Pro Tips for Surviving a Long Journey

I’m not sure how many of you kind folks reading this will be aware of any of my current travel adventures so I’ll fill you in. I left for Lviv, Ukraine on May 20th and will arrive back in the States on July 10th, unless there is some unforeseen delay, like the National Ballet of Ukraine offers me the role of the Sugar Plum Fairy in the Nutcracker and I have to stay and train, or I get really drunk one night in Lviv and somehow wonder in Chernobyl and get attacked by a radio active bear. But as both of those are highly unlike as I would settle for no less then the Bolshoi Ballet company in Moscow  or the fact that I never drink we should have nothing to worry about, preventing me to make it back to the States. 

What I would like to talk about today is how I’m getting to Ukraine without loosing my mind and without loosing a bunch of cash. To get to Lviv I had to wake up at 1am Maine time (MET for short) on Monday May 20th, to be showered, make sure everything was packed, and make it to the airport in time for my 6am flight. My first flight would take me from Portland International Jetport, to JFK where I would arrive a little after 7am MET (Maine time, trying to keep it simple so you don’t have to do time zone math) My next flight from JFK to Moscow didn’t leave until 2:20pm MET. Upon flying into Moscow around midnight MET, I didn’t catch my next flight to Kiev, Ukraine for a few hours after that. When I got to Kiev it was 4am MET on Tuesday the 21st. I then had to wait around another 4 hours for my train to Lviv which won’t get me there until about 5:30pm MET. Over all about 36 hours of pure travel, in planes, trains, and automobiles, with a whole lot of time to kill. 

-Hydrate. I cannot emphasize this enough. A few days before your flight, especially if it’s a long one, up the water intake and cut back on everything else. Don’t drink the booze before or during a flight, I know it’s free sometimes, but seriously just go out to a bar when you get where ever you are going and find a man to buy you a free drink. You’ll feel so much better emotionally and physically with this strategy. Day of flight continue to drink stupid amounts of water. If you don’t want to pay for water in an airport, like myself, take an empty bottle with you through security and fill it up after. Try to say no to or at least limit soda and juice intake. The carbonation from soda can leave you bloated and the juice is a lot of sugar. I’ve also been told that you shouldn’t have caffein on flight days, but I’m not a doctor and I normally drink about three to five cups of coffee a day so for me cutting it out completely would leave a non-functioning me. Keep drinking water after you land, but make sure to check out the bathroom situation before hand. I once found myself trapped on an Italian train with no working bathrooms for 2 hours after downing 1.5 liters of water. I hated life. Drink water, you get the point.

Ukraine Train Toilet

-Food. Pack a food bag. This is the one thing you will never regret over packing. For this epic journey my bag consisted of three apples, three bananas, a sandwich bag of strawberry and another one of grapes, and another of raw almonds. I also somehow managed to get fresh almond butter through TSA. All very healthy foods, because I knew that airplane food isn’t that healthy (still ate some of it. They gave massive chunks of cheese and walnuts out as PART of a snack. Massive shout out to Transaero airlines and their food that exceeded my expectations!) Also while waiting in multiple airports or train stations, I didn’t want to have to pay to $2 for that, same banana I could have packed myself and a hungry me isn’t a happy me. Also ditch Burger King or some place like that before you fly. No one and I mean no one wants to get the shits on international flight with a limited amount of bathrooms and limited times you can use them. (Yes, I always think and talk about the bathrooms.)

My travel companion and our airport picnic

You can always pick up local food once you land.

-Sleep. Try to sleep at the time you would be on at your destination on travel day.  This can be tricky. I’m a big fan of popping a sleeping pill on the flight over the Atlantic and drooling all over myself and my newly aquatinted seat mate. Sometimes, even this isn’t fool proof. Mine knocked me out for about 2 hours and than I slept badly on and off after that. I’m going to blame it on the fact that we were flying far north, over Iceland, Norway, Sweden and such, so the sun never set for the whole trip.  Also, don’t beat yourself up over not concurring jet lag in the first day. I’m not a master. I will say that for the first part of your day, no matter how shitty you are feeling get a small americano into you and be exposed to natural light. If you don’t drink coffee, forget I said that. 

