Happy Honeymooning Days 1 & 2: High Tea, a Cabaret, and the Natural History Museum

Sunday, March 23rd, 2025

4:18 PM

London, UK

The London itinerary.

Poor Kenny didn't sleep a single second on the red eye flight to London. I think I managed about 4 hours, in a middle seat, behind someone who had their seat all the way back for the majority of the flight despite my knees "accidentally" hitting the back of her chair.

For breakfast, Kenny got the frittata, and I got the English breakfast. Kenny looked down at his egg meal from British Airways and sighed.

"I guess it's pointless to ask if they have hot sauce," he lamented. I agreed, both with his conclusion and with his sentiment.

When we landed, Kenny took a look at the weather.

"61 degrees."

"Not bad," I replied.

"Looks like it's going to rain around 4 PM."

"Yep. Well. London."

"Wait -- why does it say 16 degrees? What?!"

"That's Celsius."

"Oh. You know I ain't never been nowhere. What's that in Fahrenheit?"

"...about 61 degrees."

We deplaned and got ourselves sorted. They don't stamp passports anymore, which was very sad, but we used an automated service, which was much faster and less of a hassle. I imagine since we need a visa on arrival to Tanzania that we will get a stamp there, but I'm bummed about not getting a UK stamp.

However, at the time, I was too tired to care too much about anything but efficiency.

"I know you said you wanted to take public transportation, but I really just want to order an Uber," a very exhausted Kenny told me.

"No. Trust me. It's more expensive and it's going to end up taking the same amount of time."

Kenny was unconvinced.

"Have you been somewhere with really good public transportation before? You'll see."

"I lived in San Francisco. They have the BART."

"Baby, that's not the same."

Kenny again remain convinced, but he did let me take the lead on this. And, sure enough, it ended up being 20 minutes shorter to take the Tube than to take a car.

When we arrived at the Blackfriars station, I was trying my best to follow the directions on Google Maps (honestly, what did we do before Google Maps?) while also enjoying the view of walking along the Thames. There were a lot of people out and about -- a nice Saturday afternoon in the center of London -- and people do not pay attention to their surroundings. I realized we were going the wrong way and Google Maps wanted us to go up some stairs, which was something I was trying desperately to avoid, considering we were carrying 2 weeks of stuff for 2 extremely different vacation locales. (I found out later we actually could have entered that way, which means not carrying our luggage up a bunch of stairs, but we survived, so it's fine.) 

But hey, we made it to the hotel, to our room, and even had an hour to relax before our first stop: Afternoon Tea at the Savoy.

Waterloo Bridge on our walk to the Savoy Hotel.

It was a 20 minute walk on what ended up being a very nice afternoon in London. I pointed out that the sun was out, which made Kenny snort (okay, it was still behind clouds, but you could kind of see the sun! It was sunny by London standards!). I also decided to wear little booties that were very cute but maybe less comfortable than what I should have worn. The walk was manageable, but I was very happy to sit down.

The Gallery at the Savoy (where we had tea) was, indeed, extremely fancy. It was to be expected. The Savoy has been serving Afternoon Tea since 1889 and is one of the oldest hotels in the world. Hotels in general, or at least as we know them today, really have their roots in the 18th and 19th centuries. The Savoy was originally a palace that housed the Earl of Richmond and his family, having been gifted to King Henry III's uncle back in the 1200s when that title was first created. The place has been burned down a few times -- in the Peasants' Revolt of 1381 and again in 1864 when it was acting as a hospital -- but after the 1864 fire, the property stayed empty for about 16 years until it was bought in 1880 as a theater for Gilbert and Sullivan operettas. Eventually, the new owner (Richard D'Oyly Carte) decided that he wanted to emulate the fancy hotels he saw in the east coast cities of the US and opened the Savoy Hotel in 1889.

136 years later, here we are. We each got a glass of champagne and, as people of Irish, Jewish, and African heritage, toasted to the empire that was once run out of this very city, whose elite often dined at this very spot.

(I believe the history we will see in London will be very different compared to the history we see in Zanzibar. Let's see if I win this bet.)

"To our honeymoon, and to us, as we celebrate on the graves of the colonizer empire who came before us."

The food was incredible (as it should be for the amount we spent), and actually pretty filling. For someone who doesn't usually love little sandwiches and pastries, Kenny very much enjoyed the meal. We each even had a scone, which is not a pastry I typically eat because (and here, I admit I am a snob) I don't like the way they are made in the US. They are hard and brittle and not very good. But the scone with the lemon cream custard at the Savoy? Perfection. 

