England 2003

Yeah, that was fun...

It was an enlightening experience. Yes sir, it was that indeed. Okay, here are a few things to check out:

1. Diary Writings
2. Itinerary
3. Photo Album

Where to begin? I suppose I could start at the ending, but that would make for a very short writing. Then again, I would be done and could go outside and play. Yet, it is rainy and cold out there. No. I think I will indeed write some reflections on my trip to London and Paris. And because I'm so nice-I think I'll start at the beginning. No, really. Hold the applause. It's the least I can do.

Preparations for Battle

I will commence by stating that I was open-minded for a fun and enjoyable eight days of adventurous vacation. You see, I did not start my journey by denoting, "This trip will suck! It will be excruciatingly painful-an experience worse than watching a Britney Spears movie…sober!" Yes, I was open-minded for a great trip. Hold on now, you mustn't get me wrong. I really don't have anything against Britney Spears as a person or singer. In fact, if she were open for dinner, I'd quickly clear my calendar. Okay, that's provided I'm not currently booked having dinner with Christina Aguilara. But hey, the month is full of days. I'm sure both dates could be arranged. Maybe I could have dinner with BOTH on the same night. Wow. This is getting exciting, and I've only just begun!

Alas, I digress. Yes, I certainly digress. This all has nothing to do with my trip. Perhaps the beginning wasn't a great idea after all. I've written a lot of words and hardly even mentioned London or Paris.

Okay, let's try all this again. The trip to London and Paris would take place around New Year's Eve. We would leave in 2003 and return in 2004. What better way to ring in the New Year? What could go wrong? I mean, what could possibly go wrong?!?

I'll briefly go over the history of this trip. It was planned a few months ago. Eight of us were going. One person cancelled. And then there were seven. Okay, that's all fine and dandy except the canceling person was my travel buddy! Having a travel buddy is always a wise idea. That way, if the group decided to spend the day counting the number of pubs in London, at least my travel buddy and I could make other plans. Yet, my travel buddy was flaking out. No big deal. I was calm. I'd just bring along pen and paper and help count pubs. How many can there be? (Over 8,000 I'm told).

Leaving Town

On December 29th, 2003, I was packed and ready to go. My friend Lesly arrived, as she was kind enough to drive me to the BART station. Before you go assuming that I'm being sarcastic there, I'm not. That's exactly what I wanted. Personally, I'm not fond of driving people to airports. So why should I expect someone to drive me, especially since BART goes all the way to the terminals now? How would it look if the Bay Area spent millions of tax dollars making improvements to mass transit and I didn't even take advantage of them? Mighty silly! That's now it would look.

The BART ride was calming. I made a phone call, got agitated, hung up on the person and then received a phone call back. You know, it was simple everyday stuff. I soon arrived at SFO. After standing in line a few minutes, Stephanie, Amanda and Heather arrived. I dropped back in line to stand with them. They thought that it was a nice act. Maybe it was, except the plane wasn't leaving for hours, so what good would checking in a few minutes early be? Hmmm…perhaps, I should have just left off with "a nice act." Our check-in went smoothly and we had plenty of time to kill. Feeling weighed down by excess American money in my pocket, I decided to lighten my load by six dollars and buy a Corona Beer. Someone may argue that the ingested weight of the beer would weigh more than the six dollars, but I would be too buzzed to care. Though, I'm not buzzed now and I do care. Hey, I want my six dollars back! I've complained to the airlines. They aren't returning my calls. I'll complain to Corona next.

After a lengthy wait, we began boarding the plane. Stephanie and I were randomly selected to be searched (and patted down). Okay, no big deal. It's in the interests of national security and all. And really, I should feel special. Once cleared, we got to board the plane. Our seats were near the very back. Stephanie was kind enough to allow me the aisle seat. That way, if I had a small bladder, I would be able to make frequent restroom visits without disturbing her by climbing over her seat. But having a large bladder, this was never an issue. Please don't mention that to her though. I hate to spoil her generous gesture. And since she has longer legs, I can't exactly use the "I need the leg room" excuse.

Flying High Now

The flight was only 9.5 hours. Watching movies helped kill time. I wanted to be watching the same movie as Steph. That way, if she were laughing, I'd know why. With 18 different channels and dozens of people surrounding me, I always get antsy having people randomly laughing around me. I get distracted from my own movie and wonder, "Hey! What's so funny?" This way, at least the person seated next to me couldn't laugh without me knowing why. Sure, she could become sadistic and spontaneously laugh on occasions and make me think I had missed a funny joke, but she's not that mean-aside from some cruel "wasn't that song from your time?" jokes on the dance floor that would occur days later. Our first movie was "Dickie Roberts." It was a funny piece. The free wine made it funnier-or did it just make me funnier? We couldn't agree on the second movie. She ended up watching "Sinbad" and I watched a different movie. Of course I made sure to laugh extra hard throughout the movie to allow her to believe she was missing a ton of fun. Although, perhaps it would have been more helpful if the movie had actually been a comedy.

I never really fell asleep during the long plane ride. We had some moderate turbulence. As a singer once said, "There's a whole lotta shakin' goin' on." But it doesn't bother me much any more ( I mean the turbulence, not the song). To date, I've never read of a 747 falling to pieces due to 'heavy turbulence'. So let us all rock violently from side to side and up and down. We know we're safe. As long as the wings stay attached, I'm happy. It's sort of like a very long roller coaster ride-except these guys provide vomit bags! Right on, British Airways, right on!

Touchdown!

We arrived at Heathrow a little earlier than expected. This was due to a strong tailwind. What is a tailwind, you ask? Well, it's a strong wind at the tail of the airplane. Okay, sure, I could go look up a factual definition, but that would distract from my writing, and I'm already going on enough tangents as it is. Besides, I'm not here to teach aviation. Just accept my definition and get on with life. Anyway, people will stop questioning your answers once they realize you make almost everything up. Try it now; thank me later.

Once we got our luggage, the girls said goodbye. They were leaving. I would see them in three days. I leaned over my luggage and waited for Alan and Irena to arrive. Their flight would be three hours later. My waiting turned into sleeping. But I was at carousel four. Surely, they would come to the same carousel. Finally, I awoke at 3pm to find them…uh…missing. Their plane landed at 2pm. They went to carousel six. They searched and had failed to find me. They subsequently left the airport. Uh oh!

This was not good. No sir, this was not good at all. I scouted around the airport for 20 minutes trying to find them. No luck. I abandoned my search and bought a tube ticket to get to the hostel. Hopefully, they had checked in there.

On the Tube Again

Being back on the tube again returned memories to me. It was a long ride. I had brought a book, but my mind was too weary and stressed to do any reading. Forty-five minutes later, I arrived at the Gloucester tube station and begin my journey. Probably setting a new record, I was lost within five minutes-and I even had a map. So there I was once again wandering the cold darkening streets of London. My search for Queen's Gate road had me finding roads like Queen's Gate Garden and Queen's Gate Park. In a land with queen-obsessed history, I wasn't too shocked to be discovering these problems. So I wandered around and watched the sky grow dark. Finally, some kind lady pointed out the right direction. I found the street. Once again, I grew confused trying to locate the hostel. The street addresses were just not cooperating with me. They use a whole different system over there. And so there I was-walking the wrong way on the right street-not once but twice. One would find it hard to believe that I lived there for 3 months only a year prior.

Like the heavens parting was the discovery of the name, "Albert Hotel." Weary as I was, I managed to drag myself up the steps and inside to inquire about my reservation. Good news! Two people had already checked in under my name. They were Alan and Irena. Happy, was I. I then climbed up four flights of steps and reached the room. Inside were the two of them. Alan was in good spirits, but alas, Irena was not. She had come down with a cold and was not feeling well. Plus, the accommodations were somewhat of a shock to her. I had been used to such things from previous visits to hostels. Heck, I survived much worse living situations in the Marines. And this wasn't terribly bad. Plus, it was just for the night. Every hotel looks the same once the lights are extinguished.

