Penny Lane & Liverpool Nightlife

Last Saturday, we joined a group of about 20 from Susan's class on a taxi Beatles tour. Of course it was cheesy, but it was good to see more of the city and socialize a bit with the others. When we started out, it seemed our taxi driver was obsessed with doors. The first place he took us was to the door of the place that used to be the consulate where John & Cynthia got married. That's about how he told it to us and we were all confused. None of us were big Beatles trivia buffs, so we didn't even realize John was married to a Cynthia. (Guess if I'd thought about it, I'd realize that was Julian Lennon's mom.) Then he took us to the Liverpool Institute of Art, where Paul went to school and now apparently he bought and owns the school. Again, our taxi guide took us to the doorway and seemed to make a big fuss about how it was "where Sir Paul walked into the school" -- I just never got that excited about doorways, myself.


Anyway, the tour got a bit better as it went on, but there were other oddities, like when they made us go inside the "barber shop" (now, more like a beauty salon) on Penny Lane to have a group photo while we held a Penny Lane sign up. Really, the photo could've been taken anywhere and it was hard to get 20 of us in the photo, considering it was so small. But, we now have photographic evidence of the event.


We also took a look at what used to be the bank on Penny Lane (which they also sing about in the song, sort of). The place has since become a surgeon's office. Our taxi driver couldn't understand why the group was getting all excited about a plaque on the wall. What he didn't realize is that the tour group was a bunch of doctors taking a course at the School of Tropical Medicine and the plaque had the name of one of the surgeons who had taken the same diploma course (as shown by the letters behind his name) that all these doctors are in. It was a geek-out moment for the doctors.

I think my favorite part of the tour is when we went to the church where John and Paul met (at the tender ages of 15 & 17!) and they had a picture of the yellow submarine that John drew when he was a kid. The story is that John and his friend David (who donated the picture) saw a beached whale when they were kids and apparently the whale was decaying and yellowed as a result. Hence, the inspiration for John's drawing shortly thereafter.



Saturday night we went to some clubs -- good lord, the place is hoppin' on weekends! We saw this guy, Joe Driscoll (from New York), perform. He was a one man-band with loop pedal an octave pedal and guitar -- he did beat boxing and rap type stuff -- I liked it for about the first three songs and then it got kinda old and gimicky. He did a cover medley of a Led Zeppelin song (No Quarter, I think it was?) and then went into "No Sleep Till Brooklyn" by the Beastie Boys. His guitar was out of tune and so it was kinda bad -- we left shortly thereafter... Anyway, people go out at night here -- there's an area where all the nightclubs are and there are millions of people everywhere! Quite different from the US, for sure. It was quite overwhelming, really. The girls all dress in next to nothing with stiletto heels and lots of sequins and glitter, and we were all bundled up in jackets and jeans feeling overdressed and under-dressed all at once, yet amused by the outlandish attire.

This weekend our plan is to go to Chester and see what there is to see there. We thought about going to Edinburgh, but transportation confusing and surprisingly expensive (yeah, we know, people warned us about that). Chester will be much simpler and cheap and something new, so hopefully we'll have a good time with that.

Liverpudlian

Everyone here talks like the Beatles. Or worse, at which point we just can't understand each other (sometimes, anyway). I stopped into a bike shop to inquire about cheap, student rate bikes (we're feeling poor due to weakness of the US dollar right now). The guy said the cheapest he had was for 90 quid, "the blue one over there." I said, "This one right here?" He said, "You call that white?" Nevermind. Note to self: Only Americans use the term "right" to mean something immediately near oneself.

Home Sweet Home

So, I've walked all over Liverpool -- well, round in circles, really. From home to the University (of Liverpool) to City Centre (downtown) and back again. My knees hurt from all that walking. And my shoulders, because I was carrying my backpack with my laptop in it to try to find some WiFi spots. There aren't many. Thankfully, I fixed the wireless in our homestay house. By moving it to a phone jack that actually works, as opposed to the former one which apparently didn't. Not so many tech geeks in Liverpool. It's an adjustment for me.


I haven't hit all the Beatles tour spots like Penny Lane or The Cavern. I figure I shouldn't blow my wad all at once. It's a cool city -- lots of bustling and whatnot. They're supposed to be the Cultural Centre of Europe in 2008, so there's lots of construction and cranes EVERYWHERE.

Liverpool: City of Cranes

There was some round the world yacht race that started here the first weekend we were here. On our second day here, we took a bus and found the bus detoured because of some women's cycle race in Sefton Park *just* before we were about to get off the bus. Then we kept going and going and then some nice people explained to us where we were (as if we knew anything on our second day). Thankfully, the good doctor remembered that Smithdown Road is where all the shops are where we're to go shopping because it's near our new home, so we got off near there and found our way back. So, that was fun.

Aye, we made it!

Hello world. We are in Liverpool now. Once we landed on solid British soil and we were in transit at the London Heathrow Airport from one terminal to another, I looked at my favorite Kiwi and said "We're in England!" Her response was: "well, we're still in transit." I didn't quite get it until we went through Immigration in Manchester. Yikes, it was a bit scary -- the Immigration Officer was a bit suspicious as to why I might want to spend three months on travel in England while my sweetie went to school the whole time. Finally, after much interrogation and a couple phone calls by the Immigration Officer, she let us through. I had forgotten about the queries about whether we have enough money to spend while in England, so I didn't bring a bunch of bank statements or anything. But it seems that by explaining that we are a couple trying to establish interdependence for possible Australian immigration, she was finally satisfied. Whew!

So, we caught our train from Manchester to Liverpool, then a cab to our new homestay near Sefton Park. At first, we were greeted by the neighbor, Barbara, who was cleaning and helping out our landlady, Brigitte, who was out on errands. We hoisted all our luggage up three flights of stairs to our charming pink bedroom. Shortly thereafter, Brigitte showed up and we were amused to meet the somewhat funky London native. She offered to take us in the car around town and show us the way to Liverpool University and Smithdowne Street, where all of our retail needs would be met. It was a lovely sunny day and we attempted to maintain as much information as we could in her whirlwhind tour of Liverpool in our jet-lagged states. As it turned out, Brigitte was planning to go away with her husband and two daughers (all of whom we met very briefly) for the weekend and leave us to the house by ourselves.