The pastry tray. I'm sure the strawberry jam in the middle was delicious, but there was no time. Or stomach room.

I had the Vanilla Black tea, which would not have been my first choice but came highly recommended (and deservedly so), and Kenny had the Iron Buddha oolong tea, which he will definitely be looking for when we get back home.

Is it the typical date we're going to have? Absolutely not. The people next to us ate those little pastries with a knife and a fork and then talked about how they were going to the opera afterwards. 

But what a fun way to start our honeymoon.

Piccadilly Circle observes Ramadan.

From here, we decided to walk to dinner a little bit early. I had originally wanted to explore Westminster and see Big Ben and Westminster Abbey, but Kenny was very exhausted and already humoring me, so we decided to head straight to Brasserie Zedel and enjoy their bar instead.

The bar at Zedel was called the Bar Americain, and it was located right next to the brasserie, which was very convenient. It was an art deco style bar, very reminiscent of the 1920s and 1930s, and actually not an American-style bar at all (or, well, kind of, but also very European). In fact, the "American bar" was a trend across Europe in the early 20th century. Cocktails as we know them today were first being created in the 19th century in bars on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean, and, when Prohibition hit the states, bartenders decided to dip out of the US and continue their careers in cities like London or Paris, where they continued to experiment with cocktails. 

However, Kenny and I decided to forgo cocktails. Kenny ordered a scotch, and I ordered an Irish whiskey. I figured it was something I could sip on, because I'm not capable of chugging whiskey like that.

"Great choice," the waiter praised Kenny. Then he looked at my Bushmills request and continued, "yours, not so much."

"HA!" Kenny guffawed at me as the waiter walked away.

"Well, yes, I hope he liked your choice. You ordered a £50 drink."

"What?! I keep forgetting to convert!"

It actually ended up only being £30, which is definitely a steal.

This was another banger of a meal, which was mostly us just sharing appetizers and then an entree (still pretty full from a late tea). While there isn't a lot in the way of spices in English (or French) cuisine, Kenny seems to be extremely appreciative of how easy it is to find oysters. We also had a rabbit pate.

The Brasserie Zedel.

"I think I understand Elmer Fudd a bit better now," Kenny observed.

The final area in Zedel was Crazy Coqs, an intimate room that hosted Black Cat Cabaret. The MC arrived and began speaking in French, which I was pretty excited about. When a native English speaker speaks French, it tricks me into thinking I am fluent, because I am able to follow along. (It is only when a native French speaker starts speaking French that I am disabused of this ludicrous notion.) The MC then switched to English, noting that the Americans in the room must be relieved because they likely didn't even know what French was.

It was honestly a pretty delightful little show. The MC said they usually called their audience "beautiful people" rather than lords and ladies for 2 reasons -- (1) they themselves were nonbinary, and (2) because he didn't want to presume a notable lineage where there was none. After all, we are all commoners here. No Lord or Lady would dare step foot in this room.

It made me think that MCs of cabaret shows must always be nonbinary? I mean, the guy in Cabaret probably isn't, because that was not part of anyone's vocabulary in 1930s Berlin -- but, like, he was definitely fluid, I feel like.

There was also a comedienne who was extremely funny. She did an impression of Christina Aguilera singing Silent Night, and she told us that her boyfriend's present for her 40th birthday was to have all her friends take her aside one at a time and ask if she was eating enough because they were very concerned. She also told a story of when she was 7 years old and trying to sing in whatever England's version of a school talent show is (is it just a talent show?), and she decided to sing Lovely Ladies, which her teacher did not appreciate for some reason. Also, she said she was 7 years old in 1992, which makes no sense, because she's 40 now???? Like...... that means she was born in 1985? Four years before me? And she's 40? This math is... unacceptable.

Before she came on, the MC apologized for some technical difficulties, but he wasn't able to fix them. He said he would have to leave that to one of the heterosexuals, and then apologized again if that caused offense. 

Black Cat Cabaret.

We ended up leaving at intermission because Kenny fell asleep sitting up which watching the show, which was apparently alarming to him, but I just call that Wednesday. We did decide to take an Uber home, and I told him he could rest in the Uber and I would let him know when we returned, and then the next thing I knew, Kenny woke me up because we were at the hotel. 

