Holiday with the Tudors

It's official, I'm in love. With England. And I think it's mutual.
I used this extended time-off to take my dream trip to England. It remains to be seen whether it was a wise use of my time and savings but it was, without a doubt, the wisest thing I could ever do for my psyche. I came home new woman. Hell, by day six in the UK I was a new woman! The impression is deep and I venture a guess that it will be long lasting.

The trip did not start off well. Despite my extensive preparation, by the time I got into the very long security line at Dulles Airport, I realized in horror that I'd left my iPhone on the shuttle van. There was little I could do. The shuttle company refused to bring me the phone and I would have to call them back - from London - to arrange for them to mail it to me. The food on the flight was hideous and although I took a Tylenol PM, I couldn't seem to sleep. I refused to be dragged down by any of this...
Thankfully, I got myself from Heathrow to my hotel on the Underground with minimal difficulty. I immediately took a two hour nap and set out to my first destination: meet high school friend, Nicole Allen, for dinner. Once again, I used the tube with no problems and Nikki and I enjoyed dinner and wine at a tapas restaurant near Carnaby Street in Soho. I was still not fully aware that I was in England yet. It wouldn't hit me until the next day, Tuesday May 19th.

May 19 is the anniversary of the beheading of Anne Boleyn. It seemed only fitting that I went that day to the Tower of London to pay my respects. Once I arrived and walked through the gates, respect was an understatement.
Within minutes, I was in tears; overwhelmed by the immense history of the place. I felt them - all of them. All the souls who were imprisoned, tortured, executed, and even those who lived there just before their coronations.





I always knew I'd feel something but this really caught me off-guard. I was fighting tears all day.
Despite the mixture of heavy rain and then bright sunshine, I spent nearly four hours walking around the Tower and absorbing the intense vibes (and sometimes ducking into a nook to stay dry). I took a million pictures and said a silent prayer to and for Anne Boleyn.

Would I feel this way at every historic site in London?