No, Really, I Am an American

The events of Wednesday the 29th of October 2008

I’ve just been a regular Londoner these past two days!

Much like yesterday, I decided to make the journey into London. Truth be told, I don’t mind it too much ‘cuz it only costs me £5 on the train. (I don’t think about the bus or the Tube too much ‘cuz I use my Oyster Card for both of those.) Also, I can kill you with my brain. I mean, also, I don’t go into the city THAT often so it costs me like five quid every three weeks or so.

I thought I was doing good on time, in fact, I made it to my destination with Tube transfers and everything round 11:15. I followed the flow of people ‘cuz most everyone was going to the same place. When I stepped out of the station, I once again kicked myself for not bringing me Da’s camera (I don’t have any batteries!). There’s this viewing spot right outside the station that looks on The Tower of London over the River Thames. ‘Twas very picturesque.

I wend my way down the path. There were plenty of tourists all going the same way, so I wasn’t too worried about not finding where I was supposed to go. I got to see the foundation of one of the original posterns that was uncovered while workers were building the Underground.

By the time I got to the ticketing area, I was wishing I had gotten there as early as I’d originally planned (9 AM or so) or that I had booked my tickets online. The line was crazy long! As much as I tried not to think it, I could help it — I added buying tickets to my list of things I’m not overly impressed with in England. Yes, I know I’m probably being crazy unreasonable, but if you had seen the line and how slowly it was moving, you mighta thought the same thing!

I did not voice any of these things; that’s what the people behind me were for. I didn’t know which was worse, having to queue up or having to be by American complainers. While I admit, I agreed with most of their points since it took nearly an hour to buy the tickets, I’m never one to voice these things. At least, not in an English-speaking country where most everyone around me can understand what I’m saying.

It cost £16. I decided that I would be damned if I didn’t get the most out of my money! It was by far the most expensive touristy thing I’d done.

One of the first things I looked at when I got past the gate was the moat. I got to stand in it. I didn’t get to stand in the one at Osaka-jo, so I took advantage of the fact that it was part of the tour. I read all the little signs about the moat, like how it used to be where all the human waste ended up and they decided that was just plain gross. They had it drained and refilled. And one of the people, I can’t remember who, decided they ought to make the most of the water and put pike into it to help feed the peoples.

Also in the moat was a trebuchet. There was a little crowd of children listening to one of the reenactors talking about it. (I was reminded of Doctor Kaboom! from the Renaissance Faire.) I tried to get in to listen as well, but there was quite a lot of people standing about so I couldn’t get close enough.

Once I left the moat, I returned to the main path into the Tower. My favorite part about the whole thing is the fact that it’s not a tower at all. At least, not in the sense that I was thinking. When I think “tower”, I think like Sears Tower or the Tower of High Sorcery. The Tower of London was more like how I picture Darry or one of the other lesser strongholds of Westeros (yes, I am referring to A Song of Ice and Fire…again).

I’ve been doing museum-y stuff lately, and lately I’ve been thinking I ought to get one of those audio tour things (this along with “I should have brought my camera”). And yet, I walked on past the lady hawking the audio tours. One of these times, I’ll actually get one. (And maybe bring my camera.)

The first thing I walked by was the Traitor’s Gate. I wish I could say that I took in its historicalness, but I really didn’t. There was a Yeoman Warders tour in front of it, so I moved on. I did go into the “Torture at the Tower” part. Everyone always thinks about the Rack; I didn’t even know about the Scavenger’s Daughter, which is essentially the opposite of the Rack.

For some reason, I thought this part of the tour would be more extensive ‘cuz for whenever I hear about the Tower of London, images of torture come to mind. Mostly ‘cuz of history and stuff; it was used as a prison and it does have a history of blood. Heck, there’s even a tower called The Bloody Tower.

That’s getting ahead of myself, though. Like I was saying, I thought this part of the tour would be more extensive, but it really wasn’t. I was impressed by the writings on the wall. They’ve preserved some of the etchings made by prisoners and they had plates next to most of them for the parts that were more difficult to read. They were mostly names, but some had messages. Of course, I can’t remember any of them verbatim, but they had religious context.

I went off to the White Tower next. I’d read about how they have suits of armor stored there and I thought perhaps they would have swords as well.

The first floor had muskets and flintlock pistols. When I rounded the corner, there were models of horses and the line of kings’ armor. One of the most prominent displays was that of John of Gaunt’s armor; he was apparently a giant of a man.

I was happy that the tour didn’t end there, as I’d originally thought. On the second floor, there were examples of weaponry from the Spanish artillery. There weren’t a lot of swords, but looking at the Spanish morningstar was still pretty cool.

Up the winding staircase again brought me through to the Chapel of St. John. This floor mostly contained information of the building of the White Tower. I wish I could say that I stuck around to read every single sign, but I decided to move on. I mean, I went to that particular tower to see medieval weaponry. I will say that one of the interesting things on this floor was the Norman toilet. And people think they were so uncivilized back then.