The First Night: Complications Arise

Evening approached fast and the time came for us to go see the planned show. Heather and the gang were supposedly booking us all tickets to see the Lion King that night. We needed to rendezvous with them and get over to the theatre. Being sick, Irena elected not to go, and Alan stayed with her. But I had to follow through with the plans, and I headed down to the tube station. Even doing that was a challenge. The main tube entrance that I was familiar with was closed. I then retreated back to the Gloucester tube station further down the street. Having to change directions like that really sucks in cold wet weather. Arriving at Piccadilly Circus tube station, I ascended and began looking for their hostel. True to fashion, I was clueless as to where to find it. But I searched onward and soon discovered the Piccadilly Backpacker's Hostel. The good news is that they had indeed checked into that place. The bad news was that I could not visit them. Only people who reserved rooms there could ascend the stairs inside. And I wasn't a resident there yet. My only solution was to head over to the theatre and wait for them there. After a long walk, I found the Lyceum theatre. They weren't outside so I waited…and waited…and waited. An hour passed with me standing around the theatre waiting for people to show who would never show. The Lion King had been sold out and only the ticket scalpers were left offering any tickets. One thing I did notice was an old scalper with white hair. I had seen the same guy over a year before scalping tickets outside the Place theatre. Well, here he was again. His voice was cracking from repeating the same lines over and over. I surmised that he must have been doing this scalping work for years now. Around 8:15pm, I knew they weren't going to show up. I suppose I could have bought a scalper's ticket and just seen the show anyway. But I was tired, and plus, I don't like seeing shows alone, and plus, it wasn't a show that I really wanted to see in the first place. I walked back to the Piccadilly Backpacker's Hostel (PBH). I then had the bright idea of inquiring about a message board. Yes! They did indeed have a message board. Could I look at it? No! The board was only for residents. Argh! The evening was getting worse. Having done my best, I headed back to my hostel to rest up for Paris. I slept-but not well.

December 31st, 2003

The next morning, we packed up and headed out. Our first stop would be the Waterloo tube station. Irena wasn't fond of heading over to Paris, but we really didn't have any choice. It was the only place we had reservations for. We boarded the train with the usual few minutes to spare. The seat next to me was empty since it had already been reserved months ago. This turned out to be rather nice. I was able to utilize both seats to fully relax. In short time, I was napping contently as the train rolled along the English countryside. During my nap, the train zipped under the English Channel and entered France. I missed most of the French countryside since I woke up just before Paris.

Ah, Paris. It was great to be back. I was anxious to try out my French. Now, I could be better armed to order things like crepes and café (coffee). But first, we would need to find an ATM. Our pounds were useless here. Despite both England and France being part of the same European union, they each require different units of currency. Ugh. Can't we all just get along? Can't we just settle on one unit of currency? Can't we have only ONE word for French Fries??? Okay. Pas de problem (no problem). At least the Euro was closer to the dollar. Though, during my last visit, the dollar was stronger. Now, it's the Euro. C'est la vie. My financial tip-invest in foreign currencies.

Walking the Streets

Once we acquired some cash, we went in search of Alan and Irena's hostel. I had my map and my trusty compass so finding the place didn't prove to be very difficult. We walked a long ways down Rue De Lafayette and finally came upon the "Peace and Love Hostel." I waited for Alan and Irena to check in and then we all parted, agreeing to meet at 9pm that evening. I then took a long walk to go and find my own hostel. The day was cold and only getting colder. Sure, I was bundled up, but I wanted to find my place fast. I was also quite hungry.

Finding my hostel would be difficult, as the street it was on wasn't listed on my map. In the future, I'm going to check on things like that before making reservations. However, adjacent streets were noted so eventually I came upon the Gerardo Hostel. The staff was friendly and I was even able to request my reservation in French. The clerk was a little confused since two people had reservations, but I explained that it was only for one. Oh what a feeling that is. It reminded me of the Steve Martin movie where he requested a table for one. The entire place stopped talking and a spotlight was placed on him as he walked to his table with everyone staring. Yeah, room for one please-hold the pity. The clerk understood the situation and said that the other bed may still be rented out. Fine by me-the more, the merrier. I went upstairs. It was a small room, but did include a TV. Having nothing else to do, I watched a little television and soon dozed off. Hours later, I heard a key at the door and awoke to see two people walking in. it was the clerk and a young lady. I gathered that she was renting the other bed. It was a somewhat awkward situation, but I'd been through akwarder situations (yeah, "awkwarder" isn't officially a real word…yet). I went back to sleep. A few more hours passed and evening had come. The sky was completely dark when I arose around 8:30pm. The other girl, Kimberly, had been napping as well. I got up and headed out the door to meet Alan and Irena.

Our meeting place was Gare de Nord (North Train Station). I arrived ten minutes early-or so I thought. Alan was there and wondered why I was so late. Late? Surely, he jests. I was 15 minutes early. Nope. Not quite. It seems that we had passed over a time zone during our train ride into Paris. Oops. I guess I always seem to miss this fact since I always tend to be asleep on the train during that time change. But Alan had guessed this was the case and waited around. Okay. Instead of 8:45, it was 9:45. No big deal. We'd still have 2 hours to reach the tower. But "we" was only Alan and me. It seems that Irena was too sick to attend the festivities. Not wanting to deal with the metro and having time to kill, we began walking to the tower.

To the Tower

At first the crowds weren't too thick. But as we got closer, the crowding got denser. It would seem the whole city of Paris was walking towards the Eiffel Tower like thousands of moths to a giant beacon of light. We used the compass and map for navigation at first, but when we got closer, we simply followed the sight of the tower. During our walk, I observed a group of people throwing firecrackers over a fence. The noise was somewhat annoying, but this would be nothing compared to what was to come. With the tower only about a half-mile away, we came across some food stands. The vendors were cooking meat and serving hotdog-like sandwiches. Alan bought a beer. I could not withstand the strong aroma of the cooking sausages. Being terribly hungry and cold, I happily paid the five euros and got me a sandwich. To compliment it, I paid two euros for a Heineken beer. It was a little pricey, but definitely worth it. The meal was one of my most enjoyable meals on the trip.

Closing down the distance to the tower, we were on the final approach. At this point, the crowd was probably in the hundreds of thousands. Forcing our way, we headed down to the bridge that was directly in front of the tower. I figured it would be a great place for photos-provided you weren't robbed of your camera. Heh. Yeah. Like THAT would happen. Getting to the bridge wasn't easy, but we were able to make it. Once on the bridge, we simply waited for the countdown. In this time, I noticed all sorts of crazy stuff.

Something Wicked This Way Comes

I would guess that 99% of the people at this event were good people meaning no harm. The remaining 1% wouldn't pose so much of a problem, except 1% times hundreds of thousands of people can add up to a lot of drunk belligerent persons. With public drinking being perfectly legal, the landscape was essentially a sea of intoxication. Fights were common. Sometimes it was one versus one. Other fights were groups. Some were even a group versus one guy. No, it wasn't fair, but there weren't exactly any referees around to complain to. The police maintained no presence in the thick crowds. And it was probably for the best. Just let the people crazy enough to partake of the event fend for themselves. In a few words, it was anarchy and chaos on the town. Order was home in bed.

Firecrackers were the next big monkey wrench in the machine. Since they sell good old-fashioned blow-your-fingers-off firecrackers in Paris, people certainly had no trouble acquiring them. Now, the folks that had simply thrown firecrackers over fences seemed tame in comparison. People would light firecrackers and toss them down by the feet of others. This was done throughout the area of the tower. Never mind the fact that many children and babies were present. Another type of sport was lighting a firecracker and just throwing it a great distance into a crowd. Of course this action could have the result of the firecracker exploding directly in someone's face doing all sorts of serious damage, but hey, it's all in good fun right? Screams were constantly heard during this time.

