Today the class planned on taking a trip to see a parliamentary debate.. but the problem was that we could not reserve seating. We had to just show up and hope for the best. Apparently, about 800 other people had the same idea as my class. And no amount of bargaining or sweet talk from our professor, Martin, could get us in either. A little discouraged, we were given the rest of the afternoon off. Me and a few friends went on a walk of the city, specifically a British Navy statues walk. This may sound a little far fetched and you may be thinking, 'Jill, how many NAVY statues can one little city have...' But remember, Britain used to have the worlds largest and most technologically advanced Navy in the world. Just think about how many wars this Navy must have fought in.. there are a lot of statues. Trust me. While we we walking through down town, through Trafalgar Square, past magnificent palaces of the once elite nobility.. my comrade, Margaret said something that made me think. as we walked through these wonderfully beautiful places, she said, 'man.. going home is going to be sort of sad. We wont be able to just walk through these squares and parks anymore.' Earlier in my adventure, I explained how the locals just walk blindly past these colossal monuments everyday, with out a second glance. Being here for these long months has turned me and my class mates into one of these blindly wandering zombies. I hardly ever become a speechless as I one had when I look at Buckingham Palace in the pinky-hued dusk. My heart rate doesn't speed up when I see the dome and arches of St. Pauls. I become, dare I say it.. ANNOYED when I hear the ding-dong of Big Ben's chiming hourly warning. The city has hardened me in a way, made me less absorbent to its culture, wonder and majesty. It's a sad notion the be leaving this place with. I hope to leave as I arrived, excited, amazed, and ready for anything.

Bristol was once a docklands town. It has a pretty strategic river that runs right through the middle of town and that river was used to ship goods out to sea and around the world. I hate to say it, but I was unimpressed by the town. It was a gray day and unusually muggy, so that did not help matters. We did get to ride on the river though. We were sort of taxied from one end of town to the next on a little boat. The river was polluted, with bits of garbage floating among the dirtied swans. It was less than romantic to say the least. The most interesting part of my day was visiting the old S.S. England, a former passenger ship that has been lovingly restored to its former glory and renovated into an award-winning museum.

We were like little kids running around the ship, looking through the old births of the first and third class passengers. I could not imagine sailing from England to Australia for 3-4 months in those cramped tiny quarters. It would go insane. it was interesting to see how these people lived and how it was like a tiny floating city: complete with livestock and enough food to feed an army. I could hardly believe that cows used to make the voyage too. I guess they had to get their dairy from somewhere, right.

I went up to the top of the deck and couldn't help but feel like Leo DiCaprio in Titanic, that stupid song stuck in my head, as I looked out over the river and wondered what it must have been like to make the journey to the unknown. The journals of some of the passengers said that they didn't know if they would ever see their friends or families again. That is a really sad prospect that would probably hold me back from traveling if I was alive in those hard times. It made me think how easy our modes of traveling have become. I mean, I went to Australia in 22 hours. It took those people 3 months. I went to England in 7 hours. It took those people 2 weeks. It's just crazy to see how fast technology changes and to see how far we have come.

Today I paid homage to the journalism gods and took a tour of the BBC. I woke up early, brought my mini notebook, and scribbled down some good, in depth media related questions. I didn't really know what to expect. Was I going to be given a private tour? Would I be able to use my charm and intelligence to land a job? Was I going to be asked my opinion on the current state of the news media? I arrived at the massive complex (which I learn on the tour, the building was designed in the shape of a question mark!) and I instantly felt at home. There is an unspoken code that journalists share that travels beyond borders and nationalities. It's a code that shares jargon like 'inverted pyramid' and 'pubic service model'. It's an understanding and a feeling of shared fear of the shrinking media ownership. It's a mutual loathing of Rupert Murdoch. It's an understanding of deadlines, crabby editors, and the proverbial 'ocean' that runs between the 'ad' side and the 'news' side. This tour gave me a little dose of much needed familiarity to sooth my lingering fever of lonely homesickness. I was taken on a tour with a group of Dutch high school kids, whose English was not the greatest, but we made due. Our two guides, Abby and John, made the tour an absolute pleasure. They took us to the bowels of the news room, the depths of the studios, and at the end, a few of the Dutch kids got to play 'the weakest link'. It was really funny. The most interesting thing I noticed was that the BBC had an in house ticket agent for flights any where around the world. If only American journalists could be so luxurious. Of course the tour ended in the gift shop and I decided to get a mug and cloth bag. Overall, I left feeling a little prouder of being a part of this chaotic world of words.

