London, Day Two.

I woke up with warm, soft comforters around me as if I was in an embryonic state. Jet lag and a lack of sleep had somehow forced my body to fall into the bondage of comfort and rest for longer than I had planned. I blinked. And then looked at my watch and was slightly shocked to see that it already read 9:30. I took a deep breathe, anguished to get on with adventure, to conquer new streets, to talk to new people, to save more damsels in distress--and then! I closed my eyes for just another 5 minutes of reminiscing about those 9 months of heaven.

By 10:30, I was out the door and on my way to another day of London (with just a hint of an attempted terrorist attack buzzing in my ears). I think I saw more things on the second day, but there were few things which I felt I truly experienced. I decided to take one of those Double Decker red buses which kindly take you from famous site to famous site, but somehow it felt less intriguing and less adventuresome then my honest two feet. From the corner of my eye and through the glass of a bus window, I saw places the Beatles had lived, and cafes the Rolling Stones had started and heard a constant stream of gibberish facts about such and such building. I saw a statue of St. George, which I thought was pleasant and random, considering it practically just sprang up from the middle of the road and seemed to have no greater purpose than to provide a dragon shadow on the wall of the Royal Court of Justice. I then walked down the street, and a lady decided to ask me if she could ask me a few questions for a survey. And since I was halfway around the world, exploring ancient and modern marvels I said, "Sure, I don't have anything better to do". As it turned out, the survey was about shopping in that particular side of London, which, as I have already mentioned I had never been before. So, yeah, I guess I am a sucker. Go ahead and laugh.

After walking up and down the street (which was a semi-important bypass from one side of tourist London to another) I finally found the Templar Church, which I thought would be interesting to go visit. The architecture was interesting and I think I almost felt like I was near something mysterious and magnificent--but that was only for a second, and it was quickly gone when I realized that I couldn't go in and all I could do was look at the building from afar. 15 minutes later, I was back on the bus, wind in my hair and an entire level of the bus to myself, while I tried to figure out where to go to next.

My next destination happened to be the British Museum, which was quite spectacular, I have to admit. It began well, because I had to walk through a park in order to get there--and lucky day, there just happened to be a Starbucks promotion handing out free espresso. I cherished it like a squirrel cherishes his nuts. I gurgled it down like music. And I was severely tempted to ask for another shot.

I resisted.
Barely.

The British Museum was an amazing entourage of history, with artifacts and displays about every major civilization from around the world from the beginning of man kind. The most prominent section happened to be about Egypt, which I avoided with a smile as I thought about the fact that I would be there a little over 24 hours later. I heard a classic Arabic tale told and enacted by a very talented actress. The story was very disturbing, and had far too many people eaten or poisoned for my taste. I think in the end it had a good moral. Something like make sure you check what/who you are eating before you dig in.

My favorite part of the British Museum was by far the breath-taking reading room in the middle of the museum. It rose before my eyes with its arched dome, and 10 foot high and 5 foot wide windows lining the domes edge, and then rows and rows of books around the wall, with a maze of other bookshelves on the floor. I wandered around for at least half an hour, stopping ever so often to scribble down a name of a classic that I was planning on looking up when I got home. There are few places which I feel as comfortable as a library. I could have stayed there for hours—for days. I am continually amazed at the power of literature over me.

From the British Museum, I moseyed down to the bus and was greeted with a glare from the bus driver and was informed that he was on break, which I responded with a smile because I was on the trip of a lifetime and I could put up with a lot. Finally, the bus sprang to life, and I didn’t even care where the bus was taking me.

Eventually, I sauntered to the London Tower, which was not nearly as appealing as the name made it sound ((and yes, I did know it was a castle/prison and no I still wasn’t very interested)). Especially after I saw that it cost 15 pounds to go in--which is a rip off in any country or culture. However, I still had pounds in my pockets so I decided to see London from London Bridge. Which was nice—perhaps not amazing, but I was pleased with my choice and I think it is a pretty interesting bridge.

By then, my time was up and it was time for me to start my epic trek back towards the hotel.

I got to the hotel about an hour later, and Jeff and I quickly got into a taxi. We went to the real downtown London and went on a guided tour, from middle-aged to older man named Peter who did touring in his spare time from acting. He was nice with gray hair and blue eyes, had a deep fascination and love for architecture, and had enough facial expressions to fill a book—and he randomly quoted Shakespeare throughout the tour. On the tour I learned a lot about London, which as it turns out is one of the Capitol cities in the world, being just a little more than a square mile. It was nice to have a real guide there, but I enjoyed things on my own too.

After a couple hour jaunt around downtown London, Jeff and I got back into a taxi and went in search of food. Jeff and I talked about Peter and London, and other things which I have no forgotten, and after taking a walk around our hotel we found a delicious Lebanese restaurant, which was full of Muslims talking about Israel attacking Lebanon and the supposed terrorist attack. The food was wonderful. And the company was too.

And then we went back to the hotel, packed up a little and entered back into our embryonic state.