Begin at the Beginning
Traveling through Europe on my own for two weeks was so big, that I have trouble figuring out where to start or what to say about it. There were the people, the buildings, times when I felt empowered and times when I was so homesick I wanted to cry (that usually happened when dogs were around) — just a lot to look back on and remember.
So I guess the best thing to do is begin at the beginning, a very good place to start. I kept a written journal for each day I was there, so that I wouldn’t forget anything “important”, like what I had for breakfast each day (vital info). Hopefully I can edit out the boring details and keep in all the good stuff, but sometimes the boring details are the best part.
My plane trip to Brussels, where I would connect to London, left Dulles Airport at around 7 pm — a full hour behind schedule because, as our pilot said, there was some “weather up ahead”. I had left enough time between connecting flights so that this wouldn’t affect me, but the guy next to me was going to miss his connection to Sweden, which sucked because he was going home to see his boyfriend, who he met on the Internet about 2 years ago and on a whim went to visit, and ended up staying for the past year and a half. The guy’s name is Danny, but I don’t find out his name until after he’s given me an Ambien and bought me a drink from the airplace bar cart. These two things combine to make it my shortest trans-Atlantic flight ever.
In Brussels, as we’re getting ready to walk off the plane, I hear over the intercom “Would a passenger King please see a United representative about your connecting flight.” Turns out my connecting flight is canceled, and I’ll have to take a later one at noon. So my first hours in Europe are spent sleepily drinking coffee and staring at airplanes while people around me chatter in French and Dutch.
I don’t hear my first English accent until I’m on the plane to London. I get to Heathrow around noon (there’s a one hour time difference between Belgium and the UK) and customs is a breeze. Before leaving the US, I bought a pay-as-you-go Oystercard online, so I go straight to the Underground, get on the Picadilly line train and ride it straight to Russell Square station (about 45 minutes). My hostel, Astor Museum Inn, is a 5 minute walk away, and when I get there I realize that I am directly across the street from the British Museum — this is an awesome location.
To be continued…