Made it to London!

I FINALLY HAVE INTERNET ACCESS AT HOME.

To celebrate, I am going to post the update I originally wrote when I came to London. A full update on the awesomeness of Berlin will follow soon!

I arrived. Alive. The trip was long and stressful, but so far I am loving London and am happy to be here. The city is, for lack of a better word, enchanting. The view out my window is of old houses—some older than the state of California. Being here is about being part of something larger than myself, being connected to the past and participating in the future.

Christine and Angel brought me to the airport and after a few parting tears for such wonderful friends, I got onto my plane feeling fairly brave and ready to go. A half an hour into the flight I had my first brush with English food: pretzels covered in Worcestershire sauce. Not delicious. Then, about an hour into the fight, my seat-mate began introducing himself to me. He was older, and spoke English with difficulty, but lived in Los Angeles. I couldn’t identify his native language, which he spoke to a man across the aisle, but it sounded like Greek. At any rate, he began asking me why I was going to London and I told him I was a graduate student at UCL. He immediately cocked an eyebrow and asked “you don’t want to get married?!” I tried not to laugh and explained that while marriage wasn’t off the table, it was certainly relegated to the distant future. He asked some invasive questions about my past boyfriends, finally deciding that I was “too picky” and offering lots of advice so that I could find a nice boy before it was too late. The whole exchange was simultaneously depressing and hilarious, and reminded me of Kevin, and all the conversations we’ve had about my marital pressures. I miss Kevin.

The rest of the flight was pretty uneventful: I didn’t get much sleep and arrived at Heathrow exhausted but unhurt. I got through customs without much trouble, but as soon as I got my luggage I realized I was in a world of hurt: my luggage weighed more than I did, and was cumbersome and awkward. Several strangers suggested I get a taxi but, afraid of the 80 pound ($160!) fare, I decided to fight it out on the underground, even if it took me a week. Tragically, that wasn’t an unfair estimate.

I had some problems getting my bags on the train and might have missed the last one had not a younger French man leapt of the train to help me. Once I had made it on to the underground, I tried thanking him for all his help and realized that he spoke almost no English. I am very embarrassed by my French accent, but decided that since I was doing all kinds of crazy new things, I would give it a go. He actually understood me, and our conversation was animated (if a little banal) until he helped me off the train and went along his way. At this point I was pretty much drunk with the excitement of being in London and having so much adventure when I realized that I was going to have to get back on ANOTHER train before I reached my destination and, tragically, there was a set of about fifty stairs standing between myself and the stop.

Not knowing what else to do, I steeled myself for the struggle and began up the stairs. I would ascend a single stair, then turn around and drag up one suitcase, then another. I would probably still be there had not another younger guy, this time a Londoner, grabbed my stuff and helped me up the stairs and onto the train. He was going to Kentish Town as well so we had a talk along the way about the area. He loves it here, as do I. It’s a fantastic mix of bohemian and middle-class, and as I walk along the streets I see a mix of punk girls and schoolchildren, independent record stores and organic food markets. [My flatmate thinks our location “could be nicer” but I can’t imagine finding a cooler part of town] When the train reached my stop, my new friend got off the train as well and began helping me find my way. He wasn’t too familiar with the area either, so he would periodically stop people and ask for directions. At one point, we got directions from a personal trainer with an iPhone, who came with us for a few blocks to make sure we were on the right path. I felt a little ridiculous being escorted by this troupe of London men (don’t tell Phoebe!) but in the end I was grateful for the help. My friend came with me all the way to my dorm and waited until I got checked in before he left, despite the fact that HIS friends kept calling asking why he was so late. I couldn’t believe my good luck, he was probably the nicest guy ever. I got into my dorm, which is nice enough and fairly comparable to the rooms at Pitzer (through my room has a great view of London, one thing that Pitzer is lacking). I barely met two of my flatmates (Dean, from Beijing and Joanna, from Columbia) before I pulled a MMP and went to sleep at five PM and slept through the night.