Mind the Gap. Please.

London. How could I ever sum you up in a single blog entry? It's just not possible. Often I feel sorry for travel writers because they are forced to package and sell a tiny slice of a place, of an experience, therefore subjecting readers to an incomplete version of the story. The writer knows there's more to it, but is restricted by word count and desired content; they have to write what people want to read. One of the many reasons I ran in the opposite direction of journalism. I digress. London- the city of cloudy skies, friendly people, terrible food, and fantastic shopping.

Overly enthused about the currency

The trip was dysfunctional from the start. The type of ordeal where one day I was going, the next I wasn't. Travel partners changed, prices climbed, and I was ready to throw in the towel when my friend from school agreed (three days in advance) to pack her bags and come along.

On our way!

We arrived early on Monday morning, flying in from Lyon, France. The plane took us to Gatwick Airport, which is about thirty minutes by train from the city. Our hotel was located near the London Bridge, with proximity to a metro or -excuse me- "tube" station and fabulous restaurants. As always, my first urges in a new city were to eat and buy everything. I had to keep reminding myself that a Pound is more that the Euro, and much more than the Dollar. Didn't really work. What did work, however, was the weather. And being able to speak English all the time. I didn't realize how linguistically exhausted I was until I entered a shop in the lovely Covent Garden Market and didn't feel afraid when a salesperson approached me. I didn't have to think, rehearse, or run. All around me was beautiful, comprehensible English. We did as much as we could the first day, which amounted to a few hours of shopping at Covent Garden, a chaotic trip to the M&M's Museum, a sub-par meal of fish and chips, a walk through Soho, and a viewing of "Chicago," one of my favorite musicals.

Covent Garden Market

M&M's Museum

Soho

Waiting for Chicago to start

The second day we started off fresh and determined. First stop, Abbey Road. I'm not sure what exactly I expected, but it turns out that Abbey Road is..well..a road. That you have to wait to cross. And stop traffic in order to capture the cliched photo that everyone expects me to post.

A lonely walk down Abbey Road

People were remarkably friendly in London. Perhaps it's because my friend and I looked adorably touristy, but I'm deciding to chalk it up to the city. At every turn, someone would cheerfully not only give us directions, but suggest a restaurant, bar, etc. It was like this that we stumbled upon Hawley Arms, where the late Amy Winehouse was often seen. Even when I stopped traffic to take a picture on Abbey Road, no one honked or yelled. This didn't completely take away the humiliation of the situation, but it certainly helped.

Hawley Arms

The majority of this day was spent shopping on Oxford and Bond Streets, and in Camden Town Market. My travel buddy enjoys shopping just as much as myself, and we did a good job of encouraging each other to be financially irresponsible during the trip. Other highlights of the day include the Charles Dicken's House Museum, walking through Little Venice, finally riding on a double decker bus, and dinner at a fantastically cheap Indian restaurant on Brick Lane.

Dicken's House Museum

Day three- aka time to cram in everything we've missed. By Wednesday, I was completely exhausted. After a bizarre breakfast at the Garrison Public House  near our hotel, we took pictures around London Bridge and headed to Tate Modern for a few hours. It was a great museum, but a little too crowded for us to completely enjoy it. By now experts of public transportation in London, we quickly saw Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey (but didn't go inside because it cost 16 pounds!) and Big Ben. Although we were completely depleted of energy, my friend insisted that we stop by her favorite store--Primark. I'd never heard of it, so I was imagining...I don't know....your average department store. So wrong. Three floors of clothes, lingerie, shoes, houseware...sounds like paradise right? Okay now add about 500 irritated women pushing and shoving their way from one sales rack to the next, and their 500 irritated boyfriends arguing with them every step of the way. Now add mile-long lines and hunger pains. Somehow, we made it out alive, with just enough time to stop by the hotel, freshen up and meet her friend for dinner.

Potato pancake, smoked haddock topped with a poached egg.

Posing by the Bridge

Big Ben, last shot before my camera died.

The next morning was ugly. We left the hotel at 4 a.m., surprised to see the wild foxes running through the streets of London. I honestly thought I was dreaming, but my research proves that we were not mistaken. We took the train to Gatwick, and caught our flight to Lyon. Borderline delirious and in a rush to catch the navette from the airport to Lyon Part Dieu, my friend and I picked up speed, racing with all of our luggage and new purchases. We were halfway down the escalator when I saw the doors on the train begin go close. I grabbed my luggage and booked it. Somewhere between the escalator and the train my foot caught, and I went flying in the air, landing flat on my face on the pavement. I looked up for a brief moment and saw the train full of people staring at me, expressionless. Like they'd seen it a million times. At least they weren't laughing. Too humiliated to feel pain, I let my friend scrape me off the floor and put me on the train, which ironically was waiting for me to board. Once my embarassment subsided, I realized that everyone was speaking French again. I was back. Exhausted, injured, and broke, but back. And it felt like home.