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The London Adventures: Day IV: Walking and Other Forms of Torture

I like to think that the London trip was the furthest thing from a tourist trip that the French teachers could have possibly created. Sure we all wore backpacks, spoke in almost only French, had cameras plastered to our nose, and visited the tourist sites like the other typical tourists. But we also spent a lot of time just wandering through London in the way I might expect a regular Londoner to have walked around. On the morning of the fourth day, Madame Baard gave took us on a 6 hour walking tour through the lesser known sites of London. We visited the Somerset House, the Courts of Justice, Twinnings Tea Shop, the Bank of England, Leandenhall Market, and the Financial District. AT the Courts of Justice, we leanred about why British judges and lawyers continue that seemingly silly tradition of wearing elabortate costumes during a trial. It makes perfect sense to me now. Law is something that has been set, a precedent if you will. Just as these costumes have been worn for hundreds of years, so to has the law. Plus the costumes signify a sort of respect people should have for the law givers of the country. Leadenhall Market is the place where they filmed Diagon Alley for the Harry Potter movies. The old market is colorful and bustling with life, with expensive foods for the business men that parade around in worry about the impending world financial state. To me walking around London, riding the Tube, seeing the sites and learning about the magical history of the old city, and I can see where JK Rowling captured her inspiration for the boy wizard series. She did not make anything up, she based everything on something British and something here in London. The Ministry of Magic, for example, if exactly how the British government works. Diagon Alley is truly Leadenhall Market. After the hours of walking, the group was grateful when the teachers discovered a small park to sit and eat lunch in. I myself was exhausted, and my legs were throbbing. I quickly realized that my lunch was disgusting and that I would not be eating it, so I snuck off to a local cafe and bought an extra large Vanilla Latte. When everyone was done eating, the teachers announced that the group was to be touring the world-famous Tower of London, a world heritage site on the banks of the Thames river. It is a historic monument in central often identified with the White Tower, the original stark square fortress built by William the Conqueror in 1078. However, the tower as a whole is a complex of several buildings set within two concentric rings of defensive walls and a moat. The tower's primary function was a fortress, a royal palace, and a prison (particularly for high status and royal prisoners, such as the Princes in the Tower and the future Queen Elizabeth I. This last use has led to the phrase "sent to the Tower" (meaning "imprisoned"). It has also served as a place of execution and torture, an armoury, a treasury, a zoo, the Royal Mint, a public records office, an observatory, and since 1303, the home of the Crown Jewels of the United Kingdom. With just over two hours of free time, Morgane and I latched onto a tour of the Chapel and the torture chamber. I listened as the Beefeater (the nickname for the British tourguides of the castle) explained how people were brutally tortured, and how words, such as password, were created by guards having to pass the new word through the gates to get into the castle. In the Chapel, the Beefeater told us that they had discovered over 1500 unidentified bodies underneath the floor. He also showed us the very spot where Lady Jane Grey and Ann Boleyn and many others were executed by order of the monarchy of England. He also told us the story of how Edward III became king, when his nephews suddenly disappeared from within the tower's wall one ominous evening. Being the incredible history dork that I am, I absorbed every word he spoke, and enthusiastically asked him over 10 questions about the mysterious murder and myths regarding the castles. "Well you are a bloody curious one, now aren't you? You sure you are American? Most of your people could give a shit about our history," he said. He was very honest, telling the group that the Tower was haunted by the ghosts of the many that had been tortured and murdered at the Tower. He also told some cruel French jokes that involved surrenders made by the French, without realizng that Morgane was getting offended. When the tour was over, Morgane and I went out and did some person discovery ourselves. First we took some pictures with the Queen's guards, then toured the WHite Castle, and finally made our way over to the ROyal family Jewels. The jewels belong not to the royal family but to all the people of England, so they are free to view. Besides the fact that they are not FAKE... they are incredible! Gleaming, shiney, and EXPENSIVE. If diaminds are a girl's best friend, then I totally understand why everyone wants to marry into the royal family. With our time to explore finished, the group reassembled in front of the Tower and then headed across the great London TOwer bridge. SInce the Olympics are going to be in London in 2012, the bridge is being repaired and renonvated. I was disappointed to see that the bridge was half covered in plaster, but then I realized something. They do not want the bridge to become like London Bridge... falling down falling down my fair lady... so they had to fix it up. Haha. It was cool to across the spectacular bridge, and when we got to the other side, we turned around and walked back to where we started from. The teachers had booked for us a mini-cruise on the Thames for the evening. But as we waited for the boat, we began to realize that it was not going to show up. In crisis mode, Madame Baard ran around the river looking for another company to take us on a mini-cruise throughout London. She found one boat that agreed to take us to Westminster, where we would be able to find a restaurant and then walk back to youth hostel. London at night is just as incredible at night as it is during the day. The whole city lights up in a beautiful array of colors. Big Ben shones bright, and the London Eye is a green circle in the far distance. it is a breathtaking experience to London at night. Alas, the boat docked and set us off in Westminster, where we walked for an hour looking for a restaurant. FInally we found some questionable cheap place. The food was not so bad. I had a delicious Toffee dessert as well. Except during the meal, Heloise and I both got an onion lodged in our throats at the same time, and nearly wrestled to get to the bathroom first. When we got out of the bathroom, breathing heavily but still alive, we found that the entire restaurant was roaring in laughter at our stupidity. Everywhere I go, stupid things just seem to happen to me...

