5 Hours in London

 

I have left home, but I have never really left home. Home is my amazing family- Mom, Dad, Tate, and Owen. The last time I was apart from them for more than a weekend was sixth grade camp. This time, I would be 6000 miles away, a 9 hour time difference.

My journey truly began in London. By luck of the draw (and cheapoair.com’s propensity for booking long layovers), I found myself in London for the better part of a day on my way to Rome. To my parents’ point, navigating a foreign city by myself after a 11hour flight, a severe knee injury(see my previous post), and almost no sleep may have not been the best idea. Nevertheless, I was determined to see at least a little bit of London.

I spent 5 hours on a first date with the city of London. It turned out to be an amazing night – I went in not researching any sites, just dropping my bags at my hotel and taking the underground into the center of London. My cousin had recommended Paddington as a happening area, but the District line was closed. So I did what us Dohertys do best: improvised.

For those of you that have not seen the London tube map, I’ll share with you the front cover: little doodled squares with saying in them like “I know where I go” “who is he” “out next stop” “I know where I’m going” “they go out” “I don’t know”. Its trivialization of the confusing world of public transportation was charming and self-deprecating, so I knew London and I would get along well.

Making a split-second decision to hop off at Picadilly Circus, I stared up wide-eyed at the angels lit up above my head. No, this was no weird vision, the streets were all lined with lights outlining unique Christmas symbols. After walking circles of various radiuses from the station, my growling stomach told me it was time to stop for dinner. I sat at a street-facing counter in Duck & Waffle Local, ordered Breakfast Fizz and a duck jam donut, and people-watched. Scratch that, I bus-watched. The tall red buses of my dreams were everywhere.

If you were wondering what a Breakfast Fizz could possibly be, it was vodka, grapefruit soda, and burnt toast infusion. The waiter recommended it and while I did not wholeheartedly embrace its description until I had my first sip, I applaud his recommendation now. The duck jam donut was the size of a large bear paw, a delightfully doughy concoction crisped on the outside, coated with sugar, swimming in orange marmalade, and filled with duck meat. I loved every bit of it.

After dinner, I walked to Tralfagar Square, and growing increasingly tired, I almost turned back. At the last moment, I caught a glimpse of red lights from behind a building. When I crossed the square to investigate and checked my Ulmon Offline London map (by the way, Ulmon offline map apps have saved my butt on multiple occasions), I realized it was the London Eye. I was baffled by both my lucky in stumbling across it organically and it not rising to the top of my subconscious, I hurried across the bridge across the river.

One thing you’ll soon learn about traveling by yourself is you rarely get good pictures of yourself. My selfies remind me of the oft-misheard Frank Ocean line “A potato flew across the world”(something along the lines of that, I’m sure) and the pictures other people have taken are not exactly my best angles. Luckily, I got one decent picture with the London Eye, because pics or it didn’t happen, right?

Again, I was just about to turn back on the bridge when I was drawn by both my urgent bladder and curious ear. Following the sounds of alternating carousel music and Childish Gambino, I happened upon a Christmas market! My first stop was a public restroom, where I consequently almost burst into tears when I realized you had to pay 50p to use it (I had no coins). Waddling into the Christmas market and looking longingly at the alarmingly large array of drinks available, I made a beeline for the closest restroom inside. After that, I ordered a mulled wine and sat in an inside-outside Scandinavian cider house inside the market until I felt warm enough to make the walk back to the station.

Boarding the underground once again, I was struck by the hustle and bustle of it all, the lively music of the buskers clashing off the colorful tiles and everyone racing this way and that down the multi-floor escalators. After an hour long ride back to Heathrow, I had never been as happy as I was that night in my bath, soaking and reminiscing on the day.

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