Finally, the moment had arrived. It was seconds away from 12am. But something odd occurred, or did not occur. There was no countdown. The last few seconds remained silent and people simply stared up at the Eiffel tower. When the hour struck, the tower did come to life and sparkled with flickering lights of yellow and blue color. It was rather magnificent to see. Cameras went off all around-along with many more firecrackers. Still, for all the trouble, hardly any real fireworks were launched. In fact, the tower lights didn't appear to be any different than the normal flickering lights that occur every evening hour at the Eiffel tower. For all it's worth, my pictures could have been easily taken on August 1st and looked the same as January 1st. But live and learn. Trying to hold my camera still, I snapped more photos until I heard the commotion next to me.

Turning to observe the noise, I noticed another small crowd of frenzied activity. Something big was going on. I also looked to see where Alan was. Uh oh. I couldn't spot him. My next thought was: Je crais la pire which means in French, "I fear the worst." Alan was inside the commotion. I raced over to investigate and help, but it was too late. The small gang had departed at light speed and left Alan dazed and angered. They had knocked him over, pounced on him and stolen his camera. To top it off, he was hit over the head by a bottle. Fortunately the glass didn't break, so he was bruised but not bleeding. He was holding his camera battery, but not his camera.

Paris Has Police Stations Right?

Well, that put a huge damper on the festive occasion. What a way to begin the New Year. Though it wasn't like the mood had been of great joy and cheer anyway. I snapped a few more photos (very cautiously now). I also made sure to use the wrist strap of the camera as well. In short time, the lights died down and people began dispersing. Alan wanted to find a police station to fill out a report. The idea wasn't that the camera was ever going to be recovered. Surely, no mom of a juvenile delinquent would call the local police and say, "I found a strange camera in my son's dresser this morning! He must have stolen it. I'd like to bring it down." Nope. By morning, mom and son were probably hawking the camera together and splitting a liter of rum between them.

Yet the insurance claim would probably want to see a copy of a police report. Alas, this quest would last us a couple of hours. Finding a police station would not be easy. After a long search, we came across some crowd control officers who pointed out the nearest police station. Oh great. It was back the opposite way. We would now have to go against the crowd to get there. Fighting this sea of drunken persons, we made our way back down a ways and came across the police station. Unfortunately, they spoke little English. It would seem odd that the police would not speak English in such a large tourist city. Well this isn't the case in all Paris police stations, just this one in particular. My knowledge of French did not include the words, "robbery" or "police report". Those just weren't words I figured I would ever need to know. After waiting a while, we were able to speak to someone and they informed us that it would take several hours to get a chance to file this report. I asked if there were any police stations near our living area, and they pointed a couple out on the map. Alright! This was good. We would just head over to this less crowded area and take care of things there.

Joining the wandering mob, we slowly headed back to the area of Gare de Nord. Once there, we began another police station hunt. But all the ones we found were closed for the evening. Maybe crimes just aren't often committed after 9pm. It was now almost 2am. At which point, we gave up the search and returned to our hostels, agreeing to meet at 11am the next morning. Back at my hostel, my roommate was fast asleep. It was nice to have someone else there. Granted, I hadn't spoken even three words to her up to this point, but nevertheless, it was nice to have her there. It's always comforting to have someone else around.

January 1st, 2004: The Dawn of a New Year

In the morning, I looked out the window to see something odd-it was snowing outside. Wow! My first morning of 2004 would be of gazing at snow gently falling outside my window in Paris. Now, I had memorized some various words for the weather, but "it is snowing" was not one of them. (By the way, it is "il neige.") It was a wonderful feeling to watch snow coming down on the quaint streets of Paris. It's one of those moments that will always be frozen in my memory. Having some time to spare, I chatted with Kimberly a spell and found out a little more about her. She was teaching a class in a nearby city and would be leaving that morning. That was a shame since I cold have invited her to hang out with us. It was probably best that that didn't work out since things would not go as planned. For most of the day ahead, "us" would simply be "me."

First of all, the snow was delightful as I entered the chilly streets of Paris. The mesmerizing effect wore off in short time as the freezing conditions soon began working their effect on my body. I was bundled up as much as possible. I had gloves, a cap, a scarf, a neck warmer, a sweater, and a coat. But it still wasn't enough to keep out the cold. I was also dragging my luggage behind me like a two-year-old child who was eager to splash in every puddle and jump off every curb.

The Waiting Is the Hardest Part

Several blocks later, I reached the train station. It was 10:45am and I was meeting Alan and Irena at 11am. Hey! I was early for a change. I was anxious to meet them and start sightseeing. I stood in front of the station and waited…and waited…and waited. Soon, it was 11:30am. Then it was 12pm. Then it was 12:30pm. Meanwhile, it's still freezing outside and I'm starting to get hypothermia. I head into the train station for warmth, but it's to no avail. The station is basically just a large hanger and not heated. I'm just as cold in there. To get warm, I did…well. I did nothing! There was simply nothing I could do except burn my luggage-and I had no matches with me to do even that. Finally, I gave up the wait. They just weren't coming. I begin walking westward to check into the next hostel-without them.

Dragging my little rolling toddler along, I made my way over to a neighborhood just under Sacre Coeur. I climbed a narrow street heading up a sharp hill and then a little side street led me to my hostel. I spoke French to the receptionist and she spoke French back. Cool. It's so much fun to speak the language. But after a few phrases, I was lost in understanding her, so I switched back to English. But she kept speaking in French. Hmmm…apparently she wasn't aware that I had reached my limit of comprehension. But not wanting to complicate things, I simply nodded a lot and agreed with her. I got the general idea of what she was saying. The hostel we were at was full, and she was sending me to another hostel for the reservation. It was all arranged though. That was just how they handled their overflow. She escorted me down the streets and together we found the other hostel. Having done her job, she departed and I promptly entered the wrong door.

The clerk was clueless as to who I was but soon understood the situation. I was looking for the hostel next door to them. Well okay, back outside I went, and back into the adjacent hostel (if I ever go back, I'm staying at exactly the same places cause at least I now know where they're at!) Now these people were the ones expecting me. Once again, I got to explain that yes, there HAD BEEN four reservations. There were now THREE reservations. Oh, the joys of people canceling. Not knowing the whereabouts of Alan and Irena, I wasn't sure whether or not I should even book all three beds, but I figured it was best to be safe. I knew Irena wanted to find a way to head back to the States, but with next day plane tickets costing over $2,000, I was fairly certain they wouldn't pounce on that great offer. I made the reservation for the three of us and then headed upstairs.

Another Home

The room was actually fairly nice. It even had a tiny TV and a bathtub. I dropped off my luggage and went back out in the cold. Back to the train station, I sallied. I had to figure out whatever became of Alan and Irena. I hung around the station a while, but they never showed. Next, I walked the long ways up Rue de Lafayette to their hostel. Maybe the people there would know what happened. If aliens dragged them away, there would have to be at least one witness. The clerk informed me that they had indeed checked out at 9am that morning. They had had her call a taxi and were heading to the emergency room. No, I wasn't surprised in the least. The clerk was concerned, but I explained that everything was just fine. Like a routine now, I once again made my way down Rue de Lafayette. The snow had turned to rain. My trusty umbrella kept me warm and not having my little toddler to drag along, I kept a good pace. So far, my sightseeing hadn't amounted to much more than a few hostels and a very familiar train station.

