London. I am now on the independent leg of my journey; yesterday my trusty backpack, which I’ve named Beatrix, and I touched down in Stansted Airport to the jolly chimes of RyanAir. (Every time a plane lands, trumpets sound from the loudspeaker and a very Irish man announces, “You’ve arrived on another on time flight, by RyanAir!” Charming, thanks RyanAir.) Without too much confusion I found my hostel and settled in, then ventured out to the big city of London to get my bearings and see what I could before sunset.
Like a movie, the City of London unfolded before my eyes. Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, Houses of Parliament, Big Ben – places I’ve known about for years - all appeared as I walked around the streets and parks. The Tube, contrary to my first fears, is an incredibly efficient and easy mode of transport. With a day pass, I could waltz up to any Underground or Bus Station, figure out where I needed to go, and get there.
Being very much on my toes, since I am travelling alone, I’ve managed to avoid any possible mishaps. Like the weird guy on the street who stopped me to tell me how beautiful I was (yeah, right!) then asked me out for drinks, or the Underground Tube worker who did a bit more than simply answer my inquiry. Walking away is the greatest protection a woman has. Not to be alarmed, these incidents have been isolated. The city is well lit and well guarded; London is simply swarming with a Police Force. Speaking of the police, I should say something about the Changing of the Guard.
This afternoon, after a brief jaunt around Kensington Palace which was absolutely magical, I made my way to Buckingham Palace again, this time to see the famed British tradition. Unfortunately, my place in the crowd didn’t offer the best view – but I certainly could see well enough to appreciate the pomp and circumstance. Handsome in their bright red coats and rather funny in their bearskin caps, the guards moved with such precision and importance. No wonder people from all over the world were chattering excitedly about the spectacle, bobbing and weaving their cameras trying to get a perfect shot. Of course, crowds are always difficult to manage and, boy, do the palace guards have a mess to contend with!
You’d think if a very large English guy bearing a gun (though, to be fair, probably not loaded) was demanding that you get off the railing or move along, people would listen. I’m sorry to say, I’ve lost a bit of faith in my fellow man. Tourist after tourist would pause at the open gate, obviously a security breach, to snap a photograph. “Move along, please! This is a walkway, do not stop!” security officials would belt to the crowds. Nothing. Stuck like rocks in their ignorance, fellow tourists had to be literally herded along by portly women and muscular men. Honestly!
Since I mentioned Kensington, I should return to that idea. Kensington Palace was the childhood home to Queen Victoria and, more recently, residence of Princess Diana. They’ve done something very clever with the place, decorating the inside to look like an “Enchanted Palace.” Although a bit too surreal in some rooms, most of the exhibit was enchanting and added to the mystery of history. I walked up staircases and sat on benches which Queen Victoria, my girl, walked and sat upon. What a treat! My parents had no idea what they’d predisposed me to by naming me ‘Victoria’, bless them.
Before heading to Kent to visit a friend from St Andrews, I stopped in Westminster Abbey. Sadly, photographs were not allowed but I did manage to find a few really good postcards with some amazing angles of the Abbey. I think I was most amazed to actually see the spot where kings and queens have been crowned for ages, where weddings and funerals have been held, and the final resting place of those monarchs. Queen Elizabeth I, Queen Mary, and Mary Queen of Scots are all buried beneath the high Gothic vaulted ceilings. Being a medieval cathedral, of course, many of the points of interest were centuries old and in such, what I thought to be, amazing shape. Another great little feature about my visit to Westminster Abbey was that Jeremy Irons recorded the audio tour. Not five minutes after listening to one of the most soothing, gravely vocal tones on the face of the planet – I realized that ‘Scar’ from the Lion King had been speaking! I totally had a great time, especially with Jeremy guiding me around.
Finally, about my wee trip to Kent. A very good friend of mine from St Andrews lives in this charming little town in the lovely county of Kent. The English countryside is now in close competition with the Highlands for stealing my heart away. We saw a stately home, which interestingly was taken by King Henry VIII from Cardinal Wolsey but eventually returned by Elizabeth I to the current owner’s family – the Sacksville-West’s, and saw a whole herd of deer on the grounds. So different from the States, I think we’d all have a heart attack if one person privately owned all that land! I had time to catch up with my friend, swapping stories about our Easter holidays, and enjoy dinner with her family – a fantastically British lot. I was so grateful to not only see the countryside again, but also to be welcomed into a home.
Now I’m on a train back to London, where I will probably catch the Tube back to my hostel. Tomorrow I’m thinking about popping into the National Gallery for a bit before heading to Jane Austen’s House in Hampshire for a wee day trip, then hanging out with another St Andrews friend tomorrow night. What a blessing! Cheers, and thanks for reading!
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