Cleaver title, huh? I used it to honour William Shakespeare and his hometown, Stratford-upon-Avon. My class took an overnight trip to the once quaint town. This small village has attracted tourists for hundreds of years. I thought everything about the place was great. A sleepy little place, containing sheep, thatched-roofed houses, and little streams swaddled within forests, similar to a scene one might find on their way to visit grandma and little read riding hood.

I had dinner with one of the program professors, Anita, and she told me (rather disappointedly) that about 15 years ago, this town was much smaller, had less traffic, and lacked the symbolic logos of a green mermaids or golden arches. Despite the plague of shameless American globalization, I think we still had a blast. The weather was a typical gray overcast and stinging winds. On our only night in the town, we got to attend 'The Merchant of Venice' preformed by the Royal Shakespeare Company. I have never read the play and pretty much went in blind, but I quickly picked up the plot and enjoyed myself. On our last day, we toured Shakespeare's birthplace and Ann Hathaway's (his wife) family cottage.

I am not a HUGE Shakespeare fan, but I do respect his work. I learned a few tid bits about the man too, like there are no more direct descendants of William Shakespeare. His granddaughter died childless, therefore killing off the bloodline. By the end of the trip, I was EXHAUSTED. But I mist say, for not being the biggest Shakespeare expert or even fan, in the world, I throughly enjoyed myself.

The weather is slowly, but surely getting better here. What ever that big, bright, warm ball in the sky is.. I like it, and I hope it sticks around. Particularly, I have been feeling a little glum lately, mostly in part to my homesickness at the thought of only about 3 more weeks in the U.K. Anyway.. My Britain today class is beginning to study the British economic system (yuck!) and so our professor took us on an exciting trip to the Royal Exchange.

This was the economic center of the world for hundreds of years, and still holds a significant amount of the worlds wealth. We weren't allowed to take pictures inside the exchange.. (sorry folks!) but I will admit, from a historical perspective, seeing the evolution of the pound was very impressive. The high light of that trip was probably lifting the gold bar.. there was this highly secure exhibit in which a person can stick their hand through a hold in a glass chamber and try to lift a solid gold bar. MAN.. GOLD IS REALLY HEAVY!!! After leaving the Royal Exchange, we were off to visit the secretary of the Trade Union Congress.. a really old, influential institution in Britain. We met with the secretary of the congress, a really knowledgeable friendly man that was quick to make a few American jokes. We discussed the influence of the Trade Union Congress and the current employment polices in the United Kingdom. The really cool thing about the organization is that they have a close working relationship with the AFL/CIO in America. Although I'm not really into learning about the polices and politics of money.. I still learned a lot about it's importance and even learned a little more about the importance and significance of trade/labor unions.

The city of Bath was amazing. I much prefer it to the gritty, polluted, noisy downtown London. The city actually reminded me a lot of Edinburgh, Scotland. Similar architecture and general vibe. In the 1700s, the natural hot springs in the city were thought to cure any ailment that people had. So, people would come from far and wide to bathe and drink the 'healing' waters.

Thousands of visitors, bird poop, and weather didn't sound too tasty, so I decided not to take a sip. The most amazing thing about this city, was the fact that the Roman baths were still standing. These baths are at least 2000 years old, and our tour guide informed us that they were built so well, that they could still be used today. The entire complex was built so solidly and intricately. It was really beautiful.

I could imagine thousands of years ago, a sprawling bath complex, where the Roman upper classes gathered to be together in good hygiene and good fellowship. The next place we visited was the Bath Abbey. It was just like a lot of churches I've seen throughout Europe: big, old and beautiful. The sights and sounds of Bath were very unique, interesting and overall it was one of my favorite places.

Waking up at 6am is not one of my most favorite things to do. I peeled my self out of bed, still groggy with sleep and vision hazy without my contacts. My roommate and I were forced to get up at this unGodly hour to meet out 'Britain Today' group for a trip to see Stonehenge in the middle of no where and the Roman Bath Houses in the city of Bath. We were the first ones to get to the huge tourist style coach (bus). It was a 2 hour trip to get to Stonehenge, but when we got there, the first couple of things I noticed were rolling green hills and lots of sheep. I was definitely not in London anymore..
My 64-year-old professor told us that when he was a kid, tourists used to be able to climb on the gigantic stone slabs. It seems a little crazy, like being allowed to color on the Hieroglyph-ed walls of the Pyramids. But.. that was the 50's for you. A crazy time.
Our tour guide, told us that Stonehenge still holds a lot of significance to new-age hippie cults in the area.. post-60's flower children that think that site holds some sort of mystical powers of the universe and they get upset when 'THE MAN' kicks them out of the site.

