I couldn't have visited two more opposite attractions than I did today but I did find one commonality - they both were grave sites.
I didn't foresee this when I stepped on the hop-on-hop off bus tour this morning. I'm a sucker for history and beautiful craftsmanship in buildings. Since big cities can be a bit overwhelming for me, I thought this tour could help orientate me and drop me off at the two attractions I felt were hop-offable - St. Paul's Cathedral and the Tower of London.
As I walked towards St. Paul's Cathedral, it's white facade seemed to sparkle in the sunlight; a welcoming haven in a city of soot-stained stone. Upon walking in, the ornate details of the side chapels caught my eye first until I walked down the main aisle and saw it - the dome. I sat down in a chair and just stared at it filled with biblical art. I stared at the ceilings. It's amazing to me that such detail was put into ceilings when we don't look at them that much. For us, a ceiling is pretty much a white slab of paint but to them, it was a blank canvas.
To the right of me was a cross set out especially for Holy Week with candles in which to light and say a prayer to Jesus. I looked at the cross which seemed out of place based on its surroundings. You would expect it to be made of gold and jewels, but it was just two boards, simple, no frills standing in the vastness of a place that is quite the opposite.
It made me think - Jesus never would have put himself in such a grand place. That wasn't his style. He is a humble king - born in a stable and died on a tree, later resurrecting from a borrowed grave. No frills, just love, hope, and the greatest gift, salvation. His kingdom is not of this world but it's places like these built by people using their God-given talent to honor Him that give us a fraction of a glimpse of what lies in store for those who believe. Awe-inspired, tears began to fill my eyes. I lit a candle in honor of my Grandma so she could share this moment with me in spirit.
I ventured downstairs to find the restrooms which also happened to be the location of the crypt. I looked down at the floor and found myself walking on grave stones. Large and small, in the floor, in walls or as free-standing monuments, graves were everywhere.
It was my cultural upbringing to not walk on graves out of respect for the deceased. I tried walking around the tombstones in the floor but it became more and more difficult because they were like tiles. Stepping on their written stories felt like stepping on their memory. I found myself saying, "I'm so sorry" in my head as I made my way to the restroom.
It may be morbid but I like looking at tombstones. They tell stories about people from years past. If I have the opportunity to visit a cemetery, especially an old one, I like to try and find the oldest tombstone. They are as unique as the people they honor. In this crypt I saw tombstones from the 1600's, some possibly earlier!
Heading above ground, I found the staircase that brought me up inside the dome, winding and winding me around the spiral staircase. You would think it was the stairway to heaven with the amount of stairs - a major buns of steel workout! They do warn you the climb is not for the faint of heart. (There is an elevator just in case.)
The first stop brought me up close to the artwork on the dome ceiling. Amazing. I just let it soak in, sitting up there looking at the ceiling and the tiny people wandering below. Perhaps I let it soak in a little too much because, I hate to say it, I started hearing voices, whispers and I didn't know where they were coming from. No one was around me. That's not a good sign. I then noticed a girl with her cheek pressed against the wall talking into it and her mother, a good 20 feet away doing the same thing. They were speaking to each other in whispers through the dome wall which I could hear!
After a little rest, I ventured up to the top of the dome, up small, narrow stone steps to see a view of the London skyline. The width of the staircase was about the size of two of me smooshed together including low ceilings. My tall friends would definitely have to watch their heads.
The London skyline was full of spires, domes, and cranes. Lots of building is going on in the city, mixing the old with the new, most likely preparing to host the summer Olympics in 2012. I definitely recommend enduring the climb to see this view. If you can't go or don't want to spend the money on the London Eye, a larger than life, enclosed, elegant spin on the Ferris wheel, this is the next best thing - workout included. :)
St. Paul's Cathedral is a definite place of refuge, a place to be still in the midst of the bustle, even for businessmen on lunch breaks. They and school children on field trips flocked to the cathedral steps to eat their lunches in the midst of pigeons.
I walked over to the bus stop to hop on for the next destination - the Tower of London. With its now grass-filled mote, arrow cutouts, portcullises, and menacing stone facade, it had the opposite vibe that St. Paul's Cathedral left me with. It was not a refuge, but a fortress with a past, a bloody past.
While this location started out as a palace, it also became a prison. The turret walls were full of prisoner graffiti, turning to God as their last hope for they knew what was coming - their execution. Many well known people were murdered here including Ann Boylen, one of King Henry VIII's wives. A glass memorial now stands where the executions took place.
It struck me odd that a church was on site as well, burying and I assume blessing the bodies after a prisoner's execution. It seems like their view of God was warped, blessing the dead but condemning the living, often for unjust reasons having to do with being a threat to the throne. I don't think this is the message Jesus was trying to get across.
A while back the Queen was summoned to visit this church because the floor was in need of repair and needed funding. She fully supported this decision when she came and tripped on the uneven flooring. It turned out many prisoners were buried underneath the flooring way back when. She had it excavated and all identified that could. It was a horrible time period I'm thankful not to have been part of it.
I did see the crown jewels which were lovely and ventured to catch a cruise down the Thames. The sunlight made the choppy waves glisten, allowing me to see up close what I saw from St. Paul's dome.
I got off at Westminster pier and walked across the bridge where I passed a man in full Scottish dress playing the bagpipes. I instantly thought of my Dad and his love of the bagpipes, especially the song "Amazing Grace." I dropped a coin in his music case in my Dad's honor.
I took the tube back to my temporary home, grabbed some dinner at a local Asian restaurant, and treated myself to Starbucks. It was a great end to an eventful day, even if it did involved stepping on graves.
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