Roy

It was the longest tube ride of my life.  I had made only one change and then I was to stay on the Piccadilly line for what seemed like hours.  I brought Charles Dickens along to keep me company, but in my anxiety I found his sluggish plot development impossible to focus on that morning.  When I realized I was reading the same line over and over again I finally tucked Dickens away in my purse and settled for just looking out the window at the suburbs of London and letting myself worry about customs, passports, and possible flight delays.

Since most of the people on this particular tube were headed to the airport as well, much of the narrow space was occupied by duffle bags and saran wrapped suitcases.  Luckily it was 7 am on a Sunday in October– not very crowded.  One excruciating hour later I zipped off the tube and followed the signs toward the “arrivals” door.

There was a large waiting crowd standing behind a metal bar, watching as updated flight information flashed on the screens on either side of the door.  I still had an hour until his plane landed, but I was too excited to sit.  I strategically placed myself so that I could absolutely not be missed by anyone who planned on exiting the airport.  I’d managed to squeeze up to the front of the waiting crowd to stand beside all the men holding up signs with names like “Jacobson” or “McDowell Family”.  I felt like I should have one too: “Roy!!!!!”

But I just took out my study material instead.  Midterms started the next day and I had been working diligently to get most of my studying in before my boyfriend’s arrival.  You know how distracting boyfriends can be. 

It probably would have looked more normal if I would have sat in a chair behind the crowd and held my papers in my lap.  But I didn’t want to leave my post, so I just let my papers hang over the metal bar.  Travelers coming through the arrival doors would sometimes look for their names on the signs that the men on either side of me were holding and then would try to look at my papers like I must be hiding their names from them in the folds.

No.  I’m not your driver.  Do I look like a driver?

I wish I could say that in that hour of waiting I had have been able to memorize every single name of every single painting on my study sheet.  I’m sure I could have if I hadn’t happened to stand beside such friendly people.  Mainly I was oh so graciously distracted by this brother and sister that were waiting for a cousin from Australia.  They’re countryside Englanders but they’re just in London for “Uni”.  (University)  They insisted I pass the time with them picking out which travelers were Americans.  The men in baggier pants, plain t-shirts, and baseball caps were easy giveaways.  If they seemed to lack fashion sense we quickly dubbed them American.  The women we could pick out because of the way they carry themselves.  And then, of course, the British are easy to pick out because they always look “pissed off”.

After debating about whether or not a tiny bewildered woman was Russian, I looked up and saw Roy. 

I kind of stuttered a goodbye at my friends and then half-ran around the crowd to Roy.  After our huge first hug he pulled back and said something… what was it?  I had no idea- it just didn’t register.  He had to drag me out of the way of traffic because I seemed to have forgotten how to use my legs as well.  All I could do was look at him stupidly like I’d forgotten English.  Has that ever happened to anyone else?  Is this normal?

Eventually I remembered how to speak, and we boarded the tube with huge slaphappy grins.  We headed to the center, where he briefly met the attic girls (my roommates) and then we left his suitcase in an obscure corner of the living room and hit the town.

Well before we delved into the actual city I took him to one of my favorite places in England: Hyde Park.  We walked around in the fall colors (holding hands and still unable to keep the smiles off our faces) and I showed him my favorite fountains and sculptures hidden within the park.  I had some Hobb Nobbs handy and, after I made Roy try them, we fed some to the geese.

Mom wanted some fall pictures.  Hyde Park is so gorgeous right now.

I had an assignment for my English 300 class that required I go to the National Gallery.  So… we left the park behind for Trafalgar Square.  He got to see a little bit of the famous square before we climbed the steps to the art museum.  For the next two hours we navigated our way through the maze of paintings, trying to find what my teacher wanted.  He dutifully helped me analyze the paintings, and then we skipped next door to the National Portrait Museum.  I’d heard about an exhibit they had with visual renderings of all of the Presidents of the United States, and I thought Roy might think it was cool.  

We entered with only thirty minutes before closing, and without bothering with maps we began whizzing passed photographs of the Harry Potter cast, giant paintings of the Beatles, busts of famous scientists, etc.  But we never found a so much as a scrap of an American in there.  We tried dodging the security for a while to buy ourselves more time to find our exhibit.  Eventually we were cornered and forced to leave.