I took a stroll around the entire perimeter, watched the excavation efforts that were beginning to take place again, and got very cold.

I was very happy that I got to see such a wonderful piece of history (Stonehenge was already 2000 years old when the Roman's invaded Britain.) When I got back on the bus, thoughts about how the stones got there and why filled my head. Merlin enlisting the help of giants? Was it used for ancient Pagan worship? Was it a gathering site in Middle Earth for the 'Fellowship of the Ring'? I like to believe aliens put them there for some Terrestrial road map of the universe. Hey, to each her own..

They say there are at least 300 theatre productions in progress at any given time in London. With that in mind, I try my best to partake in the theatrical splendors of the city. I almost always go for the student discounted a.k.a 'nose-bleeds'.. but sometimes my roommate, Susan scores me free tickets from our program when no one else wants to see that week's production. Last night I got to go with the group to see another Shakespeare play. This time it was the historical drama, Henry V. It was in a theatre that had once been an old train depot. Needless to say, it was a pretty nice venue. The tickets were all scattered around the room, so most of use weren't necessarily sitting together. That was o.k. though. The play started and I was impressed, but a little ashamed that I hadn't read the play before hand, so I had NO CLUE what was happening or what it was about. Old English is HARD to understand. I was generally entertained by the set, the costumes, and the cute male lead. Since violence is pretty universal, the fighting scenes were pretty cool too. I am really enjoying the theatre and pomp and circumstance that goes into that whole sub-culture. I love talking to the artsy theatre audiences and pretending to understand what Andrew Lloyd Webber was REALLY trying to say with that scene in act II. I love the cocktail bars and the ice cream at intermission. It's a culture, a lifestyle, that makes me feel a mixture of glamorous and intellectual, grown-up and sophisticated. It a world that I am happy to be an occasional visitor to.. because I fell asleep by the beginning of act II.

Emerging from the underground tube station, I was in the aorta of the heart of London. It was all here: Parliament, Big Ben, statues of great men like Churchill, perfectly manicured lawns and flowerbeds that look like they were spray painted on the Earth... I casually strolled past a troupe of Iraq War protesters and my journalist instincts couldn't help but snap a few pictures of them for history's sake.

The crowds of tourists were starting to emerge too. I was among the first wave- the early birds that wake at 7 or 8 am, prepared and armed with cameras in one hand, highlighted guidebooks in the other. I allowed myself to be swept up in the wave of people, energy, and excitement. We all turned the corner and were instantly struck by the ancient majesty of Westminster Abbey.

My eyes followed every indent, spire, and steeple of this Gothic-inspired place. I became caught up in the moment, thinking about the historical significance of a place like this captured me in a spell that made me literally stop in the middle of the sidewalk. Then, the wave moved me inside. The line moved fast and I walking in the grand nave.. I started to pull out my camera, but almost had it ripped out of my hand from one of the elderly old volunteers who informed me that, 'YOU CANT TAKE PICTURES IN HERE!! IT'S A PLACE OF WORSHIP!'
and they conveniently have postcards located for purchase in the gift shop.. riiight...

Inside everyone was walking around doing their own exploring, but I decided my best plan of action was to use the free brochure to guide me to the famous sights. So I saw the Henry VII chapel. I saw the tombs of Queen's Elizabeth I and her sister Mary I. I saw the tomb of Mary, Queen of Scots. I was the Coronation chair, made by King Edward I in 1301 and used for the coronation of every monarch since. I saw the Poet's corner, and memorials of Henry James, Chaucer, Shakespeare, the Bronte sisters.. this was definitely the fashionable place to be immortalized.

By the time I made my way back to the nave, main part of the Abbey, I felt completely fulfilled and humbled to have seen such a relevant and influential part of not just British history, but a little slice of world history.

