Thursday: woke up far too early, something that sometimes happens when I have a day of traveling ahead. Made myself more or less presentable, crammed far too much stuff into the monster wheeled duffel, dragged ass to a local caffeine pusher for a few relatively quiet minutes of substance-assisted (espresso/croissant) coming to.
Made the slog to the airport (three separate trains on three separate metro lines followed by a bus to the newest terminal -- open but with no metro connection). Found myself in a half-full plane mostly surrounded by reserved middle-aged brits talking in quiet voices and young, boisterous spaniards, chattering and laughing loudly.
A smooth flight, followed by the semi-frenzy of Gatwick. After a brisk walk through miles of corridors, I entered the passport control area where a portly gentleman in an official looking sportcoat met me with the friendly question, "You all right, sir?" When someone calls me sir, my first impulse is to look around, see who they're actually talking to. And until I readjust to being back in the U.K., my first impulse when someone asks me if I'm all right is to check to see if I'm hemorrhaging profusely from an exposed body part. He was talking to me, and I could find no obvious bleeding. I answered, "Fine, thanks," he smiled, life went on.
A shuttle to a different terminal, a train ride into the city (a pretty, good-humored 30ish spanish woman with a Louise Brooks 'do talking on her mobile phone across the aisle, at one point telling the person on the other end, "No es una amenaza -- es un consejo" ("It's not a threat -- it's advice")).
Early March skies mostly overcast, tattered patches of blue showing here and there, shafts of sunlight shining down on orderly spreads of english homes, stretching off across rolling terrain.
Victoria Station, people of all colors everywhere. Found the right bus stop, waited patiently, realized I had not dressed for London's chilly air and brisk breeze, hopped and jiggled about in a vain attempt to warm up, nipples beginning to hurt from the unexpected cold.
A bus ride through busy city streets to a small hotel a few blocks off Oxford Street. Discovered that my reservation of a month earlier had not been taken, then discovered it was my fault. Didn't matter -- a room was available, it turned out to be perfect.
Went online, blabbed with friends. By the time I pulled myself together and skipped out the door, darkness had fallen. Found my way to the theater district. Wandered. Found a short street that featured a row of interesting restaurants. Stumbled into one, had a good meal. Sat writing/reading, which seemed to intrigue the wait staff, two of whom were attractive 20-something women, one English, one French. Enjoyed their attention, left an excessive tip.
By the time I returned to the hotel, my throat had become sore, scratchy. Finally drifted off to sleep, passed a night full of strange dreams in which my 3-D life intermingled with surreal happenings, me surfacing at times, confused, unsure what was real and what wasn't.
My eyes opened as sunlight crept into the room around curtain edges, throat sore, feeling woozy, out of whack. Got sluggishly out of bed, pulled on clothes, stumbled down to breakfast where a buxom 40-something eastern european woman presided, seeming interested in me in a way that cut through a lot of my personal fog. When I returned to the room, I found myself feeling wiped -- throat sore, nose beginning to run. Wanted nothing more than to crawl back under the covers.
Did that. Slept.
[continued in next entry]
España, te quiero.
rws 4:25 PM [+]
Comments:
jajaja es fácil distinguir a un grupo de españoles, principalmente por lo que comentas del tono de voz. ah! y porque siempre nos hacemos notar con nuestros modales :S
Me encanta Londres, tengo que hacer una parada por ahí una vez al año, como mínimo! La última vez, que no me alojé en casa de mi landlord, descubrí un guesthouse divina al lado de Victoria Station y baratísima!
En fin, que espero que lo hayas ( estés ? ) pasado bien!
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Me encanta Londres, tengo que hacer una parada por ahí una vez al año, como mínimo! La última vez, que no me alojé en casa de mi landlord, descubrí un guesthouse divina al lado de Victoria Station y baratísima!
En fin, que espero que lo hayas ( estés ? ) pasado bien!
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: 4:11 PM
: 4:11 PM