London: day five

The tour bus rushed through downtown London, and for the first time I got to see Big Ben up close (went by too fast for pictures) as well as countless other monumental buildings. We cruised along for about twenty minutes, following the Thames and reaching the outer limits of the city before coming to a halt at Windsor. The English villages really are as quaint and as beautiful as their reputation; gentle green hills spread for miles, herds of sheep graze casually, and the homes, each with their double chimney, exposed beam architecture or brick walls, and moss covered roofs paint the picture of all that is associated with the English countryside. As we entered the town, the Windsor castle loomed regally overhead, strategically placed on the upper ground.

Walking, we passed by its walls, crossed a bridge over the Thames which is severely flooded at this time of year due to an unusual amount of rain (though the swans, geese and ducks love it), and entered the town of Eton. This town has a long history due to its possession of one of the most prestigious public Secondary schools in the country; the Eton College. The name however is deceptive, as Secondary school is equivalent to the American high school.  It is a school for boys, and has had a long history of producing diplomats, prime ministers, and other important persons. In my History of the English Language class last semester, we studied the influence that this school has had on the English language itself; there is actually a dialect of English specific to Eton and in the past, it was an easy identifier that a boy was Eton educated. In fact, it was expected that one adopt the accent, otherwise be ridiculed severely by professors and peers; even if that meant doing away with a native accent or dialect. I am not entirely certain how prevalent this is now, but it is likely that some tradition still stands as it is a school with a long history that has had a large impact on the English language throughout the years. Throughout the town, one could see the students and professors moving to and fro between buildings, always dressed in their respective formal, black uniforms.

After we had retraced our steps through Eton after visiting the school, the group then made its way up the steep hillside to the feet of Windsor Castle. One has to go through a process equivalent to an airport security line to get into the place due to the fact that it is a Royal residence. However, the Union Jack flag flying over the center rampart indicated to us that the Queen was not present today; if she had been, her own flag would have been flying there. Around town, flags are flown at half-mast to indicate the Queen’s absence, and at full-mast to indicate her presence.

The size of Windsor castle is staggering to say the least; it is the oldest castle to still be in use and by far the largest in England – twice the size of Buckingham Palace. The walls are composed of greyish brown stone bricks with smaller pebbles and stones painstakingly inlaid within the mortar between the bricks. Built as a defensive structure, there are three levels graduating from a lower ground to a higher ground and at the center, a fortified, circular rampart. Though the castle has never been breached, its preparation for battle is evident; narrow windows designed for archers, a trench built around the central rampart, the outer walls placed on the high ground, and drop-down gates with “murder holes” which were used to pour hot water or sand down onto invading forces pressed against the gate below. Due to the castle’s location atop a hill, one can see for nearly ten miles in all directions, which would have given occupants of old plenty of time to spot their approaching enemy and then prepare for battle; today, it provides a beautiful view of the entire city of Eton and the hills around.

While I was able to take plenty of pictures outside, photographs inside were, unfortunately, strictly prohibited. But trust me when I say that it was nothing less than breath-taking. Inside, we first entered the State Apartments at what they call the Mary’s Doll’s House, which, is not a toy as one would assume. Rather, it was a gift to Queen Mary, built by Sir Edwin Lutyens between 1921 and 1924 as a regal gift meant to show of the skill of the best artisans in England. The massive dollhouse is a piece of true artwork; every detail is fully function and to scale – even down to the inch long wine bottles formed from a single shard of glass, filled with wine and topped off with a tiny piece of cork, probably no more than a millimeter long. Even the miniature vacuum-cleaner works, and the whole house has a fully functioning electric and plumbing system.

From the Doll’s House room, one then enters a long succession of rooms, all filled with the most ornate and regal of furnishings. Dressers trimmed with gold and various inlaid woods, cabinets carved from Ebony, Rembrandt and Van Dyke paintings hung on the walls, painted ceilings, rugs that have near 200 stitches per square inch, countless jeweled muskets, swords, spears, revolvers and suits of armor presented in huge collections – spoils of wars one as well as a presentation of the supremacy of the British military, vast collections of china, relics and coat-of-arms representing each knight of the Order of the Garter, and ornate wood carvings that decorate the walls. Even the bullet which killed Lord Nelson is presented, incased in glass – due to my extensive reading of nautical novels, which often speak of the Royal Navy, I found this particularly interesting. Also interesting to learn was that the castle suffered a fire in the year 1992 which destroyed and damaged many rooms after burning for 15 hours. Due to renovations taking place in the same location, it was fortunate that few movable items were actually lost in the fire, and many of the fire and water damage to the rooms themselves were able to be repaired over the next five years (payment for these renovations coming largely from the opening of Buckingham Palace to the public for the first time).

The second building which one can access on the grounds is St. Georges Chapel. The high, towering ceiling immediately seems to shrink one down to an almost insect-like height. Within the walls of the chapel, many monarchs are buried, including the great King Henry the VIII. Probably the most breath-taking attribute for me personally, was the marble monument to Princess Charlotte, which portrays the Princess who died in childbirth while giving birth to a stillborn child; captured in marble, the cloaked body of the dead princess lies amidst veiled grievers while angels take both the princess and her child heavenward. Even the drapery behind the statue is carved from marble. The rest of the Chapel is ornately carved and beautifully decorated in honor of God, and more relics of the Knights of the Garter adorn the lofty walls. Upon leaving the chapel, we watched the changing of the guards (yes, complete with big furry hats) before the armory – quite a formal little ceremony in and of itself, before striking out into the town for lunch (fish and chips, of course), and exploration of the local shops.

We then returned to NIDO, and have been spending a fairly quiet evening at the center. Likely, later I will end up watching Sherlock (again for me) with one of my friends.

(This photo not mine)