September 14, 2010

It was a rainy morning when our group took a coach back to London—a contrast to the clear afternoon when we arrived in Exeter. Only Catherine stayed back to sightsee the Devon countryside a bit more.

After a few pit stops and countless hours of silently observing the rain outside, napping, and reflecting on the past week of travel, our bus stopped at Heathrow, where Liz disembarked to catch her flight back home. With heavy hearts, we watched her leave.

Things were starting to get bittersweet. While Lisa, Aurora and Tahnee stayed back for a few more days to explore other parts of England, I’d catch my flight back home the following morning. The trip was coming to an end for me.

After some lunch at Victoria, the final coach station, the four of us took the tube to the Generator, a hostel that our friend Vasthy recommended. After lugging our group’s heavy luggage up the front steps and waiting in line to check in, we entered our hostel room. I’d rank it somewhere between our room in Exeter (the winner) and our room at the Clink (the loser). While the Generator room was small like our Clink room, we at least had a window that provided ventilation and a view of urban London rooftops. We were also surprised to find that it didn’t come with an attached bathroom, as we were sure we had reserved that type of room. At least the bathroom was almost right across from our room; the showers were down the hall.

We cleaned ourselves up and settled in for a bit, then headed out to cram in some last-minute touristy sightseeing. Took the tube to Piccadilly Circus, roamed around and took photos. Surrounded by other tourists and neon billboards, it was reminiscent of being in Times Square, with English architecture instead of looming skyscrapers.

From there, we walked to Trafalgar Square. On the way, we spotted a Texas Embassy (a restaurant), where Aurora the Texan posed for a pic, and a Philippines embassy (an actual embassy), which I took a picture of. When we got to Trafalgar Square, we did more roaming around and snapped a ton of photos. It was surreal, standing in the middle of all the roundabout, among all the beautiful architecture. There I go with the architecture, again.

We continued our journey on foot, walking along what must have been Whitehall Street. Along the way, we giggled at a sign above a theater that advertised a production called Confessions of a Dancewhore, which we interpreted as a Franz Ferdinand reference. We also passed 10 Downing Street, where the Prime Minister of the UK lives. Guards cheerfully congregated at the residence’s black iron gates.

As we walked along Whitehall, we caught glimpses of the London Eye, and with some help from a kind woman from the area, we headed toward the edge of the River Thames. There, we got a full view. And a full whiff. The Thames smelled like—and frankly looked like—sewage.

We weren’t up for paying to board the London Eye, so instead we did something much more priceless—took silly photos inside a red phone booth and in front of Big Ben, which was a few blocks away from us. Tahnee’s picture is the best, her back facing the camera as she spreads open her coat to “flash” the clock tower. Right when we’re taking the photo, a couple of local joggers pass us and laugh at the scene. Classic!

After a half-hour of standing around the otherwise deserted sidewalk taking photos, we walked toward Big Ben for a closer look. We also spotted Westminster Abbey right behind it.

At this point, we were getting hungry; it was dinner time. We took the tube back to Soho and had some delicious Portuguese/Mozambican-style peri-peri chicken at Nando’s. There, the restaurant happened to play a couple of Franz Ferdinand covers by (I believe) a Portuguese singer. (I wish I could find a link.) After dinner, we figured, since we were in the neighborhood, we might as well stop by Maison Berteaux again for more cake. Unfortunately, the shop was about to close, but I bought a slice of chocolate cake to bring back with me.

At this point, I was feeling extremely guilty because I felt like I was dragging everyone along, especially because Aurora’s boots didn’t fit right and were hurting one of her ankles. They were understanding, though, and wanted to be out and about because it was the last day I’d be with them.

Our final stop was Tower Bridge (nope, it’s not called “London Bridge,” you sillies). It was about 11pm when we got there and we were all super tired, but as soon as we caught sight of the Tower of London castle and Tower Bridge, we were ecstatic. The way the bridge was lit was beautiful. So were the city lights along the Thames.

We finally headed back to King’s Cross station. An Irish pub nearby was still open for another 15 minutes, so we squeezed in our pints of cider. I admit, I’m not a champ when it comes to chugging cider (or anything else). But I finished my pint right when the place was closing up shop, haha.

