I woke up the next morning after “the best concert ever” experience a little later than anticipated. The sun streaming through my window finally motivated me to get up and get going while the nice weather lasted.
Moving through the Tube station like an old hand, I hopped on the train I needed to take me towards the Thames, Tower Bridge, and the Tower of London. As I mentioned previously, I get a little awestruck by buildings older than my country – and the Tower of London is about as old as you can get in the city. There are centuries of world-changing history that has happened within that complex. For a nerd like me, the Tower was going to be a full afternoon of history on a scale that I’ve never experienced before.
I hurried through the queue to purchase tickets, trying not to do the currency conversion in my head so I didn’t freak out at the cost of admission. I made it in time to catch one of the yeoman warder’s tours. And lucked out because our tour leader was hilarious in the slyest, sarcastic British way. Basically on the tour they give you the lay of the land so to speak; and you get to go into the chapel, a place not normally open to the public until the very end of the day. Once our adorably gruff tour guide dismissed us, I made a beeline to the building that holds the crown jewels. I considered going back through the line just to gawk again at the magnificent crowns and royal paraphernalia but worried the guards with the machine guns might not be as amused and think I was casing the place instead. I spent hours going through every building in the complex, gazing at more suits of armor than I had ever previously seen before in my life. The graffiti etched into the walls by previous prisoners was poignant. The torture chamber display, relocated from its historical position in the dungeon to a more accessible location, was still fascinating (and that thing that forces you into a ball looked like the worst thing ever) and creepy even if the implements were mostly replicas (and seriously, how do you get the job of replicating torture devices? Is there a section on Craigslist I don’t want to accidentally stumble upon?).
After four hours or so, I was overloaded on history. A light rain had begun to fall, teaching me the important lesson of never trusting that weather in London will be consistent. Fortunately, having lived in Miami, I already knew the importance of carrying an umbrella even when it starts out sunny. I wandered over to the Thames to get a better view of the Tower Bridge and revel in the fact that I had one more day in London.
By now, the rain progressed to a more steady downpour and I took the Tube back “home” to my hotel. I was really beginning to feel like the area around my hotel was my neighborhood. I asked the question to a travel group I belong to on Facebook – have you ever been somewhere for the first time but it immediately felt like home? I’ve had the experience once before, when I first started traveling many years ago, in Toronto. Now in London, it was the same feeling of having all of the pieces click together. I could move through the city like I had lived there for years. Places I had never seen before felt like treasured guideposts. I felt an immediate sense of “home” in a way that even places that I lived in for years didn’t conjure up that feeling. Miami was the only place I actually lived that felt like home almost instantly and now, a couple thousand miles away, a city I had only spent 48 hours in gave me that same sense of Belonging (with a capital B).
I decided that it time for me to try proper British fish and chips. Google directed me to a place that was about 15 minutes from my hotel. I sat in the cozy dining room rather than getting takeaway so I could eat it fresh. The chips were outstanding. The fish, ehhh. But it was real fish and chips and I could definitely say I’ve had a proper dinner. I had been making do with a handful of potato chips (or crisps if I’m being culturally accurate) or a square of chocolate. I don’t know what it is, but when I travel solo, I rarely eat a real meal. I’m not hungry most of the time. I’m too busy walking miles and sightseeing that food doesn’t seem to ever enter my mind until it’s day 4 of not eating anything substantial.
At the hotel, I decided on my plans for the next day and prayed to the weather gods that I wouldn’t regret not pulling out my waterproofed hiking shoes out of the bottom of my suitcase. I was finding that my suitcase was somehow expanding on its own and every time I pulled something out from its carefully arranged spot, the stuff next to it would expand into the open space. I really needed to pull everything out and repack it but with the compact nature of the room, there really wasn’t enough space to do that. I nestled into my bed, listening to the rain on the window and fell into a deep and restful sleep.