The Bread Shop

After returning to the train station area, I began to notice that I was quite famished. I entered a little café for a bite to eat. The name of the establishment was Histoire de Pains. There were so many various breads and pastries to choose from. Even before I entered, I could smell the strong aroma of freshly baked bread permeating the air in front of the café. Proudly, I did all my ordering in French. And the lady behind the counter replied in French. That's always a good sign. If you ask a question in French and they reply in English, then that means they know you don't really speak French very well and they just want to cut out all the games and get to the point. So I gathered that I was doing a decent job. My lunch was a croissant, a baguette and a cup of café crème. The people there were remarkably friendly. After finishing my order, the lady responded with "merci." So much information can be relayed in that final response. The tone can be short and cutting as if to say, "I'm glad this trouble transaction is over with." Or it can be jovial and chipper as if to say, "Thank you for your business. I really appreciate your patronage." Happily, her response was the latter. And she seemed to be that way for every customer who placed an order. Taking a window seat, I sat down and observed the city life of Paris strolling by in front. I wanted to look at all the details-the little things that made Paris…well, Paris.

I noticed how each building contained so much detail. The buildings were huge, but still had so much character in the ornate stone cuttings and the curved iron railings. I noticed the little clocks on the street which could come in handy should someone not be wearing a watch-like myself. The people passing by all were bundled up in warm clothing. Most of the clothing was black, navy blue or some other dark color. Warm clothing just always seems to be dark. Tiny cars drove by. Many taxis passed too. After all, we were next to a train station. The people passing all varied in their expressions and mannerisms. Some were happy and laughing. A few girls giggled as they shared some exciting story unbeknownst to me. One couple was confused and asked a man for directions. He helped them out and even crosses the street with them to point them in the right direction. A lady with white hair walked by. She seems rather preoccupied. A boy and girl paused in front of the café. He kissed her, but she's a little coy about it and shied away. Happily, he took her hand and led her onward. Small flakes of snow begin to float down again. I did a little writing and a little reading while I contentedly soaked up the time.

Sacre Coeur Church

Being quite satisfied with lunch, I stuffed half my baguette into my backpack and exited the café. I resolved that I had to at least see something new during my stay in Paris. The Sacre Coeur Church was something I had yet to see and it was unbelievably close to my hostel. I guess I had just gotten used to always having to walk many miles to get to the good stuff. But this outing would take no time at all. Heading up the hill, I discovered the church at the hill's peak. To the left was a long stairway filled with tourists. Beside that was a tram system. One could pay a euro, wait in line for twenty minutes and ride to the top. But not ever being one to take the lazy man's way, I joined the group on the stairs. Slowly, I ascended each step until I reached the top. The church was a sight to see, and even more amazing was the snow all around. It lightly dusted the grass and the statues. I snapped many pictures. I then pushed my way into the large crowd and begin entering the church. The price was one I liked-free. Inside, it was packed. I sadly noted the sign that said "No photography." I was also asked to remove my hat. Oops. My bad. Slowly, an amoeba of people made their way around the sanctuary. At one point, I exited the crowd and sat down in a wooden pew chair. It was nice to break free of the herd-like procession. The ambient noise in the church was interesting to observe. No talking was aloud, but people of course would mumble quietly to each other. The effect of hundreds of people doing this gave a sort of quiet roar to the place. The sound was a soft rumbling, and it was almost tranquil. Resting in my chair, I took note of where I was. I had traveled over 5500 miles from home by means of a plane, a train and a lot of walking. Now, I sat in the Sacred Heart Church and took some time for prayer.

Returning to the line once again, I continued my way around the sanctuary. The line stopped moving so I forced my way up to the front of it to see what was happening. They had halted the line for an event to take place. Suddenly, loud ominous pipe organ music filled the church. Moments later, a small line of choirboys walked out. The first carried a metal container of incense, which he swung by means of a thin chain. Smoke from the incense began filling the air and permeated into the crowd. Following this, a group of nuns dressed in white took their places in the center of the church and began singing. They then allowed the line to move again. Again, I exited the line and took a seat. This time I simply listened to the musical voices of the nuns and the thunderous sounds of the pipe organ. Closing my eyes, I took some time to relax and take it all in. Not being able to snap photos, I can use only words to describe what I saw and felt. The church was large. It seemed to equate the size of Notre Dame. Large stained glass windows were scattered all about. But with the dull gray skies outside, no sunlight would be permitted to shine through. I was only able to imagine what it must be like when the rays of the sun pierce through the glass and cast colorful light into the church. In the back of the church on the second level was the large pipe organ. It appeared to fill the entire loft. Whereas, the front of the church was decorated with fancy gold trim, the pipe organ remained more sedated in glamour. Its colors were darker and it appeared to contain a lot of brown or cherry colored woodwork. Adding soft yellow color to spotted areas of the church were the numerous tiny candles. The candles also offered little pockets of warmth when you stood next to them.

Finally, I left the church and went back out into the cold weather. Instead of heading back down the hill, I wandered to the right of the church and began trolling the small streets of that area. Braving the gentle rain, street artists were numerously scattered about selling their creative works. The rain was light and didn't prevent full crowds from taking in the rich Paris life. Cafés remained busy. Looking around, I sensed that the people around me were from all over the world. I ducked into a little pastry shop and ordered a crepe sucre (crepe with sugar). Thinking back, I realize that it was the strong sweet smell that pulled me into that store. I had smelled the aroma well before even reaching the shop. With crepe in hand, I headed back out into the streets. The weather was chilly, but my warm crepe seemed to balance things out for the present. Soon I was back at the long stairwell of the hill and I descended to the streets below. My next quest was for a liquor store. I needed some drinks for the hotel. This search would consume a good amount of time. Liquor stores just aren't terribly common in Paris. For the life of me, I have no idea where people get their food from once the cafés are closed. My lengthy search also took its toll on my feet. My legs really hadn't had a rest since first arriving in Europe days earlier. My left foot complained and my right knee kept it company. Yet, I pressed onward until I found a little store. I bought a coke, an Orangina and a Guinness beer. These items would last me the night.

I Have Company!

Arriving back at the hotel, I went upstairs and was disappointed to not see Alan and Irena in the room. But that disappointed faded fast as I noticed their bags had been deposited there. Ah! Very good! They had checked in and were now probably scouting for food in the city. My next task was only to raise my body temperature back up to normal. I drew a hot back and soaked for well over a half hour. It was certainly refreshing and peaceful. It's funny how contrast makes things so much more enjoyable. Taking a hot bath after spending an entire day freezing is so much more rewarding. After the bath, I relaxed on a bed and watched a little French TV. (Observe the pun if you want, for like I said, the TV was small!). In time, Alan and Irena came in. They had bought food from a local restaurant. Well, it appeared to be fast food of some sort, but I wasn't up for giving my usual "You shouldn't eat fast food in another country!" speeches. Besides, the fries did look pretty tasty. After chatting, we all turned in rather early that night.

January 2nd, 2004

At 6:30am, I was done sleeping. I dressed to go outside and try and get some pictures of early morning Paris. Alan wasn't tired, so he tagged along. The streets were still dark and the weather was wet and cold. Not having to fight any crowds made getting around a lot easier. I was hoping to get some good sunrise photos so we ascended up to Sacre Coeur Church. This time, the long stairwell was completely empty. The church was open, so we took a brief tour around the inside. No choirs were singing this time-not at 7:30 in the morning. Back outside again, I realized that the sun would be a while in rising, and the dull gray sky would once again restrict any sunlight from making an appearance. Okay, no Paris sunrise photos for me. We returned to the hostel and packed. There was still some time before we had to be at the train station, so we ate breakfast at a little nearby café. I had coffee and an omelet with ham. One thing about food in France is that if the word is French (e.g. omelet), they probably know how to make it.

