Where was I anyway? Oh...umm, the end of Tuesday. That’s right. There were a couple of things I forgot to mention about that day. In Westminster Abbey, you can see the memorial stone on the floor where Oliver Cromwell - the guy who had King Charles I beheaded and disposed of the monarchy for about 9 years - *was* buried for about three years, that is, until the new king, Charles II, the son of Charles I, just couldn’t stand the fact that he had gotten away with killing his father and had him dug up and executed by hanging (you know, just to make sure he was dead). As if that wasn’t enough, he was then beheaded, and his body was thrown into a well. (Good riddance.) What did they do with his head, you ask? Well, what else would you do with the decomposed head of the man who murdered your father but mount it on a spike over Westminster Abbey? Right, I knew you were about to say that. Anyway, it stayed up there for close to 25 years, and then it just toppled off in a strong wind and somebody took it home. (“What’s that new centerpiece on the mantel there, George?” “Oh, just something I picked up on the street this afternoon.”) 0_o
Oh yes, and we also saw St. Margaret’s church, next to Westminster Abbey, which was full of plaques and stones and graves, too. Sir Walter Raleigh (in two pieces, of course) is buried under the altar. Some of the members of the Parliament still meet at St. Margaret’s to take Holy Communion and then have breakfast together once a month. I thought that was interesting. Whether it means anything to them or not, it’s still completely opposite of the mentality I’m surrounded by in France: this mentality of “laicity” to which they are extremely attached.
Alright, so here we are at Wednesday (finally, after my longwinded “bizarre secrets of history” lesson). Wednesday, of course, was another full day of exploring. We dashed off first thing to find the British Museum, and we spent all morning wandering around amidst the mummies and artifacts and books and sculptures and really, really, really old rocks. Well, I am giving a bit of a tongue-in-cheek description there, but honestly, I did find it interesting. It’s not every day that you find yourself face to face with ancient Egyptian bodies and relics that you could reach out and touch (even though you’re not supposed to), nor bits and pieces of culture that date back to the time of Jesus. The intricacies of the written artifacts from thousands of years ago, the evidences of scientific developments, the belief systems whose mythologies bear remarkable resemblances to Biblical accounts...it was all right there. I couldn’t begin to count the number of historical discoveries that prove the authenticity of the Bible, but that were cleverly ignored by museum historians. Check this one out:
Hmm. Great Flood anyone?
So, Kendra and I goofed off a bit in the Museum too, because looking at history for too long just does something to you.
Oh yeah - and we saw the Rosetta Stone. Yep, the real thing.
For lunch, we decided that fish and chips were in order, so we found a pub by Trafalgar Square and that’s what we got. The verdict? Not bad, not bad at all. It’s fried fish and thick-cut french fries, served with green peas. It honestly reminded me of the South. :)
On the agenda for the afternoon was The National Gallery. I remember seeing a street preacher in front of the Gallery. I think I rolled my eyes at first, because I’ve seen so many who just spew hatred and lies, but then I started listening to what he said, and he was actually speaking the truth - in love! It was actually rather refreshing. It was also an abrupt change from the completely a-religious environment I’ve become accustomed to here in France. Anyway, the National Gallery. So many rooms, so many paintings. Van Gogh, Monet, Cézanne, Rembrandt, Roden, Da Vinci - so much astounding talent displayed in one location. It made me wonder though: what about those not-so-famous painters and artists? I’m sure they were rather talented in their own right. I honestly couldn’t tell the difference between a Monet and another impressionist if Monet’s paintings weren’t so famous. So why do we give all the glory to one, and not the others? I’m sure it’s not because all of those famous painters were the first or the best. I mean, it can be true, but it’s definitely not always the case. Walking around gazing at all of their works of art also made me wonder why God gifts certain people with creative talents like that. It must be because he is a beautiful God, and wants his creation to reflect that beauty. It’s the only reason I can think of, because looking at paintings is something to enjoy more than anything else. I also realized as I wandered through the maze of galleries that each of those painters represents more than just a name in the pages of history. Each one was a human being just like me. Each one had his or her share of joys and heartaches, struggles, setbacks, and successes. Most of them weren’t even famous during their lifetimes. And, I’m sure most of them probably underestimated the quality of their work, thinking there was always someone better than them. There probably was, but that didn’t keep them from working, persevering, and creating something that was their own. There’s a lot to think about, walking through a gallery of paintings. Or, maybe I just have an overactive mind. I like to compare myself to August in the novel, “The Secret Life of Bees” (that I read while in London). The author says that some people bite off more than they can chew, but August, she always chewed more than she bit off. That sounds an awful lot like me.
After spending some time in the Gallery, we headed off to Harrod’s to see what all the fuss was about.
Indeed, it is one of the biggest and fanciest places to spend money on over-priced merchandise that I’ve ever seen. Everything you could think of is there: gourmet food, makeup, perfumes, designer clothing, accessories and jewelry, toys -- you name it, it’s there, and it’s expensive. Honestly, most of the luxury goods in that store are only expensive because someone said they should be. I guess I just don’t really understand the obsession with name-brands and fashion. It just seems extravagant to me (being my father’s daughter). ;)
Well, that brings me to the end of Wednesday, so I'll stop here and pick up with Thursday when I have more time to write.
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