And here begins the epic tale of Christmas break. It begin one Friday afternoon with 2 canceled classes (courtesy of MF), and a free ride to Caen with Paul. Paul is a student-teacher here, and since he lives in Caen he offered to give Rachel and I a lift. Break was off to a good start. We arrived in Caen and had a night to enjoy the beautiful Christmas lights and peruse the market. We happened to stumble upon the best kebabs ever and that just about made our night. We chatted, we ate, and mostly we were ready to see our families. On Saturday morning we woke up at the crack of dawn to take the ferry boat from Caen to Portsmouth, and the ride itself was quite leisurely. The only event of interest was our run-in with some rather uncouth English blokes. There was 2 guys in their late 20s and what I can only guess was their father in his late 40s or early 50s. We were waiting to disembark when they approached us. Because of our super chic ensembles (well, Rach was in high black boots and a nifty scarf, I was not so chic), they thought we were french. They asked some question in what was, to me, incomprehensible English. Rachel understood and responded (after some thought), and gave away our identity. Alas, we are not french. They were shocked, and proceeded to hit on us while also trying to insult the French (and question why would live there). Well, if that didn't woo me then I don't know what will. After some forced conversation, we gracefully parted ways, and were glad our encounter was at the end of the journey and not the beginning.
I arrived in London around 6pm on Saturday, and waited impatiently for my family at the hotel. They had spent the day at the Tower of London learning about executions and other morbid tales and later visited the Imperial War Museum which was, I am told, a big hit. I was jealous, because I didn't get to go, but hopefully I will be able to return sometime before I leave. It was wonderful seeing my family, especially since it was the holidays. I've never spent a Christmas away from them, and I hope I never have to. Anyway, I was tired, and so were they, but we still trekked out to Oxford Street to see the lights. I'm not gonna lie, they were kind of disappointing (except for these bubble lights that lead to Piccadilly Circus). I'm not sure what I was expecting, I guess more lights. Maybe I'm just hard to please.
Sunday morning was game time. We woke up early and headed over to the British Museum, a place I've wanted to go for some time. It was amazing. I saw the Rosetta Stone, which was brilliant. And I know what you're thinking, that's like saying you like the Mona Lisa when you go to the Louvre, BUT I really do appreciate its importance (languages are hard, I can't imagine deciphering that sucker). We also saw stones from the walls of Ninevah (sp?), among other Biblical towns. Why Jonah didn't want to go there is beyond me... and that reminds me of a price quote from KC (the youngest sister), who after seeing some artifacts from Corinth exclaimed, "So the Corinthians were real?" Yes they were real. The Bible is filled with real places, and some would argue, real people and events. Oh what a laugh. So museums really can teach you things. In all, the museum was overwhelming, because there was just so much stuff. Let me clarify it: there was so much stolen stuff. Yes, the upside of imperialism is a nifty collection of ancient treasures from all over the world. It was almost depressing to imagine all of that stuff getting hauled out of it's proper place. Another member of my family shared this sentiment, and made quite the comment about it. On one of the walls was a picture of stonehenge and they said, "Wow it's a wonder the British didn't steal that... oh wait, they didn't need to, it's already here..." And this happened to be said as some English guys were in earshot. They looked rather offended and made some muffled comments to each other, but my family member graciously added, "Not that the Americans wouldn't have done the very same thing, the British just got there first!" There are no words.
After the museum we headed to the next obvious tourist site, Big Ben. But alas, London weather was true to it's fame, and all we really saw was fog. Lots of fog. We wandered around anyway and saw the usual Westminster and such. Afterwards we decided to go to the Churchill museum, because it's rather close to that area. Not everyone wanted to see another museum, but Mindy and I wanted to see it, and we won. The museum was really cool. First of all, you get an audioguide. You may not be aware, but I have a love affair with audioguides. They make museum experiences much more pleasant, and much more informative. I would never read every plaque posted up on the walls, but I will listen to the wee man (or woman) coming from the guide. It's great when everyone's guides are in sync because you'll see everyone look up or turn around at the same time. I realize that may not sound thrilling for most people, but it delights me. Anyways, I learned things (which I love), and I got to see the actual rooms where Churchill and company directed the war. It's a very moving experience. And as a bonus there's a room full of interactive displays about Churchill and the war. Mindy and I spent about a half hour (at least) listening to different excerpts from Churchill's most memorable speeches. My family liked that room the best, I think, because you could actively learn by playing with these computer things are messing around with other stuff (which differs from most museum's where you have to really want to get into it). All in all, a good experience.