When breakfast was over, we went to the train station. I got to tote my luggage along again, but the walk wasn't very long. At the train station, we nearly missed our train since we didn't fully understand how to check in. However, I think I finally understand the process now. So my third time to Paris really should be a charm. We caught our train having only three minutes to spare. On board, I took full advantage of my two reserved seats and once again enjoyed the extra room. And being a little thirsty, I figured it was as good time as any for my large Guinness beer. I set the beer on the tray table in front of me and gently pulled the little tab…

WHOOSH! Beer all over! Somehow all my bumpy walking and running had managed to shake up my beer when it was in my backpack. Nevertheless, I remained calm. I didn't even raise an eyebrow. My demeanor simply stated that this was all par for the course and a small explosion of beer could easily be remedied by…uh…well, I didn't have anything to clean up the mess with. My backpack didn't even contain tissues. My only resort was to use some notebook paper. It wasn't quite as effective as Bounty and I doubt you'll see any commercials any time soon denoting notebook paper as the 'quicker beer picker upper', but it somehow did the job.

Our Final Home

Once we entered London, we took the tube to Piccadilly Circus station. After ascending the steps outside, it was a very short walk to our hostel-Piccadilly Backpackers Hostel. We weren't pack backers though. In fact, most of the people in there didn't appear to be backpackers. I also wondered why backpackers needed a hostel anyway. Isn't backpacking supposed to be an outdoor activity? But the price was right. And for only $18 a night, they could have called it the Piccadilly Synchronized Swimmers hostel. As long I didn't have to wear Speedos, I would have no problem with that. We checked in a 1pm, but could not enter the room until 2pm. So we waited in the common room until the scheduled time. Now, the common room was fun. It was open 24/7 and had a nice TV with a movie almost always playing. Another adjacent small room held six computers connected to the Internet. For one pound per hour, residents could use the Internet and send mail to friends telling them how wonderful the weather in London was. Vending machines offered sodas and snacks for a decent price. Another machine offered coffee and cocoa, but it was out of order the entire time we were there. It just seemed to tease me by saying, "You could be drinking hot cocoa, but NOPE, I'm broken!"

Once the hour had passed, we went to our room on Floor 6. It was a 6-person room. Three bunk beds were situated in there. Only three of us were booked, so we expected some strangers to join us. Not bothering to look at the reservation paper, we just grabbed whatever bunks seemed amiable. I got the bunk close to the window-and the radiator! With our luggage stowed, I went back down to Floor 4 to leave a note for the girls. Around 4pm, Steph and Amanda showed up, so I began hanging out with them. Alan and Irena remained sleeping back in the room. Later, Gardner and Heather arrived. Now, the whole gang was here. We all got ready and went out on the town, well, all except Alan and Irena, who chose to remain back at the hostel and sleep, since Irena was still a little sick.

In the City

Our mission was simple-eat dinner at Wagamama's. The mission quickly came to an unsuccessful halt when we discovered that the restaurant was closed for several days around the holidays. That was sort of an interesting tradition: pick the time of year where business would be busiest and then shut down the place during that period of potentially extra revenue. But who am I to critique? I never went to business school. Our second choice was to eat Indian food. We found a great place. Following tradition, I started off with a beer. Hey, if I'm going to invoke chaos on my taste buds, I need to dull the pain somehow. As usual, I ordered my spicy "chicken vindaloo." True to fashion, it tasted hot enough to melt led. With nan and special fried rice, it turned out to be a great meal for me. The others seemed to enjoy their meals as well. After dinner, our next task was to see a show. Randomly walking all over the city, we ended up not being able to find any good price on last minute tickets. Our final idea was to see The Woman in Black. Never mind the fact that I'd now seen the show four times. What was one more time? But arriving there too late, the show had no seats left. So over to the Cambridge, we went.

The Cambridge is a great little pub and we spent time there during the previous year. The upstairs area is usually empty and allows for relaxed chatting and beer drinking. Happily, it proved to be just the same this time. Keeping the pints moving, we had a jovial time once again sharing stories and telling tales. During a bar run, Gardner was all too happy to point out that the girls seated next to us had been continually glancing my direction. Flattering as this was, starting up bar conversations was never my strong point. The girls were cute, but hey, I was already seated with three lovely ladies. What was I going to do with three more? Still, the whole sorted event kept everyone highly entertained until we exited the pub.

It was now time to visit the Sports Café. The great thing about it was its location. It was only a short walk from our hostel. During last year's trip, I always had to depart early to catch the tube back home since I had lived seven miles away from the center of town and couldn't exactly jog home at. Yes, the buses did run all night, but only once every hour. And if you needed to transfer, or even worse-if you got on the wrong bus, you'd probably be home sometime after breakfast. But now things were great. I could stay out as late as I wanted to. And I wouldn't have to worry about waking up any home stay folks or having them whisper, "Oh no. He's drunk again. Do you think he's an alcoholic Martin?"

The club was somewhat deserted. And it was a Friday night. The place got busier after some time and we danced until about 12:30am. Most of us headed home while Amanda stayed to enjoy the nightlife a little more. Back at the hostel, we used the Internet to book my bus ticket to Oxford. The others had already ordered tickets and I wanted to join them. Being done with that, I headed to bed. Others were already asleep in our room, but I don't think I woke anyone. I made a beeline for the bed, climbed under the covers and went immediately to sleep.

January 3rd, 2004

At 6:30am, I was done sleeping. I don't know how I got into such an odd sleeping pattern, but nevertheless, I was done sawing logs for the night. At 7am, I wandered down to the Floor 4 to check out the breakfast room. There weren't many people in there. The breakfast they offered was light, but it was free. And it was enjoyable. Toast was offered along with jam and butter that could be spread on top. Drinks included orange juice, coffee, tea, or milk. I had toast, coffee and juice. Sitting down, I was able to do some writing. The atmosphere was nice and calm. Techno music played softly in the background. As time passed, more people wandered into the breakfast room. Some look well rested and ready to start the day. Others looked as if they had spent the entire night fighting wild grizzly bears from Canada. What was interesting was to hear the various languages spoken by the travelers. Once again, you could see that people had come from all over the world to be in this place and explore London. I reflected upon all this as I wrote. The weather outside was surely cold, but inside here, I was warm and now had some food in my stomach. I then went up to Floor 6 to see how the girls were getting along.

The three girls and Gardner were located in a room several doors down from ours. Our original plan was to have us all in one eight-person room, but this didn't happen since they made their reservation earlier than we did. Thus, they occupied four bunks and four strangers took the other beds. As I understood, some of the strangers often snored loudly. I guess the lesson here is to always bring earplugs during world travel.

I Return to Oxford

Alan and Irena decided not to go to Oxford. They were still talking about trying to fly home early. Of course, the girls were taking their time in getting ready. I joined a couple of them that were heading down to breakfast-for I could always use another cup of coffee. Finally, we were all ready to leave. But there wasn't much time. The tube ride brought us to Victoria station and we then walked several blocks to the Coach station. Alas, we were too late. We missed our bus. That reinforced my philosophy that it's always wise to arrive early to things like that. However, there was no use pointing fingers now. We simply had to catch another bus. The ticket person informed us that it was not a problem. We just had to get on the next bus. In fact, we didn't even need to get new tickets. So we now had some extra time to kill. Visiting the snack shops, we stocked up on food for the trip to Oxford; and when the time came, we boarded the bus and traveled to Oxford.