Coffee, the elixir of life!

Iceland, way later then the sun should be up

-Planing your journey in the best way for you. I could have spent another few hundred dollars and have flown directly to Lviv, but in my never ending quest to save money and my love of Ukrainian trains I chose not to. All my friends in Lviv think I am crazy for insisting on this path of travel, but thankfully my best friend has stopped fighting me on this, still thinks I’m crazy, but ended up booking probably the perfect ticket for me. He threw out the idea of the fast train, which limits luggage (I have way to much as always) and the fact that it doesn’t have beds. The beds are a key factor, as I will be traveling from 3:20pm Lviv time till a little after midnight. I needed the option to be able to lay down, and have been dozing on and off for the past 4 hours of my ride. He also smartly bumped me up to second class where I could get a cabin with a closing door, to block noise, a bottom bed and when he booked my ticket I was the only one staying in my room, so it’s been me sitting around in my leggings and a tank top, drooling on my pillow, and eating out of my food bag without anyone watching. This upgrade was only about $5 more and so worth it. I also have the potential to get some awesome cabin mates who will, most likely feed me if they ever appear.

-Staying fresh. On journeys like this it can be hard. My hair has turned into a grease ball, so I’ve given up on that front. I did pack an extra change of cloths in my carry on. From America to Moscow I had sport leggings on with a tank top, sweatshirt and sneakers. As soon as I hit Moscow I changed into a black maxi dress with a jean jacket, and nice flip flops. It was a new day, so time for a new outfit and one that was more socially expectable. You don’t go out looking like a slob in Europe. The key to the second outfit is something that looks more dressed up, but still feels like cozy clothes and are easy to move in. I also like to look like the local population as much as I can, which backfired and people kept speaking to me in Russian and Ukrainian and asking me for directions.  

-Keeping entertained. I travel with my laptop and iPhone, for electronics, both of which on long journeys will die, no matter how hard I try to charge them when I find an available outlet. I limit myself to just music and audiobooks on my iPhone. I know the audiobooks can sound a little nerdy, but I like to be able to close my eyes and listen to a story I either already know well or something that is easy to fallow. Most public libraries have e-libraries that you can download audio books and e-books for free for a set amount of time. Since my electronics always die I try to take one paperback (less weight than a hardcover) with me that isn’t too taxing to read. There is nothing worse then lacking sleep and trying to get through As I Lay Dying by Faulkner. My brain implodes and I want to cry because of how stupid I feel. Trash magazines are also a decent investment, especially if you can find a fellow traveler to swap with. 

The best possible entertainment source is to find someone to flirt with. Here is my logic, you are in transit, you will never have to see or talk to this person again if you really don’t want to. I lucked out, or my airline was trying to play match maker, on my flight from NYC to Moscow and ended up sitting next to a guy a few years older then me  and decently attractive looking. Our introduction was me telling him that he was in my window seat and to get up and move, now this could have made for an awkward flight, but I started small talk and by the end of the flight we were talking about things that I can’t write here because my parents read this blog. (E-mail me if you want to know the details.)

Even better then finding someone to flirt with is when they find you. When I was transferring terminals in JFK, dragging my 2 fifty pound suitcases and a guy commented on how much I had with me. He continued to tell me about his work and how he traveled every week. We got on to the topic of iphones and how they make life so easy and I admitted that I will hate to go without it in Ukraine and as we parted ways, he handed me his card and told me to e-mail him about my travels if I ever found wifi. Sneaky, sneaky man, but admire his delivery. A for effort! He may get a consolation e-mail.

I think I’ve covered all the bases, but feel free to add your own tips on how not to die on massively long journeys. I am going to drool more on my train pillow and hope for the best! 

Waiting...

It's Turkey Lurkey Time!... Almost.

Traveling long distances is as much apart of Thanksgiving for a lot of people, as turkey, the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, and football. The longest I ever was in a car to see family was an hour tops. This year took a little bit more time, involved multiple modes of transportation, and my cunning.

