We have all seen the Victoria Embankment in British TV shows and movies. So much of life, commerce, and history crowd alongside the River Thames, one can easily forget that the walkway serves as an essential pathway that many Londoners traverse each day. Numerous parks line the Embankment to give residents and workers a break from the buildings that surround them, and the ever-present crowds and traffic. And then there are the markets and street entertainers, as well as the great celebration we passed through yesterday evening, which culminated with a giant, upside-down, purple cow.
After our first full day of sightseeing, and indulging in such delicacies as calzones and Stilton, we stopped to share a cheeseburger and chips for dinner. The latter is the English term for what we in America call French Fries, and, for a time, referred to as Freedom Fries. (What we call chips, they call crisps). After picking up a few varieties of Earl and Lady Grey at the Twillings Tea shop (if not the narrowest shop in Britain, at least the narrowest shop we have ever visited), we walked along the Victoria Embankment. Double-decker buses, taxicabs, and the occasional Aston Martin fought for road-space to our left, while such beasts as lions and sphinxes guarded the River Thames on our left. People gathered near docks as crews readied their vessels for an evening out on the water. The lights were coming on as the sky darkened, and we were exhausted from our day’s walk. Never, in recent memory, had we walked so much in one day.
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| "If you wish to pass, you must answer my riddle." |
It would have been easy to ignore the unique setting we were traversing. So many Londoners must view the Victoria Embankment as a means of getting from one locale to another. We were certainly looking forward to relaxing in our room and devising our plan for the following day. Yet there were numerous stories from the fiction we love that had drawn us here, to walk this path, and we knew we should not miss this opportunity to appreciate this (tiring!) portion of our visit.
When the Tardis arrives on the bank of the Thames in “The Dalek Invasion of Earth,” Doctor Who and his companions are struck by a paucity of river traffic. In this aspect, we found reality at odds with our beloved story. From working vessels to dinner cruises to water taxis, the traffic on the Thames is nearly as diverse as that traveling alongside it. We considered taking a boat and seeing our surroundings from a different perspective, if only to rest our feet (not to mention our aching legs and hips). But in walking this route, we found that another aspect of the story resonated with our experience this evening.
When their attack on the Dalek spaceport fails, the human resistance fighters scatter, intent upon leaving London by any means possible. No one seems interested in helping the former leader escape. So it is left to Barbara and her new friend Jenny to help the wheelchair-bound Dortmun flee to safety. But before they can traverse Westminster Bridge, first they must push Dortmun along the Victoria Embankment, hoping that no Dalek patrol spots them during their journey.
As if to reinforce the hazards of Barbara, Jenny, and Dortman’s journey, two war memorials drew our attention. One, known as Cleopatria’s Needle, is an obelisk dating back to the time of Caesar Augustus. It was given to the English in recognition of two military victories over the French. It is guarded by two replicas of the well-known Sphinx, and stands as a reminder of the period in which the British Empire extended over much of the globe. The second, a series of bronze sculptures, celebrates how Britain defended itself against Nazi aggression during World War II. They serve as vivid reminders of the age of this nation, and all the conflicts they have endured.
Like so many Americans, I trace my origins back to those European settlers who began arriving in The New World in the late seventeenth century. It is hard to imagine a people who, as a country, trace their origins back to the smaller kingdoms that united under the legendary King Arthur, or even farther back, nearly two thousand years ago, to the tribes who repeatedly fought off the better-trained Roman armies. This walk reminds me of how many times the people who lived here have had to fight for their freedom, and how many times they have succeeded. They have much to be proud of.
Sadly, we saw no memorials to the Britons’ victory over the Daleks. But perhaps that war is yet to come.
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