As should be patently obvious, I am HERE!!! In ENGLAND!!! Two of the most important rules of writing are that you don’t write in all capitals (see previous sentence) or use exclamation points (see previous sentence again, and also my previous post.) But, considering that this is the attainment of a lifelong dream, I think both are perfectly allowable in this instance, and may indeed be used during this trip in the future. (Particularly if I meet the Queen or Edward Petherbridge. Unlikely, but I have hope.)
Well. Well, well, well. This may be an anecdotal rather than a linear post, so forgive me if I seem too scatterbrained. I’m suffering from jet lag and trying to put my jumbled thoughts together—coherently. Not an easy feat, old thing.
We’ve had a rudimentary lesson on the Tube—the Underground train system. We’ve walked through St. James’ Park. We’ve skipped around Trafalgar Square. We’ve oohed and ahhed and longingly stared at Buckingham Palace. We’ve been confounded by Big Ben.
(And, as a side note, I found a statue of George Washington in Trafalgar Square! Who knew! But according to one of my professors, Dr. Colón, the British have a statue for nearly everyone famous—even Americans, apparently!)
I’ve also been walking around London with a considerable frog in my throat—which is entertaining for everyone else, so that’s something.
It’s been so hard to take in all that we’ve seen and done, particularly because it’s so new, but here are some of my thoughts.
~The sky isn’t just grey, it’s piercingly grey.
~The people here (contrary to what we were told) actually seem to be friendly. Several have smiled at me, and a nice lady even said, “Sorry, darling,” when she was in my way. I think it’s because I look rather pitiful. There were also a few rather strange close-to-middle-aged-men who chose to strike up a conversation with us as we walked back to our hotel. We surmise that they wanted to invite us to go to the pub with them (as was the general import of their conversation,) had not Mr. Bob, Dr. Colón’s husband, intervened, by simply being there. (Thank you, Mr. Bob. We are indebted to you.) He asked if we were all right after the men left for their pub. I thought of all the indignities suffered in Malaysia, and said to myself, “Well, Englishmen—even half-drunk ones—aren’t that bad.”
~The spindliness of the buildings, the grandeur, the impressiveness—and London itself is so very cramped, and all the buildings so old, as if they had never not existed and would always exist.
~Fish and Chips in England: Yum.
~Belgian Dark Chocolate Torte: Yum.