Tuesday July 6, 2010
Tell me one thing. What’s the purpose of the changing of the guard and why does it still take place? Because it draws the tourist and the moolah of course! It takes place everyday, yet it is still mad crowded. Perhaps we didn’t stay long enough in the hot sun, but I don’t understand what all the hullabaloo was about. Each thing took forever to happen and no one could see what was going on inside the Buckingham gates unless you were pressed against the bars. After some fancy horses trotted by in the second round of lobsterbacks appearance, Alison and I gave up to catch communion at St. Paul’s Cathedral. On our way through St. James’s Park, we came upon a group of dressy people in what looked like a tour group. There were people in military camo gear, men in suits, and women in garden dresses and summer dress suits with large, matching summer hats. It was quite English!
We politely asked if we were too late for communion when we got to the front desk/ticket booth of St. Paul. They said of course not! And directed us to go through the main dome to join the other worshipers. Now we thought, the Eucharist is not meant for non-Catholics, it would probably have been more wrong to keep pretending to be Catholic by actually joining them. So we took advantage of our free entrance to wander around and admire the stunning architecture and gold leaves inlaid all around the interior instead. The dome’s height and magnificence was absolutely amazing. I could have sat underneath and admired it for an hour. We tried being further sleazeballs by hiking up to the dome for the view and to test the Whispering Gallery. But unfortunately, the lady who asked for tickets at the staircase up to the dome guarded the entrance like a hawk.
Instead, we took a light picnic in St. Paul’s garden. A lot of people were also enjoying the beautiful weather, especially office workers on their lunch breaks. St. Paul’s steps were actually crowded with people in suits eating sandwiches and soups, if Blair Waldorf were there, she would have totally been all over establishing some kind of hierarchy on those steps. Alison commented that she had never seen so many men in suits in her life concentrated in one area. She was quite right, many of the sights we’ve visited have been in or near the Bank and commerce area, where the sidewalk is constantly flooded with business attire. Hey, I don’t mind looking at an endless flood of handsome British men in suits and ties though…
I got my dose of touristy English history at the Tower of London. Listening to the Beefeater or formally the Yeoman Warder (prison guard) dramatically retell bloody tales to the tourist group, I thought back on the historical fiction books I read as a kid, my first English one being Elizabeth I: The Red Rose of the House of Tudor, England, 1544, the red golden-edged paged diary complete with dark red bookmark ribbon that was part of the Royal Diaries series. Do you remember those old books? The Beefeater was hilarious (telling us Americans, who constituted almost half of the group, that all this interesting history could have been ours if we had just paid our taxes) and had a flair for the dramatic, as he described in gory detail how nobles and royals alike were murdered secretly behind these very walls or publically executed up on Tower Hill, drawing loud gasps from those who were easily excitable, e.g.: Alison who cannot take grisly or scary stories.
One of the prison houses was open to the public; it had actually still been active as a prison for some gangsters who were accused of treason after the Second World War. Can you imagine such a historic site still being used for its purpose in such recent times? Yeoman Warders guarded the royal family’s political opponents (plus their families) in houses rather than Shawshank-like prison cells. Bored and claustrophobic prisoners carved their names and lines of poetry or lasting words into the stucco walls of their rooms. Now, the words are covered in glass for visitors to see. The Tower of London, on the other hand, was less exciting to see, since it was so ridiculously crowded with tourists, but it was cool to imagine how famous prisoners mysteriously died there through the years.
Alison was more interested in seeing the crown jewels, kept in the Jewel House of the Tower of London after Thomas Blood’s entertaining attempt at heisting the precious jewels valued at £100,000 then. The stream of tourists was directed into rooms where we walked by screens showing the coronation ceremonies and close ups to the crowns and the different famous jewels. It was quite a bizarre set up, since we didn’t actually see anything real for the first fifteen minutes. Then we came upon the fabulous jewels locked up tight in a display case with two conveyor belts on either side to move people along. I couldn’t believe the extravagance and the sizes of the glistening rocks inlaid in the crowns, tiaras, swords, and scepters; they had to have been costume! These crowns were worth so much but only used during coronation or other state ceremonies. I mean, the Scepter with the Cross contains the 530 carat Great Star of Africa (second largest in the world). Nbd.
After an afternoon stroll through scenic Hyde Park with its charming English gardens full of roses and bushes like the ones back home (the Princess Diana Memorial was both simple and inspirational; I can’t believe it’s been almost fourteen years), we ventured back to the London Bridge area to find an authentic English meal. We were determined to try English food despite of its obnoxious reputation. I ordered myself fish n’ chips and Alison ordered some sausages at a hip pub with a red underground eatery area. And contrary to our expectations, our meal was quite good! The fish was cooked just right, a little blander than I expected, I’ll have to admit, but good thing I like blander food. It wasn’t greasy, as people had warned me about. And my steak fries weren’t soggy (a common complaint). The only thing I found slightly disagreeable was the minty mushy peas, as much as I want my vegetables to leave me toothpaste-fresh aftertaste…
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