We walked over to Leicester Square where we passed red carpets and bouncers.  We were too hungry to bother to stick around to see what celebrities were going to be gracing them.  We found a little Italian restaurant– well actually, they found us.  The waiter came out into the street and lured us in with his promises of half priced meals.  The food was actually really good!

That was when I told Roy all about my plans for Scotland.  I had planned out the whole trip with Jenny and Alex and we were going to leave on that Tuesday.  After we were full of yummy, cheesy pasta we left the restaurant.  I was amazed that Roy hadn’t just toppled over yet.  By that time of night I had expected jet lag to have gotten the best of him.  But he was still wide awake, which was great!  We explored more of the night life of London, which on a Sunday night it’s usually that exciting.

It wasn’t long until we were back at the Center, where I was called into the teacher’s office and told that we couldn’t go to Scotland.  It was sad, but the professors were nice about it.  Despite the separate rooming we had and the rest of the group that was going with us- it wasn’t okay.  It would have been fine if I’d declared him a “friend”.  But “boyfriend” immediately threw everything out of balance. 

Meanwhile, Roy had been outside meeting more girls from the center who had been waiting weeks to get a glimpse of him.  I waited until they dispersed to tell him the bad news.  He took it really well.  Better than I did, at least.  And as my mom put it, it’s really hard to feel bad for ourselves when we’re in London!

And in retrospect, I’m glad we stayed in London.  Nothing could have possibly been better– it was the best week so far!  We had so many cool experiences and did tons of awesome things that just couldn’t be done anywhere else.  Not even Scotland. 

For Example:

Saw two plays: Les Mis and Oliver!

The British Museum

King’s Cross Station and Platform 9 ¾

Sherlock Holmes on Baker Street

The Tate Modern

The Imperial War Museum

Covent Gardens and Ben’s Cookies

Leicester Square

Saw the movie UP in 3D on “Britain’s biggest screen”

Saw the touristy sites, like Big Ben

Discovered Borough Market and an old cathedral where Shakespeare worshiped at during his lifetime.

National Gallery

National Portrait Gallery

Had Hyde Park adventures

Portabello Road (we did the whole road!)

The Science Museum

Checked out Notting Hill (yes, the movie was filmed there)

Went on a Jack the Ripper tour at night

And we even hopped onto a bus and went to Oxford for a day!

Being with Roy made everything twice as fun because he doesn’t mind that I like to read every last plaque or that I take hours at museums.  In fact, he’s right there reading with me- so it works out perfectly. 

Roy and I are different travelers.  I like to have things planned out.  I write down what I want to do, I look up the information, etc.  Roy likes to pick a direction and just go and do whatever looks interesting.  He’s converted me.  We saw so many cool things that aren’t advertised.  For example, the cathedral that Shakespeare worshiped at.  I’d never heard of it but it was originally built in the 10^th century, and some of hat original wall is still up and you can touch it!  It had quite a few ancient things in there that I really liked.

Roy coming here was fantastic.  I wouldn’t have wanted to spend my week break any other way or with anyone else.  

Oxford library
Tae modern... we enhanced the "art".

The bobbies! 
Super old obelisk! 
Inside a plane in the Imperial War Museum.



Really cool Natural History museum in Oxford.
Oxford
Cathedral in Oxford... I'm not entirely sure we were supposed to be in there...

Oxford is so pretty!
I had the chills the whole time we were on Oxford's campus.
The Oxford Castle- which was the coolest castle tour I've ever been on.

And this was once part of Oxford Castle when it was a prison, up until the 90s.  Not it is a hotel.  Creepy, isn't it?

Oxford
Oxford

Our hangout spot in Trafalgar Square at night when we had nowhere to rest.

Roy's hostel was a little sketch.  The pillows had hair and stains all over them.  Ew.  

Historical Stonehenge and the Buns

This being my second visit to Stonehenge, I found myself reminiscing about the time I spent here with my mom, grandma, and aunts a month and a half ago.  Back then it was still August and still tourist season.  There had been loads of people here, with traffic jams as we tried to park out car.  In fact this fenced area had been opened to allow for even more parking.  The sheep had been penned somewhere else. 