When I got to the next floor, there was a tour group going on. The lady was talking about the different suits of armor so I decided to attach myself to the group.

The first suit of armor belonged to Henry VIII. It was originally silvered, but due to poor preservation it had lost its veneer. It was, however, still intricately engraved. The entwined H and K were representative of the union between Henry and Katherine of Aragon. Also, both English and Aragon symbols were represented to further emphasize the union between the two countries.

The woman said that the armor was made for Henry when he was at the age of 24. Most people think of Henry differently which brought us to the next suit of armor. It was much broader and had a very distinct codpiece. This was the last suit of armor supposedly worn by Henry VIII for the last tournament he held. He did not ride in the tournament, but he did wear the armor for show.

We looked at the armor of Charles I. It was originally made for his elder brother Henry, but Henry had died by the time the armor arrived so it was given to Charles instead. The woman pointed out the painting on the wall as well, saying that the information describes Henry, but the face is actually that of Charles. “They recycled even then.”

The next suit of armor was also the heaviest. It belonged to William Somerset. This particular suit showed how the fashion of armor changed throughout the years; it was displayed with pantaloons.

An interesting suit of armor that belonged to James I was given to him by the Shogun of Japan. I couldn’t help but smile about that one; I didn’t even know that there had been relations between the two counties at that time.

I couldn’t help but think of The Tudors when we looked at the jousting lance that belonged to Charles Brandon, brother-in-law to Henry VIII. It looked heavy but it was actually not as heavy as one would think. As a tournament lance, it was made to shatter upon impact and most of the weight was at the handle.

That pretty much ended the tour of the suits of armor. I had to laugh when the woman said, “I hope you enjoyed your tour. If you did, my name is Theresa, if you didn’t my name is Barbara.” I found that incredibly amusing.

There was actually loads more that Theresa talked about, but that which I’ve written about were the ones I remembered the best.

I stuck around on that floor ‘cuz there were still lots of things to see and read about.

That pretty much ended my exploration of the White Tower. I’m not gonna lie, I really liked it. (Probably why I wrote so much about it.)

I had wandered around for about an hour or so. I saw a line for something just outside the White Tower’s entrance so I decided to jump in. It was quite a long queue, so whatever it was must be cool.

It was the line for the Crown Jewels. I didn’t really care to see them, but it was something listed on the Ten Things to Do at the Tower of London so I went on in.

Here’s the thing about the Crown Jewels…I really don’t think they’re the real deal. Sure they’ve got all the pretense of security and all, but to have the Imperial State Crown there? Isn’t that something you’d want to keep at like Buckingham Palace?

I did enjoy the video of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation. I wasn’t alive when it happened, so it was kinda cool to see.

After the Jewels, I went to the Bloody Tower. On my way there, I got to see two of the ravens. Again, I wished I had brought my camera ‘cuz one of the ravens was just chillin’ out on this fountain not at all bothered by the people taking pictures of him. I think it was a “him” ‘cuz he was bigger than the other one.

The Bloody Tower was just kind of there. I did think it was cool that it was renamed “bloody” after the Princes in the Tower. It was apparently originally the Garden Tower.

I took the tour of the Medieval Palace and South Wall Walk. There was lots to see. I can’t really remember it all ‘cuz all the Towers started to blend together. One of ‘em had a replica of a bedroom; one had examples of tools they used back then; the Salt Tower had more inscriptions from prisoners; and the Martin Tower had the old jewels and explanations of how the diamonds were cut.

That pretty much ended my day at the Tower of London. I spent around three hours wandering around the different places. I hadn’t eaten lunch yet, so that was my motivation to leave.

I didn’t really know where to go for food but I ended up finding Tower Place, which had quite a few different places to choose from.

I’ve been craving burgers lately, so it was rather convenient that I found Gourmet Burger Kitchen, and that it was practically empty when I got there! I ordered a classic burger, but it was still pretty frickin’ good! I usually have burgers plain, but the relish thing (essentially salsa) made it pretty tasty. And the fries, yes fries, were pretty good too. It cost about £10 for everything, but considering it was a fancier burger place than MacDonald’s, I was pretty happy.

It was definitely a good day in London. Even if I didn’t get to see the ghost of Anne Boleyn.

I’d resolved to do some more touristy stuff this week. In my head, the places wouldn’t be as crowded as they would be on the weekend, so I saved venturing into the city for the week.

The first place I put on my list was The National Gallery. I’d finally bought myself a Lonely Planet London so I had a pretty good idea of where I was going. Of course, I double checked it all online.

I was all kinds of proud of myself for not having to ask for directions once I got into Charing Cross. It was actually rather straightforward once you stepped out of the station. I just followed the signs and found my way.

As I’ve said in other posts regarding art, I have a preference for oil on canvas. My brain gets stuck on the idea that the artists are able to make it all look so freaking real. I kept staring at the ones that had shadows ‘cuz I couldn’t figure out how the artist painted them.

