I was really glad to be coming back to London last weekend when we came as a class. It's strange that I've transitioned to a period where I don't really know anymore. Part of me wishes I were home (which I would almost certainly be if I had left yesterday with everyone else) but I am also glad that I did not have to do the people goodbyes, Oxford goodbyes, and England goodbyes all at the same time. The first two were enough. On the taxi ride out of Herbert Close down to Gloucester Green, I felt like I had bungee cords around my chest.
Traveling alone after this past month is very peculiar indeed. I feel less motivated when there aren't others to move me along.
Beyond all the melancholy, I made it to the Portrait Gallery and the Britain Museum here. The former was personally interesting because I used to read all sorts of children's novels on Mary Tudor, Mary Queen of Scots, and Elizabeth I. Now I actually have a mental picture for Mary Tudor. A lot of the portraits were lost on me though: I imagine that a lot of the portrait subjects there had been noteworthy enough to make it into British history books, but too far-flung to be featured in American textbooks. In the latter, I saw the actual Rosetta Stone! It was a lot more sophisticated than I had anticipated. The clockwork exhibits were neat as well.
I am unsure if I will be able to stomach another museum tomorrow, however. I am not the type to be able to distinguish between museums after more than two or three in rapid succession. The things I've seen were definitely interesting, but I do not have quite the age to appreciate the full history behind most of them.
On another note, I am getting really good at navigating the Underground. All the subways in Korea and Mexico that my parents took me along gave me a really good head start on how the maps work. Not to say that the system is that difficult, I suppose. But at this point, I find it rather fun.
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