To spare everyone else from our American driving, we parked our Volvo waaaaaay out in the field where no one else was.  It was kind of hysterical.  I had another laugh about it (wishing my family were there still to laugh with me) as we walked through the now empty parking lot.  When we first arrived we were the sole group.  In this circumstance, Stonehenge somehow seemed much more ancient and real.
Some of the other BYU girls were complaining about how "anticlimactic" they found stonehenge to be.  "It's not as big as I thought it looks in the pictures."  

I laughed and thought of the typical rule that I introduced in my blog a long time ago.  Americans think that bigger is better.  The British think that older is better.  I think Stonehenge is kind of big and old.  A skyscraper would dwarf it, of course.  A skyscraper is modern and built with machinery.  Considering that it was somehow dragged hundreds of miles by primitive people over 5,000 years ago... I think it's amazing.

Has anyone been dying to see what our bus looks like?  Here it is.  As I approached the bus I called to my English professor, "Dr. Paxman, I need a picture of the coach, would you like to pose with it?"  He immediately tore off his baseball cap, chucked it inside of the bus, smoothed the few hairs that are still on his head, and then struck this pose.  It is now the most popular picture circulating within the Center.  I love this guy- you never know what he's going to do!

Bath was another second visit for me.  I really love this city, and was stoked to go back.  On my first visit, Diane had told us about the famous "Sally Lunn's Buns."  After seeing the Roman baths we rushed through the narrow streets to find this- the oldest house in the whole city, dating from the 1620s.  When we squeezed into the little hallway we were told (ever so rudely) that the buns had all been sold for the day.

My family was devastated.  They made me promise that when I returned to Bath I must get ahold of a Sally Lunn bun and describe to them, in excruciating detail, exactly what it tastes like.

We made it, and we got our bun.  First, a little history:

In 1680 a refugee from war-torn France came to Bath and found work with a baker.  Solange Luyon must have been too difficult for the English tongue, because she soon became known as Sally Lunn.  It was she who helped the bakery become famous when she introduced to the bakery some French tricks.  Her recipe was kept a secret, and kept people coming back for more- even the rich and famous. 

This is what the kitchen looked like when Sally was baking in it.  (That's right, England has museums for everything.)

In the 1930s Sally's recipe was discovered in a secret cupboard over a fireplace.  So now it has been resurrected, although the recipe is still kept a secret and is passed down only with the deed of the house.

So here is me eating it.  Because it is absolutely enormous, Sarah and I split it.  The thing cost three pounds.  Apparently if you dine in then they will do all kinds of fancy things to your bread.  They can glaze it in almost anything, it sounded like.  We just bought it and ate it plain.

Here's the detail:

Despite the size it was light and fluffy.  Imagine the best French bread you've ever had.  That's what it tasted like.  Nothing extremely different about it except that it was extremely good.  It was French bread perfected.  I can't even imagine how good it would have been with butter or a glaze of some kind.  

As we walked around Bath we kept seeing this guy.  He would juggle around a little bit... mostly just dropping his torches every other second... and then pack up and move down the street further.  I guess he kept hoping to catch a new crowd that hadn't seen him biff it earlier.  He was everywhere.
Back at the baths!

This is Stourhead.

If you can, click that picture and take a closer look.  Or even google the place and look at pictures taken by people who actually know how to use a camera.  Stourhead is, without a doubt, the most beautiful place I've ever seen.  

It is the location of the part of the film Pride and Prejudice with Kira Knightly, when Mr. Darcy first proposes to Elizabeth.  If you have ever seen it, it is raining and they are standing under what looks like a temple.  It is called Apollo's Temple, and it is here.  We actually didn't get to see it because it is currently hidden behind scaffolding.  At first I thought this would be a bummer but the rest of the place was so gorgeous that I didn't even think twice about it.

These gardens are very old, but I love the way it was done and how it is still maintained.  We were asked to compare it to the gardens of Versailles.  We haven't gone as a group yet, but I actually had the privilege of going there almost three years ago.

I remember learning that Crazy King Louis XIV wanted to see something different every day when he looked out into his grand, geometric gardens.  And so every night the servants would be digging up plants, replanting them, trimming them- every night to appease the king.  And although the gardens there are beautiful, the hand of man is clearly evident in the design.

At Stourhead the idea was to simply enhance the beauty that nature already provides.  The little grotto there seems to just be part of the nature, made of stone and keeping the statues hidden in nooks with waterfalls.  Everything just fits.  It's the perfect garden.