So here I sit at YVR. Bag is checked, security passed, book bought, mp3 player figured out (now I know why people buy ipods - waaaaay simpler to use than this thing). My flight has been delayed an hour for some unknown reason. Why do airline employees get so mysteriously defensive when you ask them about delays? I'm not BLAMING you lady, I just want to know why I'm stuck in the land of duty-free temptation for another hour.
It seems like a week ago that I was sitting at The Diamond with Sumiko, Lindsay and Courtenay, blithering about nothing in particular and snacking on gyoza. I had mentioned I was thinking about going to Paris for a visit, and all three of them chimed "ohmygod -- gooooo!". Lindsay then insisted I look at flights to London the next day - cheaper sales than direct to Paris. Well.
At 38 years old, and never been to Europe, I decided the next morning that I would just look and see if there were any seat sales out there. Just in case.
Yeah. Was booked by 11 am. Has a hotel booked in Paris by 1 pm. Clicking the online the "proceed with payment" button had never been so thrilling.
So off I go. Finally.
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On the plane - they sure know how to pack people on these things. I just finished dinner, which was barely edible, of course. The tiniest piece of chicken (which was, at least, white meat and real chicken) with soggy, gross potatoes and carrots. Everything had the same texture. Thankfully the meal came with a slice of aged cheddar and crackers. And they have a deal on wine - so I'm happy.
The flight is staffed by Brits, which I wasn't expecting for some reason.
I managed to sleep the first leg of the journey, with some help from a sleeping pill. I slept from Vancouver to Great Slave Lake. We're presently over Hudson Bay, moving over Foxe Basin. We'll soon zoom past Baffin Island and start to head south. At a speed of 966 - 1040 kph, we should make up for some of the time we spent on the ground.
I was tempted to get snarky regarding the delay, but I reminded myself of the Louis C.K. bit on sitting in a chair in the sky and instead took the time to start my new book.
It was recommended to me by one of the other regulars at Boneta, Richard. It's called Guns, Germs and Steel by Jarod Diamond. SO far, its quite intriguing. He makes a valid point in that in modern parlance, we think of history as devloping primarily in Europe and the Americas, as well as parts of Asia. How Autralia and Eurasia became populated isn't often a topic of conversation. Very fascinating stuff.
Once I land in London, I'll be taking the Gatwick Express into town and getting settled I heard from Geoff (aka The Kid, formerly of The Diamond, currently living in London), and will be heading to London's Chinatown to pay him a visit at his bar, which has no name or signage and is located above a Chinese resturant. Sounds mysterious and slightly dangerous. A perfect first night, methinks.
I'll update again once I'm on my way to London. I'm sure Gatwick will be massive and terrifying and I'll have tales of panic and lunacy.
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Gatwick is a disaster zone. It was boiling hot and no one seemed to know where they were supposed to be. When I got to the customs official she looked down her nose at me and asked "Are you travelling alone?" in a way-too-matronly tone. I got my 6 month visa (ha!) and went off in search of my luggage.
The Express train is amazing - gave me a whisking view of the London suburbs, which are quaint and eerily uniform. Straight into Victoria station, where I merrily hopped in a cab straight out of a Benny Hill episode. We headed into London traffic, passing all the squares and Buckingham Palace and all that jazz. I will NEVER drive in this city. Made my head hurt just to watch. We drove quite a ways then finally found my hotel.
Stupidly, and very much like an amateur traveller, I did not ask the driver if he took Visa. He didn't. So we drove a few blocks to find a bank machine. It was across the street and I discovered jaywalking is frowned upon by the general driving public. I have flipped the bird for the first time in my personal history on British soil. Dumb lorry drivah.
Once I had cash in hand, we went back to the hotel, where I checked in and dropped my luggage. My room won't be ready until 2 p.m. and it's only 10:30, so I am presently sitting in a Starbucks (so lame, I know) in St Pancreas Station, where I will be heading to Paris tomorrow morning.
By the way, Starbucks is not the same everywhere. I asked for a drip coffee and the guy just stared at me. FILTER coffee. Oh right. And unless you say "for take away" they assume you're parking your ass in a chair. My first "for here" Starbucks.
So far, my impression of London is good. It's certainly vibrant. The theatre district had me drooling. There are pubs on every corner and tons of restaurants of every shape, size, price point and decor. The clothing shops look fabulous, though I was expecting a bit more of the locals wardrobes. Around here, people look about the same as they do back home. Minus the yoga pants.
I'm going to finish my coffee and go for a wander, though I must admit, a nap is going to be required. I'll tell you about the shitwits that were sitting in front of me on the plane tomorrow.
Ta ta and toodleoo!
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