I think I have walked at least fifty miles in the last three days. Mon­day, I got good and thor­oughly lost try­ing to find my hos­tel, while lug­ging about fifty pounds of lug­gage. I was just about to col­lapse when it occurred to me to hail a cab. Yeah. Actu­ally, it didn’t so much occur to me as I saw some­one do it and the light­bulb went on over my head. Of course, I was about half a block from my hos­tel at that point. I tipped the cab­bie very nicely, I was so grate­ful for that fifty-foot ride.

The girls arrived late Mon­day night, and we had mid­night chicken korma and mut­ton tikka. I wasn’t hun­gry the next day when I got up, so I deferred break­fast and we left to head to the Tate for the Frida Kahlo exhibit. It took us awhile to get there — we had a lot of stops to make. We stopped at an inter­net cafe, stopped at a florist, stopped for live music, stopped to primp our hair, kept stop­ping. When we finally arrived at the Tate, I was blown away. It was won­der­ful. I will be padding this entry with details from my paper jour­nal (which I left at the hos­tel — this was a sur­prise inter­net visit) but after the Tate we went a lit­tle ways down the Thames to the National The­atre to see Henry IV Part II. Michael Gam­bon played Fal­staff, and was amazing.

More to come, just wanted to check in with a quick update. We’re tak­ing a sack of fresh figs to Hyde Park for some lazy lunching.