"I'm useless," I apologized back in the room.
"I mean, I saw that coming a mile away," Kenny replied.

Kenny did like the show, found it funny, especially the comedian, and knew that, as a straight man, he might not be the target audience, but that was okay. And, well, as a straight man who works in tech, he was pretty specifically called out by the MC. I don't think he minded.

The view right outside our hotel.

We had a great night sleep and woke up late before taking the Tube to Buckingham Palace. We ate a Sunday Roast at a pub (The Phoenix on Palace St, not where I had planned but very convenient to our walking venture), where I had some incredible roast vegetables with a perfectly serviceable beef, and Kenny had fish and chips that were so good, he doesn't think he will be ordering them again in the US. I had an Irish coffee, because I am on vacation, and he had a "pint," because that's the thing to do here.

Sunday roast at the pub.

Looking around at the people in the pub, I asked Kenny a very important question.

"On this trip so far, have you ever looked at someone and thought wow, that is one British-looking motherfucker."

"YES."

"Like, their nationality could only be British."

"YES."

Kenny was a lot more awake today than yesterday.

From here, we walked around a bit. Kenny saw how close we were to the British Natural History Museum, and, since I hadn't planned much beyond "walk around Hyde Park" for today, asked if we could go. Well, of course we can go!

"So, now that I'm more awake, I can say that you were right," Kenny said as we left the pub.

"About?"

"Public transportation in European cities is really good. I really had no idea. Guess I had to experience it."

Huh. Maybe the BART is not comparable after all.

Kenny walking towards the Arc of Wellington before realizing I wasn't with him.

"Napoleon did it first," Kenny said about Wellington's arch. He was unimpressed.

Built in 2003, this was built as a memorial to all the Australian soldiers who fought and died for the UK throughout both world wars.

Today, in 2025, it is also a place where two guys decided it was an appropriate place to blast their EDM music.

We walked past Buckingham Palace first before making our way to Hyde Park. We talked about how nice it was to just walk and not have to think about work. We looked at some war memorials, and we took some photos and ambled along the Serpentine. I wanted to check out Harrod's, mostly because it's an institution and not because I actually wanted to buy anything.

Kenny on a bench at Hyde Park.

Harrod's has been around in some shape or form since 1834, but it has been in its current building since 1894. It's the biggest department store in Europe, and one of the biggest in the world, with 330 departments. 

Something I have forgotten about cities is that people don't pay attention to their surroundings at all. Frankly, the parents with children are the worst offenders. While walking into Harrod's, a woman with her preteen child stopped right in front of the door and looked literally through us to see if the rest of her group was coming. When we got to the second door, her kid opened the door for us and let us walk through. The 12-year-old was more spatially aware than their own mother (there was a beanie on and a big jacket, so I couldn't figure out gender, and I didn't want to spend too much time on this query). So, if you're wondering why everyone is so rude these days, it's because parents today are not interested in having manners, which means they are not capable of teaching them to their offspring.

With that red double decker and Harrod's in the background, Kenny really could be anywhere in the world.

While Harrod's is wild for its size and scope and luxury, there's nothing there that I can't find online, so it was a very quick trip. We made our way to the Natural History Museum, which is free, because in England, taxpayer money goes to education and the arts. When we got to the room with a huge dinosaur skeleton, Kenny grinned.

A fossil found by Mary Anning, a 19th century paleontologist.

We continued walking around, Kenny educating me on how difficult it is to preserve fossils and how impressive it is that this museum has so many, and that's proof that this museum is the best. I read about Mary Anning (fossil she found pictured above), whose work was so impressive that it would be discussed in the very same scientific societies that refused to allow her in based on gender.

"Can you imagine being one of those men in those societies that discussed her work but refused to let her join?" I asked Kenny.

"We might be seeing that kind of thing again very soon."

And then we laughed and we laughed. Because we are a nation in decline.

We also looked at the enormous Blue Whale and the various preserved mammals, and we enjoyed the outdoor area. He pulled me in close and told me that this was a great honeymoon. And all it took was a free trip to see dinosaur fossils.

Kenny and I walking around the gardens at the Natural History Museum.

And then, giddy at the prospect of getting back on the Tube, Kenny asked if we could go back to the hotel to see about a free upgrade they offered us and rest before dinner.

So here we are, back in the hotel. Dishoom for dinner tonight, since literally everyone I talked to recommended it, and then the British Museum tomorrow. What a time.