A different sort of Christmas

All week, I had been relying on Google Maps and the London rapid-transit system to get us everywhere.

Then, Christmas day arrived and the buses and the Underground ceased operations. We had read about the bike rental system in the UK. After an incredibly positive biking experience in Ljubljana, we were eager to see how the Brits did things.

Sadly, the experience was terrible. The rental price was a very reasonable two pounds per day. The problems were twofold: 1) You could rent the bike only in blocks of 30 minutes; 2) it was a challenge to find bike stations. The stations were abundant, but not that clearly marked. And the Google Maps app didn’t have proper integration of bike station locations.

We’d ride 10–15 minutes, D2 would spot a place, then we’d park the bikes. You had to wait five minutes between 30-minute rental blocks. So I used my phone to direct us to the next location.

We did this for a couple of hours, then got sick of the whole process.

Our only moment of exhilaration was a short run on the CS2, the Cycle Superhighway.

Our landlady later told us that the rental blocks used to be three hours, but that people used to nick the bikes. This is crazy, because you have to use a credit card to rent the bikes, and there is a real threat of being charged 300 pounds if you don’t return the bike.

We walked by the Italian Embassy.

We walked by … stores.

D2 wanted authentic fish and chips in an English pub. We wandered and wandered, and nothing was open.

I dragged us through Belgravia, looking for a particular place.

Closed.

We returned home wet and chastened.

What ended up being a great success was Uber. We had been warned that it would uber expensive (sorry) on Christmas Day, but nothing was further from the truth.

For under 18 pounds, we took Ubers to AND from Darbaar, a new Indian restaurant that was laudably written-up in Time Out London.

Chef Abdul Yaseen greeted us at the door, and we were quickly seated and presented with the abbreviated Christmas menu.

The spiced Prosecco aperatifs were delicious, if a bit sweet.

The Kerala crap soup (below-left) was excellent, as was the dessert. I was so eagerly destroying all the foot placed in front of me, that I forgot to photograph it.

D2 loved the Indian-inspired Christmas pudding (right).

We rode home full, and I chatted up Ibrahim, the Uber driver, about life in London vs. Afghanistan.

“London is beautiful,” he said, his beaming smile cutting through the darkness. “Here you can make something of yourself.”

I was informed by D2 that we had to return to Oxford Street on Boxing Day to partake of the sales.

The line outside Selfridges was crazy. Last year, 4,000 queued up to take advantage of 50+% off designer stuff.

The day before, we had walked through Selfridges’ watch section, and D2’s jaw dropped when she saw the prices. The prices were in pounds (of course), so that Rolex wasn’t $37,500, it was $55,400.

I was on a mission.

Everywhere I went, there were ads for e-cigarettes.

Don’t look back: Vaping technology might be gaining on you.

During our trip, I kept pointing out the surveillance cameras to D2. Per Wired, the UK has 5.9 million Closed-Circuit TV cameras watching everybody do everything.

Here D2 is star of Camera 7 on one of the double-deckers we rode.

Here I’m photographing myself in the monitor of the crappy pub where we had lunch before heading back to the airport.

I love London, but the surveillance sure was creepy.