london calling deux

london.
i
want
to
live
here
like
whoah.

so megan and i got here alright, although we're slightly sleep deprived. let me tell you the story.

the flight left around 7:30 tuesday night. i tried to get some sleep on the flight, but it only worked in 15 minute increments, so after a few tries, i gave up and started reading my book (gotta love that dave eggers) they served dinner (chicken parma, or something resembling chicken parma) and breakfast - fruit and a warm croissant. as soon as they said we were approaching gatwick, i looked out the window to see nothing but clouds and fog. go figure.

gatwick was enormous but the directions were clear enough: customs one way, baggage claim another. for being one of the most heavy-hit airports of the modern world, it seemed a little ... dingy, almost. there were a lot of florescent lights, a lack of air conditioning, etc. it only took me a few seconds to get through customs - after the never-ending line, that is. the man asked me where i was going and how long i was intending to stay, and if i was planning on working. and that was that. megan was next to me in another line, and i didn't think she'd take that much longer to meet me. but a few minutes later, she wasn't there. she came out and told me that the customs woman asked: where she was going, how long she planned to stay, etc. but then, when megan told her regents, the woman asked a load of questions: are you studying AT regents, or IN regents, and how much was tuition, etc.

but crisis averted, megan and i got through alright and then proceeded to stand in the next line (or queue, in britspeak) for the train from gatwick to victoria station. and from there, we then had to claim our luggage. as a classic beth maneuver, i packed waaaaaay too much, including a huge backpack and a 48.7 pound suitcase. megan was no better - she was sporting two behemoth suitcases herself. so, in good brittish fashion, i got a trolly to roll our goods on - honest to goodness, it was a trolly right out of harry potter. i was disappointed i didn't have an owl to put on top.

our next duty was to find the gatwick express train and get our 39082 lbs. of luggage on and off without absolute chaos. it was adorable - everything had proper names - platform 1, platform 6. (no platform 9 3/4, sadly). BUT we couldn't take the trolly's down to the station. but a lovely lad with amazing blue eyes ( haha ) offered to put our copious amounts of luggage on a cart and tote it down the elevator, or lift. he even put it on the train for us. megan and i didn't know if we had to pay him or not - england for dummies said nothing about cartmen at airports. i had a five pound note at the ready, but he just said, "you girls be careful in london, not everyone's as nice as i."

feeling slightly guilty and INCREDIBLY sleep deprived, we took the half-hour train ride to victoria station. megan and i both started zoning out, but were determined to stay awake. it felt like the hogwarts express, and they had the snack witch with refreshments. alas, no licorice wands.

victoria station was busier than any subway station in new york city - and factor in two gigantic pieces of luggage and a carry on, and two girls light on muscle-mass, and it was even worse. luckily, they had announced on the train that taxi service was right upstairs, and the escalator was literally right outside the train. but the wait for the taxi was a good 20 minutes. you'd think they would realize that business booms around train stations. alas.

our cabbie was an experience in itself. a true east-ender, the cabbie knew every tidbit about every landmark we passed. he told us where the walls to buckingham palace were, hyde park, (the prince starts his stroll monday and gets back friday, it's so big! d'yunno what i mean?) and where michael jackson goes on holiday when he comes. megan and i just let him talk, but mostly because we were finding it hard on so few hours of sleep to understand east-end britspeak. we mostly nodded and smiled, and i once commented on museums, and he went to town on that.

the windham hotel is, oddly enough, on windham street, a little sidestreet off of a slightly larger street, of which i'll learn the name eventually. it's a converted house, so it doesn't have the "look" of a hotel. it looked like a door from notting hill, and the doorknobs are in the middle, just like in j. r. r. tolkein. when the cabbie dropped us off, he helped put our luggage inside the foyer of the windham, but the hostess looked doubting at all of it. "i don't think it'll all fit in your room," she said. "i can leave it in the lobby, or lock it up in a closet." eventually, megan and i decided to take up everything except two suitcases.

ah, but the room. i had a flashback to freshman year at grove city. megan and i debated what the room used to be. "servant's quarters," megan suggested. "a broom closet," i said. in the room, there are the following things: a sink, a radiator, two twin beds (that are very short), a telly, really cheap ikea furniture, and a shower. the shower overlooks a large window, which in turn, overlooks the quiet street. it's cozy - very, very cozy, but the room serves its purpose. the bathroom (or loo) is actually on the mezzanine, and is quite possibly the smallest loo i've ever seen in my life. it's not a hostel, but it's not a hotel either. i'd call it a pension. but it serves its purpose.

once megan and i got situated, we had to fight the temptation not to just sleep all afternoon. it was around 11 by the time we got settled, and we decided to go down to baker street and buy an "oyster:" - no, not the delicious bi-shelled sea-dwelling creature, but a pass to the underground. unfortunately, there was a lot of bureaucratic paperwork we had to fill out, and we didn't have every bit (address, telephone, color of the sky last thursday). we decided that we were a bit peckish (hungry) and looked for a place to eat. baker street is kind of like broadway in new york - double lanes of traffic separated by a divide. except that traffic goes the "wrong way" and i found myself looking to the wrong side of the road anytime i wanted to cross. i think there are only two rules for pedestrians:

1. walk when there isn't a car coming. read: if a car isn't going to hit you in the time you're going to cross the street, cross the street. it helps if you jog.
2. if a large group is crossing the street, cross the street, reguardless of traffic patterns. it's herd mentality.

in any case, the globe, a pub recommended by the cabbie, was across the street from the baker street tube stop, so we decided to go there. unfortunately, they were still serving brunch, as it was only 11 o'clock, so we walked, dejected and hungry, to find the next nearest place to eat. we had three options:

-pizza hut.
-micky d's
-quizno's

go figure that our first meal in london was at an american chain.

after lunch, we came back to the windham to get the information for the oyster. megan wanted to call her parents, but couldn't until she had the internet password, which would be in an hour, since the hostess was out to lunch. we decided to take an hour nap so that we wouldn't be complete zombies. unfortunately, bargin hotels are bargan for a reason, and the alarm didn't go off. we woke up from our nap four hours later.

so now, here we are.

and i need to figure out a better way of staying awake.

au revoir!

beth

quote of the day: "saifhwiejojas" - some guy from somalia on the victoria train.