Big Update, Backdate: The Rest of London

Ok, so I'm back... well, on the computer, not home. Sorry for the false alarm. Pero, donde esta mi cabasa. Yo necesito escribe en Espanol. Or not, it's basically too hot to write, let alone think about writing in a different language. However, I've been trying my best at speaking allot recently and its not too bad.

Anyway- let's catch up.

So- London-

I believe I last left you about 13 hours in? Anyway. So first off, at least for the time that I was there, for all intents and purposes The Generator Hostel = Australian Embassy. Not only were my two hot female roommates, Natalie and Jessica (Jess and Nat) who were madd cool as well, from Australia but (with the exception of the last 6 hours, more later) every single person from the Hostel that I actually met and hung out with were from Australia as well. Les, Peta, and Tash, as well as some others who I didn't get names, all from Australia. (Sucka, now I have Australia as one of my groups on Facebook, you're jealous). Anyway- so Peta and Tash were sisters and Les was just some random cool guy who was chillen with us. He was there to try out for the South Hampton Football Club, he's 18. Anyway- So let's get the gritty details out of the way- I'm not saying London is stale for me already, I'm just saying my head is kind of "out of the (rain)clouds" so to speak, and at the beach. So right, we met Les, Tash and Peta in the bar at the Generator (yes, my hostel had a bar in house. Yes, it was open until 2am, later than most local pubs. Yes, the drinks were actually affordable- ballin').
Ok, so Win and I had planned and "early" day to get up at 8:30/9:15 and catch the 10am walking tour from the hostel. Therefore, we decided instead of going out we would just head to the bar for a little bit, maybe a drink and most importantly some pool. Cool. Anyway. So we get there and Tash and Les are playing against two other guys (Aussie's of course). So we get drinks and wait around the pool table is sort of broken so I attempt to help Les recover some of the balls. They play a game and then I ask if the tables free. I introduce myself to Les, who in turn introduces me to Tash and Peta is sitting around so I meet her too. We play a game and then the three Aussie's decide they want to go to a pub (but of COURSE) around the block that many hostel goers frequent. Its probably 1100 or 12? not sure, probably closer to 11 and I shot Win a look and mention our early morning. He hesitates and then decides to go. Not wanting to be left behind I follow. So we go to this pub, which is pretty standard The London Pub. Have several drinks (I was on Jack and Coke that night) talk, chat, etc, then without a last call bell, we go to get more drinks and find out that they are no longer serving... bummer, its only 12pm- Oh wait, the Generator doesn’t close until 2- so of course, we go back to bar (I think its called The Turbine) and continue our action. A few rounds (both of pool and drinks later) and were talking and enjoying each other. Its great. Some random kid calls Peta a "mole" for absolutely no reason, which is like the C word in Australia, she gets upset temporarily and then we continue hanging out. Around 1 or 130 Win calls it quits and I stay down hanging out in freaking Melbourne as far as I was concerned. Next thing we know the harsh fluorescents engage washing out the blue and red neons signaling 2am and last The Aussie's turn in and I do too. Or I attempt. I lie in bed, and lie in bed and yep, continue to stare at the ceiling... I'm up, there’s not much I can do (I had taken some Sudafed esqe medicine before, which I read later has caffeine in it, don't know if it was from that or I was just kind wired. (Yes, I was drinking after taking Pseudoephedrine and Paracetamol, not a good idea, I'm aware- If you can believe it, I actually forgot until my 4th drink in when I was like, Oh shit, I def should not be drinking on drugs. Shit Happens, I digress). So then I go downstairs to the "chill out room" (I think I wrote the last entry then, Infact I'm almost positive I did, but only 89%). I read a bit, walk around outside (I swear I was allergic to some kind of dust in that place). Then I make several trips in-between various 24hour convenience stores and supermarkets in search for an allergy medicine that doesn't scare me. I desperately needed to seek refuge from this terrible stuffy runny nose that was making me suffer so. Anyway, I finally decide on short term, fast acting Benedryl. I go back. Take some of that and lie down (hoping I wake up. Yes, I now have just mixed Pseudoephedrine, Paracetemol, Alcohol and Acrivastine. But I'm sitting here writing this right? So it didn't kill me, probably made me stronger even... Hey, at least I didn't take opiates to stop diarrhea).
So aside from sleeping in until about 1 shutting off at least 6 alarms, meeting some random hairdresser, who apparently has a son with hair just like mine, who tells me I should definitely try the olive oil conditioning shampoo, nothing really happened. We caught a tour Bus but it began to rain (in England you say!???! No!) So instead we sat on the lower level, barely saw anything, well Win did, I didn't as I passed out for 15minute intervals starting after St. Paul's Cathedral due to maybe 4 hours of sleep and a half bottle of red wine. Right so something did happen.

