Tower of London

Had it not been included in my program, I probably would not have gone, which would have been a shame. The Tower of London was strangely beautiful, considering its past. The architecture was a hodgepodge of different eras and greenery. From the outside, I hadn't realized how big it was, let alone how much it housed.

We started with a tour from a Yeoman Warden, whose voice reminded me of my grandfather's (who was a Marine Drill Sargent in his younger days). He gave some insight into the history of the Tower, its prisoners, and its construction. He explained who died where, where they were buried, and who we were standing on top of (when we were in the chapel).

After that, we went to see the Crown Jewels. Luckily, the queue wasn't very long. First, they usher you by a couple of staged videos about coronation. Then, you get to a couple of cases of jewels and scepters and crowns, before they put you on a moving walkway to see the CROWN JEWELS, which were magnificent (if you're into sparkles). I have never seen so many glittery things one one object before. I feel like, if anyone actually wore one of those crowns in my presence, I would start laughing. I wouldn't be able to take them seriously with a literal pile of money sitting on their head. Best I never meet the Queen.

After that, we saw the armory, which was my favorite part. I have always been a fan of knights with armor and lances and swords. They had rows of ornate swords and royal suits of armor. They even had a dragon made of different plates of armor and weapons. Some of it seemed straight out of the show Merlin. I wanted to spend more time there, but everyone else wanted to see the torture chambers.

The ravens were hanging out by their cages, so we saw them from afar on our way to the torture chambers. The tiny underground area was disappointing. I was expecting more information about torture, given the Tower's reputation. Instead, there was a replica of the rack, used to stretch people to induce unbearable pain, and some shackles. There were a couple plaques about different forms of torture used. That was it though. We were in and out of there in about five minutes.

The Tower of London was a very educational experience, to say the least. I was intrigued enough by my visit to want to research more about medieval life when I got back to my dorm. It may have even inspired a new writing project, if I have time, even though I do not usually venture into historical fiction.

Practicing Subtext

The girl shifts restlessly in her seat at the two person table. She glances up from her menu occasionally at her boyfriend’s eyes, which are calmly fixed on his menu. She clears her throat, and he looks up at her.

“What are you going to order?” he asks.

“Hmm... “ She puts her menu down firmly, interlocks her fingers and leans on her elbows towards him. “I can’t decide. The fajitas sound good but they’re a bit pricey. For fajitas I mean.”

“Well, just order what you want.” He goes back to his menu.

She sits up straighter, fidgeting in her seat.

“I mean, maybe I’ll just get a burrito. It’s cheaper.”

He shrugs. “Get the fajitas if that’s what you want.”

“But I always get the burrito. It’s my go-to.”

He looks up over the menu to make eye contact with her. “Well you could mix things up.”

“But do I $10 want the fajitas?” She holds his eye contact.

“I’m paying. It’s fine,” he says offhandedly and goes back to looking at his menu.

“But do I $10 want them?” She stresses the $10 and sits up a bit more to stare at him over his menu.

“Well, I’m getting the mole.” He puts the menu down and holds her stare.

“But do you $12 want the mole?” Her head bobs a bit every stressed syllable.

“Yes. I think I do.” He looks up at the ceiling a moment.

She leans back in her chair a bit. “Well, I guess.”

He shrugs and looks at the table. “It’s just dinner. Get what you want.”

“I think I’ll get the burrito. It’s cheaper.”

“You sounded like you wanted the fajitas though.” He looks her in the eye.

“I did. But I don’t think I $10 want the fajitas. I $7 want the burrito.”

They are both holding each other’s gazes now.

He leans forward. “I told you not-“

“What I’m saying is I carefully considered my options and decided to hold back. Even if it is your money. I don’t want to take a gamble on a food I’m not sure I’ll like.”

She crosses her arms.

“Well as long as that’s what you want. But you may actually really like the fajitas.” He smiles, and his voice gets higher.

“But I’m not sure. And then it will be a waste.” Her voice is flat.

“But then you can just order something else. Or send it back.” His voice is lower again.

“Then that’s more money and effort put into something as simple as dinner.” She leans forward onto the table.

That was as far as I could get before they characters had to acknowledge what they were really talking about: the boyfriend had lost a lot of money betting on horses.

