall and said hello to Gog and Magog, the mythical founders of Britain.

Another brief saunter carried me to Christopher Wren’s awe-inspiring St. Paul’s Cathedral. I planned to climb to the dome but, sadly, it was closed.

What a city! Simply too much to see! The tube transported me to a crowded Covent Garden where I savoured lunch at the White Lion pub. At Leicester Square many booths offered cut-rate tickets to the numerous West End theatres.

Then I found myself in the pigeon-infested Trafalgar Square with its towering statue of Nelson and bordered by the National Gallery and St. Martin-in-the-Field church. Soon after I arrived at one of my favourite places, the Horse Guards Parade on Whitehall. Sabres flashed and horses whinnied as the guard of bright-red-coated soldiers and horsemen changed.

At the Houses of Parliament I pushed through the heavy crowds and yellow-jacketed constables of a protest march. Big Ben chimed from above as I strode onto Westminster Bridge, which offers the best views of the splendid Gothic architecture of the parliament building.

The next two days flew by in a blur: Portobello Market on Saturday morning; the British Museum and the famous Elgin Marbles; Little Venice Canal, a peaceful quiet oasis lined with long, narrow houseboats; dinner at an Indian restaurant; Buckingham Palace.

Too soon it was over and I was at Paddington Station. As the train pulled out, I thought of how little London has changed. Perhaps it’s more polyglot, with more foreign accents, but just as exciting as always, bustling and bursting with history and culture. Only we people change, we revolve through this grand city in our brief lives. But London endures. London is eternal.

Plan Your Trip at: VisitLondon.com

Sydney, Australia: One hot town

I’ve always loved Sydney. My dearest and I flew in yesterday, pale from a Canadian winter, and were soon immersed in the sultry, humid, vibrancy of this iconic city.

We went for a long walk from our hotel at the south end of Hyde Park, passing Chinatown and wandering the crowded booths of Paddy’s Market. Next was Darling Harbour with its monorail and ultramodern shops and trendy restaurants lining the water front. Soon after we entered The Rocks, one of the first settled areas in Australia. The modern city transformed to small sandstone terrace houses, brightly painted and decorated with wrought iron. At the Lord Nelson, the oldest pub in Australia, we sipped chilled pints of Nelson’s Blood and Quayle Ale, the glasses slippery with beads of condensation.

Next was Circular Quay, the throbbing transportation heart of the city. Ferries skittered here and there under the elegant sails of the Opera House. The Sydney Harbour Bridge (aka the Coat Hanger) punctuated the skyline with tiny dots (humans who have shelled out $200 each!) climbing slowly up and over. Aboriginals with didgeridoos, mimes and fire eaters entertained the happy crowds. And right beside us, towering into the sky was the Queen Victoria, one of the biggest cruise ships I’ve ever seen.

The Botanical Gardens drew us, green, verdant and lush. Birds cawed and sang, the air was heavy and it felt as though we had descended into the Jurassic era. We wandered around Government House and its gardens, then headed south past the historic, sandstone Parliament House -- its flags flying at half mast for the victims of the devastating Victoria fires -- Sydney Hospital and the Barracks.

We ambled through Hyde Park with its glorious avenue of large Hills fig trees forming a cool, shady canopy. Nearing our hotel, we were forced to sit and rest our feet at the Crown Hotel while cradling a cool glass of Toohey’s New.