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By the banks of the River Thames is the Palace of Westminster, the seat of government, the famous Saint Stephens clocktower (with the Big Ben bell within), and nearby is Westminster Abbey, one of the most impressive churches around.

As we stroll from the bridge past the palace and on to the abbey we get many chances to hear the peals of Big Ben, a nickname originally given to the 13-ton "Great Bell of Westminster", but the term also came to include the clock and Saint Stephen's Tower.

The security around the Palace of Westminster is such that one can't tour the building - a great shame, I suspect - so one is forced to gaze through wire and gates. We came across the Thames, so we saw it first from the water, then from the bridge walkway, and then from the front. The original palace was constructed in the eleventh century at the command of Edward the Confessor. It consists of the House of Commons and the House of Lords, which together make up the British Parliament. The constable on duty stationed in front is pleasant, but busy. Members of Parliment drive in and out, around small groups of tourists.

Our tour of the abbey is just amazing. We choose to spend a few dollars more and hire a guide, and so we're able to get into the oldest parts of the abbey (which is off limits to those who do the self-directed tour). I think it's sufficient to say that Westminster Abbey is one of the most interesting tours I've had the pleasure to take. If you're around, partake.

We tour each part of the abbey, from the oldest to the current worship gallery of the royals. We see the family standards hung from the ceilings. Generations after generations of the wealthy and high-born. We visit the crypt, and sit in the areas used by the clergy to as a walkway between parts of the complex.

After all the walking of the tour we spend some time in the central courtyard, giving Isaac a chance to play in the grass with bare feet. I take my shoes off too.

The weather is just wonderful, warm and sunny, perfect for a day of being a tourist. An orchestral exhibition takes place on the other side of the courtyard, and so we hear all sorts of pieces of music as we frolic under the huge trees.

As we exit the abbey we choose to ignore the gift shop; yet another one of a seemingly unending series of cookie-cutter tourist trap.

I understand that it's a source of income, but still, I'm embarrassed at the proximity of such a noble and magnificent work of art and the cheap and tacky wares being hawked.

Next, Munchen (Munich).