Today in London town, with the sun shining brightly in the nearly cloudless sky and the always present cool gushes of air, I decided to get out of the house and enjoy the (unusually) beautiful weather. I need only two more places to check off on my list of sights to see: St. Paul’s Cathedral and Westminster Abbey. I opted for good ‘ol St. Paul. I woke up early, so there was no morning worker rush hour. When I arrived at the Cathedral, I was no greeted by colossal ques of picture-happy tourists. I half expected to be standing in some line that stretched half way to Piccadilly Circus! Thankfully, I pulled open those giant, centuries-old oak doors and walked right in.

Once inside, I was immediately struck by the 1) the SHEER SIZE of the place and 2) the ostentatiousness of it all. There was gold inlay and detailing EVERYWHERE. It’s a wonder if half the gold in the world was right there in that building. I looked up at the ceiling and there was, created with magnificent detail, scenes of the Resurrection, the Passion, and the Immaculate Conception. In cathedrals such as this one, there are tons of small side chambers that look like little mini churches, with there own pews. These are called ‘chapels’ and in St. Paul’s, there was a really special chapel which the British people dedicated to the fallen American soldiers of WWII. It was really beautiful. It was a very touching gift to the American people. The highlight of my visit was climbing nearly 500 steps to the domed-ceiling. There are several ‘galleries’ or levels of the dome. The first 200-ish steps, I arrived breathless with a flock of old ladies, to the ‘whisper gallery’. The myth associated with this room I learned by eavesdropping on a 10 year-old’s conversation. He explained that during WWII, an American soldier took his girlfriend to the whisper gallery and as she stood at one end of the circular, domed room, he put his lips to the wall and whispered ‘will you marry me’. Not only has the soldier’s girl hear his message, but the entire room heard it too.. it’s something with the acoustics of the room that make this ‘possible’.. they don’t call it a myth for nothing.

Climbed about 300 more steps to the upper most level’s of the dome and looked out over down town London, with a full 360 degrees, birds eye view (again- remember my London eye story). Except this time, I was looking at the 5th largest city in the world, during the day… sun shining and wind whipping my hair. St Paul’s used to be the largest structure in London, and I imagine the inhabitants of an earlier England must have believed that from where I was standing at that moment, I was half way to Heaven. Sun shining over a sparkling city, who’s to say I wasn’t already there?

Cabin fever was setting in mid week, so my generous hosts decided to take me on a tour of the city of Cambridge.. and yes, the college is in this city. As a matter of fact, that was one of the first questions that came out of my American-accented mouth.

‘So.. where is Cambridge University?? It’s here, right?’

To my surprise, Cambridge was very spread out, across several small complexes. I guess you learn something new everyday.
The town is absolutely wonderful. A little college town situated right in the heart of the best of English farm land, and I quickly discovered that it is a place where sheep and Prada meet. Although it rained (and snowed) slightly, it was still a very charming place to spend the day. It was a surprisingly crowded place too. College kids with their bikes cluttered the narrow streets. It was amazing that some people were brave enough to DRIVE these streets. I swear, it was only big enough for one way of traffic.
Through the middle of the city, well.. village really, there is a river, where (on a better day) one might like to take a boat ride and enjoy all that nature has to offer.

There are also tons of small, very old churches built of stone with thatched roofs. They really helped give character to the town.

Our day was topped off with a very spicy, tasty dinner at Nando’s, a local Portuguese restaurant. Did I get smarter at Cambridge? I left feeling a little smarter and a little more traveled!

After spending my spring break with my best friend and her new U.S Air Force husband in middle-of-no-where Lakenheath, England.. I was happy to finally be home and back in London. Rainy, wet and windy.. just like I left it. I returned early enough to spend a little more time checking off my list of places to see and visit. One month and counting.. my trip here is almost over. Tonight I decided to tackle the monster, Buckingham Palace... one place no London visitor should forget to see.

A crowded, overly-touristy walk past Big Ben and Westminster Abbey dodging camera flashes and hoards of tourist tee shirt stands, you come across the beautiful oasis, St. James Park. A beautiful lake in the middle with swans, manicured flower beds, and the greenest grass you will ever see. This is literally the Queen's front yard!!

Then in all it's majesty, Buckingham Palace. It was really nice going at dusk because the entire building was lit up like Cinderella's castle (and there were minimal tourists!!) I stood outside the golden gates and pondered what life must be like on the other side of them. To be royalty.. is it really all it's cracked up to be? What would it be like to constantly be scrutinized by not just your country, but by the entire world?! These thoughts gave me comfort as I quietly left, with no fuss, no paparazzi and no flash bulbs blinding my path. Are the royals the lucky ones or are we?