The London Adventures: Day V- Epilogue: Mocha Frappucino in Paradise

Picture this: You are standing in the city of London, England. Around your shoulder is slung a *fake* TokiDoki designer bag,which you only paid 15 pounds for and are already in love with. Now as if you are not lucky enough to be surrounded by an incredibly gorgeous and historically fascinating city, you are also carrying in your hand, you most favorite drink in the entire world, a Mocha Frappucino from Starbucks. Now, I like to think of myself as an eternal optomist. There are truly a lot of things that make me happy, and I can seemingly discover enjoyment in everywhere that I go. But as I stood in the ritzy quarter of Soho, in Greater London, slurping down a Mocha Frappucino, basking in the warmer autumn weather, and surrounded by a city that I have so quickly fallen in love with, it hit me. Life is great. And me? I am really just a Mocha Frappucino in Paradise. Not quite a Cheeseburger, like good old Jimmy Buffit, and most Americans who travel abroad, but I am something else. There is a lot to be said to conclude my journal entry on the London Adventure. I do not really feel like going into a detailed account of all the happenings of the fifth and final day in London, like I have done for almost all of the other days. So instead, I am just going to rant a little about everything I did not mention before. When I was in Japan, I used to to get upset when people refused to believe that I was not Japanese. What I mean is, they would only speak English with me, or would treat me like a stupid foreigner. It is quite the opposite here in France, but more importantly, here in London. I think I must have said, "I am not French!" at leat 20 times a day to make sure that the good people of London, and the rest of the world knew that I was not one of those obnoxious characters I was traveling around London with. Yeah- my classmates were truly that bad. Now I think the latest poll says something about the French being the rudest tourists in the world. I realize that since I actually am an American, I probably should not say anything about the French, since American tourists really are not that much better. But... the French are pretty bad. Even though the French always complain that the British come to Paris and speak only English, it is not like my fellow classmates made much of an effort to speak English in London. The funny thing is that they were on a trip designed to enhance their understanding of the English language. Oh and do not even get me started about waiting in line and being French. Those are two things that can not physically happen at the same time. I felt the need to apoligize for the rudeness of my classmates on a few occasions. At one time, the large British woman who had been pushed out of the way for a better site of Big Ben, replied, "Oh deary, don't you worry. The French are always this way." I could not help but burst into laughter. But I think the winning quote for the fundmental differences between the British and te French goes to Madame Pomarat, "The French, we are proud of having killed our King. The British, on the other hand, do not want to be reminded of killing Charles I." As I said before, it was a school trip with the Lycee English class. I traveled to London with 19 French students, and two French teachers, that teach English and History. Even on that first day, a British customs officer correctly identified the situation as he stamped my passport and observed my disheveled look. "The odd one out," he said the describe me, the only American in the group. But that was not the only thing that made me the odd one out. I was also the most non-rude, most fascinated and open to England, most intrigued by the history of London, and most ready to jump into any new situation that was thrown at me. I found myself eternally lost while being amongst the group, because I am not French, though I was often mistaken for being French as I was traveling with a French tour group. But I am also not British, though I can speak English and made effort to communicate with the Brits. Yet everyone, my teachers and the various British people I met, remarked how I am not exactly American either because I do not act, look, or think like an American. Throughout the whole journey, I experienced something, in which I refer to as, "the second sense of a stranger." I could speak the language, but could not fully communicate with my fellow classmates or England. And yet, there we were. Tired, no exhausted. Hungry, no starving. We barely made the train, because the Eurostar company was working in repairs in the Chunnel because of the recent fires. They changed the schedule, and our group had not been informed. In addition, one of the French customs officers decided to be a real jerk and threaten to not let me back in France. Thanks for the welcome home reminder. This is until Madame Baard swooped in and saved the day, barely getting us on the train with 5 seconds to spare. Heading home. Home to France that is. I have really yet to decide where I want to call home or even where I should call home. Is home the place you were born, or is that place where you love and where you have family? It did not matter because at that moment, as the Eurostar entered the Chunnel TUnnel, Madame Baard said, "Okay class, catch one last glance of England." "Nope," I said, "because I intend to be back here again, hopefully sooner than latter, but I will be back."