On the way back to the Generator, we stopped by a convenience shop and picked up rations. When we arrived, we sat in what little floor space we had in our hostel room and talked about the trip, music, and random stuff over cider and snacks, despite our tired, ill states. It felt right that this would be our final moment together as a group in England. Even writing this right now brings tears to my eyes.

September 15, 2010

Early the next morning, I quietly gathered my bags and left. I didn’t want to bother any of them from getting sleep, though in retrospect, I wish I had woken them up to at least say goodbye. I guess goodbyes are always hard.

I made my final walk to King’s Cross, caught my last tube ride, boarded the Gatwick Express and eventually made the long journey back home, on the other side of the globe. Though I wish I could have stayed longer, I’m extremely thankful that I got to experience so much in so little time, with such fun people, in such an incredible place.

Click on each thumbnail for a larger photo.

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The bus ride south to Teignmouth (“tin-muth”) was a mostly quiet one. Of course, the bus took the longer route, so what could have taken 30 minutes, took maybe 45 minutes or an hour, but we didn’t seem to mind much. We were all building up with excitement in visiting the small, historic, seaside town where Matt Bellamy, Chris Wolstenholme and Dominic Howard spent their youth. Lisa and Aurora thumb wrestled for a bit as we took photos of the rural cottages, fields and establishments that passed us by. Again, like the ride from London to Exeter, there were vast expanses of green hills and land. This time, the roads became narrower—it was hilarious how the bus managed to squeeze through some parts— and the ocean, always a welcome sight, eventually came into view.

Teignmouth Grand Pier

After taking some photos at the entrance, we dispersed into the pier’s arcade. Liz in particular was bent on finding key games that were highlighted in this BBC documentary of Muse and Teignmouth, “A Seaside Rendezvous.”

With Liz, we searched for Tuck Shop, the game that gave out the legendary “packet o’ sweets” (Refreshers) that’s mentioned in the video. After searching high and low for the game, we found it in the middle of the arcade. We also played a bit of Guitar Hero and laughed at a machine full of meerkat plushies.

Tuck Shop

It was brilliant because we were pretty much the only ones in there; it was so barren. In its heyday, Teignmouth was a lively resort town that catered to tourists from the city looking for a getaway. Now, the quiet town seems to have found a new tourist base of sorts.

Not. Muse. Again.

An exit behind the arcade led straight onto the pier, where rusty, ancient kiddie rides awaited. An old gentleman, who turned out to be the owner, let us ride on the tiny roller coaster at the very end of the pier. We deposited some loose change into a dated vending machine in exchange for a ride token, which we handed to the man. We squeezed into the tiny roller coaster cars and let ourselves go. It was like we were kids again.

Roller coaster fun times

As we were leaving the pier, we chatted with the pier’s owner out front. He was amazed at how far we had come to visit Teignmouth (among other things). He shared with us how Muse as boys would wreak havoc, running around and bumping into the arcade machines. He joked that they were still wreaking havoc. He gestured toward a patch of cement and explained how in preparation for Muse’s hometown concerts the year before, their crew accidentally disrupted the arcade’s power source when they jammed a tent pole into the ground right outside.

With the pier's owner. Photo from Aurora's camera.

From there, we walked along the shore for a little bit. The sand was very different from what I was used to: reddish brown and a greater presence of pebbles. Made sense, judging from The Ness’s red dirt slopes. We stood up on some remnants of poles in the red sand and photographed ourselves making kung-fu poses.

Everything about Teignmouth was different from home, of course—the architecture, like everywhere else there, was decidedly… English—but it was about this point in time, as we strolled along on the shore and took photos, when I couldn’t help but note the subtle similarities, like the presence of a headland (The Ness in Teignmouth; Lahilahi in Makaha), the small-town vibe and the sights and sounds of the ocean itself. It wasn’t exactly homesickness (I had only been gone a week), but more of a feeling of… peace.

The Ness

“The Den,” the field where Muse held their hometown concerts (not to mention where Matt and Dom supposedly became allies in youth), was in front of the pier. We sat on the steps and took everything in. I teared up as I saw a boy playing with his dog, which reminded me of Aslan back home; maybe I was wrong about being homesick. Somehow, Catherine thought I was tearing up about Muse (lol) and I brushed it off. It was amazing and was so thankful to visit the hometown of our favorite band, but surely not something to get too emotional about. I took a panoramic photo of the Den and we took some heroic group shots before wandering throughout the town’s center.