The bus ride short and really didn't seem any longer than I remember the train ride being. The best part is that it was much cheaper than taking the train. This was good information to know-always take the bus if possible. Upon entering Oxford, it was exactly as I remembered it. The buildings were old and full of character. Even the sky was gray like before. And the weather, of course, was very cold. We exited the bus and headed immediately to a little coffee house. Inside, we got hot drinks and examined the map. Having been to Oxford before (and owning the only compass), I would be our tour guide. My first destination for us was St. Mary's Church. This way, I could show them the awesome tower with the great view. We reached the church and all except heather decided to climb the tiny circular steps that led up to the tower. Yes, it was cold. But as always, it was very exciting to be up there. We enjoyed the view and took many photos. After getting our fill of scenery, we climbed back down and explored onward. Next, we walked down a few streets to take in the Oxford Botanical Gardens. I don't how the gardens look in the spring and summer, but they aren't much to see in the wintertime. Still, we toured through them and observed nature. Afterwards, we wandered over to Christ Church. It was a place I hadn't toured the first time. Most interesting was the great hall where the Harry Potter dining room scenes were filmed. We saw that-almost. The actual hall was closed to heating. As a guide told us, without central heating, they have to close up the room and heat it for 48 hours prior to any great event. Well, a great event was coming up so alas, the hall wasn't open to the public. But we could stand outside and peer in. Since that's all that was allowed, that would have to do. I carefully snapped a few blurry photos and we moved on. It was now time for lunch. Finding a good place to eat would not to easy. Er, let me supplement that last statement. Finding a good INEXPENSIVE place to eat would not be easy. We did find a good cheap place, but it was next to a theatre. A local production of Cats was taking place. It struck me as odd that Cats, the musical, was playing in Oxford, England. Okay, it strikes me odd that the musical Cats is playing anywhere. As you can tell, I'm not terribly fond of Cats. But that's just me. At any rate, the wait was too long so we searched elsewhere. Only knowing one place to eat-the pizza place that we dined at last time, I took the group there. Fortunately, someone discovered another nearby place that also served Italian food. It was a friendly place. I ordered garlic bread for the rest of the group and calzone for myself. However, I made the mistake of starting off the lunch with a glass of red wine and found myself almost full after that one glass. Not wanting to waste 6 pounds for my meal, I somehow ate most of the dish. But this action did a number on my stomach.

Leaving the restaurant, we all decided to head back early. We hopped aboard a 3:30pm bus to return to London. The others slept for most of the journey. But my stomach was too upset from lunch to sleep. The first part of the ride was difficult, though my stomach settled after time. In about an hour's time, we were back in London again. Taking the tube, we arrived back at our hostel. The plan was for us all to go out and see a show that evening. Well, that was the plan. The result was that almost everyone ended up canceling out on the show. Alan and Irena were of course sleeping. Heather and Gardner weren't feeling well. Amanda wanted to save money. So Stephanie was the only person left and she wasn't up for a show. But was up for taking a night walk around the city. Her roommate Marcel was also interested in coming along. The three of us headed out into the cold London air and explored the sights by foot. We toured around Trafalgar square and went over to Big Ben and Westminster bridge. For kicks, we walked over to the London Eye. It was closing at the time, and it was also 11 pounds to ride. That double shot killed any idea we had of boarding the great Ferris wheel. Next we walked over to a nearby outdoor ice skating rink. I wanted to see what it was like. Apparently, not all ice skating rinks are the same. For starters, there wasn't any ice! These people were skating on plastic. I had no idea that this sort of thing even existed. I guess the positive aspect was that if you fell, you didn't get wet or cold. The negative side was the entire fact that you WERE NOT ACTUALLY ICE-SKATING! By law, they should have to call it "plastic skating." Sure, it's doesn't have the same romantic ring to it, but it's at least true. Needless to say, we passed on any plastic skating. Braving the cold, we headed back to the hostel. In Piccadilly Circus, we entered a small café. I was on a quest for hot chocolate. My quest changed to a quest for a croissant when I saw the price of a cup of hot chocolate. Sure, the croissant price was just as inflated, but I could justify it a little more than paying four dollars for a cup of cocoa. After consuming our food, we went back to the hostel. In short time, I was fast asleep.

January 4th, 2003

At 7am, I was wide-awake again. I had breakfast (toast/coffee/juice) and met the others to go out sight seeing. Our first stop was to visit St. Paul's Cathedral. It was a place that I had not seen much of during my study abroad session the year prior. The good news was that it was open. Unfortunately, the dome was closed that day. And it cost 7 pounds to explore the place. As usual, they didn't allow photographs. So considering all this, we journeyed elsewhere. Our next stop: the Imperial War Museum. While, I did see the museum last year, there's just no way to get enough of it. Before long, we were all scattered in different directions, exploring the exhibits and displays. I made sure to visit the WWI trench exhibit once again. After an hour, it was time for Gardner and Heather to leave for their overnight excursion. We departed the place and headed back to the tube station. A few stops later, Steph, Amanda and I parted ways with Heather, Gardner and Alan.

Joined with the two girls, we headed over to Buckingham Palace. They were both rather hungry (I kept forgetting that normal people eat more than once a day) so we settled into a nice little café to have lunch. While I desired a beer, I did need to settle my quest for cocoa, so that's what I ordered-along with a melted cheese and tomato sandwich. It did the trick. Lunch was delicious. Finishing lunch, we took to the streets and walked over to Buckingham Palace. Alas, we had missed the "changing of the guard", but on the bright side, we also missed the huge crowds that accompany the little event. Our next stop was St. James Park where we examined the various birds that call it their home. Our conversation steered into the direction of whether or not it was acceptable to label some birds as just plain ugly. Reaching the front end of the park, we passed by the mounted guards so Amanda and Stephanie could pose for pictures with the horses. Moving down the street, we came upon the National Gallery. It was open. It was free so we went inside.

Since I had seen most of the pictures before, I didn't have a strong desire to stay very long. But the girls were interested in seeing the various antique paintings. Making it a game, I would try to examine a painting by a specific painter and figure out his style. I'd then glace over at other paintings in the room and try to determine if it was the same painter, based upon the style of the painting. It worked a few times, but the game grew dull after short time. After receiving our fill, we sauntered around the corner and into the National Portrait Gallery. My goal was to view the kings of England from the 13th-16th centuries, but most of the paintings started after the time period that I was aiming for. Nevertheless, we saw some great paintings. A most interesting moment was viewing the portrait of Sir Nelson. Some information was given on him. Juxtaposed to the right was his lady. I read the information of both of them.

After the gallery, we went over to the theatre ticket area. Alas, there were no shows playing that night. Seeing a show would have to wait until Monday evening. Hopefully, I would at least get to see one show before leaving London. Having no luck getting show tickets, we set out looking for food. The mission would be to find a food store. That way we would get more food for less money. Our walk turned out to be a lengthy one. But in due time, we ended up at a Sainbury's that I used to visit during my previous stay in London. Ah, it was fun shopping for food in London again. We acquired some goodies and set out for home.

Another Night On the Town

For the evening, we agreed to go out. Our stop would be the Cambridge Pub since we knew it so well. Five of us headed down there: Steph, Amanda, their two roommates and myself. Someone brought cards along so we played gambling games upstairs at the pub. Since we weren't gambling, the games weren't exactly very effective. One could bluff holding nothing but a 2 and a 3. Still, we had a great time until they kicked us out at 10:30pm (pubs close early on Sunday nights). Being tired, we all returned to the hostel and crashed for the night. The night would be an eventful one.

January 5th, 2003: The Day Begins Early

It was around 3am when I heard the noise. At first, it seemed like a loud obnoxious alarm clock. But after a few moments, the truth had dawned-it was the fire alarm. Not knowing what the protocol was, I simply waited to see what would transpire next. Well, after people pounding on the doors and commotion in the hallways, it was obvious: the procedure was to evacuate the building. Oh great. That's exactly where I want to be in the middle of winter and in the middle of the night: on the streets of London. I grabbed my coat, scarf and gloves and headed out. I wanted to stay and hide in bed, but since I wasn't entirely positive that it wasn't a fire, I thought it best to evacuate along with the others. I mean that's not the way to go. Getting mauled to death while duking it out with a wild bear in Alaska; that's the way to go out. Suffocating to death from smoke inhalation due to laziness? That's just plain sad. So out the door I headed. The stairwell was packed full of residents exiting. Slowly, we all descended down the seven flights of stairs and out the door into the cold London streets.

