Louis and I had another semi-successful conversation at breakfast this morning. I set off early for the National Gallery, only after a quick photo-op in front of the Trafalgar Square Lions. Once inside the National Gallery, I spent over three hours wandering among some of the world's best paintings. I was brought to tears twice, first by DaVinci then by Titian. After the exhausting museum trip I was able to rest my feet by catching a bus to the other side of the Thames. I took the long way around so that I could cross Tower Bridge. I bought my ticket to the Tower of London but was starving so I decided to get something to eat first. I wandered among closed office buildings until I found a sandwich shop. I was barely able to contain my disgust when the guy making my sandwich asked if I wanted butter on it... eww. The Tower of London was a weird experience. The building is a place so full of history, but it has been turned into a tourist Mecca. Hannah and I freeloaded for the first time with a tour group. The best part of the sight was when I wandered away from the crowds into the towers and went into an old prison cell where I could read graffiti carved into the walls by prisoners hundreds of years ago. When we saw the crown jewels Hannah and I discussed how if we were Queen we would pawn off the jewels and feed Africa. I not sure if we pissed the guards off or amused them, I'm sure it was different than most of the "oohs" and "ahhs" they usually get from the tourists. I've noticed that the British have a strange love-hate relationship with the royal family. You can't go anywhere without seeing a gossip magazine plastered with pictures of the newest royal indiscretions. But if an outsider insults the queen, they quickly come to her defense. To finish the day off, I made my pilgrimage to Abbey Road. I took off my shoes off and crossed the road John Lennon style. I then found the wall and wrote my personal message to the boys. By the looks of it, the wall gets painted over every couple of months, so I took a picture so that at least the message would live forever in my photo album. Back at the hostel I lamented the loss of Louis, my fine looking Italian roommate, or was he Spanish....