Touristy Travels

As a visitor of London, there are just certain things that need to be seen. We played our part as the typical American tourists by visiting some of the London sites, and, given my interest in history, I was obviously thrilled. Actually, I was quite excited after I got some sustenance. Thank you to my handy Italian sandwich shop!

Next to my dorm is a truly authentic Italian bistro -- and most likely cafe, although I was too eager to read that far down the menu. Hoards of Italian friends and family always fill up the small joint. I think of them as props, adding to the whole experience. Served on freshly baked breads, Italia Uno's traditional Italian sandwiches remind you just how special simplicity can be. 

I ordered what looked like the mother of all their sandwiches: three different meats, cheese, home-made sun-dried tomatoes in olive oil, eggplant, pesto, love. I think the grease-stained parchment paper explains it all. Or the fact that we resorted to chowing down on the platform of the tube station because we couldn't wait until we were seated.

After making a complete mess on the tube, we arrived at the Tower of London. Five surprising finds and two letdowns: 

First, the Tower of London is less of a tower and more of a fortress. In fact, that's exactly what it is -- an old royal palace that takes hours to navigate. Second, if you alert the clerk at the ticket counter that you have no desire to make a donation to the Tower, then you'll receive a cheaper ticket that is not advertised on the price list. Evidently, they automatically add a donation into every price. What wankers!
Third, visitors are able to view and test out King Henry VIII's toilet.

Fourth, evidently Swarovski makes embellished guns for royalty. Whoever believes in gun control has obviously never tried a 9mm in amethyst.

Fifth and finally, I discovered the Church of Holy Fat Palate.

This ceiling oddly resembles a molding my orthodontist once took of the roof of my mouth.
The letdowns were much more shocking. First, when viewing the Crown Jewels, you can neither take photos nor fragments of any jewel with you. And most disheartening of all, I think I may have finally found the novel of my dreams, but it was unfortunately locked behind a pane of glass.

Cameron and I later ventured to St. Paul's Cathedral.

Making a quick trip to the Cathedral's toilets so that I could wash some spilled tahini sauce out of my shirt, we managed to get sufficiently lost on the cathedral floor before hiking up to the Stone Gallery, then the Dome, and finally the Golden Gallery.

The trek up the stairs was like a cross between an old episode of Are You Afraid of the Dark? and a reoccurring nightmare I used to have when I was five.

The majority of the steps were open enough so that you could have some room to breathe and pretend as though you had an idea of the remaining distance to the top. 

The hard part came when the stairwell narrowed, and we couldn't see beyond the person in front of us. Suddenly, a cold wind rushed down the corridor, and we were reminded of our height. Our excitement picked up with the breeze until we finally found the light at the end of the tunnel.

The view was amazing, and the hair styles were even better.

The wind at the top was incredible. We could barely see with all the hair flying everywhere. We tried to take a picture of it -- the crazy hair, I mean --in the reflection of a window. This fellow traveler made it into the shot because, like I said, my vision was impaired.

It took us a few minutes to realize that we hadn't arrived at the absolute peak. After wandering in circles, we found yet another stairwell that took us to the top. Somehow, at the highest level of the dome, the air was completely still. The view was of course outstanding and made for another romantic excursion for Cameron and Paige.