Hero shot at The Den

After some time wandering through the narrow streets, we stumbled upon The Ship Inn, where we proceeded for dinner and drinks. Here I had the best salmon dish ever, cooked just right. We noticed a framed photo near our table of Helen Kirk, Muse friend Tom Kirk‘s late sister. Her family set up the charity, Helen Foundation, which supports children’s aspirations in the arts.

As we wandered into the darkness, back to the bus stop, we watched as the biggest delivery truck tried to squeeze through the narrow streets of Teignmouth. We actually helped the driver move some cones out of his way so he could make a turn. It was too funny. Along the way, we found more things to laugh about, particularly street signs about “humping.” Being tourists, we took more photos around town and in red phone booths, until our bus back to Exeter arrived.

Our “seaside rendezvous” was coming to an end… and for me, so was the England trip. One more night.

Teignmouth gallery. Click each photo for a better view.

I woke up the next morning wonder where the hell the showers were. Aurora and I went downstairs and asked the guy at the front desk. He went up the stairs with us back toward our room and pushed open the door right next to our room. DUH. Plus I remember thinking it looked like some sort of fire escape door for some reason. It was early.

The showers were tiny—barely enough room to fit myself in! They had those water-saving knobs that you have to keep pressing in order for water to come out. I’ve seen these on sinks back home but didn’t know showers had them until we stayed at the Clink. And like the Clink, it was hot water only. Better than cold water only, though.

In front of a church in Exeter

We continued walking until we hit High Street, which quickly turned into Fore Street. There are so many little boutiques and eateries along this road. Near the bottom of the hill, we spotted McCoy’s Arcade, the small complex of shops where Mansons Guitar Shop is located. It’s the place where Matt Bellamy and Chris Wolstenholme of Muse get their guitars and related gear. And of course, as tourists, we had to pose for photos.

In front of Mansons Guitar Shop

Matt Bellamy's shattered M1D1 Mirror guitar

We entered the shop and marveled at all the merchandise and Muse-related displays in the store—notably the old Manson M1D1 Mirror guitar that Matt shattered a few years ago; Chris’s bass displayed high above Matt’s guitar; and a black M1D1 guitar like Matt’s in another display case.

Hugh Manson works on Matt Bellamy's Glitterati

It was past lunch time when we exited the shop and our tummies were growling. I don’t think we had breakfast that day, too. Fortunately, next door was the Real McCoy, a cute, retro-themed lunch spot/boutique that had only been open for a couple of weeks, according to the guy at the counter. The place only took cash, so Lisa and I ran off to find an ATM while the others ordered their food and got tables right outside.

The Real McCoy Cafe, Exeter

The search for an ATM proved to be more challenging than we thought. We popped into several little grocery shops and eateries to get directions and got a little distracted looking at food and merchandise along the way. We found random stuff to laugh at, like a shop sign that said, “Gay Dogs.” We eventually asked someone where the nearest ATM was and we were told to go up the hill. It was either a Lloyd’s or a Barclay’s ATM. We stood in line, got our cash and walked back down the hill to the Real McCoy.

Oklahoma

Aurora and Tahnee also talked about how they had gone back into the guitar shop and one of the workers told them how Matt Bellamy comes in the shop and plays random, brilliant riffs when he tools around with guitars in there, and how he’s seen Muse grow from the young, tiny local band they were, to where they are today.

Our food and tea arrived. I ordered a burger on ciabatta bread with chips. I think Lisa ordered a burger too? The food was SO good. Instead of boring lettuce, there were sprouts and spinach leaves in my burger. And the chips were seasoned perfectly and fried to a crisp.

While we were eating, we noticed the businesses inside the McCoy’s Arcade had some quirky names: “Hair Em Scare Em” was the salon; “No Guts No Glory” was a boutique. And let’s not forget about “Gay Dogs,” though that shop wasn’t in the arcade complex.

We left McCoy’s Arcade satiated with the Real McCoy’s delicious food and the treasured Mansons Guitar Shop visit. It was time to take on Teignmouth.

Exeter photo gallery. Click each one for a better view.