The Wednesday before Thanksgiving I impatiently taught, until 12:20 and raced out of school to my apartment to finish packing, change my clothes and then set off from Tbilisi, Georgia to Lviv, Ukraine. I road a public bus, where people tsked my big backpacking backpack to Station Square where I found a marshookah (a van that holds about 15 people) that could take me to Kutaisi. The guy collecting money was very impressed that I could speak Georgian, blushing I told him I could only a little bit and that I was an English teacher here. He sat me next to an older woman who seemed a little unsure about having her seat mate be this odd American in her sports clothes. I was jonesing to leave, but a debate started about a flower arrangement that woman didn’t want to hold for the whole trip and the guy collecting money said that she would have to pay for another seat if she wanted to take up a seat with it. Her excuse was that there was no one sitting there anyway so she shouldn’t have to pay. This debate raged for a good ten minutes. I kept saying, ‘Oh my God’ under my breath in Georgian and the woman next to me exchanged looks with me that we were under mutual agreement that this vehicle needed to move pronto.

We drove for four and a half hours, with one stop, picturesque Soviet towns, and lots of muttering from the woman next to me, until we reached Kutaisi. I had no idea where the airport was and when the driver told us that, this was the Kutaisi stop, two girls in Russian said that they were looking for the airport. I asked a Georgian girl who was sitting near me, who spoke English, what exactly they had said about the airport and she said that they were going and I told her that I needed to too. We left the city and drove through farm land, it was dusk and we seemed to be driving far past where I thought the airport should be. The Georgian girl told me that we would be there in a few minutes and I relaxed a little. The woman sitting next to me helped me into my coat. I’m  sure she just was worried I was going to accidentally smack her in the face, trying to get my arm in the sleeve. 

Low and behold we did reach the newly constructed airport, and by newly constructed I mean still being built. I was there three hours before my flight and there was no wi-fi, shops, or outlets to charge my laptop that was at 63% battery power, so I crossed watching the Hunger Games, again, off the to do list again. That left me with eating, calling people, and watching Georgians check in and go threw security. 

I, myself had to get checked in and pray to God that they would except my backpack as a carry on. I got one checked bag for free, but my plane would land a little after 10pm in Kiev and I would have an hour to go through passport control, get my bag, get to the train station, get my ticket that I had bought online, and find my train and get on it. I needed this bag not to be checked so I could make it, otherwise the chances of me pulling this off looked dismal and would also mean I would be stuck in Kiev for the night. Upon check in, they informed me that it would have to be checked. I tried to explain my situation and they told me that I would have my bag shortly after we landed and not to worry. I reluctantly gave it to them, after they interrogated me about the liquid contents of it. 

Do you have liquids in your bag?

Yes, I just told you that I did and that they were small, like lipgloss small.

So you have no more then five liters of liquid in your bag?

No? 

I was super confused as to why they were so concerned with my capacity in my bag. I travel a lot, and not even the TSA agents have cared. Hell, I’ve gotten a small bottle of hand sanatizer, through multiple international airport securities, not in it’s plastic bag. Tbilisi airport let me bring 200 milliliters of vodka in my carryon once and now I was getting shit in a half built airport in the middle of no where about liquids? (I also saw an hour later someone get approval for two full size bottles of Georgian wine to be brought on the plane. I guess I was just carrying the wrong liquids, because they weren’t Georgian.) The woman who was checking me in also called over her supervisor when she saw I was traveling on an American passport. With the airport only being open for about two months, about 3 flights a day, I’m willing to bet I could have been one of the first Americans traveling through. The supervisor asked me where my visa for Ukraine was, when she couldn’t find one. I politely stated that I’m American and don’t need one. I also explained that it was my fifth time going, so I was probably right. 

