Truly peculiar are the differences between British and American English to the extent that I am wont to say that I speak American as opposed to the generalized English language. British being both charming and indigenous, I found myself warming up to the capital city of London and its environs. Based in St Albans (no period after the “t” and no apostrophe after the “n” for reasons I could not even begin to describe as they once again pertain to the differences between British and American English), I spent five days at my German friend Melanie’s flat (or apartment as we say in American) exploring some of London’s highlights, including the countryside palace of Hampton Court, as well as her idyllic town situated about 20 minutes by train from the city center. I also had the opportunity to get together with my friend Esther’s older sister who lives and works in London. I had the pleasure of taking full advantage of my visit to see people and places.
For England, I ushered in the good weather, with peeking blue skies and only short bouts of light showers (after all, England possesses its iconic green countryside for a very logical reason). I took a break from spasmodic tourism to revel in the gentile nature of British culture as I selected merely a few of London’s sights to enjoy, including a visit to the A&V design museum, the Egyptian exhibit at the British Museum (Did you know that the REAL Rosetta Stone is found in their collection? I almost fainted when I saw it!), an expensive and thorough tour of the Westminster Abbey and a one-hour double-decker bus ride. Because I limited my tourism in London, I really appreciated the small amount I saw, especially the Westminster Abbey, which lives and breathes 900 years of British history in a reverent and mildly pious fashion that added to the captivating ambiance.
Melanie and I have known one another since 2008, and you may well remember that she and I had quite an adventure in Copenhagen last August. Thankfully, I can report that we were not so nearly as intrepid as the previous occasion; however, we had a nice 40-mile bike ride to Hampton Court Palace—the palace of Henry VIII—from London, getting lost at every corner and arriving at home 12 hours later.
Surely, we saw some remarkable sights and audaciously rode through London’s streets without our bike lights, but the overall effect was most benign compared to our Danish escapades of last year. Hampton Court Palace is an illustrious display of English history, particularly concerning the infamous King Henry VIII.
I wandered about St Albans and saw vestiges of its Roman and Norman past, admiring the cathedral and its myriad churches along with its clock tower and British-style row houses I find to be quite fetching. Most importantly, Melanie and I cooked and baked a fair amount, culminating my visit in a working-class high tea (so dubbed from the nature of our Spartan plates and mugs—not tea cups—and altogether absence of refinery) of egg salad and cucumber sandwiches, carrot cake and scones with homemade lemon curd, clotted cream and strawberry jam. It was a week of friendship, history and exercise: quite a perfect combination when you think about it.
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