Next on our agenda was Exeter and Teignmouth, two towns in Devon county (western England). We thought it would be neat to check out the places where Muse spent their younger years. Sounds cheesy… but you don’t find yourself in England every day, and it was nice to check out places outside of the city for a few days.

The morning after the second Muse concert, we went to The Rocket to say goodbye to our other friends there. Tears were shed and hugs were exchanged. We didn’t want to leave, yet we were excited about the next phase of our trip.

We left at the last minute to catch the tube to Victoria station, where a bus would be taking us to Exeter, five hours away. Our coach was leaving the station at 12:30 and we were late. We were so stressed out about possibly missing the coach and trying to find the right station and the right bus, all while lugging our baggage around. In fact we were in such a hurry, that we didn’t realize we apparently breezed by our friend Kirsten! =( We finally found the coach and were lucky to find it was running late. This was when Lisa told us she saw Kirsten and we all felt really sad that we missed her. We got some food and beverages for the trip at the station and stood around, waiting for the boarding call.

After waiting for… a long time, we finally boarded the coach. It was a beautiful, scenic ride through the English countryside. Everything was so green and the expanse of land was breathtaking. Even got to see some sheep, cows and horses, grazing and roaming about in the fields.

The concerts had taken away Aurora’s voice, but she managed to tell us about the post-concert adventure she had with all the local Musers the night before. I remember her telling us she had gotten lost and thought of Jack the Ripper lol. I slept in spurts but got up a couple of times because I had to throw up again. >:( I blame the acidic orange juice.

Killing time on the bus while wearing Lisa's hat. Photo by Aurora.

Five hours later, we were finally in Exeter! We managed to find our way to the hostel we would be staying at for the next couple of nights; it was a 20-minute walk from the coach station. It was so different from being in London—it was quiet, we were no longer in a rush, and it wasn’t as humid. In fact, the air was cool and clean. It was a welcome change of pace.

We checked in at the front desk. The man there was extremely helpful and seemed a little surprised that a bunch of Americans and a Canadian would even stop to visit a small town like Exeter. Sometime later, we explained the whole Muse thing and everything made sense haha. “Didn’t they just play Wembley?” he asked (something like that).

The hostel, Globe Backpackers, was such an improvement from the last place we stayed at. Our room at The Clink had poor circulation, was on the basement floor, and was unbelievably small for six people to be staying in. Meanwhile, the dorm room at Globe was very spacious, on the second floor, and had a window for scenery and circulation! The sunlight streamed in from the window and we had so much more room to place our things and… move! I was actually compelled to write a positive review of the hostel on Trip Advisor after coming back home.

The sixth person in our dorm was fortunately not the Herp Factory, but a woman named Catherine. I think Liz knew her from the boards. After settling in for a little bit, we set out for dinner. The road forked and we took the left fork, but after walking for a few minutes, realized there were no restaurants in sight. Not much of anything, really, except trees and houses. We walked back to the hostel and asked the man at the front desk for some help. He made some recommendations and pointed us in the right direction. We took the right fork, which took us past some small businesses that were closed and an old church. We went to a local bar that wasn’t serving food anymore (it was late), so we walked across the street to Wetherspoon, a pub chain, kind of like The Rocket.

Wetherspoon on South Street, Exeter. Image from Westherspoon's website.

Inside Wetherspoon on South Street, Exeter. Image from Westherspoon's website.

On the way back to the hostel, we took some funny pictures next to an old church.

Goofing off outside a church in Exeter. Photo by Aurora.

When we got back to the hostel, we found our roommate Catherine there! We chatted for a little bit and learned that she had traveled from Australia and turned out to be very enthusiastic about Muse. We wanted to visit the Mansons Guitar Shop in town the following day, so we looked up directions online. It turned out to be walking distance from the hostel. We went to bed and rested up for the following day’s adventures in Exeter and Teignmouth.

Another round of Muse? Sure, why not…

Clink Postings

That morning, I walked throughout the kitchen and lobby looking for Amethyst. The kitchen was not only packed with people… it was packed with people wearing Muse shirts, engaging in conversations about Muse. Even the tiny bulletin board in the lobby was littered with Muse-related fliers, soliciting last-minute ticket trades.