I stood in line waiting to go through security, passing the time playing with an obese baby. The woman checking everyone’s tickets and passports looked at them a little longer then I thought necessary and I chalked it up to her wanting to do a good job, as she had probably only had it for a few months. After security, I almost went past passport control, as it was these random cubes in the middle of the floor with people sitting inside of them and no sign or anything. I handed my passport over to a girl who looked like she was eighteen and asked me how I was, after a much too long pause after the hello’s. Sure she had practiced this in her Border Control English 101. 

I went and took a seat after this and called some of my friends to pass the time and just people watched. I eventually got bored with that and decided that I should use the bathroom, before I got on my plane. The fact that there was even a bathroom in this half done airport was a miracle, even if it didn’t have soap or toilet paper. Lucky for me, after living in Georgia for almost a year, I just bring my own. The last thing you want is explosive diarrhea, courtesy of Georgia, and no toilet paper.

"King David The Builder" I guess they are trying to keep with the theme.

This is were you wait to get on your plane. 

Maybe one day there will be shops and a restaurant? 

When it was time to bored the plane we were separated into two groups, after the people who paid to reserve their tickets got on, so like 10 people. Wizz Air, a budget European Airline, think South West, loads it’s passengers from the front and the back to speed up the process. I stood impatiently, not caring which seat I got, as long as I got one and made my train. I got to go in through the front of the plane and the airline attendants told me, in English, you could start picking your seat from the third row. The plane was filling up and there was only one girl sitting in the third row. They didn’t have the ‘reserved’ head rest sign on it. I went for it, praying that the other flyers on the plane didn’t understand that I we could sit in the third row, not after. I’m going to assume that this was the case, because no one told me to move. This old man, with his wife and daughter sat across the isle from me. The fight attendants gave the safety information in Russian and then they started giving it in English. The old man started speaking to me in Georgian, laughing and saying something along the lines of, why are they speaking English? No one on this flight speaks it! People who speak English fly in planes out of Tbilisi, not Kutasi! I laughed at this point. Partly because I agreed, I mean really, this airport was a shit show, and partly because he thought I was Georgian. 

The flight was a quick and painless two hours that I spent praying to God that I wouldn’t miss my train and listening to the Hunger Games on audio book to take my mind off missing my train, which didn’t really help, because I was listening to book two, where they are on a train touring Panem for the first bit.

The plane landed safely at Kiev Zhulyany International airport and we were loaded on two buses to take us from the tarmac to the airport door. I stood on the bus looking at some lady’s nails, that were shaped like claws, eyeing the other bus. They got to the doors first. By the time I got in line for passport control there were 15 people in front of me. I stood there watching and calculating the time it would take for it to be my turn and looked at my watch. I started muttering to myself that I would never make it. I then gave myself a mental slap and told myself to grow some balls. I tapped on the shoulder of the couple in front of me and explained that I had to get to a train in 40 minuets and asked if I could go ahead of them. They said yes. I asked the next guy if he spoke English, and he didn’t. I morally couldn’t just cut him, but the couple behind me asked me to explain again what I needed. The man took me to the front of the line and explained to everyone in Russian what I was doing. It didn’t look like anyone could have cared either way.

When I went up to the window I gave the woman my passport and said, “Privet!” She looked a little startled, but flipped through my passport, stamped it and handed it back. I said, “spasibo!” and rushed off to the baggage clam before she had a chance to change her mind about letting me into Ukraine. I not so patently scanned the carousel for my bag. it was no where to be seen, so I went out to where they were coming out and tried to look through the black things, to see if I could see my bag. People weren’t taking bags off the carousel, so they the guys in the back couldn’t easily put more on. I thought of throwing them on ground, in an attempt to get mine sooner, but didn’t want to act too crazy. I also thought about just climbing to the other side and getting my bag off the luggage cart myself and was just about to put this plan into action when they put in on the carousel. I grabbed it and ran to the nearest ATM and got money out and ran outside to the taxi stand. I told the person in charge of it that I needed to get to the central station as soon as possible and he pointed me at a taxi and shouted to the driver where we needed to go.

