Today was the day that held the greatest anticipation for us in our tour of London. We had decided to visit the Tower of London and the British Museum, both some of the most historic and famous sites in London. Both also take several hours, so we knew we were in for a long day.
Of course, the day couldn’t start without going back to Emirates Stadium (home of Arsenal Football Club, for the uninformed). Yes, we’d already been there once. No, we hadn’t done all the sightseeing we wanted, or bought everything we planned.
So we caught the tube for the short ride to the stadium, and took a quick walking tour of the exterior of the stadium. After picking up a few more souvenirs, and getting a couple (dozen) pictures, we got back on the tube to head for central London.
Once there, we walked around the tower, saw some of the medieval weaponry set up in the walls, and headed in to the castle itself.
For some of you who might not be aware, the Tower of London isn’t really a tower at all. It’s a very large castle. Not one of those namby-pamby fantasy ones like at Neuschwanstein either. This was a proper Medieval castle, with dungeons, dual walls, portcullises, crenellations, and a moat. Admittedly, the moat wasn’t as impressive as it might have been, having been filled in part way and turned into a sunken grassy lawn, but the castle was still a serious defensive fortress.
Another indication that the Tower of London was a real castle, and not a mere palace, was that the castle is an entire complex, housing what was once a bustling village of several thousand people within its walls. In fact, the governor still lives there (complete with machine-gun equipped guards), as do many of the Yeoman of the Queen’s royal guard.
So, we headed into the castle. Directly upon entering the castle, we ran headlong into a Yeoman, who was preparing to start a guided tour of the castle. He immediately began shouting in his best parade-ground voice to gather around him, and feeling that disagreeing with him might be a bad idea, we did so.
The Yeoman proceeded to take us on one of the best tours I’ve ever been a part of. To become a Yeoman, you must have served for 22 years in the military of England, received a number of commendations and service medals (good conduct, etc.), and have achieved a certain rank (at least that of Sergeant Major). Apparently the job also requires good acting ability, as our Yeoman was a very talented and entertaining guide. He told us much of the history of the tower itself, how the moat had once been actually filled with water that was flushed by the Thames every day (bad idea; when tide is low, the moat merely becomes a muddy path), and how they fixed this by hiring an expensive Dutch consultant who said, “dig it deeper”. He also told us how this was an even worse idea, because now the river couldn’t completely flush the moat, and it was used by all 2,500 people as a sewer, as well as the dumping grounds for the local butchers. It was also apparently used as a play-pool for a pair of polar bears, because the king couldn’t figure out what to do with the animals after receiving them as a gift from another monarch. The bears didn’t last too long there (cholera), and neither did the deep moat, by English standards (a mere 500 years). It was filled in and turned into the grassy lawn mentioned earlier.
The guide also told us about the Tower’s history as a prison and execution area, which was not the Tower’s original purpose. Apparently the Tower wasn’t actually that great of a prison; 1 in 40 prisoners escaped from it. The first prisoner, in fact, escaped. He was an old bishop, who managed to get the guards drunk and use the ropes binding the wine casks to climb down the outside of the wall. We learned that a Scottish guy did actually enter the Tower through Traitors Gate (a water entrance, by the way), but spent less than a half hour there before being taken out to be executed at the commoner’s execution grounds elsewhere in London (insert several comments about the uncivilized nature of Scots; our guide was an Englishman through and through).
After the tour we decided to see the Crown Jewels. The jewels were lined up in cases and along side it people stood on a moving walkway to see them. Beside the walkway were descriptions of every jewel on display. Of course, most people just hop on the walkway and get a glimpse of the gems on their way by. I had to read every description for each display before hopping on. As I explained to Lib, “It has a bunch of cool stuff about the coronation ceremony and the significance of all the items. Otherwise they’re just pretty jewels.” This didn’t seem to move Lib much, however. Apparently she did just want to see the pretty jewels. After the jewels we saw all of the golden plates owned by royalty, not the most interesting stuff.