Borough Market

A young man and young woman wandered through the stalls of Borough Market, occasionally drawn in by something intriguing or a tempting smell. They held hands, and the girl kicked stones as she walked, her head down.

"Are you sure you want to be here?" the girl asked.

"I told you I did, Sarah," the young man said.

Sarah shrugged. "Well it just feels like I'm the one who decided everything this time, and it's our 2 year, so we should both have a say."

"I'm having fun, okay?" He smiled at her.

"But, Logan-"

"I swear."

She smiled back at him. "Okay."

The air was full of food smells exaggerated by the dampness left by the morning rain, and the aisles were flooded with people since it was a Sunday. Sarah had stopped kicking stones and started pulling Logan excitedly from one stall to another, particularly those with sweets or bread. They toasted to their anniversary with some champagne at one stall and tried some apple vinegar and bread at the next. They hardly noticed the crowd around them, too focused on the food and each other. They didn't let go of each other's hands once.

"Didn't your brother buy cheese for your mom's birthday from here?" Sarah asked as she pulled Logan to another cheese stand.

"I don't remember, but it smells good. Looks, samples, try some."

She popped a sample of some soft cheese in her mouth, froze where she stood, and started jumping up and down and hitting Logan. He tried to grab her arms to get her to stop but she flailed some more and pointed at the cheese.

"What?" Logan asked. "Why are you freaking out?"

It was creamy and a little bit smokey. Just the small sample made her mouth water. It wasn't too salty or dry. Perfect was the only way to describe it. She could picture eating it plain or with a bit of sourdough. Maybe some crackers. It left a smooth aftertaste in her mouth, making her want more.

"I want to marry this cheese."

"What?"

"Seriously, you have to try this."

He took a sample. "Oh my God."

"This cheese is my new Jesus."

"I would say that's going to far, but it's not."

They bought two bricks of it. They spent the rest of the afternoon trying breads and wines to find something that would perfectly compliment the cheese. Finally, they settled on some medium red wine.

"So eating this deliciousness and watching some Netflix for the rest of the day?" Logan asked.

"Oh absolutely," Sarah said.

"I was thinking maybe a Disney marathon?"

Sarah through her arms around Logan's neck and kissed him hard. She pulled away and smiled at him with her arms still around his neck. Since she was shorter than him, he held her up with one hand and tried not to drop their wine and cheese with the other.

"What? You like that idea?" he said and laughed.

"Well yeah," Sarah said, "I think I love you more than Jesus cheese."

Someday was Today

You know those dreams you have with your friends when you're little? The ones about living together and having your dream jobs and getting to hang out everyday and having your children be best friends. Or the ones about traveling the world together?

London was Zoe and I's dream. We don't know exactly when we first started our obsession, but it happened sometime around 8th grade. By then we had already been friends for two years, and we had recently discovered our favorite British Youtubers. At some point, while listening to these distant people talk about their distant lives, we separately decided we would go to London and jointly decided to be there together. It was just a dream though, along with our fantasies of holding a ball on our twenty-first birthdays (which are only 2 weeks apart) and our thorough escape plan for if we ever wanted to run away from home (we bought a tent and had the route planned on Google Maps).

Soon, I had become a fan of Doctor Who, Merlin, Sherlock and other BBC shows, and Zoe had started following even more British vloggers. We joked about the things we would do when were got to London, like somehow miraculously run into our favorite vloggers and actors (maybe even the Doctor himself). When Zoe moved into her new house at the end of high school, she got a huge map of the tube in her room. Last year, when we already knew I would be studying in London, she bought us matching leather bracelets. Mine said "Some Day", and hers said "In London".

When I signed up to study abroad in London, I urged Zoe to sign up through her university. It seemed our dream would come true, but Zoe had transferred to her third university by then, and she wasn't allowed to study abroad there yet. Just before I left, she came up with a solution: she used her savings to pay for her plane tickets and her parents agreed to pay for the rest of her travel expenses.

She would come for her Spring Break, which was last week. And she came. And our dream finally came true.