I explained to him, by doing what was probably the most insane looking motions ever that I needed to get to the train station NOW. He took that to mean that we were filming The Fast and the Furious: Kiev, driving at 130km/h (80mph) through the city. He honked and dodged cars trying to get me there. I crossed myself when we passed a church, just like the good little Georgian Orthodox Christian I have become, also because I needed as much help as I could get from God to make this train. I crossed myself seeing a second church, and then thought, wait, wait I’ve seen this church before, and I’ve only been in Kiev once before, and that was to get a train! I had made it to the train station 20 minuets before it was suppose to leave. I wanted to kiss my taxi driver, instead I stuffed an extra 30UAH ($3.50) in his hand and ran off to the ticket counter.

No, I had not been dumb enough to not buy my ticket before hand, but I still had to go to a window and get in printed. I stood in line at one of them, knowing that the lines can be painfully long, looking around in exasperation and saw a window that said, “online reservations” and there was only one person standing in line. Convinced that God truly loved me at this point in time, I went over and waited until it was my turn where I gave the lady, my iPod with the e-mail of the reservation on the screen and she printed out my ticket. I was so happy I didn’t have try to speak to her and I got what I wanted. I walked quickly down the hall, to my platform and found my train car. I gave my ticket to the man outside who asked me something in Russian and I stared blankly at him, so he just waved me in. (I later found out he wanted my ID, but the chances of me stealing another foreigners ticket were probably so small, that he didn’t care. After all I only paid $8 for it. That’s right, an overnight train ride, with a bed was only $8! Слава Україні!) 

I found my bed in the open compartment, which seemed to be filled mostly with university students and looked to see that I had about 10 minuets before the train left. I threw my backpack under a seat, not caring if someone wanted to steal my worn clothes and lipgloss from it, as they would be doing me a favor at this point, and went outside to buy water from a kiosk.

I went up to the window and stopped to think what the word for water was in Ukrainian, thinking it was ‘wasser,’ I asked for it. The woman looked at me like I was crazy. Wrong language I guess. I then tried explaining myself and asking again, this time in Georgian. Know what, Georgian is as useless to know in Ukraine as it is in America. She looked really confused at this point and maybe a little annoyed. I walked away thinking maybe she just didn’t have water, so I circled around the building and found a whole window full of water. I went back to the woman, still speaking to her in Georgian, rather then being a mute, and tapped to the window that had the water in it.  She stuck her head out of a little door, to see what I was going on about and gave me a bottle. I paid her, and as an after thought I asked “gas?” “Da, gas.” “Nyet, gas.” I said sheepishly, trying to act sweet. She traded out the bottles for me and I went back to the train to get settled, glowing in my glory of making it and getting water, even though I made an ass out of myself speaking Georgian.

I made my bed, which was a top bunk on the isle, at the end of the train and stripped down to my tank top and leggings and climbed into bed. My friend hadn’t added money to my Ukrainian SIM card yet, so I had no way of being able to tell him that I had arrived safely. (I also still don’t know my number after having it for a year, so there is no possible way I could add money to it myself.) I put my headphones in and put Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros, Home on and started to drift off to sleep, when my phone went off. My friend was naturally amazing that I had actually made the train. I suspect, he had friends on stand by waiting to take me in for the night in Kiev, if this was the case. He clearly forgot who he was dealing with. 

After I got off the phone with my friend, I passed out, despite people walking up and down the corridor and the train stopping at different stations in the night, until the next morning when I woke up in a pile of enough drool, that I’m surprised that I didn’t drown in the night. I got up, got dressed, tidied everything up and tried to use the bathroom. It was flooded and in poor condition, I thanked God that I had been smart enough to purposely keep myself dehydrated and out of this situation. I went and sat down across from a Ukrainian women, with too much makeup on and felt like a bum. I looked out the window at the little villages going passed, none of them really looked familiar. The train moved gradually into a city, not being sure if it was Lviv or someplace else, as things are more apt to be late in Ukraine, I had my face pressed to the window looking for something that looked familiar. When I knew it was Lviv and raced to put my backpack on go to the door of the train. I resisted the urge to knock the train porter over in an attempt to get out first. When I got out onto the platform I found my best friend after looking for a few moments and we threw out arms around each other and I yelled HAPPY THANKSGIVING, and everyone just looked at us. I just shrugged. I didn’t care. I had made it home for Thanksgiving with my best friend, who would have to fill in for the rest of my family thousands of miles away. We didn’t have turkey or pie that day. There was no football. No strategies for shopping at midnight, just two best friends catching up, being thankful that we could be together.