The last thing we saw before leaving the Tower of London was the Royal armory museum in the White Tower (the big famous building). This tower had originally been the royal quarters, and was where some of the original prisoners were held. Now it held a display of many of the kings’ armor, weapons, royal artillery, and statues of various kings and their horses. It also held a massive display on King Henry VIII (put together by the History Channel for some anniversary this year). This display was very flashy, and while it drew your eye, it was rather hard to read every single descriptor as is my normal practice, due to the lights in displays flashing on and off and then strobing brilliantly at you. The scrolling video displays, showing armor spinning in 3-D with statistics scrolling by like something from a Bond movie, also looked neat, but seemed out of place in this Medieval setting. Once again, it also made it hard to actually learn about the piece of armor, because you had to sit through the entire video to get the full story. The biggest problem with the whole display, of course, was that King Henry VIII wasn’t a particularly nice fellow, and it seemed a little out of place to have 3 entire levels of the building dedicated to him, with banners saying things like “Warrior, Sportsman, Monarch” everywhere. As our guide said, there were a couple of other things you could append to that list.
The most interesting thing we saw in the Henry VIII exhibit was a display on his armor and how it changed over his life. Apparently, Henry was a very avid sportsman, taking part in both Jousting and Foot combat games. As such he had many suits of armor made for him over the years. His first suit, at age 24, was that of a powerfully built, tall man. He was 6’1”, with broad shoulders and a slim waist. Over the years, the waist expanded in size, while the height slowly contracted. By the time he was 54, his armor looked like northing more than a metal beach ball with a few odd spiky bits. One thing that was consistent across all the suits, though, was the codpiece. Our guide had mentioned this disturbing part of the armor as well, calling it “one of the first experiments with psychological warfare.”
I thought it best to leave this historical part of this entry to Steven and take over from here. Also, the following incidents are still a point of agitation and I don’t want him to “edit history”. After our wonderful time exploring the Tower, Steven was a happy, happy traveler having read most display inscriptions and having soaked up all the tour guide had to offer. He was giddy with excitement and relished explaining in more detail things not covered in the tour. The next part of the story needs some explanation before I can continue. There were three things Steven wished to accomplish while in London: 1. Buy a raincoat 2. Eat at a proper hole-in-the-wall fish and chip shop 3. Purchase a pair of Wellies (rain boots) for me. Having now been in London for several days it was a severe disappointment that Steven had not been caught in a torrential downpour nor had he eaten any fish and chips. But low and behold directly outside of the Tower the greasy aroma of a true fish and chips shop hit our dear Steven. I had not thought I could have seen him more elated. He rushed over to the shop and bought two orders of fish and chips. After dousing our fish in the famous brown sauce and burying the chips in a mound of ketchup I found a perfect bench under a tree to alleviate our now roaring stomachs.
We each had a bite of fish and one chip before a pigeon decided to release it’s contents on both of our lunches and down Steven’s shirt. It put a bit of a dent in Steven’s perfect day and it probably didn’t help that I could hardly contain my giggles at the unfortunate events. The situation didn’t improve, no matter how hard I tried to explain that the giggles came out of disbelief. Steven was able to change and had resolved to go back for more fish and chips but I couldn’t get the sight of a pile of steaming pigeon-poo on the chips out of mind to be able to stomach the dish at that time. It figured that just when Steven had let off a bit of steam we passed a large poster, surrounded by people of the hippie persuasion, appealing to us to “help the birds”. We wandered around not in the best of spirits until we stumbled into the Borough Street Market. It, like our Cambridge B&B, was a mini oasis in a troubling day. The market was full of excellent smelly cheeses, breads, and sweets which instantly grasped Steven’s attention. We settled on a cheddar cheese, a loaf of crusty bread, chocolate cheesecake and chocolate mousse cake. We ate our meal in a courtyard outside of an old church. Our good moods had returned and with Steven’s poopy shirt stuffed on the side of my backpack we headed to Stamford Bridge, home of the Chelsea football club. Like traitors we walked into the official stadium shop with our Arsenal souvenirs tucked away in the backpack. Steven decided it was necessary to buy a jersey so he would have a shirt to wear. (Since the pigeon incident he had been wearing a thin running top). Since realizing that, given time, I would probably be converted to being a Chelsea fan by way of Steven’s fanatical explanations of the Chelsea team during the season, I too purchased a jersey. We took the tube back to central London and decided that while in London it would be necessary to see the new Harry Potter movie. On our way to the theatre we walked passed Trafalgar Square. In the square on the fourth plinth as a part of modern art an artist has decided to put a different person doing their occupation on the plinth every hour. This hour happened to be a photographer who had set a rope circle down below for people to step in to get their picture taken. Most did the typical stand and cheesy smile routine. Steven and I decided that after a rough experience with modern art two days before we would make the most of this experience. So we walked in the rope circle and did a dramatic movie star style smooch to the cheer of the crowds around us. We left our first public art performance and headed to the movie theatre. It was the most wonderful movie theatre imaginable. The screen was huge and had an actual curtain. We sat on the top level and had great seats. Two and half hours later we decided that although the movie wasn’t great it was a once in a lifetime experience. Beyond tired we headed to the subway to get to the B&B. It was packed full but we squeezed our way through. Noticing a rare empty door on the train I grabbed Steven’s arm and thought I was very clever having found a door that no one else was going through. Well the joke was on me as my shoes squished and went sliding through what had once been the contents of one’s stomach. Now I could empathize with Steven’s morning experience. This put me in a slightly grumpy (slightly???) mood the rest of the way. We made it back and snuck into the house so as not to wake anyone.