The streets were now full of people and the weather was dreadfully cold. Fire trucks were parked in front of the building with their lights flashing. No one looked happy to be there. It would be some time before we could enter the building again. I decided to stroll around the streets a little bit. I didn't see anything exciting-not at 3:30am. When I returned from the stroll, people were filing back into the building. It took some time, but finally, I was back in my bed again. This lasted until around 7am.

One Person Really Can Make a Difference

Like clockwork, I was wide-awake at that 7:15am so I decided to head down to the breakfast room. It was nearly empty inside. I got some toast, juice and coffee and then sat down to eat and write. A few minutes later, I returned for more coffee. Up at the refreshment counter, I noticed two things: one, the person who was working there was gone and two, the bread was burning. Figuring that maybe I should help out a little and solve this burning bread problem, I walked around the counter and investigated. Yes, the bread was really burning now. Smoke was billowing up. The toast machine apparently wasn't automated and would keep heating the bread until a fire started. Figuring that fire was probably a bad thing, I examined the machined to find an off switch. I didn't see anything. Then, I noticed the control lever. I raised it up and the bread (nearly on fire) came out of the toaster. There were 8 blackened pieces, all heavily smoking. Calmly, I took each piece out and put it on a plate. I then tossed the plate in the garbage. Smoke was everyone now. Throughout this whole process, I had remained calm, coolly and maybe a little too lethargic. Had I moved faster, the following might not have happened…

Having finished the bread dilemma, I now noticed how the thick smoke had permeated throughout the room. I looked up to the ceiling to discover a smoke detector covered with a plastic bag. Ah! They've gone through something like this before. They're now prepared for such events. All was well. I sat back down and drank my coffee. Moments later…BEEEEEP! BEEEEP! BEEEEP!!! Oh no! Not again! But how could this be? The smoke detector was covered. Hold on a second. I looked up in this part of the room and saw that the dining area had ANOTHER smoke detector in it…and this one wasn't covered. Well, the darn thing smelled smoke and now all the alarms were going off again. But this time, I knew it wasn't a fire. I continued to drink my coffee. Some German residents also carried on with their breakfast until a Hostel worker came into the room and yelled for everyone to evacuate since the alarms were going off. I wanted to explain that I knew for a fact that there wasn't a fire since I had personally watched it all happen, but I felt it better to just exit. No use getting evicted one day before leaving anyway. Still, it would have been nice if I could just climb back upstairs and crawl into bed, but I was now on the fourth floor and my room was on the sixth floor. I would not be able to fight the flow of dozens of people streaming down the stairwell. So once again, I exited the building.

Outside, the fire trucks had returned. The same old drill was being performed. But this time, we were allowed back in much sooner. Somehow, I did manage to located Steph and Amanda. They informed me that since the festivities of the night had robbed them of precious sleep, they did not want to start the sight seeing too early. I acquiesced and told them they could sleep in. While I hated to lose valuable time during my last full day in London, I could understand their pleas. Besides, I had already seen most of this stuff last year. I couldn't return to bed since I just wasn't sleepy, but I was a little thirsty. And what did I still have left in my room? Cider! Okay, one cider would sure start my day off in an interesting way, so I consumed it. Ten minutes later (to add further interest), I consumed another one. Around 9am, the girls came back to life. We got out of there after 10 or 11am. The first thing we had to do was to buy tickets for an evening show. We decided on Mousetrap. We had heard that it was the longest running play in London theatre; so we figured it must be pretty good. And plus, I wasn't really thrilled about seeing The Woman in Black for a fifth time-though I do have most of it memorized now.

Taking the tube, we journeyed over to South Kensington tube station. Exiting the underground, I popped into a little snack shop and purchased a strong beer. Well, it was my last day in London. I was entitled to a little fun. The girls simply watched with silent amusement. Amanda seemed happier since she knew that once intoxicated, I would be more likely to sing aloud as we walked-and she had her camcorder with her.

More Museums

We entered the National History Museum first. I was happy since it was a place I had never been to before. On numerous occasions, I had passed by the awe-inspiring building, but never entered. The building is gargantuan and has colorful blue and yellow bricks all over it. It also looks fantastic at night. Inside, it's even more wonderful. The first display one sees is a huge dinosaur skeleton. Each room has wonderful exhibits of animals throughout history. We spent some time in there and saw many different things; although after two ciders and a beer, I wasn't sure exactly what I was seeing. It's very odd, but my photos from that museum also seemed to be blurrier than normal. Finishing that place, we walked over to the Victoria and Albert museum. Yeah, it was a museum that I had toured before, but it's so large that I hardly scratched the surface during my first time. This time I certainly scratched the surface. We gave that place a good hour and then left to explore more of the town.

Outdoor Activities

Our next stop would be Kensington Gardens. Exactly how to reach the place wasn't clear to me. I knew it was there somewhere though. After fumbling about, Steph had the bright idea about asking for directions from someone. Brilliant! Honestly, it's so odd how that idea simply didn't occur to me. I guess girls and boys really do think differently. I had just assumed that the thing to do was keep searching until the path was found. But after receiving directions, we found the place in no time. Kensington Park was quite nice and we found ourselves being constantly greeted by friendly squirrels in search of free food. Walking along, we came upon a huge pond filled with waterfowl. The swans and geese were all too happy to get out of the water and surround us in hopes of getting something to eat. We had nothing but cold cereal to offer them, but they didn't seem to mind. Feeding swans is always enjoyable to me, and since I had my gloves on, their nibbles didn't really bother my fingers too much. Once our food stash was depleted, we carried onward. The actual Gardens were nice, but they weren't terribly impressive during the wintertime. Still, we looked, gave a few 'oohs' and 'ahhs' and continued walking. Shortly after, we found another tube station and returned to the hostel.

I relaxed a short while, but soon learned that Gardner and Heather had returned to London and were now out in search of tickets to join us in our show. Since I wanted to go make reservations at Wagamama's, I headed over to Leicester Square myself. The first two ticket stations showed no sign of G & H, but finally I found them at the third ticket booth. It was fortunate that I did run into them since they were under the impression that we were all seeing Phantom of the Opera that night. So they had been trying to acquire Phantom tickets-which were all sold out. I straightened out the facts and shortly after, they possessed two tickets to Mousetrap. Now, we were all going. Happy day!

For dinner, there would be a decent sized group of us. Alan and Irena had already eaten so they opted out. The rest of us walked down to Leicester Square and entered the restaurant. Wagamama's! We were finally there. It is one of my favorite dining places in London. I was so glad to be eating there once again. My order was that of a special fried rice dish. As expected, it was delicious. While I could have easily finished it all, I saved the last bit of it for Stephanie since her dish wasn't terribly large.

When dinner was finished, those of us with theatre tickets headed over to the theatre. Getting there was a little tricky. I did have a map and a compass, but since we had plenty of time, what was the harm in getting a little bit lost. Eventually, we made it; which was good since I was tired. The act of getting up early every day was really wearing me out and making my tired in the evenings. We got our tickets from the box office. I then cleared up a little misunderstanding. It seems that Steph had somewhat misinterpreted the 'longest running show in theatre' to mean it's the longest show in showing time. I explained that it meant the show had been playing for many years. I could see the relief in her eyes. I think she had feared a 5-hour night at the theatre.