Thank goodness for best friends who feel the need to take your picture, just after you've got to town!

Home by Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros

18 Hour Lay Over In London On The Way Home From Ukraine

When you have traveled, seen and experienced as much as I have, sometimes its easy to become jaded, especially when in a place like London. Last night I flew in to Heathrow for my eighteen hour layover. I stood in line waiting to go through customs, experiencing slight culture shock as a flight from Africa had appeared to have gotten in right before mine from Helsinki. I stared a little bit, but the native dress that some of the passengers had on was intriguing, as I work in a clothing store so I am always looking to see what people have on. I also was trying to play my guess what country they are from game, failing horribly as I could only tell what continent they were from. I know some of them were staring back at me, probably wondering where the hell I was from, with half my hair shaved off and a shirt that’s mostly in Ukrainian, except for “Wiz-Art”. Basically I look like a hipster rockstar, which made me slightly worry about going through passport control and think that I had drugs on me or something. It was my turn to go through and I got a white late 20 something guy as my inspector. He asked how long I was going to be in the country and I told him one day. He asked where I was coming from. Ukraine. He asked what the purpose of my trip to Ukraine had been, at this point I had been traveling for almost 24 hours, a 15 hour train ride from Lviv to Kiev, a plane ride from Kiev to Helsinki and now London. That morning on the train I had, had about six shots of vodka for breakfast and I am going to blame it on that, but I just said “I went there for a guy.” I know I shouldn’t have, as I am suppose to be serious and mature when going through customs, but I just had to. He started laughing and asked me smiling, if it had been worth it. I said yes, blushing. Now some of you may be wondering who this guy was, well you can guess, but I will nether confirm or deny any guesses.
My passport was stamped right after that and moved along to baggage carousel, I looked for a few moments, not spotting my pink and white poke-a-dot bag and went to ask if it had just been checked through to Boston. It had. Just my luck. The clothes I was wearing, I had, had on since Thursday and it was now Monday (yes I know that’s kind of nasty, but they didn’t really smell, until now.) All of my toiletries were in my checked suitcase too. I though to myself oh well, its not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things. I am sure I could have gotten my bag if I had started crying or something, but I didn’t really feel like dragging it around London.
I fallowed the singes to the underground, located Gloucester Road Station, on the Piccadilly line, and got on the nice modern train, compared to Lviv’s trams. I choose to stand with my camera in my hand, and my classy L.L. Bean signature collection backpack on, looking like a photographer rockstar. I am sure that’s what the people in my car thought, if they didn’t then clearly they aren’t in the know of awesomeness when they see it. I took a few shots when the doors would open if there was something that interested me. The late afternoon was dreary with rain falling lightly and typically depressing.
When I got off at my tube stop, I clomped in my red cowboy-boots, through a strong mist, in the direction towards what I hoped was my hostel. I had a feeling that I was going to wrong way, so I stopped to ask a few passerby's, but one issue with London is that it is such a tourist destination that most likely when you stop someone, they are not going to be from there, which was the case this day. I ended up stopping this short petite lady in her late 50’s, with a red umbrella that looked too big for her, even though I thought she might be put off with the way I look. She didn’t live in London, but she knew where Queen’s Court was and fallowed me until I found it.
I checked into my hostel that for some reason was full of loud French and Italian speaking twelve year-olds. I was tempted to turn around and head back to Heathrow and tough it out in one of the terminals until my plane took off at a little passed noon the next day if it meant I would have to hear them play tag all night.
I got my key and took the lift up to the 6th floor and found my room. It was a nice four bed dorm with a sink in it. I tried to charge in my laptop, only to find out that England has different plugs then the rest of Europe. Bravo England, really lets have a slow clap for how much seance this makes. So I went back down to the lobby to get an adapter and also ask where the closest Gap was, so I could hopefully get a new shirt and maybe even a pair of jeans. The girl laughed at me and said they were closed, it was a bank holiday. Bank holiday? Really!? At this point between the luggage, plugs, and now everything being closed I thought it was one horrible joke. I had planned on getting some sight seeing in, but I had, had enough and decided that just getting dinner would be ok. It was too cold to wonder around without a jacket on anyways. I walked a little down the street looking at places to eat and I found a Middle Eastern dinner type place, that also served fast-food type food. I ordered fishcakes with chips, oddly enough it came with a side of beans. I normally never eat fish, but I knew that it would be horribly processed, barley tasting like the real thing and I was in London, so I just had to have fish and chips because its what any good tourist would do. The food was edible, but I seriously hope the Middle Eastern cuisine was loads better, it looked it at least. When I went up to pay the guy at the counter started smiling and laughing a little and went “Ok I’m sorry but I have to ask why your shirt is covered with lipstick kisses.” I then started laughing too and told him that I had a wild drunk night a few nights back and gave him a sweet mischievous smile, thanked him and walked out the door. The funny thing is that those kisses aren’t from a girl, but a guy who stole my lipstick when I was putting it on the other night and started putting it on himself and then we ended leaving lipstick kisses everywhere. There were even some left on a friends bathroom mirror, I don’t think he’s found them yet.