Ok, so we got out at St. Paul's Cathedral, paid, went in. It was actually pretty cool. Impressive yes, but what I found to be the most interesting was climbing up into the different levels. There are three different heights. I went to all three and you really get a fantastic view of all of London (When its not cloudy and raining). That was fun. I also amused myself on the way down by humming and singing such favorites as "The Ants go marching", the lambchop fav "this is the song that never ends", Reel Big Fish's version of "New York, New York" the whole way down some of the most claustrophobic, medieval and reverberating/echoy stairways of my life- only to have a not-as-amused-as-I-was-or-for-that-matter-at-all nun like looking staff member waiting for me to tell me she had been trying to hush me for three minutes and that I was loud (really, I didn’t know)... etc, etc, after "hole" heartedly apologising (yes in GB they spell apologise with an S) I couldn't help but laugh on my way out. Anyway, then we had lunch across the street at Pizza Express, which, despite its name was a attempting to be an upscale, yuppie, hip, but convenient and wickedly delicious personal pizza place. We ordered pizzas (which was nothing short of phenomenal) and a bottle of red wine I had the window facing seat which has a direct view of the Cathedral which is actually very impressive and beautiful. Anyway- (I’ve been saying that allot in this entry.... but anyway) we thoroughly enjoyed pizza, the view and ourselves as we proceeded to kill the bottle equally. After which we hopped back on the bus and that brings us back to me passing out and not learning or seeing anything. We got off on a stop and then went back. I'm sure something happened between that and that night but it wasn't important enough to remember. Aside from getting caught in the rain. Anyway- that night we got to the theatre district in Piccadilly Circus to see The Phantom of The Opera (it's Win's favorite and seeing as he was with me in London on birthday money, I'd figure I'd let him chose [my vote was for Wicked, which I have never seen, but Phantom is good in my book too, its just that I have seen it before] Sorry E you couldn't be there- I was thinking of you the whole time [true story!]) Right, so we go see Phantom, its great. Then we walk around Piccadilly, which is cool, I buy Union Jack Boxers (which probably should have arrived at the house by now). Then we wander, and I lead the way as we aimlessly walk into the abyss of London. I figure we just keep walking until we find a stop, arbitrarily picking a direction (hoping that its towards the hostel, as our original plan was to walk back, but after we realized it was the opposite direction, it turned into, hey, how about we find a tube stop and get the hell home, only it wasn't that stressed, it was just that we didn't know where we were, but then again we weren't too worried about it). Anyway (there it is again) we keep walking and after a little bit of doubt run into a tube stop. We get back; stop at Tesco Express to get food (best invention ever [imagine all the most important things in a supermarket in the size of a 7/11]) and head back to the hostel. While we're chillin in our room our roommates get back. Now at this point aside from seeing them sleep or interrupting a girl pow-wow, we hadn't really met them. So we finally start to chat and realize they are wicked cool. So we talk and talk so long that we get hungry again in turn making them decide that they are hungry. So we once again venture to Tesco Express (oh hell yes its 24/7). It's around 2am or so. So we get back, eat- talk some more and then go to bed. The next day is checkout, we had a grand plan to wake up at 8, and pack until 10 when if we didn't check out, we get charged for another day. So we sleep in until 9:51am. I run down to the desk to check us out- which only means we had to turn our keys in... So we sit in the room and pack, just as I was finishing the cleaning lady starts yelling at me, because there weren’t 600 other rooms to clean... So, Win has a 12:35 train back to Manchester, so we go right to the station and lollygag around outside. I get the most fresh orange juice and a fruit salad. And we chill. We discuss the ridiculous volume of hooker/escort ads featuring actually naked women, which are plastered all over basically every phone booth in the city. Then I wait with Win in the station until his platform is announced. He gets on his train. I find a pair of glasses on the ground, turn them into lost properties and go back. Now my tour begins.