Signing off,
Stinky Shirt Steven and Libby the First

Travel question of the day: Which is worse getting you and your food pooed on by a pigeon or getting vomit on your shoes?

PJ, the owner of the bed and breakfast, is an Arsenal fan through and through. He is a carpenter and worked on the new stadium and the surrounding apartments. In the morning we had a lengthy conversation with us about the team. He is probably in his last 60s, and tears up when he talks about some of the famous players and his work on the stadium. Before we were able to get out of the door he wanted to discuss Arsenal and our stay in London in great detail. We would learn that we needed to schedule in an extra half hour for breakfast every day to discuss our day’s plan with PJ and Breda (his wife). The Emirates Stadium is only three stops from the bed and breakfast so we made that our first destination of the day. The stadium was glorious. It was built to create an atmosphere on game day and despite Steven’s loyalty to Chelsea, even he was excited to walk around. We spent a good hour at the stadium and also found out that tours were already booked for the next three days. Our next stop was Westminster Abbey. The abbey was very impressive, but was more of a royal memorial than a church. It actually felt cluttered due to the sheer number of royal tombs and memorials. It took away from the majesty and I couldn’t imagine worshipping there. Each royal figure was trying to outdo their predecessor’s tomb and the end result was more like a childish show of one-upmanship than anything.
We next headed to the Apollo Victoria theatre to attempt to get “day-of” cheap theatre tickets to see Wicked. I was more than excited and this was only augmented by the elaborate marquee posters outside of the theatre. Believe it or not, there were very cheap tickets available for that night’s show; however, there were also more expensive, much nicer seats available as well. And, well, we were in London at the heart of theatre district and who could pass up those seats? Certainly not me. Before Steven’s jaw had time to hit the floor the tickets were purchased and I had skipped out of the theatre.
We made our way to the outside of Buckingham Palace, and after seeing the admission charge decided that the outside was indeed very pretty. We grabbed some lunch from a convenient Japanese restaurant and headed to Green Park for a bit of a break.
Afterwards, we walked to the Tate Britain to view some historic works before our big theatre date. Being the thoughtful fiancé that I am I thought that perhaps Steven would rather experience modern artwork considering he had gotten his fill of historic works in Germany. The Tate Modern was on the other side of Thames and there happened to be a boat going there that left in two minutes time. With haste I led the way, barreling across the street and down the sidewalk to the boarding dock. At the site of the two tourists at full sprint the nice man at the dock held the boat until we arrived. We had a pleasant ride down the Thames and made it to the Tate Modern. Unfortunately, Steven was not impressed with the museum and honestly I was not either. I overheard one elderly woman say to her friend at one exhibit, “I think it’s like the emperor’s new clothes.” It was amusingly true. Steven’s breaking point in the museum came after reading the very cerebral artist statement accompanying a mirror hung on the gallery wall, mine came after seeing a trashed room with an artist statement that I did not bother to read. We made it through the museum in a record forty minutes making it to every floor while walking the stairs. Steven admittedly found a couple pieces he enjoyed. We got out of the museum and crossed another London landmark, the Millennium Bridge. Being attached to the Tate Modern, it too had a very new-age approach to its design. And, like the Tate Modern, Steven wasn’t too impressed with it either. We did get to experience our first London rain. Luckily I had purchased ponchos and an umbrella in Germany for our travels. In fact, at the time I had been very smug for saving money by getting an inexpensive, 1 euro poncho instead of a nice rain jacket. I eventually managed to get the trash-bag-like poncho over my head in an attempt to stay somewhat dry. It was Steven’s turn to be smug now, as he passed on the poncho while laughing at me and used the mini umbrella.
