Good day, sunshine!

A sunny day in England? I better get out there and enjoy it. But first, a recap...

Yesterday, after finding out I will have to wait until Thursday for the "Blood and Tears" walking tour, I set out from the hostel with the vague idea of visiting the British Museum. After two blocks I had no idea where I was, and decided to wander the city instead. It turned out to be a good plan -- I wandered around Camden (the student neighborhood) and Bloomsbury, slowly making my way down to Oxford Street and Leicester Square. It was reassuringly familiar, thanks to years of hip films and mystery shows set here. Oxford Street was a nightmare of deranged student shoppers, although I might not have such scorn for them if my scholarship were, say, twice its current amount.

Leicester Square was full of gaudy, overpriced, overproduced muscials and plays -- fans of Mamma Mia will be happy to know the show is in its fifth year. Down the street from The Woman in White (how can there possibly be a need for more Andrew Lloyd Webber?) I found the Curzon Soho cinema, probably the hippest movie theater -- I will not spell it with an -re, not yet -- I have ever seen. There's a cafe on the first floor, and on the mezzanine level, a fairly swank bar, which was quite crowded with fashionable youth for a Monday evening. You mean it's cool to hang out at movie theaters again? Works for me! I grabbed a quick sandwich at the slightly cheaper Costa, a UK coffee chain, before I checked out the showtimes. If you ever go there, stick to the coffee. And another travel tip -- avoid shrimp when you're jetlagged and/or the only thing you've eaten on a given day is curry.

One of the films shown this week was the other liberal favorite of the summer, Super Size Me. Back in the States I had dealt with this movie the way I often do, by reading five or six reviews and opinion pieces about it, and then never bothering to see the actual film. I don't think I wasted my money, but the reviews/articles did just about cover it. Director/star Morgan Spurlock is fun to watch, especially when he's puking up quarter-pounders in a Mickey D's parking lot, but honestly I identified more with one of his doctors, the internist who clearly regards his patient as the kid who always has to show off. Several times the good doctor says some exasperated version or another of, "Just stop!" Oh, old man, did David just stop when he came up against Goliath? I wish he had -- then I'd never have to hear that analogy again.

When I came out of the theater, the sky was dark, and Leicester Square was full of bright young things about to dance the night away. Me? I headed back to the hostel, for an intimate evening with my spiffy striped comforter -- sorry, duvet -- sorry, counterpane -- and Steven Pinker's The Blank Slate. Woke up early this morning to catch the free breakfast (for those of you who have never stayed in a hostel, "free breakfast" means toast and/or cereal) and now I will embark on a day of museums. The best thing about sightseeing on your own is that nobody rolls their eyes at you when you say, "Let's check out the Percival David Foundation of Chinese Art!" Well, okay, I did just roll my eyes a little bit.