Day One:
Eduardo and I arrived in the UK after what can only be described as a fitful night of sort of sleep - I literally woke up with my legs over my head, slammed up against the side of the window, half lying on him and I am sure drooling. Pretty picture isn't it?
I didn't realize it then, but as we dutifully walked off the plane, we stood in what would end up being the first of many airport related queues. I am not sure how many of you have seen the movie "Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy" (I highly recommend it) but there is a line which sums up the British mentality to waiting in lines "I'm British...I know how to queue." Indeed they do, patiently and well mannered as they are in every aspect it seems. I was not so patient and embodied an inpatient American probably a bit more than I would have liked but we had to wait for shuttle buses to take us to the terminal to go through customs, exchange our pitiful US dollars for the mighty UK sterling pound, and then get our luggage only to board another bus to take us to the Underground stop second closest to the Heathrow Terminal 4 stop which was out of service...and it was like 10:00 am UK time, but it felt like 4:00 AM Chicago time, running on little to no sleep. But I kept reminding myself that I was in England and as much as I wanted to, it didn't really kick in until after I got off the underground at the South Kensington stop. Airports are airports despite the ever changing accents (which I grew fast accustomed to while on the British Airways flight).
Mattias, Eduardo's friend from Mexico City, met us at the stop looking oh so Euro. Prada tennis shoes. Gucci sunglasses, belt, the whole deal. Sorta slicked, product laden hair and like tapered, a la tight jeans? I can't remember. Maybe even a plaid scarf, who knows. We got to his apartment and after a long shower (excellent water pressure and temperature) and a change of clothes, I felt better and more "Euro ready." We met up with another one of Eduardo's friends from Mexico City, Jan, at Notting Hill and went down the Portobello Street Market and I really loved it - all of it. So communal and jovial and...safe. It was great. We bummed around the rest of the day, went to Harrods, which really is an amazing place. They sell everything - including pets, produce, and home appliances, and amazing pastries...it required me to eat Croissant (one of like 1000 I ate while overseas) and buy these marshmallow kabobs off the Harrods Marshmallow "cart" and I swear, nothing ever tasted as amazing.
...Although I did tend to fall asleep whenever I was sitting down (and drooled I think), that whole exhaustion phase made me re-think how I ever pulled all-nighters back in college - the most memorable being after an April fools Leader deadline, where I then proceeded to drive down to ISU to see Erick and then go to a Zwan/QOTSA concert and then I think eat pizza...the tail end is a tad fuzzy. I suppose as I have gotten older (three years makes all the difference...and crossing the Atlantic) my sleepless strength has waned. Law school presents a challenge.
I don't remember much else from that first day other than that I was really happy to get away from the States and away from the office (even though I heard via gossip that some co-workers protested my vacations asking why I "needed one" because you know, I don't have kids or don't work hard or whatever)....but now that I am back after a week of refreshing Euro lifestyle, I don't feel as upset by that comment...but who knows how long that will last.
Eduardo and I arrived in the UK after what can only be described as a fitful night of sort of sleep - I literally woke up with my legs over my head, slammed up against the side of the window, half lying on him and I am sure drooling. Pretty picture isn't it?
I didn't realize it then, but as we dutifully walked off the plane, we stood in what would end up being the first of many airport related queues. I am not sure how many of you have seen the movie "Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy" (I highly recommend it) but there is a line which sums up the British mentality to waiting in lines "I'm British...I know how to queue." Indeed they do, patiently and well mannered as they are in every aspect it seems. I was not so patient and embodied an inpatient American probably a bit more than I would have liked but we had to wait for shuttle buses to take us to the terminal to go through customs, exchange our pitiful US dollars for the mighty UK sterling pound, and then get our luggage only to board another bus to take us to the Underground stop second closest to the Heathrow Terminal 4 stop which was out of service...and it was like 10:00 am UK time, but it felt like 4:00 AM Chicago time, running on little to no sleep. But I kept reminding myself that I was in England and as much as I wanted to, it didn't really kick in until after I got off the underground at the South Kensington stop. Airports are airports despite the ever changing accents (which I grew fast accustomed to while on the British Airways flight).
Mattias, Eduardo's friend from Mexico City, met us at the stop looking oh so Euro. Prada tennis shoes. Gucci sunglasses, belt, the whole deal. Sorta slicked, product laden hair and like tapered, a la tight jeans? I can't remember. Maybe even a plaid scarf, who knows. We got to his apartment and after a long shower (excellent water pressure and temperature) and a change of clothes, I felt better and more "Euro ready." We met up with another one of Eduardo's friends from Mexico City, Jan, at Notting Hill and went down the Portobello Street Market and I really loved it - all of it. So communal and jovial and...safe. It was great. We bummed around the rest of the day, went to Harrods, which really is an amazing place. They sell everything - including pets, produce, and home appliances, and amazing pastries...it required me to eat Croissant (one of like 1000 I ate while overseas) and buy these marshmallow kabobs off the Harrods Marshmallow "cart" and I swear, nothing ever tasted as amazing.
...Although I did tend to fall asleep whenever I was sitting down (and drooled I think), that whole exhaustion phase made me re-think how I ever pulled all-nighters back in college - the most memorable being after an April fools Leader deadline, where I then proceeded to drive down to ISU to see Erick and then go to a Zwan/QOTSA concert and then I think eat pizza...the tail end is a tad fuzzy. I suppose as I have gotten older (three years makes all the difference...and crossing the Atlantic) my sleepless strength has waned. Law school presents a challenge.
I don't remember much else from that first day other than that I was really happy to get away from the States and away from the office (even though I heard via gossip that some co-workers protested my vacations asking why I "needed one" because you know, I don't have kids or don't work hard or whatever)....but now that I am back after a week of refreshing Euro lifestyle, I don't feel as upset by that comment...but who knows how long that will last.