After I left the dinner I went to a Tesco Express. I was so excited to be back in one, as I had fallen in love with the grocery store when I was in Prague two years ago. I have an odd obsession with grocery stores in general, maybe its because my dad works for one and I grew up getting dragged into them when a new one was built or hearing about new products and lines that were coming out. When I travel its one of the first places I go when I get to a new town. Most of the time I don’t buy that much, but I like to see what they have. On this excursion I bought a two liter bottle of water and headed for the chocolate, walking passed the Krispy Kreams that I slightly lusted for. I ended up with two Aero chocolate bars, one was milk and the other was mint, and to my delight the mint one was bright green inside. I also opted for a bag of Cadbury Chocolate Buttons. I normally would not have chosen something so normal, but I had seen them on an episode of a TV show that was about the postal service in New Zealand and someone had sent a package of them with ecstasy hidden inside of them. I knew there wouldn’t be any drugs in mine, but I still went with them.
I went back to my hostel and settled in for the night with my chocolate and started photo editing. This might stress some people out, but normally it calms me and puts me in a better mood, which I needed with the balmy weather. I decided to go to bed around midnight and set my alarm for 7am.
The next morning I woke up around 5:30 to a shining sun. I decided to get up, not fully aware of what time it really was and take a shower, even though I was just putting my dirty clothes back on. A guy in my room let me use his shampoo, and I found some body wash. I was excited to see that the bathroom had a towel heater in it and I put my clothes on there too, mostly so they wouldn’t be balled up on the cold floor. I took my shower and when I was putting my cloths back on I bent down to pick something up that had fallen and my upper arm on brushed the heater, burning myself. I swore out loud and looked to see that it probably wasn't going to be that bad of a burn. I moved into the main part of the bathroom to use the hair dryer and opened the window wide so I could the soft rising morning sun the roofs of the houses surrounding me. I went back to my room, gathered my camera and then got the lift down to the lobby. On my way to the tube I passed a Parisian bakery where the smell of fresh bread came wafting out. I stopped and looked at the window in at the baguettes, pastries filled with jam and chocolate and empty spaces that would be soon filled and then emptied again by hungry early morning Londoners.
I made my way to the ticket machine and tried to figure out which ticket option would best suit my excursion of the day. Given that I had limited time and did not have a map of London I got a pass that would let me ride unlimited all day. I decided to first go to see Westminster as it was the closest. When I got off at the stop I had to walk down a long tile hallway that took a turn and sunlight replaced artificial light. I could see the London Eye on the left side of the tunnel and I just started running. The river shown in the morning sun and I turned around and there was Big Ben. I don’t know what over took me but I started gasping, and teared up, and my hands started doing that waving flapping things that women do when they are having a strong emotional response to something. I have never really had a strong yearning to go to London so my reaction was quite unexpected, but highly enjoyable at the same time because I know I will never forget it. I started taking pictures trying to capture the essence of being there to share with other people, mostly my close family back home as I am the one who keeps pushing them to travel more. It can get lonely on the road at times and I want to share moments with people I care about. Please take note that, that was not an open invitation to travel with me. I am still highly selective and probably always will be.
I started walking on a bridge that went from the Big Ben side of the river over to the London Eye, sometimes I walked facing forward and then I would turn around and walk backwards and snap a picture. Since it was only around 6:30am the only other people on the bridge with me were joggers and runners, who probably thought that I was coming back from a night of clubbing. I walked to the bridge that was in one of the Harry Potter movies, for those of you who don’t know I am obsessed with Harry Potter. While walking on it I thought I felt it sway a little bit and was worried about the Death Eaters coming and blowing it up with me on it. Thank goodness that didn’t happen and I disappeared once again into the depths of the Tube.