A Night at the Theatre

Our seats were found at the top of the balcony. It seemed ironic that we had bought tickets so early in the day, but our seats were terribly far back. Nevertheless, we could see the whole stage from our position. It was also nice not to have to worry about anyone sitting behind me. The show began. It was a murder mystery type show; which isn't necessarily a bad thing, except that now that I've done so many of them for dinner theatre, I've sort of grown tired with the genre. Still, I sat and watched-or at least tried to. Yeah, my eyelids were growing heavy and I soon found myself nodding off at intervals. I wanted to stay awake, but just couldn't do it. Oh well. I doubt that I would have enjoyed the show any more if I had been wide awake. In the end, it was an okay show, but just that. Why it's been around so long remains the real mystery. Maybe that should be investigated. It could be the plot for another show-and this one can even be 5 hours long!

Come Dancing

After the show, the girls wanted to visit the Sports Café, so I agreed. Why not? It was our last night for us all to be together. We got ready back at the hostel and then Steph, Heather, Gardner and I headed down the street. Ah, it's so nice to be so close to the action. Five minutes later, we arrived. No cover was charged so we entered quickly and contentedly. The place wasn't very full when we arrived. We got a few drinks, but I passed on any heavy drinking-though Heather was all too generous in buying alcohol. Still, I wasn't feeling too hot since drinking a lot that morning. And plus, I had to be on a place for 10 hours the next day. I didn't want to do that with a hangover-not again at least. I learned my lesson during my previous London trip. Dancing was fun as always. The more we danced, the more I wanted to stay and continue. But finally, the time came to leave. Steph and I headed back to the hostel while Heather and Gardner veered off to some pizza café.

Not wanting to head to bed right away, Steph and I chatted in the hallway for well over an hour. We then agreed to meet in the common room and hung out there for a while-taking and playing games. Eventually, the sandman called to her and she headed off to bed. I decided to remain awake throughout the night. Alan was also staying up late, so I joined him in surfing the net. After all, it was only a pound per hour. Afterwards, Alan decided to catch some Z's, so I watched some poorly done movies on TV and did a little reading. My reading brought me to an inspiring moment. The book I had selected for the trip was Moby Dick. During one passage, the narrator spoke of a little shiny plate that had been placed on the HMS Victory to mark the fall of Lord Nelson. I was really struck by reading that. For one year prior, I had been to that very spot and seen that very plate. It then reminded me of seeing the column in Trafalgar Square and then I recalled seeing his portrait in the National Gallery. All of the sudden, all of the different pieces came together and I felt somehow connected to a piece of history. I guess that's what makes traveling so exciting. It's a process of discovering and learning. In school, one can learn about the pieces of the puzzles, but one needs to travel to really put the puzzles together. And now, I feel more clued in as to whom this great Admiral was.

Returning Home

Around 5am, Irena came into the common room. She was done sleeping for the night. We chatted a little and soon enough, it was 6am. We then headed to the room and got Alan up. In short time, the three of us were leaving the hostel and heading home. While Irena was highly pleased, I was indifferent. I would have loved to stay longer, but school was already starting and London isn't a terribly cheap place to stay. Yeah, it was time to return home. London would still be around-hopefully in the summertime when the weather is warmer. The tube wasn't crowded and we arrived to Heathrow early. This was a good thing since the airport was terribly crowded. Once again, I was randomly searched (when is 'random' no longer a viable word? When did I begin looking like a security threat? It's gotta be the darn trench coat!). We had our final English meal at an airport restaurant where I used up most of my remaining pounds. Soon, we were boarding the plane. I was quite drowsy at this point and ready to nod off. I was happy to have an aisle seat again. The safety videos played on our little monitors. My head grew heavy. Finally, after being awake for over 27 hours, I slept.

I didn't sleep the whole way, but perhaps for four hours. A large disappointment was the movie selection change. I had wanted to watch Edward Scissorhands, but it was no longer on the schedule. Instead I watched Cold Creek Manor. It wasn't great, but okay for killing time. Our meals weren't terrible tasty, but palatable. The time went by rather slowly, but it did pass. And at 1pm, we were touching down in San Francisco-the weather being close to what we left it back in London-overcast. After a slow customs check and having my bag searched, we were now free to leave. I said goodbye to Alan and Irena and headed over to the BART terminal. A train came and I boarded it. An hour later, I was in Pleasanton. Not wanting to inconvenience anyone, I simply walked home from the BART station. It was only three miles and I was quite used to long walks at this point. My little toddler rolled loudly behind me. The weather was of course cold. Finally, a half hour later, I walked in my house. After eight days, I was home again.

Was it worth it?

There's the big question. Was it all worth the time and money? Well, things did go wrong. From a person canceling out to overpriced theatre tickets, there were many unexpected things that occurred regarding this trip. Paris wasn't exactly a romantic escapade. The weather was bone chilling at times, with almost no sunlight to speak of except the morning we left London. Yeah, some things were quite trying.

But there were many good things as well. Eating a warm crepe while walking down a little street in Paris is a life long memory. Standing up in a dome and staring out into the antique city of Oxford is such an engaging feeling. There were also many magical moments: praying in an old church on a hill in Paris, gazing upon Parliament and the Big Ben Tower at night. Even the simple memories are heartfelt: dancing in a club with friends, drinking a pint in a pub, and getting lost in a group, but not really being too concerned.

London was also a trip of decisions. For all of us, we were constantly faced with a basic choice: am I going to choose to enjoy this, or choose not to? Sometimes the latter is an easier choice, but the former has much more benefits. Hostel traveling takes adjusting to. The rooms aren't going to be as nice as the Ritz, but they also don't cost nearly as much. We may have to sacrifice some privacy rooming with strangers, but we also get the chance to meet people from all around the world. In the end, yes, it would be much more convenient to simply travel with your whole house; where you'd simply walk outside your front door in the morning and be in Covent Garden or next to Notre Dame. But, life isn't like that. Getting to the wonderful places in the world is a journey in itself. And that journey can be an exciting experience…or a dreadful nightmare. It's all about choice.

That said, there were a few times on the trip where things were not going so well. And I just couldn't magically say, "Presto! I will now enjoy start enjoying the act of freezing my tail off waiting around a train station for two hours in the cold snowy weather!" Nope. While we can falsely paint smiles on our outside, it's trickier to do that on the inside. Sometimes, we just have to take the bad with the good. So all in all, there usually going to be bad memories just as there are good memories. But for me, having memories bad or good is better than having no memories at all.

So yeah, it was all worth it.

The itinerary

So here's what was planned and what actually happened. All things considered, it wasn't really that bad. Paris was the biggest bust, but we won't go there.

Monday, December 29th
2pm check in
4:45 departure
Tuesday, December 30th
11am arrival at LHR.
2pm Alan and Irina land.
5pm check into the Albert Hotel, 191 Queen's Gate, London SW7 5EU
7:30pm Lion King
Wednesday, December 31st
Head to Waterloo Metro/Train station at 9:30
Take 10:39 train to Paris
Paris
Arrival at Gare de Nord at 2:17
Check into: Hotel Gerando, 11, Rue Gerando tel: +33 (0)1 45266563
Visit Musee d'Orsay
Visit Notre Dame
Visit Eiffel Tower until midnight
Thursday, January 1st
Check into: Le Village, 20 Rue d'Orsel, 75018, tel: +33 1 42 64 22 02
Visit the catacombs, Arc de Triumphe, Champ de Elysees
Friday, January 2nd
Head to Gare de Nord at 9:20
Take 10:19 train to London Waterloo
London
Arrival at Waterloo at 11:54
Check into: Piccadilly Backpackers Hotel, 12 Sherwood Street, Piccadilly, W1F 7BR
Imperial War Museum
Sommerset Ice Skating
Saturday, January 3rd
Visit Oxford
See: Mousetrap
Sunday, January 4th
Visit the V&A Museum
Monday, January 5th
Visit Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey
Tuesday, January 6th
Arrival at LHR at 8:00am
Take 10:30am flight to SFO
Arrival at SFO at 1:40pm