Honestly, picking her up from Heathrow was a bit of a daydream. I could hardly believe it was happening. But the rest of the week went by in a blur. She was sick when she got here, though recovering. We did all the usual touristy things, and walked until our feet swelled, and then walked a little more. We went to Paris, which was rainy and equally amazing and beautiful and breathtaking. When we got back from Paris, I was sick, too sick to go to class. We relaxed for two days so that I would be well enough to see one of our favorite Youtubers perform as Eponine in Les Mis on Friday night. Saturday we went on the Eye and walked around Westminster some more. We alternated between talking all night and immediately passing out.

Before I knew it, Sunday was here. We woke up and got ready. She packed her things and we headed to the airport. I joked that she could conveniently miss her flight and spend the rest of my time here with me. She wished.

But after hugging her goodbye and watching her walk to security, I got back on the tube and thought about all the people I missed from home. I have always been independent, and I have only recently ever experienced homesickness. I laid in my bed the rest of the day and watched movies, emotionally exhausted.

Zoe and I finally got to live our dream, and it made me realize (again) how much I miss home. Realizing our dream made me recognize that dreams are best dreamed with others, better experienced with others, and so is ordinary life. I had never been homesick before because I had always been experiencing life with those I loved most, and never gone for long.

Shoreditch and Hoxton

I rarely venture very far from my dorm unless I'm going to the tube or have directions to a specific restaurant (which tend to not end up existing). Today, however, a friend and I got to wander around Shoreditch and the area around my dorm, which was really interesting and fun!

We went on a street art tour that was very near my dorm last week, so we looked out for the street art we had seen that night as well as some new ones. It was nice to see some of the same things during the day, discover some new pieces, and see some by the same artists. We ended up popping into a couple shops and wandering through Pitfield Market. I bought a travel guide to Spain from 1826 with an old foldout map and everything in it. It was only 3 pounds! We also went in a couple of vintage shops near Brick Lane and some quirky gift shops.

On our way back towards my dorm, we stopped in a cafe called Danji Kitchen, which had like 15 kinds of tea. My friend had the Nirvana Blend, which was an herbal blend with spearmint in it, since she loves mint (which I'm not a fan of). I had the Cocoa Chai, because chai is clearly the best kind of tea. It tasted like the fandom tea I have at home that was inspired by the 10th Doctor (David Tennant). Best of all, it was only 1.80 for my own pot of tea.

After chatting and enjoying our tea, I walked her back to Old Street. She left, and I put some money on my extra Oyster Card for when Zoe gets here. Only 3 more days!

Scotland

This past weekend, I went to Scotland. It was beautiful and magical and everything right in the world. Seriously, I wanted to take the Highlands home with me.

We left from King's Cross at 9:30 for a 5 hour train ride. I ended up at a table with a group of 3 scientists (presumably) that were talking about their recent research. Of course, I was playing Harvest Moon on my 3DS until I knocked out on the table.

After dropping our bags off at the hostel, we went on a walking tour of Edinburgh. The city itself reminded me of one of the towns from Spice and Wolf. Something about the bridges of the streets and the Gothic architecture. It was beautiful though. Also very Harry Potter-y, which is, of course, because it inspired the novels. We saw the Elephant House Cafe, where JK Rowling wrote the books, and the grave stone of Thomas Ridle, who was just a normal dead dude until she borrowed his name. Edinburgh castle was stunning as well, and I couldn't believe it was built atop a volcano.

At the end of the tour, we ate at a pub called Maggie -Somethings-. I can't really remember the name. I know they called the lady it was named for Half Hangit Maggie because she was hanged in the old days and died, but apparently came back to life on the way to the cemetery. They decided since her punishment had been to be hanged, she had served it and lived so she was free to go. Weird. But the food was good. I had stovies, which is really just stew with sausage and vegetables. Then, we popped around some shops for souvenirs and things. After that, we checked into our rooms at the hostel and laid around for a while. Then we went to another pub, which was horribly boring except for the live music was good and my friend got hit on by multiple old men. Meanwhile, I enjoyed the music and quietly laughed to myself because the men wouldn't talk to me since my hair is so short. Seriously though, they bothered everyone but me. Can't complain.