I went to check out Covent Gardens, which is cool. The Photographer's Gallery, which is a free gallery with Photography, small but nice, made me think and there was some really cool stuff there. I meet a guy there who knew what and where Swampscott was (Leonard Neumann). Then I made my way to the Tate to see the history of British photography exhibit, How we Are. It was pretty cool. The older photographs although not as interesting, were still actually pretty interesting. Some of the newer photographers were really cool. Especially theses oversized pictures of British Marines by Alastair Thain who used a custom built dual lens digital large format camera, the pictures were really really intense. They were just portraits but the detail was incredible. Artistically they were good, but I was more intrigued by the technical aspect, i.e. the intense intense detail and sharpness. I then went back to the Apple Store on Regent Street (of course). The place is freaking gianormous! It has 4 full sized Apple logos on the front.... anyway- I introduced myself, checked my Apple webmail, and then (by the Manchester Apple guys suggestion) asked to be shown around the back rooms and offices, aka private tour. I got one. It was sick. I'm a little obsessed, maybe. But then again my Dad took more pictures of airplane engines on his vacations than of the views. Anyway, then there was this guy from Argentina on the sidewalk with his motorcycle "The Excalibur" that he's ridden everywhere. He was raising money for a new trip across the UK. The bike is sick, he was on West Coast Choppers, google it. I talked with him a bit (his English was bad and my Spanish was worse). I wandered some, then I began to walk down Regent Street, the wrong way, trying to get to Piccadilly Circus to exchange the boxers I got the day before (the package said M but there was a S inside). I finally realized it was the wrong way and turned around. I got to Piccadilly, exchanged the boxers and noticed and picked up a great London snow globe for the only person I know that collects snow globes from different places and the I have brought back a globe for before. Fantastic. So at this point its only like 6 or 7, but I'm hungry, and I haven't seen Big Ben yet. So I begin my quest for Fish and Chips, as I have not had "authentic" British Fish and chips yet. So one of the travel guides I have says there’s is a bomb ass fish and chips place at Waterloo, which happens to be right by Big Ben, perfect. So I go to Westminster tube stop (to see BB first and make my way towards Waterloo on foot).

Walking out from the Westminster tube stop (exit 4) was intense. Immediately I am facing, as far as I can see at the moment, a wall of a building. I get further out and tilt my head all the way back, wow. I have to say, I was really impressed and taken aback by Big Ben. Contrary to many famous attractions that loose their fizzle, or may not even look half as good in person as they do in pictures, BB holds it own. So I appreciate that and the Thames. I see the Eye, and begin my hunt. So the guide doesn't give a map, it just says, it’s on Waterloo Rd and under one of the skeeziest bridges in London. So I go here and I go there and I walk around, find the Waterloo Station stop and nose my way around past another bridge and finally, there it is, the sign glowing just as it had in on the semiglossy pages of Itchy, Fishcotheque. So I stroll in (and the bridge is pretty gross, but no worse than say the rail bridge next to Monty's... which I guess doesn't speak for much). And get served. Although it is on a plate and not in yesterday's newspaper, it still is delicious. Also, as a side note, England has made me acquire quite a taste for malted vinegar on French fries- sooo good. So I eat, and at this point its getting to be dusk, but not too dark yet. So I really want to make it onto the eye (I was told dusk, just as all the lights are coming on is perfect). So I nose my way over to the Eye, not that hard, its the huge freaking ferris wheel raping the skyline. So I get to it, get in line, and go to the guy with the portable ticket printer. I ask him for a ticket, then he asks me for a ticket... I was confused. I go, no, I don't have a ticket, I need a ticket. Then, very rudely he says, oh, well you need a ticket to get on (duh) and the place that sells tickets is that building over there (points). I say ok, then he continues as if Id interrupted him, but its closed, so you can't get a ticket, come back tomorrow. But I'm leaving tomorrow morning at 6am. Oh, too bad.
So that was that, I didn't get on the eye but its cool, my evening was just fine as it was. I then wander over to the park just beneath the eye to find a guy doing statue (yawn... but still cool). I guy playing Violin (I gave him a pound just cause, represent). Then a ragamuffin looking black guy playing Djembe and croaking out random Bob Marley lyrics... sick. I chill, listen to him. I introduce myself, tell him I have one at home, he lets me get a beat in for a bit. Then I turn around. All the lights on the Thames have come on. Big Ben, the Parliament, the Eye, have all sprung to life, It actually was fairly (for lack of a better word) breathtaking. I don't know if its just that its not in America, but again, it holds its own to the pictures, infact it was better. So I enjoy the scenery. Then I go back to hanging with the drummer. I chill there for a bit, relaxing, enjoying myself. He isn't that good or anything, but it was just cool. The city behind me, the park and Abeng (I got his name later) in front. Some people from different countries and some 16 year olds drinking beer around me. It was chill. Two female cops came over told them to finish up instead of giving them a fine. So Abeng wraps up and I head back to the bridge and the Westminster stop. I get to the bridge and its incredible. Big Ben is all lit up. From a far its cool, but up close it was spectacular. It was really cool. I also met a photographer on the bridge. He was shooting time exposures with a Canon, so I stood around over his shoulder. He was having trouble with his CF card and that’s when I started a conversation, starting with some solutions. Anyway his name was Jon Baker and he's going to give some of his 1DS 24mm L glass shots of BB, so I'm excited.