Eventually, Amethyst and I found each other in the lobby and together with her friend and coworker, Isaac, walked to a small eatery near King’s Cross station. It wasn’t too far from the shop I sat in front of my first morning in London, keeping my nausea in check while listening to some locals in conversation. Amethyst and I had omelets, while Isaac had a more distinctive English breakfast that included beans and I think black pudding.

Brunch

We talked about our plans for the day as we dug into our brunch. Amethyst and Isaac were sightseeing in the afternoon but they had general admission tickets this time (they had reserved seats the night before). Since Lisa, Liz and I decided the night before that we would try to score unreserved seats so we could take photos and get a good view, I’d save the two of them seats with us.

We went back to the hostel after brunch to get ready and split ways. I think Liz, Lisa and I went to The Rocket with everybody but for only maybe an hour because we caught the tube together around 1pm-ish. It was still early but we wanted to make sure we got good seats since they were unreserved.

When we got to the Wembley Park station, there were notices advising passengers to buy their return tickets in advance since there would be a repeat of last night’s jampacked-ness. Lisa, who was still ticket-less (for the concert) at this point, went off to go find the person she got in contact with to buy one.

There were already a ton of people lined up on the giant ramps leading to the gate. They were lined up maybe 10 people wide. We quickly realized it was a Saturday so more people were able to queue longer, though it was pretty pointless if they were going for standing in the pitch, considering the size of the stage. We actually hoped they were all going for standing spots so we could have a chance at unreserved seats.

Liz and I sat/stood in line for about two-and-a-half hours, hoping Lisa would come back with a ticket. It was the longest two-and-a-half hours ever, and we had been in line for other shows much longer than that. In the meantime, we tolerated the security’s occasional re-sectioning and compacting the line—when they’d tell people to move forward every now and then. The sky was gloomy, the asphalt still damp from the earlier rain.

Finally, we were let in and the huge line started moving. Lisa still hadn’t come back and we were worried. We speed-walked to the closest unreserved section on the right side of the stage. We sat down in the second row—perfect view. We saved seats for Lisa, Amethyst and Isaac.

Lisa texted me shortly after we got our seats and said she wasn’t able to find the person she was looking for! Now we were anxious. It wouldn’t be the same without Chief with us! Lisa eventually met up with us; she ended up finding a ticket from someone else. Later, Amethyst and Isaac found us. We walked to the other side of the stadium and up the stairs to get some food. Along the way, Amethyst ran into some friends.

Jazz Hands?

Armed with fish and chips, we waited until it was time for the opening acts: I Am Arrows, White Lies and Biffy Clyro. We spotted and laughed at a random guy dancing to the music the stadium was broadcasting. He was busting out some MJ moves. We also caught our friends in the crowd raising their hands and wiggling their fingers. I think they were trying to get someone’s attention.

It was a lot of fun watching most of the stadium sing along to White Lies and Biffy. Between Biffy and Muse, a video about human trafficking set to “MK Ultra” in its entirety (and sponsored by MTV, of all things) played on the screens. I assumed this meant the band wouldn’t play “MK Ultra” but they later proved me wrong.

Then of course Muse came on. A staged protest opened the show into “Uprising” again. This might sound cheesy, but when the heavens opened and the rain came down right when the instrumental break started, it was quite magical. The timing was impeccable.

Skip to 4:53 for the rain/instrumental break

A few absolute delights that made this night better than the previous night: “Bliss,” “Citizen Erased,” “Ruled by Secrecy” and “MK Ultra.” Some would later say that night one was for the noobs and night two was for the diehards.

“Bliss”

It was also nice to have an unobstructed view this time. We were lucky to get the best of both worlds of concert viewing spread out between the two nights: I like being able to see the band on stage, but I also love the physical and visceral experience of being in the crowd.

“Knights of Cydonia,” the usual set closer, was our signal for us to make our way out of the stadium and beat the rush to the tube station. As we were walking to the gate, though, it just felt so wrong for us to leave prematurely, so we walked back to the top of the steps and watched Muse and the crowd put in their all in the final song. This was, after all, the last time we were seeing Muse in possibly a long time.

As soon as the last note resonated through the stadium, we turned back toward the gate and sped-walked/ran to the tube station. There were others who were doing the same. We weren’t stuck in the human traffic jam from the night before and made it to the station relatively smoothly. We journeyed back to our hostel room and went to sleep. It was three days of go, go, go, and we were spent. But it wasn’t over yet…