The Land of Fairytales

Cambridge from Castle Hill

When I was little, I used to read a lot, like a lot, a lot. The majority was on my own, books I’d picked out from the small school library or books I convinced my parents to get me at the store. But what sticks with me most were the ones my mom and I read together every single night before bed. All the way through fifth grade I would curl up next to her in my parents’ big bed and she would read to me. I only read on my own because it was impossible for her to read to me as much as I wanted to hear, but if I could choose I always preferred her voice over that of the one in my own head.

My mother’s absolute favorite genre, so then of course mine as well, was historical fiction. We read about all sorts of people from princesses in Hawaii at the turn of the century to poor girls in England during the First World War. My favorite series were the American girl books and the Royal Diaries. The one book from the hundreds that I read that comes to mind during my travels thus far is the one about Queen Elizabeth I. Here I am, living in the country she ruled. I used to dream of being royalty, having no idea of the price that that would entail. Then, during the first week of my travels, I got the amazing opportunity to go to the Tower of London and walk around the streets that she lived in. All the names and the stories came rushing back to me, Queen Mary, King Henry the VII, Jane Grey, and there I was. I intensely studied the crowns they wore, the armor they fought in, and the stones upon which they died. It’s definitely hard to wrap your head around, but it is also one of the coolest things I’ve ever done in my entire life.

Tower of London

I’ve had a lot of those coolest-in-my-entire-life moments since I have been here. I landed six days ago. The first drop jaw moment I had was when I was waiting in the New York airport for my flight and realized that everyone around me had this lovely British accent and they were all so interesting. A man two rows behind me had broken out his guitar, yea, his guitar, in an airport, and was just rocking out. The lady who needed by me said “Cheers” instead of “Thank-you,” and I was just elated. Then I got on the plane and found my seat. I didn’t get a wink of sleep the entire flight, maybe I was too excited or maybe it was the awkward German man who kept falling asleep in my lap, or maybe it was a combination of the two. Either way, when we approached London and I saw the pretty lights in the shallow darkness of morning twinkling back at me, I couldn’t wipe the ridiculous smile off of my excited face. I watched the cars driving the opposite way on the roads and even from thousands of feet above them, I found it hard to comprehend all the differences that I was so excited to experience.

The ADORABLE British Taxis

St. Stephen's Tower (holds Big Ben)

The next couple days flew by in a blur of jet-lagged bouts of tiredness, squeals of “that _______ (insert anything here) is so adorable and British!!”, and long walks around Cambridge. Before I knew it, I was on my way with my thirteen other comrades into the big city of London! The arrival into King’s Cross Station was exciting, but nothing compared to the moment we came around the corner and spotted the tower housing the most famous bell in history (Big Ben is the name of the bell, not the tower!). At that very moment, the clouds that had been hovering over us all day separated into lovely bunches allowing the sunlight to stream down and send lens flares into all of my shots. The blue sky made its appearance and it was like London, with Big Ben and Parliament, were just begging to be photographed, and I happily obliged.

The next day we went to the London tower, the castle of England’s monarchs, and there I was, walking the streets remembering all those stories my mom read to me. I felt like I was cheating her, going there without her, she would love to see this so much. So I tried to take in as much as I could, for her sake. I have so many memories of her wandering around in museums reading every single sign, moving at snail’s pace trying to comprehend every little bit. I did my best to walk in her footsteps that day and I hope one day I can take her there, to the place of our fairytales. I am so blessed to have the chance to come to a place that can make history come alive for me. And I’ve been here less than a week, I cannot wait to see what else Europe has in store for me!

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