Wednesday night (Feb21) I finally got around to packing. This was intentional. See, my plan was to stay up all night, stay up on the flight from SFO to Dallas, and then sleep pretty much the whole flight from Dallas to London, so that when I arrive in London Friday morning, I'll just be waking up and be "on schedule". Everything went fine, until I got to the airport. Weather in Chicago is all screwed up, so there are all kinds of delays. I'm trying to get on a 10:45 flight to Dallas (arriving in London at 8am), I end up on a 12:40 flight to Dallas (arriving in London at 10am). Only two hours, which is no big deal, except I haven't slept all night, so I'm exhausted, starting to get a little loopy, and now I have to keep my self up for two more hours. So, head into the Admirals Club in SFO, crank up my laptop, and try to burn the two hours by emailing/chatting with friends/family and starting to read one of the books I brought with me: "The Age of Fallibility: Consequences of the War on Terrorism" by George Soros. It's gonna be a long 2 hours. Anyway, manage to stay awake for the two hour delay, get on the flight to Dallas and tell my neighbour "don't let me fall asleep... seriously. I start to sleep, wake me up." About 20 minutes later I'm getting poked in the leg "hey, no sleeping". Damn. This happens two or three more times over the rest of the flight, but, generally speaking, I manage to stay awake. Get to Dallas, head to the terminal for my London flight, and they are already boarding. Sweet! Don't have worry about falling asleep in the terminal! So, get on board, and I'm asleep before they even finish boarding.
Land in Gatwick. It worked! It's about 9:45am, and I feel like I've just woken up. Fill out the landing card, get off the plane, and immediately get the 5th degree from customs: Here for business or personal? (Personal) How long are you here? (a week) Who do you know? (Christine Grabyan) What does she do? (works for
So, clear customs, go get my bags, walk out the exit, and see a guy with a little sign with my name on it. That was awesome. Mom, Dad, take note: the guy was there, waiting for me. No "call us when you land so we know when to leave the house", no "wait for us inside, we should be there in 15 minutes", already there waiting for me. Cab driver turns out to be a good dude. Gives me some tips on what the good beers are, suggests that while I'm in Barcelona I go take the tour of Newcamp (where Barcelona FC plays), and gives me the advice "British girls tend to drink a lot, and British girls are trouble when they're drunk".
Finally arrive at Christie's place. Get my bags, pay the man, and go knock on the door. I hear Christie coming to the door, and brace my self for a big hug. "Where are the rest of your bags?" she says through a half opened door. "Umm... good to see you too." And that pretty much set the tone for the next 2 days.
I haven't posted any entries up until now, because I really haven't had anything to say. I got to Christie's around noon on Friday. Brushed my teeth, took a "french shower", and we stepped out to run some errands for a dinner party she was having that night. Have any of you seen the show "Extras"? You know how Maggie says "hello" as a really exaggerated "Hallooooo" in a high pitched voice? Well, I always thought that was just kind of her thing. Nope. Apparently, that's common. I had to keep myself from giggling when we went in a cheese shop and the women behind the counter straight away said "Halloooo". Anyway, got lunch at the Abbeville Pub (on Abbeville Road, in -- no, not Abbeville -- Clapham). Get back to her place, help her with some cooking stuff, take a nap, and finally get to take a real shower. Her friends come over 6ish, and we hang out with them all night... coworkers, talking about coworker stuff, doing coworker things. It was awesome.
Saturday, Christie was moving from her place in Clapham to another place in West Hampstead. So, in the morning I get woken up by "Hey, my roommate needs to take that bed apart." So, I'm up around 9 -- because my bed is being dismantled -- meander around the house aimlessly for another half an hour while Christie and her roommate are packing/cleaning, and finally motivate myself to go for a run. Christie had previously described Clapham to me as "a cross between the Marina and Noe Valley". It didn't really occur to me what that meant until I went for my run. Clapham Common is about three blocks from Christie's place, and about two miles around. Several things stood out to me: 1) I had forgotten just how much I hate running on concrete, 2) there were a bunch of other people out running, and, myself not with standing, not one of them wasn't white; and I swear more than a couple people looked at me funny as we passed each other. I thought there were supposed to be tons of Indians and other minorities in London? Apparently, just not in Clapham -- it's the Marina! 3) in addition to all the runners, there were lots of people pushing strollers. I guess that's the Noe part. Anyway, once my shins adjusted to the concrete (did I mention I hate running on concrete?), I roll off the two miles, head back to the house, clean up, and get to work helping with the moving. Once we finish with that, around 4pm, we (Christie, myself, and her friend Aiden) head to a pub in West Hampstead Village for dinner, walk back, and Aiden and I sit down to watch rugby while Christie unpacks. Around 8 I get a little stir crazy, so I head out the door for a walk. Get back around 9:30, Aiden leaves, and I crash on the couch.
I've been in London for 48 hours, and so far, pretty much all I've done is cook, clean, pack, move, barely had a moment to talk/hangout with the good friend I'm supposed to be visiting, and slept on a couch I didn't actually fit on. On a scale of 1-10, so far this vacation is a 1, saved from negative territory only because I haven't broken any bones, and nothing of mine has been stolen -- moved into positive territory only by some decent beer.
Today I'm heading to Lisbon, so hopefully things will start to pick up!
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