The next day we took a bus up to the Highlands. On the way, we stopped at Stirling Castle. So. Many. Hilarious. Unicorns. The wind was awful though and it was raining. We stood on the wall to take pictures, but the weather was so overcast you could hardly see anything and we were constantly about to fall off the edge because of the wind. The pretty much encapsulates the day. The only other remarkable stop that day was a photo stop we made by these enormous and beautiful mountains. It may have been my favorite 15 minutes of the entire trip. The landscape was so breathtaking none of us minded that we were about to be swept up by a storm. All of the girls with long hair were in a frenzy to keep the hair out of their face for pictures. It was actually windier than Chicago, wind I've never experienced before. I've had Chicago wind lift my off my feet before, but that was because it came so strongly and suddenly and I was walking quite fast. This wind was a constant force, like someone leaning on you, and the rain came at you sideways. It was strong enough that, at one point, I leaned back on my heels and the wind kept me up for a whole minute.

That night we had this old Scottish guy telling us about how the clansmen lived and showed us how they would have dressed and how to put a kilt on. He actually got one kid to take his pants off for the kilt. Which was awkward. The whole thing was awkward really since the guy was really crude. But it was also really interesting so I guess there's a trade off.

We got to the hostel that night and had haggis, which was actually really good. Only one girl didn't like it, but that was because she kept thinking about what it was. After dinner, we played "Heads Up", which was super fun. I'd heard of it but never played before. The best was when everyone kept picking the music topic so we all were basically screaming the tunes of these songs. There were a couple old '80s songs that only I knew so I started yelling them and no one joined me. So I did that awkward slow fade out and sat down and everyone laughed.

Sunday was primarily our day to travel back to London. We stopped at Loch Ness for a bit first though. I didn't see Nessie (sad!), but I learned a bit about the lake, which is super creepy and deep and bleeehhh no thanks. It's crazy how we have no idea what's down there because it's a fissure in the earth's crust.

I talked with one of my new friends from the trip the entire way back to King's Cross. We actually have a lot more in common than we realized.

Hooray for new friends and new experiences!

I don't like beer apparently

Being under 21, I never really drank in the states. I mean, I also had the threat of being one of the 1% of people with an adverse reaction to certain depressants, presumably alcohol included, to deter me from drinking. Still, before I came to the UK two of my friends hung out with me for a night and agreed to make sure that I didn't go on a rampage if I got drunk. Turns out, I'm a pretty happy drunk, moody if anything, but not a rampaging monster.

With that background in mind, I went on a tour of the Fuller's Brewery on Wednesday. I made the mistake of wearing new leather shoes to walk around for 5 hours, so I was distracted by the blisters forming on my heels. The guide showed us around the brewery, explained the process of brewing, and cracked the occasional joke. At the end of tour, we were offered an open bar of all of their products for about an hour and a half.

Since I had only drank once previous to this, I had never had beer. All of my friends hate it for the most part, so they didn't have any to offer me during my one experience. Our guide started us with a bitter beer, which I mostly dumped out. He then worked his way up to stronger and sweeter ones. I found that I could stand the stronger ones more, but I still ended up dumping most of my glass each time.

Finally, I ended up settling with a glass of cider, which was dry and a bit sweet. I finally understood why my friends hated beer. It tastes like dirty water.

The view from the Cereal Killer

Dear Diary,

Today involved the usual rush of customers starting around 10 am. They clattered through the old door and dodged around the thrift shop tables and benches to gawk at the massive shelves of cereal. Most people opted for the American cereals and some coffee, and nearly all preferred a large bowl with a topping. Reese's and Lucky Charms were the crowd favorite this morning, and people swarmed downstairs to watch cartoons on the vintage televisions that lined the inner wall.

As the hours waned, the crowd died down. By about 7 pm, there were only a handful of people sitting around vintage cereal bowls with electric tea lights in them. The dim and flickering lights added a strangely somber mood to a product with such a nostalgic and childish attitude. There were no more cartoons playing and now black and white static added to the eerie feeling downstairs. Still, though the sun had set, the customers did not seem to notice. They shoved spoonfuls of cereal in their mouths happily, talking about their childhoods.