Afterwards we went to some pub for dinner and had the usual pub cuisine. I mention this only because my 23 year old sister got carded at said pub(in a country where you only have to be 18 to drink). Hilarious. Did I get carded? No. I think it's because she hesitated in choosing a drink, like she hadn't done it before, so the lady was suspicious. Mindy was not thrilled about that. Oh and we had treacle sponge for dessert, which was fabulous. For what that's worth.
And then came Monday, Christmas Eve. We knew ahead of time that pretty much everything would be closed, so we decided that Monday would be "wander around" day, so to speak. We took a walk through Hyde Park and saw some palace/house thing. At some point we went to see Buckingham palace, but I'm not quite sure when. We also revisited parliament to get a non-foggy glimpse of Ben. Then we marched on up to Trafalgar Square to check out St Martin in the Fields (a church independently recommended to me by two people, one of whom was a random English lady at a restaurant). The tree in T Square was pitiful, truth be told. It was scrawny and only decorated with vertical lines of lights. Anyway, before service started we wandered some of the back roads past the square and my parents poked around some antique shops (one of which was manned by a man dressed like he himself was a British antique).
St Martin's itself was a beautiful church (well the inside was, we couldn't see the outside because it was being redone). The ceiling and chandeliers were lovely, and overall it had a very friendly atmosphere. The service was quite good too. It was a mix of carols (um, some familiar carols--away in a manger and others-- were sung with different melodies... what the heck?) and a call to action. They talked about Bethlehem today and how we need to be aware of what's going on around the world. Quite right. That's not an Elmbrook service which would have had dancers and a play to make all the Cheasters feel warm and fuzzy. This was much better. The children who read were brilliant. I wish I spoke as well as they did, all articulate and powerful. The best reading was taken from Desmond Tutu (a Nobel peace prize, apartheid fighting, anglican archbishop in South Africa):
"Dear child of God, it is difficult for us to recognize the presence of God in our lives and in our world. In the clamor of the tragedy and the headlines we forget about the majesty that is present all around us. We feel vulnerable and often helpless. It is true that we are vulnerable, for vulnerability is the essence of creaturehood. But we are not helpless and with God's love we are ultimately invincible. During the darkest days of aparthied I used to say to PW Botha, the then president of South Africa, that we had already won and I invited him and other white South Africans to join the winning side. All the objective facts were against us -the pass laws, the imprisonments, the tear-gassing, the massacres, the murder of political activists -but my confidence was not in the present circumstances but in the laws of God's universe. This is a moral universe, which despite all the evidence that seems to be to the contrary there is no way that evil and injustice and oppression and lies can be the last word. God is the God who cares about right and wrong. God cares about justice and injustice. God is in charge. That is what has upheld the morale of my people to know that at the end good will prevail. It was these higher laws that convinced me that our peaceful struggle would topple the immoral laws of apartheid.
God says to you, "I have a dream, please help me realize it." It is a dream of a world whose ugliness and poverty, war and hostility, its greed and hard competitiveness, its alienation and disharmony are changed into its glamorous counterparts... when there will be more joy laughter and peace and my children will know that they are members of one family, the human family, God's family, my family."
The woman who read it made the words come alive. It was very moving. You should have been there... And on a different note, when we left I overheard a cheeky vicar say to someone, "see you next year!" I guess the Cheaster phenomenon (only going to church on Christmas and/or Easter) is world-wide...
And there you have it. That was London. The next installment will be about Paris... I'm sure you can't wait.
(oh and for all you facebook users, pictures will be up shortly...or in a few weeks, whichever comes first)
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