I only made it through about five rooms before I got hungry. I went in search of food then. The cafes that were listed on the map didn’t look particularly exciting, so I figured I would go out and come back in again.

The first place I stopped in at was a pub that had a rainbow flag in its window. I had to smile at that, and at the sign that said the pub primarily serves gay and lesbian customers so if anyone has a problem with it don’t bother crossing the threshold. Unfortunately for me, they didn’t serve any food. I considered staying for a cola, but then my stomach reminded me that I was in search of lunch. (I was damn proud of myself for going inside, though.)

Right next to the pub, there was this little cafe that served sandwiches. However, I didn’t notice that all the seats were full when I went inside. I’d have felt stupid leaving, so I went ahead and ordered anyway.

One thing I will say about this country, they sure as hell know their cheese. I freaking love cheddar cheese, and here I get the proper stuff! I had a cheese and tomato sammich with a Pepsi, all for the “low, low” price of £3! Hey, that was really cheap considering how much I’d have paid at the gallery cafe.

I was happy ‘cuz it just so happened that by the time my sandwich was done being made, a table opened up. One of the workers told me I could sit there and that’s just what I did. I didn’t even care that someone else sat down with me not long after I started eating.

I may not have a lot of self-confidence, but I’ve got to have something to be able to do all this kind of stuff on my own and not care that much, right?

I returned to the museum thereafter. I pretty much made a direct line back to where I’d left off with the 17th Century Dutch painters. After leaving the Netherlands, I found myself in Room 18. I didn’t quite catch which country I was in, but there was definitely one painting that I liked so much I wrote down the title: Allegory of Grammar, by La Hyre. (After googling the painter, I think I was in France.) I’m thinking of printing out the Latin phrase and putting it in my classroom.

Some of the paintings made me angry with myself for not finishing Ovid’s Metamorphoses since several of the stories in it were the inspiration for the paintings. I at least remembered reading the one of Io being turned into a heifer. I also thought it was funny that there were so many paintings titled “The Judgment of Paris” and “The Adoration of Kings”.

Not for the first time did I wish my dad was with me when I walked around the art gallery. Museums are one of the few things my dad and I still enjoy together.

I wish I could say that I was able to stay there until closing, but no lie, my brain was kind of out of it. Apparently, I can only take in so much art ‘cuz I started to just breeze through the Impressionists. It sounds bad to say, but I’m glad The National Gallery and The British Museum are both free ‘cuz then I feel like I can always come back at another time to catch all the things I missed the first time around.

Since I was so close to Foyle’s, and I knew it, I decided to buy a book. Much like doing touristy things, I’d also resolved to buy a book.

Again, I was proud of myself for navigating the area as well as I did. I mean, I’d only been there once, but I was able to retrace my steps from three weeks ago…and from a completely different starting point! (I’m thinking when I have more time, I’ll just spend a day wandering the West End.)

Knowing I have to teach A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Richard III this half of term, I decided to cave and buy the No Fear Shakespeare versions of them. I’m not going to pretend to be some great scholar and if I’m going to help my students, I figure I better have a good handle of the texts. Much to my delight, both copies were £4.50 — once again, I remind you that I have to think in GBP or else I’ll never buy anything! I also caved and finally bought a copy of Strunk & White’s The Elements of Style (Rich ought to be proud).

As for reading for fun, I decided on Ender’s Game, thus recommended to me last year by Rob. I usually don’t do straight-up sci-fi, but I didn’t mind Alfred Bester, and I thought it was time for something out of my element. But, because I have the incurable crazy, I was not satisfied with the copy they had at Foyle’s and thus, I bought the three other books, but not Ender’s Game. It became my mission thereafter to find a suitable copy. I tried three other bookstores (I was on the bookstore street after all), before I finding not one, but THREE copies at Blackwell.

Have I mentioned how much I like that street?

Since I was still out and about in London, I thought it would be good for me to get dinner in town as well. That was before I realized it was dinner rush and it started to rain. It was already cold to begin with, and I’d brilliantly left my Columbia jacket in America, so the rain really wasn’t helping. I was very happy to remember that I’d left my fold-up umbrella in my backpack, so I was at least somewhat dry. (My shoes, socks, and below the knees were not.)

I went back to Charing Cross Station only to discover that the fastest train to East Croydon Station from there wouldn’t be leaving for another hour. I remembered the last time I’d come out this way I had gone into Waterloo East. I saw signs pointing out the station, so I took a jaunt across the river to Waterloo East. (It wasn’t as close as I’d originally thought; ’twasn’t a horrible walk, but a cold one.) It turns out that I’d just been lucky the last time I was at those stations ‘cuz I had to make a journey to London Bridge instead. I could have walked it, but I opted to take a train and make a transfer instead.

It was still a great day despite the cold, wet end. I got to do touristy stuff AND bought books. Can it get any better than that?