The Victorian Shopkeeper

The streets were boisterous that day. The Saturday crowds always brought in a ruckus, and I longed to be part of it. What a feeling it would be to wonder about the shops, change jingling in my pocket, like the more fortunate lads my age, fancying what a nice hat I had on and how I would like another. But no, there I was, stuck inside my tiny shop, hardly a soul in it, surrounded by porcelain dolls staring into empty space, fairy sized tea sets, and corduroy clothed bears. I leaned across my counter, sighing, fixing the circus figurines a little boy had knocked out of place earlier. The lion tamer was hitting the ring leader with his whip instead of the lions.

Through the front window, I saw a little girl, fair haired with sparkling green eyes, looking rather longingly up at one of the dolls. It was one I was questioned about often, but never able to sell. It had fair hair and dazzling green eyes, like the little girl, and a pink bonnet and dress. The quality of the doll was astounding, perhaps too good for a doll. It was imported from France, where the dress had been tailored by a well-known designer, who had commissioned the doll to be “worthy” of his work.

A tall man picked the girl up onto his shoulder and charged through the door. “How much for the one with the pink bonnet in the window?”

“No, Papa,” the girl said softly, “I don’t need it. I just said it was rather pretty. That’s all.”

“Nonsense!” her father said, “She looks just like you! You deserve pretty things, my dear.”

I cleared my throat. “Two pounds, sir.”

“For a doll?” the man said.

“Imported from France, sir, by the finest designers. It was specially--”

“For a doll.” The man repeated.

“Yes, sir.”

The little girl’s face was red. “Really, Papa, I don’t need it.”

“You’re last one broke didn't it?” He smiled, putting her down. “It was quite old. Let me get you a new one.”

He looked back at me. “Please, son, I can’t afford that. Who really can, for a toy? I've got one pound. I’m lucky to have that at all.”

That doll had been sitting in the shop window for months, and each time someone asked about it, they scoffed at the price. Though it was beautiful, it was just a toy. My father hated when I gave into people’s sob stories, but that wasn't what this man was doing. He was offering me what he had, not asking for pity. My father would probably scold me for it later, saying the right buyer would come eventually, but I figured it was making us no money sitting in the window.

“Fine. One pound.”

The little girl smile and tugged her father’s coat to be picked up. Once she was eye level with me, she said, “Oh, thank you, sir. This is the best gift.”

Her father handed over the money, and I got the doll out of the window and handed it to the little girl. She skipped down the street, holding her father’s hand and clutching the doll tightly.

A London Day

To do:

• Get cash
• Buy groceries
• Buy new shoes that ACTUALLY keep my feet dry
• Practice drawing human figures
• Read:
• The rest of Lady Audley's Secret
• 70 pages of Narrative homework
• The short stories for Creative Writing
• The next chapter for Translation Studies
• Perhaps next reading for Language and Gender
• Start the Translation Studies essay due next week
• Blog post
• MAYBE just maybe see a bit of the city

My day started at noon, which was actually before my alarm went off. I had been up until two looking at castles in Yorkshire. Why? Why not? A girl can dream. I pulled myself out of bed and got in the shower. Since it was my midweek day off, I decided to take an extra long, extra hot shower. When I got out, I indulged in myself with a bowl of cereal and an episode of Merlin.

When the episode was over, I washed my bowl and made myself some tea. That episode was so good though. And what goes better with tea than a BBC show? I started another episode.

And another after that.

And another.

Eventually, I realized it was about 4:00. I decided I need to be productive. I pulled out my sketch pad and drew one (terrible) muscular arm as I started another episode. When the episode ended, I looked down at my sketch pad. One (terrible) muscular arm flexed back at me. Well, I don't need to send the drawing until Friday, and I want to look at tutorials first. I'll finish this later. I pushed my sketchbook aside and started another episode of Merlin.

Around six, my stomach was past the point of growling and reaching the phase of aching. Finally, I conceded to go get cash and buy some noodles from Ned's Noodle Bar across the street, which I obviously ate while watching another episode of Merlin.

Sometime during this episode, Lucas messaged me that he was coming over at 7:30. He has the book that I need to read for class tomorrow anyway. I should just wait to do homework until he gets here.

So I watched one more episode of Merlin before Lucas arrived, which worked out because the next was a two part season finale.

Lucas and I lounged on our computers in my kitchen, watched funny Buzzfeed videos and attempted to productive. Eventually, I actually read the chapter for class, which turned out to be pretty interesting. I caved and got ice cream from Sainsbury's yet again.

