Ravens

The week before last the whole BYU group got to spend a day at the Tower of London.  Due to the fact that my memory is not so acute after so much time has passed (especially since I didn't keep a notebook with me that day) and also the fact that it is really late at night, this post is going to lack the usual detail and excessive verbs that normally litter my blog.

The Tower of London was huge and teeming with tourists and little Yeomen in their traditional uniforms.  The royal crest could be found everywhere.  I'm really a big fan of the lion and unicorn thing- and I looked up some information about it later.  Maybe I'll tell you about it sometime when my eyelids aren't quite so heavy.

There is an old legend that says when the ravens leave, the Tower of London will fall along with the English monarchy.  I suppose English are a little superstitious, because they keep nine crows on the grounds with their wings clipped and employees who do nothing but make sure that the ravens don't get past the thick stone walls.  

They had a cool and kind of eerie effect on the place.  After all, this place held many prisoners who did not leave with their head on their shoulders.
This is a wall inside of one of the cells where people were kept for sometimes years.  Now there is plastic over the stone, and this is to protect the artwork left by the prisoners.  There were poems written, and sometimes very artfully done carvings of nature.  It was cool to see.  These poor people had a lot of time on their hands.
For all of your "A Night's Tale" fans out there... these lances are the real deal.  
We arrived at the Tower first thing in the morning.  The cobblestone streets were void of any people, so we rushed to see the Crown Jewels.  According to one of my professors, there is normally a ridiculously long line to get a glimpse of the bling.  But, since we were there so early, we got to walk right through.  It was gorgeous- of course.  I couldn't stop wondering how big of a headache these monarch's have sustained with 50 pounds of sparkly rocks pressing against their temples.
Classic.

Sometimes prisoners were taken into the Tower in a boat through this gate, called "Traitor's Gate."  Many of the women who lost their lives entered this way.
The Tower is built upon Roman ruins.  Crazy, huh?  Again- England just keeps the old, builds the new.  Roman ruins beside the Tower of London which is beside modern buildings... crazy.
This was our Yeoman, our guide for about an hour and a half.  He had that awesome British humor I love so much, but sometimes he went a little over the top.  Like in this picture... he saw that I was holding my camera up so he suddenly started yelling in mid-sentence and lurched toward me.  He was trying to scare me and mess up my shot.  Too bad, Mr. Yeoman- now I just have a blackmail picture of you.  So there.
We got this guard to talk to us!  We asked how much he got paid to stand perfectly still like that.  He kept his eyes staring forward as he whispered from the corner of his mouth, "Not enough..."  Haha! Poor guy.

Sarah and I are trying to imitate the dragons depicted on this super old and fancy cannon.  I don't know why.  It was her birthday- I just did what she told me to do.

There were a lot more than nine ravens, I think.  They're friends probably come hang out.

And here is Sarah's birthday celebration.  We got her McDonald's doughnuts for breakfast and I also made a few signs with sharpies that said, "Happy Birthday Sarah!" and taped them up around her bed.  

OK, side note: it is seriously the middle of the night here and I can hear someone down in some alleyway outside laughing like a maniac.  There are some wackos in London!  But I guess it's the same in any big city.

While I'm on my half-conscious tangent: people don't really call the bathroom the "loo" here.  Kind of disappointing.  They call it the "toilet".  It sounds so harsh to me, but I've finally gotten used to it and it comes naturally to me now.  I no longer ask for a "restroom" because I don't need a room to rest in.  I ask for a "toilet".  

And I don't ask "Are you in line?"  I have to ask if they are "queing."  At first that term totally went over my head.

Although there are many different terms and slang in the UK, they seem to have a weird perspective on our diction.  If someone from the UK finds out I'm from the U.S. they suddenly start using the word "cool" in every sentence.  It sounds very unnatural sliding out from a British mouth.  And they like to tease us by saying "howdy."  I'm pretty sure I've never been greeted with a "howdy" anywhere outside of a rodeo back in the states.

I'm sure I'll read this entry in the morning and not remember having ever written it.  

GOODNIGHT!