So I got in the Westminster station around 22:30. Now the tube is like the Metro, you pay per your zone, however, if you never leave the station, it doesn't charge you. Now, if you are familiar with the tube, you'll know that each station has its own Iconic "underground" sign with the name of the station. You also know that a train is called by the last stop it makes- e.g., the Commuter rail that stops in Swampscott ends in Rockport and is hence "the Rockport Line". Anyway so the Line with the hostel stop is known as the Piccadilly Line on maps (only because that is a major center and is a stop) but the actual trains note themselves with another name. Cockfosters. The last stop on the line. Ok, so being an immature, stupid American teenager the first couple times I heard the delicate but assertive automated female voice say, this train terminating at COCKFOSTERS I couldn't help but laugh out loud, even by the fifth time I would still crack a stupid grin. So here I am, on the tube, with 8 or so hours to kill and one goal. I want to take a picture with the Cockfosters sign. So I make my way from the Waterloo line, to the Victoria line, to the Piccadilli line. I then get very comfortable, and passing out inbetween every stop. Sometimes sleeping through stops, make my way to "the end of the line". About an hour later, I arrive. hope out, take some snaps, hope back on and ride back to Russel Square.

I get to the Generator, pick up my luggage still safely tucked away in the communal luggage room and head to the "chill out room". Well, first I stopped at the bar to get a Jack and Coke. So I'm in the COR with my Jack and Coke reading one of the best books ever (Confederacy of Dunces). And I forget exactly how it happened... I think I overheard their American accents or that they were from DC.... not sure. Anyway, point being I meet two girls from DC that go to George Mason. They are on a semester abroad at Oxford. We end up talking for two long and I realize if I wait any longer I'm going to be late for my flight.
They walk with me out to the bus station. I was going the wrong way. So after asking for directions, they head back to the hostel and I make my way to the bus stop.

This is where my personal hell begins.

So please, for me, imagine that I am carrying my duffelbag with all my clothes, my backpack full of pint glasses and electronics and a souvinier bag 4 blocks. Now, not to say it was impossible, just not comfortable. So I get to the street where the stop is at. I'm looking for Bus 24. The first bus I see coming down the street is 24! Awesome, what timing! So I start to flag down the bus, thinking I was at the right stop. The driver sees me, waves, then points down the street to another stop. So I half figure he's going to stop ahead. I think again and start running, with everything down the street. Of course, he keeps going. 3:02, the next bus is at 3:30ish. My flight is at 6. The Gatwick train runs every hour. It takes a 45mins from Victoria to the Airport, I have no idea how long it takes to get to Victoria from where I am. So I wait, and wait, the bus comes. I get to Victoria. Run in and check the board. Yes. There's a 4:00 train still up on the board... too bad its 4:05. The next train, I luck out is the Gatwick Express (30minute ride) too bad it doesnt leave until 4:30. So I get to the airport its 5:05, remember, my flight is at 6am, it's an international flight. Goodwork Adam, prove everyone right again.... So I get to the South terminal and its packed, on a Wednesday morning, at 5am.... fuck. So I cannot for the life of me find British Airways- I ask an attendent, she half heartedly points around the corner. I go around the corner (still carrying all my bags). I wait in what appears to be a line for a few minutes. Still no sign of British Airways. I ask someone else and after much argument (why is everyone so damn rude) I find out I'm not even at the right terminal. I have to take a monorail to the NORTH terminal. Its like 5:20. So I luck out and catch the tram exactly on its arrival. Get to the North terminal which is a clusterfuck. Even more packed, no distinct lines and overall mass chaos. I get to a automated checkin terminal. Scan my passport. Its too late for me to do automated check in. So I flag down an attendent who looks at me with two heads as if I would have the nerve to be so late (yea, I should have planned better, whatever, the girls were cute and lived near me at school, sue me). So she hurries me over to another desk and I am just now noticing the STRICTLY ONE CARRY ON LUGGAGE sign, hoping, praying that they only pertain to certain flights. I get my bag checked to the disdain of the attendent at the desk who announces to me that I got on by "the skin of my teeth" (she actually had to call the gate/control tower or whatever)... Anyway, so I get to security and the lady goes, you cant have two bags, I try to see if the wording was different, like on carry on and a personal item? NO, one bag. its like 5:40, so I very quickly rip open both bags, stuff more crap in my backpack and THANK Christ I was wearing my cargo shorts, all left over suveniers being shoved in my pockets, they actually fit, but just imagine like both my cargo pockets bursting with crap. That's ok, but an extra bag isnt.... right. So I get to security, put all my stuff on the belt and then they stop me. Not thinking I had kept the snow globe in my suvineer bag, its small right? Wrong, with no official marking on the ml/ouncage, it can't pass. I'm devistated. I can't check my bag because of all the pin glasses and I have no way of getting back to my other bag to shove it in. Besides its almost 10 to six. So I am forced to watch it get put in the trash tray as I scoop up my bag, restuff my pockets and proceed to sprint to my gate, which as always for me is in one of the farest away terminal wings possible.

Great.

Well, at least I made it to the gate on time. I got on the plane and was on my way. So thats that. Next up- the last few days in Espana!!!