Day 6: Services in Southwark and Imperial War Museum
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Hello again everyone,
My communications will get spotty from now on. The reason is that
we’re rapidly running out of time, squeezing things in and find we
just can’t pull ourselves away from the streets of London until very
late. Grandpa Mohawk is eager to get home and tell his cardiologist just
how much exercise he’s been getting. Vacations are exactly what he
needs to stay a young 75.
So here begins a catch up on our last two days in London. Sunday started
bright and sunny but a bit chilly compared to Saturday. When my mom was
in our traveling caravan she started the tradition of always trying to
go to church wherever we find ourselves in the world. So where to find a
Catholic Church in this cosmopolitan decidedly non-Catholic city?
Well a little Internet research turns up St. George’s Cathedral of Southwark. It is the archdiocese home for Southern England, the first Catholic church built in the city post-Reformation (1848) and thoroughly destroyed in the London Blitz of 1941. It’s been restored to its original grandeur, a proper ancient gothic style with chapels lining the side as well as cloisters and ornate stain glass window.
After church, we continue our walk through Southwark to the Imperial War Museum. It’s a fascinating place tucked away in the heart of this ancient borough known for being more of the working class or “bad sector” of town. Today Southwark is where the up-and-coming buy their high-rent condos. (₤200,000 for one overlooking the Thames and near Waterloo station. Since that’s only $400,000 we consider dumping our beach condo in America and buying a place in town. Don’t worry. We’re not serious enough to pull a Madonna.)
The
Imperial War Museum returns us to a time when the mighty Empire of
Britain fell to the terrors of modern war. There’s the First World War
exhibit displaying all the fancy uniforms of the aristocratic officers
who mistook their grandparents’ Napoleonic war stories for proof war
was a noble and glorious thing. Instead they lost their lives and cost
millions more in the deadlock of trench warfare. You get to walk (or
rather climb since it is a warren’s nest of holes, steps and narrow
passages) through the trenches in a special exhibit, hear the voices of
the soldiers and see them round a corner. Grandpa Mohawk reports it is a
truly eerie experience.
Next you step through the interim years that led directly to the Second World War. Amidst the preserved troop reports, Nazi artifacts and surviving V1 duds, we conclude the one person who’d love this place most is Michael. Again at one end of the exhibit is the Blitz Experience. This attraction leads a small group of people into an underground Anderson shelter as the air raid sirens sound. You hear the safety warden and several fellow East Enders both panic and cheer each other (and you) on. And after the bombs fall, the warden directs us all to emerge and see what damage has been done and what assistance we can offer those too unlucky (or stubborn) to seek shelter.
Above ground it seems everything has been destroyed. St. Paul’s is on fire; the fire brigade is called out. Someone screams a warning of an unexploded shell just moments before it goes off. A baby’s pram lies in the rubble of a pub. Within lies the bartender too stubborn and fearful to leave his pub to the Germans. The streets are dark, smoldering and filled with debris. All this exhibit is missing is the smell of smoke and death.
After the museum we return to the present day and continue our walk through Southwark. We take the southern route along Lambeth Road to the Archbishop’s traditional home of Lambeth Palace, now a garden museum. Then we walk up the Albert Embankment. We get in line for the London Eye and ride just as the sun is setting. This is the first glimpse we’ll see of St. Paul’s.
After, we find our way to a trendy little café by County Hall. The air has turned nippy and I find my stamina is shot for the day. So after dinner, I crankily lead us back to our room and a warm bed.