During my semester in England, I saw so many cathedrals that nowadays just looking at one provokes regurgitation. Even when I saw Notre Dame in Paris, I threw up a little in my mouth. We must have covered every kind of cathedral possible in England, from every time period and every architectural style. And it was amazing. But I’d imagine it’s like eating the same peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch everyday until it causes you to go blind or something. That last one might just kill you.
Then there was the Ely Cathedral in the small town of Ely. We were doing the general tour of the area, gawking at sculptures and flying buttresses and Gothic stained-glass and Norman stonework. Then the tour guide with the dorky glasses turned to us and was like, â€œHow would all you bitches like to take a 400 feet hike into the octagonal tower?â€
We were all, â€œHell yes!â€ So we tramped through the narrow stairways and passages like freaking Quasimodo but only a little more attractive and without the eye bulge.
See that? My own personal Mount Everest. Considerably less cold. And I never really wanted to climb Mount Everest so that was a dumb analogy.
These are the narrow stairs on the way to the tower; we couldn’t even wear our backpacks. The walls were covered in ancient graffiti dating back to the 1500s. I scratched my initials in the wall becaue vandalism is a good thing and I figured it was a sure way of getting into God’s good book.
At the top! That little cluster of people scarring the gorgeous scenery is the remainder of my group.
More English landscape.
Voila, inside the tower with the angels! Back before I had Lasik eye surgery and was not worthy of being seen in public.
So there you have it. Has my soul been cleansed? Have I been forgiven for my sins? Have I experienced a spiritual awakening? I’ll let you mull over that one.