Buckingham Palace was next on the list. Walking from the station the street was lined with shops selling everything William and Kate’s smiling faces could be plastered on. I walked passes signs telling me that “Trespassing is a criminal offense”. Sadly since it was stated in English I couldn’t take a stroll on the palace grounds in hopes of spotting Harry and when upon getting caught, play the stupid American game that I can pull off in Ukraine. When I reached the front of the palace it didn’t over whelm me or fill me with any kind of emotional response. It just looked like a really huge European government building with a gate around it. It also was early in the day so the guards that stand in front were not there and I think that was also a bit of a let down, but on the bright side there were not that many tourists to get in the way when I was photographing.

I knew that time was running short so I started heading down The Mall, which runs through a park, ending up in Trafalgar Square. I decided that I was going to head to King’s Cross Station to find Platform 9 and 3/4.
Yes I am a Harry Potter fanatic. The whole tub ride there I kept checking my watching, knowing that I had very little time to get back to the hostel to check out on time and make it to the airport. As soon as I got to King’s Cross I rushed to platform 9, only to find out that they were doing construction on it, meaning my picture was a no-go. (Rumor has it that there was a place in the station where a trolly is half stuck in a wall and has a sign that says “Platform 9 and 3/4”, I however only found this out after my trip.)
With no time to feel defeated I ran back and hopped on the tube, back to my hostel. I stood impatiently in my grungy clothes, listening to Lady Sovereign on my ipod, praying that I would have enough time to get to the airport when I noticed a guy looking at me. He looked like he was in his early 30’s, black with dreads and in a proper suit, not some cheep one that you sale at JCPenny’s because you have to go to court for your baby daddy hearing, but a nice one that you went to Saks and dropped $500 or more on. He was eyeing me all up and down and I just looked away and smiled to myself. I thought I looked horrible that day, without makeup, hair not done and close to a week in the same clothes, apparently not to this guy and I was going to take that as an epic win for the day. He shortly got off a few stops later and I was left to dwell about what could have been, had I lived in London. It probably would have included me singing Britney Spears “Womanizer” or something along those lines.
I got off at my stop and went back to the hostel to return my stupid plug adapter and check out of my hostel. I went back to the bakery that I had passed a few hours earlier at the start of my early morning romp. The place was now packed and a long line almost to the door had formed, which suited me just fine as I pulled all of my coins, up to count how much money I had to spend. I looked over all of the pastries and settled one that had apricots on top of it. I can’t say that I am a huge apricot fan, its not from dis-liking them, but more never really being exposed to them. In the States its all about apples and in Maine blueberries. I honestly have no issue with this as when done properly apple pie and blueberry muffins are delicious. I also got a poppy baguette and one of those little pasties with chocolate inside. After I left with my over indulgent goodies, I went to Tesco and bought a liter of orange juice to drink on my forty minuet tube ride back to the airport, where I made it to my plane with plenty of time to spare.