Excitement galore and flat feet.
Every woman knows it can be utter shit when Aunt Irma (monthly period) visits. It is also shit when she does so while on vacation. It is even more shit when she comes two days early, with massive cramps and a lovely migraine.
Yup. That was my travel day to London in a nutshell. On top of that it was the hottest day in April since 2007, and I truly can’t stand the heat, my brain felt like it was slowly turning to liquid inside my skull.
We arrived at Waterloo station and were then supposed to take the tube to Fenchurch station. We skipped that part, though, because with two rather chunky suitcases, sweat already running down our backs and slight exhaustion kicking in, we were in no mood to embark on that adventure. Our room wasn’t ready yet, but we could leave our luggage and seek out a pub for lunch. I was all backwards, miserable and in pain and couldn’t figure out for the life of me where the heck I was and where we needed to go. We finally found a pub with blasting air conditioning and heavy tension in the air, oozing off the staff.
The burger I ordered was not that good and I was happy when we left. Our hotel was in the middle of the financial district (known as The City), oh goody. I’m not a fan of the financial district in my home town and I hoped this one wouldn’t rub me the wrong way (which it didn’t, it was quiet in the evenings and on the weekend).
I had already purchased tickets to Disney’s Aladdin in advance for our first evening in London and we barely had enough time to take a quick rest, freshen up and jump back in a cab to head to Soho to the Prince Edward Theatre. Normally, I’m not the biggest fan of musicals and with the migraine as my constant companion during the entire day, I hoped it wouldn’t get worse.
It was a wonderful experience. So much talent from the acting to the singing and dancing, stage design and build, it was magical. Having a background in theatre tech, I felt the old longing to put on my steel toe boots again and immerse myself in creating theatre. I messaged an old friend from my theatre days, telling him I missed it and he wrote back that it missed me, too.
Soho at night is interesting to say the least. As a tourist, who doesn’t know where you are and where you need to go, you stick out like a sore thumb. Not good. Far away from the bus we needed to take to get back to the hotel, we asked someone at a café to call us a cab. She said there isn’t really a number to call, but if we made our way to Leicester Square the taxi stands and cabs are more easy to find. As soon as we crossed the street I saw a cab without a passenger, asked the driver if he was for hire, he called back: “Hop in!” and we were on our way.
Our hotel room was very clean and wonderfully quiet. The mattress was not too soft for me and each night I just disappeared into the pillows and blanket to have dreamless sleeps. So wonderful.
Our first full day in London was spent at the Harry Potter studios. We spent 6 overwhelming hours getting lost in the world of Hogwarts, witches and wizards. By the end I had no clue who I was or where I had been. We arrived early, like so often on this trip and had time for a tea and a stroll through the gift shop (but buying after the tour), which I actually recommend before going on the tour to avoid impulse buying later on.
As I was drooling over the pendants and necklaces on display I heard a young girl crying. I turned to see a girl of about 9 years of age with a purple bow in her hair and tears rolling down her cheeks. I walked up to her and asked her what was the matter, my mom joining me a few seconds later. She said she had lost her school group and began crying again. I assured her everything would be just fine. We asked her for her name, the name of her school and her teacher. My mom went to the information desk with a girl stationing it that was as useful as a broomstick at that point, while I took the girl to pay for her trinkets. She calmed a little only to start crying fresh, almost blaming herself for getting lost.
I found a 5-pence piece on the floor and picked it up. I always believe finding a penny or in this case 5 pence is a sign of good luck. I turned to her and said: “Look I just found a 5-pence piece, would you like to have it for good luck?” she nodded and put in her wallet. By the time she had paid for her souvenirs, my mom had found her group and she was reunited with them.
The trip to and from the studios was a long one and a bit confusing for people, who are not used to the London transportation system. My mom vowed to get a hang of it before the trip was over.
On our way back to the hotel, we stopped at a pizza place to order take-out, which the waitress was grateful for, considering just before us three women demanded to be seated, even though the restaurant would close in half an hour. The pizza was good and we decided to have a sit-down dinner at the restaurant the next evening. I also ordered a large bottle of water, which was glass and had the beer bottle type cap. I was sure we had a bottle opener in the room, but I was mistaken. Nevertheless, I did not despair and found instructions on how to open such a cap with my key. I mean the internet is always correct, right? Right!
I took the bottle into the bathroom, just in case it spilled, and I promptly slipped and cut the knuckle of my right index finger, blood flowing freely. That didn’t deter me, though and I switched to my non-dominant hand, only to cut myself again within seconds on the same spot on my left hand, blood also flowing freely. I finally managed to pop the cap after I had finished eating, I guess I just needed some nourishment.
