Intervening Obstacles: Finally a business day here in England. By now, I am in a semi-panic because I have a plane ticket to India from London, but no Indian visa. Yes, I knew I needed a visa before I left the States, but the instructions on the Internet seemed far too complicated and I just didn’t have time to deal with it all. Today’s mission: get that visa. It took me most of the day, and now I must wait for at least 7 days and maybe 15. That means I have no US Passport for the duration and am confined to the UK. Still, there’s lots I haven’t seen here.
If you want to know the details (if not: stop), here goes. I was going to find the Indian Embassy, but then I thought that India must have a tourism office in London. I found it right off New Bond Street. Not very helpful, but they gave me the information I needed, which amounted to nothing more than an Internet URL. There I needed to fill out a form and print it out. Under the BT Tower I found a small shop with printer-capable computers in the back room (run by Indians from Africa, Uganda to be specific). The form required lots of information and even questioned whether my parents (names required) were married. With four pages in hand, I found my way to the nameless office near Victoria Station where it was to be submitted. Without the printouts the guard at the entrance would not have let me in. Upstairs I went, took a number (like the DMV in Virginia), and waited just a bit until called. I explained I was an American in London on my way to India. The woman let out something half way between a gasp and a groan: minimum of 10-15 days. Fine, I said, I am not leaving until the 19th. Maybe longer she said. But, we went to work. First thing she did was insist I had to have an address in India where I was staying. Why would I make a reservation if I didn’t have a visa? asked I. She seemed to get it and finally gave me the name of a hotel in Delhi to put in the blank on the form. Second thing she did was rip my picture off the form (I always travel with spare passport pictures) because the measurements were incorrect (didn’t I read the instructions?). At least they had a carnival-style photobooth in the room and 4L later I had two visa pictures. Third thing she said, after some more give and take, was: $66L. I really wanted to pay cash, but was not expecting it to be that much and came up short. I gave her my trusty American credit card, and problems ensued. Europeans use a new chip technology which [anachronistic] American banks won’t have any part of. On the fourth try on a different machine, the transaction finally went through. Off I went with a receipt, a code, and a directive: check on the Internet in seven days and see if your passport is ready to pick up. Fifteen minutes before the office closed (at 2:30 pm), I departed. Mission: not accomplished but on the way.
The Houses of Parliament: The day had been wasted, but the sun was still shining. ‘Southbank’ popped into my head and I found a bus that took me to Lambeth Bridge across the Thames. The bridge was perfect for pictures of Parliament, Big Ben, and the London Eye, the Ferris wheel that has become another icon of London.
The Garden Museum: On the south bank of the river stood an old church, St. Mary’s, that had been turned into a Garden Museum in the 1970s. Its parish had emptied and so had its pews. There was nothing to do but close it down and replace it with much-needed parking. Fortunately, that didn’t happen. The church was saved thanks to two of its famous parishioners from the 1600s: John Tradescant and his son John Tradescant. They were the premier plant hunters of the era, forerunners of our own John Bartram in the US. Their lives inspired a 20th century idea: starting a garden museum that would be England’s first and now one of the jewels of small museums in London. The churchyard has been turned into a garden (surviving and resurrected tombs incorporated into it), small but fresh and sunny. Inside the church (interior remodeled in 2007), there were some museum-quality garden tools, some local historical artifacts, educational space, a café, and a shop. One of the new stained glass windows had been given over to a history of the English Garden. I saw a “thumb jug” with holes in the bottom that was probably the forerunner of the sprinkling can. About the other tools, I have this to say: they look a lot like the ones we use today. By the way, next door is Lambeth Palace, residence of the Archbishop of Canterbury.
Geographically yours,
D. J. Z.
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