London Calling (aka the final chapter)

Finishing writing about the trip is taking about as long as the trip did. Criminey. When last we left me, I was in London. The plan was for a week in London a week in Ireland, then home. Well, when I called to check on my tickets for Ireland they didn’t exactly exist. Plus, the airline I had booked no longer flew to LA at all. That put me in a pickle which I resolved by skipping Ireland altogether. I had been there already the year before and I got to relieve myself of the guilt of seeing Ireland twice before my parents get there the first time.


I was surprised by London. A bustling city that rains all the time and gets dark right after lunch doesn’t seem like my ideal place, but it worked for me. For one, because I was staying with a friend, it felt more like living there than touring there. I could walk around for a few hours but then make myself dinner.

Th first day I was there was an independence like festival, that seemed to continue throughout my time there. Red poppies everywhere.

Apropos of nothing my geography knowledge has certainly improved because of my trip. While playing a trivia game last week I got answers right to questions I didn’t realize I knew (Scotland Yard being one such answer). I think I’m ready for Jeopardy now.

The London Eye, from Fantastic Four 2. I would’ve considered going up if it weren’t so ridiculously expensive.

One thing I dig about London is that you’re never too far from a decent park. There’s some bigguns too. This is in Hyde Park where I ended up while looking for a place to eat my sandwich.

What’s great about these trees is that they only looked uniform like this from this exact angle. A few feet to the left or right and it felt a lot more random.

Buckingham Palace. Nice, I suppose, but one of the least interesting palaces I’ve seen.

Look, kids. Big Ben.

Westminster Abbey.

The guards did their little hokey pokey dance, but it didn’t come out with all the rain.

Thanks to a friend of Brad’s (the friend I was staying with) we were able to take in a soccer match (or footie as the brit kids say. And guys that are trying to acclimate entirely too much).

I decided I was for Fulham (Come on, you whites!) because that’s the stadium where I was.

The crowd, at first glance, was much more playful between opposing sides. The same songs were sung back and forth to each other, albeit a tad more ribald (i’m not sure if it was actually the Saints were marching in).

Maybe the playfulness was the lack of alcohol and the large number of police officers in the neighborhood. I guess the games got pretty out of hand at one point. Nowadays it’s more like a bunch of big fluffy puppies rooting for their teams as opposed to some of the American sports I’ve seen.

I decided this little jig dancer was my favorite player. I forget his name, but he was out there mixing it up, making things interesting with sliding tackles, power headers and what not. And in a game where the combined score doesn’t near double digits, I kind of needed that.

Drunky the bear took a tumble. Or maybe he was doing pushups.

Well, this is the sad part of this story. My shoes, the shoes that I wore pretty much every day for my trip, didn’t make it back to America. After the wet and muddy day in the Cotswolds, they didn’t make it back in the house. Seriously, the smell will haunt my nightmares for years to come. I wanted to burn them in some symbolic ceremony, but they ended up neatly placed in the garbage for one of the nice Notting Hill homeless men to find and wear. The garbage could only make them smell better. Yes, they were that bad.

Aarrghgghghg!! It’s a big giant!!! He’s got an axe!!!! Run!!!!

The London equivalent of the fashion district (or maybe they started it, I really don’t know). A lot of uniquely designed Santa exhibits. Given the number of people on the streets, that I managed any of these shots without bystanders is impressive.

My last day in London I walked from Notting Hill (where Brad lives) to the Tower of London (this would be the Tower Bridge). It was a 7 mile walk (this is relevant later). I was planning on sticking around that area until later when I had to meet up with a friend but ended up taking the train back to Notting Hill to pack. Or not pack as it actually happened.

The Tower was under construction so I didn’t get any decent shots. It reminded me of Natalie Portman because I had seen The Other Boleyn Sister which was set here. And I love Natalie Portman.

Ah, the old school vs. post-modern visual extravaganza I like to take pictures of so much.

Okay, so here it is, my last night in town. My friend Tabitha (she who visited me in France thru Switzerland) just happened to be in town for work so Brad and I trained back up to a restaurant near the Tower to meet for drinks and dinner. As the evening wrapped up, Brad and the others that worked in the morning took their leave. But it was my last night in London, the last night of my trip, and I was teetering on sobriety. No way was I going home then. Tabitha talked me into one more drink, but it took us about an hour to find any place that was open (turned out to be her hotel). We had a couple more drinks, talked about the monumental occasion, said our goodbyes and then I went to hit the train home. As per my usual protocol I had gotten rid of all my English money as it was my last day and I didn’t need any pounds clanging around my wallet.

Do you see where this is going yet?

I set out to grab the train only to be shocked (shocked, I say) to discover that the trains don’t run at 2am. And given that I had gotten rid of all my moolah, I had no cash for a cab (looking back, I think I may’ve had my bank card in my pocket, but once I succumbed to having to walk the 7 mile path back home, I ran with it, or trotted really). Thankfully, I knew the way because I had just walked it that morning. Off the main streets, London can get kind of squirrely.

As I walked down those old streets, moving from inebriation into sobriety into exhaustion, it hit me that this was the ironical end to my trip. One final, out of the way nearly 10 mile trek, because I had done that so many times. It also hit me that if I was going to get murdered, the final moments of my trip while walking down the dark and desolate London streets would seem to be a likely time. I walked a little faster. I still had to pack.

I made it back (no murder for this guy), and the next batch of hours was a complete blur, albeit the slow-moving kind. I packed. I didn’t sleep. I tried to clean up my area in Brad’s living room. I boarded the metro. I boarded a train. I boarded my flight. Ready to leave it all behind me and already missing my adventure and wishing I had another day, or week, or month, and yet being excited to be home for the first time in what felt like years.

The trip home was long. I tried to sleep. Couldn’t. Watched bad movies (I almost walked out on Mamma Mia before remembering I was thousands of miles in the air. Thankfully, I had my own personal viewer so I was able to watch Speed Racer again and reconfirm that it is an unsung cinematic hero).

Iceland maybe?

Canada, definitely.

The Vegas strip.

Downtown LA. I was home.

I’m not usually one for window seats, but I actually had the whole row, so I didn’t mind. Plus the exhaustion was keeping me irrational fear of heights from being too annoying.

And just like that it was over. Five continents. Twenty-seven countries. More cities than I care to count. More miles than I’ll ever walk again.

So, thanks to Zack, Paula, Melody, Peta, Virginia, Jason, Andrea, Tabitha, Svenja, Evan, Mike, Lisette, Tunay, Mark, Lisa, Ben and everyone who traveled with me or travel guided me.

Thanks to Dee, Missy, Ann, John and Mariane, Lisette, Brad, Greg and anyone who opened up their house for me.

Thanks to Mom and Dad, Cindy, Jean, Mike, Bill, Natalie, ROG, Rachel, Matt and everyone that kept me connected to everyone back home.

And thanks to everyone for reading.

Oh, and this blog will still be here. I have movie reviews and top 10 lists to do. I have random life stuff to talk about. I have writing to promote.