We made it to the Apollo Victoria and really enjoyed the musical. It was excellent. The set was the most amazing set we had ever seen, with moving gears and even an animatronic dragon built into the stage. The only distraction was the drop of water leaking from the ceiling onto the stage. The character that played the disabled sister was wheeled in chair directly under the drip. It seemed like more of a deliberate move than a normal stage position. When we were exiting the theatre the stairways had flooded and by the time we reached the door it was a downpour. We ran to our station and slightly damp made it back to our B&B rather late (12:00). It turns out that it rained more in the six hours that night than it had in months.
Signing off,
Soaking Steven and Lacking Proper Rain Coverage Libby
Traveling question of the day: Why is there a lack of raincoats for sale in a city that is notorious for rain?

After a nice breakfast with the Harris family, (Steven continued to sample English foods, discovering set honey) we discussed books and movies. Rhiannon lent Steven the autobiography of Stephen Fry and let him borrow a Harry Potter audio book, which is also narrated by Stephen Fry. We made it to the train station, said our goodbyes, and had a very hot ride to London. Arriving at King’s Cross Station, the first priority was finding platform 9 ¾. Seeing as we arrived on platform 9 we thought this would be an easy task. After wandering around a bit we decided to give up. We stopped walking to turn the other direction when we noticed a sign in front of us, “Lost? Are you looking for platform 9 ¾?” Apparently, others had done the same as us and probably in annoyance at the tourists’ need for directions someone at the station had posted the sign with detailed map on how to proceed around the corner. After a quick stop at the site and a photo we headed to the underground.
The owners of the bed and breakfast we would be staying at gave us excellent directions and for the first time on the trip we found the place in one try. The owners were very pleasant and instantly commented on our young age, which seems to be a typical remark when we check in. We have discovered that bed and breakfasts (called pensions in Germany) are the way to stay in Europe and UK. The rates are cheaper than a hotel and the accommodations and way better than at a hostel. The biggest benefit, however, comes from the interaction with the owners. The owners are always able to provide the best information for site seeing and traveling. They also provide a historical insight to the area and are very friendly. Breakfast is included with the stay and they put the US continental breakfast to shame. Besides the offering of cereals, breads, jams, and yogurts, the owners will cook up a full English breakfast if you wish. After dropping our bags we headed back into central London when The Hunger struck. I, in my zombie-like state, was of no use so I passed the handy Rick Steve’s guide off to Steven and he was able to decide and navigate us to our restaurant, The Opera House. It is a hidden restaurant on the second floor of a building, so it was not a touristy place but a typical English pub. After a delicious meal of meat pie and bangers and mash, Steven surprised me by ordering dessert, a raspberry sponge pudding. With The Hunger abated we set off to wander. We managed to walk past Big Ben, Admiralty Arch, Parliament, St. James Park, 10 Downing Street (kind of, it’s all blocked off now), Government ministries, and the Horse Guard. One of the highlights of Steven’s day was when we walked through Trafalgar square and saw all of the monuments there. Thinking I had recognized the historical figure on the top of the large and impressive column in the middle of the square, I asked Steven “Is that Napoleon?” Steven couldn’t hush me quickly enough, and after scoping out the area to make sure no one had heard my offensive remark about Lord Nelson, he went on to explain that this was possibly the worst place in the world to confuse the two men. Oops. We walked to Leicester Square to see the Harry Potter movie but it would be playing too late, so we had ice cream and decided we would need to come back. We made it back to the B&B for a little R&R.
Signing off,
Snoozing Steven and Lounging Lib