Departure and first day in London.
To say that I was a bit nervous would probably be the understatement of the century. Apart from constantly talking to myself listing things I still needed to do, I began to act a little frazzled. It happens to the best of us, right?
Looking back while I’m now sitting on the train heading for our first official destination, still quite jetlagged and sipping on strong tea, I can say that up until now things have gone relatively smoothly. I hope I’m not jinxing us by typing this, I’m merely being extremely grateful and continue to see the silver lining in whatever may turn out differently than expected.
I had no problem checking in at the airport. These days, if one chooses not to check-in online one can do so at the machines, which was actually very easy. I noticed that some airlines, mine included, now offer self check-in for your luggage as well. It wasn’t bad at all, but takes away the assurance the personnel can provide. Also, the passenger has to attache their own baggage tag, something that I for some reason found extremely difficult. Luckily, my husband helped me out until it was time to say good-bye at security. The tag, we found wouldn’t stick properly and the machine had to try three times before it could scan the barcode. At that moment I mentally prepared myself for a lost bag at my destination. Fortunately, the tag fell off the second I lifted it from the conveyor belt at Heathrow airport. Lucky me. My mom wasn’t so lucky and hers ended up somewhere in Calgary.
I was surprised how quickly time flew and before we knew what happened we found ourselves boarding the plane at the final boarding call (kind of typical for us to miss the numerous calls before lol).
We decided to book a late flight hoping we would be tired enough to sleep through most of it, but I forgot to consider the fact I would also be extremely cranky and missing my wonderful cozy bed at home, while being cramped sardine-style in economy class with cold air blasting onto my neck for 7 hours. What fun that was.
On board we met a wonderful elderly lady, Mrs. C, who talked with us most of the flight and especially during take-off and landing. I was so distracted by this lively woman’s chatter, spunky attitude and zest for life that I forgot to get sweaty palms. A stewardess had a bit of an attitude problem and decided to snap at the poor woman, saying: “I can’t understand what you are saying.” After she left Mrs. C turn to us and said: “In my head I answered her ‘it’s English, bitch’, but of course I couldn’t stoop to her level.”
Mrs C told us she was a bit nervous about catching her connection at Heathrow, if she was to wait for personnel to help her off the train. So, we had her walk between us, holding up traffic as everyone attempted to leave the plane as quickly as possible, making sure she got back to the gate safely. She insisted we look her up once we are back home. Within 7 hours we made a new friend.
The flight itself was uneventful with some minor turbulence that rocked me slightly to sleep.
Upon arrival, we got ourselves tickets for the Heathrow Express. I highly recommend this wonderful service, which gets the traveller from the airport to Paddington station in ca. 15 minutes, no traffic jams and no transfers necessary, and allows a sleep deprived person, like myself, to begin understanding that they are indeed on a different continent, about to begin their trip of a lifetime.
I have been to London twice before; once with my English class (attending a German high school) about 19 years ago; very green behind the ears, full of teenage cockiness and with little English language skills or confidence. The second time I visited with my brother about 11 years ago. I spoke better English and was also completely jetlagged, because at that time we already lived across the Ocean in North America. With less cockiness and more appreciation for good manners, I was extremely happy to share this experience with him. Neither times, though, did I take a taxi. So, off we went in a British taxi to our first hotel.
After check-in and a mandatory freshening up, we began our hunt for the first London pub to have burgers and fish and chips. I have heard many people complain about the food in the UK, but I have to say it’s tasty and never gave me any trouble. Stuffed full of yummy goodness I was anxious to pick up our train tickets for our various trips (I have an anxious disposition, especially on 1 hour of sleep, but I’m working on it). You can book trains in the UK three months in advance online at GWR.com, but make sure you use a credit card that you plan on taking with you on the trip, since in order to pick up your tickets at the machine you need to provide the reference number and the card you used to purchase the tickets. So using your spouse’s card, because your co-card doesn’t work for whatever reason may cause some stress and would require you to bring your spouse’s card with you, like I had to. I would also recommend printing your itinerary with the details for transfers and times. Other than that, taking the train in the UK is a very pleasant experience.
The rest of the day we spent walking around London, not getting lost, but noticing our lack of sleep and swelling toes. The first glimpse of Buckingham Palace was extremely surreal and in my head I kept saying “you are here, you are here”, but it didn’t want to sink in. Sadly, they are working on Big Ben and it’s covered in tarps, hiding until it’s ready again.
Slowly we made our way back to the hotel, barely crawling and ear ringing from too many stimuli. It is remarkable, though, how a hot shower can lift one’s spirit.
This morning we had a wonderful breakfast in our hotel and made our way to the train station. I never took the underground in London, one thing I avoided until now, because of the sheer complexity of the system. But our first leg of the trip required us to travel from Victoria station to Paddington. Bathed in sweat and having asked at least six people (staff and travelers alike), all of them extremely friendly, we found our way. I feel so proud!
After a few minutes of confusion over the train’s car number we found our seats, only to see a woman sitting in mine. The GWR recommends travelers reserve their seats ahead of time, which I did to ensure I was sitting facing the travel direction; I tend bring up whatever I had eaten before when sitting backwards. Apparently, this was also the case for the woman sitting in my seat, lounging and avoiding me. I asked her to make sure I got the right train car and if this is indeed seat 27. Her answer, given in a very dismissive and rude manner: “Oh, they are all similar, I just don’t like sitting the other way.” I said: “Ok, but you are sitting in my seat.” I kept looking at her until she grabbed her things to move to the seat across, mumbling something about “bloody seat” and “never in her life”, well I guess there is a first for everything. A few minutes later she got up and went hunting for a seat far away from us, it was better that way anyway.
All up to speed now, I’m going to listen to an audiobook and will eat my jam star biscuit.
More to come…