I'm finally writing this, as the clock turns to midnight, concluding my incredibly uneventful day.

I'm abroad in LONDON, the city I've been dreaming of since age 12, but this is what I mustered the energy for today:

• Got cash
• Drew ONE (terrible) arm
• Read 12 pages for Narrative
• Wrote this pathetic blog post
• Rewatched almost all of season 3 of Merlin

I barely made it 10 yards from my door today. 12 year old me would be ashamed.

Setting

Kaffeine

The coffee shop was cramped with people sitting and chatting and others pushing by to order and leave. It was warm and smelled of roasted coffee beans, as a coffee shop should. Tucked back from the initial bustle by the door, a couple sat with empty cups.

“Are you hungry?” the woman asked.

“Maybe in about an hour,” her boyfriend said, shrugging, playing with his empty cup.

“Well then, where do you want to go?”

“I don’t care. You pick.”

“I picked last time. It’s your turn.” The woman crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat.

“Well, are you hungry?” The boyfriend leaned forward on his elbows.

“Maybe in a bit.”

“Then you aren’t yet. We’ll pick when we’re hungry.”

“By then we’ll be too hungry to pick!” She stuck her neck out as she spoke.

He sat up straighter. “What? No. By then we’ll know what we’re hungry for.”

“That’s what you always say, but then we end up arguing because we’re hungry and irritable.”

He laughed one short loud laugh, a sort of “HA”. “No, you’re too hungry and irritable. And then I pick something, and you don’t want it. So you may as well pick now.”

“But I picked last time!” The woman whined, sinking into her seat.

“Fine, then we’ll get pizza.”

“Okay.”

The woman looked around at the other people sipping coffee and eating little baked goods. Some were working on their computer, some meeting up with friends, some with their significant others.

“You’re making a face,” her boyfriend said, leaning again on his elbows.

“No, it’s your turn to pick. I’m fine with pizza.” She shrugged.

“If I order it and you don’t eat it, you’ll have wasted money. What do you want instead?”

“Pizza’s fine.”

“Okay.”

He returned to playing with his empty cup.

“Well maybe if we order bread sticks with it.”

“Fine.” He swirled is his cup with his finger.

“And a salad.”

“Alright then.” The cup swirled back and forth from the middle of the table to the edge.

“Maybe I’ll just get a meatball sub.”

“Then you won’t eat the pizza.” He stopped for a moment.

“Well, you can order a smaller pizza, and I’ll just have a piece.”

“Fine.” He swirled the cup again, closer to the edge.

“But then maybe I will be full.”

The cup swirled off the table, nearly crashing on the tile. The boyfriend lunged from his seat and caught the lip of it halfway to the ground. He put the cup firmly in the middle of the table and looked around. No one had noticed.

“Do you want to go to an Italian place?”

“That does sound nice.” The woman smiled.

“Fine.” The boyfriend rolled his eyes.

“What?”

“You’re impossible.” He stood up, motioning her to follow.

Bus 243

There was only one other person at the top of the bus when we got on near Old Street Station. We sat at the very front, so we could get a good view of the area from all sides. After a couple minutes, a handful of stops later, three men got on and sat next to and behind us, despite there being plenty of open seats. They boomed in a language I couldn't identify. Russian maybe? Polish?

The people came in waves, both outside and on the bus. The street would quiet a bit, and then, we would come upon a market or the main street of a neighborhood, and the sidewalks would be suddenly overflowing. Still, the bus became busier, regardless of the state of the street.

For the majority of our journey, we were the only ones speaking English. The languages shifted with the neighborhoods: Polish, Turkish, Arabic, African, etc. These ethnic areas tended to have older, more run down buildings, while the more generally "English" areas were in the middle of remodeling. Regardless, the farther we went, the older and more unkempt the area looked.

That is, until we got to Wood Green. Suddenly, modern towers cast their shadows over us, and sunlight glared off their new glass and into our eyes. The town center seemed to have previously industrial; the buildings looked like they may have formally been warehouses. Now, with the edition of office towers and newer storefronts, Wood Green was the picture of office and retail business.

And, of course, not wanting to take another hour to get home, we opted for the tube for our ride home.