Gloucester Road

10 May 2011

I have arrived. Not only have I arrived but today has been one of the longest I have experienced in quite some time. Now I realize technically today should on count for May 10th, however, as I have not yet slept my version of today encompasses that of the 9th as well. It began with my realization that, I am an adult. 

A strange realization, technically by government standards I have been an adult since I was 18, at 21 I could partake in all once deprived pleasantries, and at 25 I can now rent a car with full insurance for a much cheaper price. I even live alone, support myself (mostly), and worry about bills. All of these things should have tipped me off (as well as my own number of birthdays that have passed) that I am Grown Up. Still it has been a label I have not really put myself in; to me Grown Ups are married, have 2.5 kids, worry about a mortgage and wrinkles, they are people that no longer have any need for their own parents--which in my case has never been true. Yet, as I sat on the plane from Detroit to Washington Dulls, adult worries went through my mind. Not 'did I forget something, how will I get to talk to my friends?'; no, I sat on the plane looking out the window as it took off thinking--'did I shut the garage door, is the oven off? did I remember to turn off all the lights?'. The things I remember as a little girl hearing my mother and father tossing back and forth as we'd take a long drive off to some exotic vacation. 

That moment, when I realized I had other worries and responsibilities (ones I used to laugh at for being so silly as a child) was sort of defining. In one day (of no sleep!) it has actually changed some of my perception of things. 

Now, you all expect me to go into detail in some long drawn out explanation of the how and why it has changed me, but really I think it's better I just continue on with my day and what happened instead (it'll at least be more interesting that way). 

Upon landing in Washington Dullas I cannot say that anything spectacular happened. A very nice woman helped to convert some dollars into pounds and I bought some Starbucks (passion shaken tea, very yummy!); however, I did look over and noticed Mel Gibson sitting next to me in the waiting terminal. 

Okay, so it wasn't the real Mel Gibson; unless he has gotten shorter and become Indian. I did want to tell him how much he looked like the famous actor, but held back (he would be one of many people in the last 48 hours that have looked like a celebratiy to me) for fear of odd looks--from him and those around him. I also became aware of two lovely older women, I believe they were a mother and daughter (though I did not ask) that we struck up a conversation as we waited for the plane to board. I never did find out why they were going to London, but they had an itinerary all set and were enthusiastic about going. 

The flight itself ended up being very traditional, the woman I sat next to was increasingly worried she was going to miss her flight to Düsseldorf to see her sister, but I believe she made it alright. I did not get nearly as much on the flight as I had hoped to accomplish; I ended up being tired most of the way and while I attempted to sleep, never actually managed to get into anything resembling the REM state. 

The real excitement began as I was walking through the terminal toward Customs. The shoes I had worn (a very cute and stylish pair of low cut cowboy boots) had been rubbing angrily against my heel all through the 7 hour flight and while it had not bothered me as I sat (besides the mild annoyance) began the process of engaging me in excruciating pain. I made it nearly half way to customs when I decide I could not take it anymore and had to switch out my shoes (that I luckily had packed a spare in my carry on). Going to run over to the nearest loo (restroom for those American-English only types), I sat on the toilet began to open up my carry on and sweat began to pour from my body. I was so overheated and began to feel both dizzy and light headed, I leaned over to the stall's wall to just close my eyes...only to wake up at least fifteen minutes later. The pain had been so intense I literally passed out.

Feeling somewhat better, I pulled off my (torture-device) shoes and then my socks, fully expecting to be bleeding profusely from the apparent wound only to find, there was no blood but instead a gaping huge hole in my heel. (I'd take a picture and show you all, but it's not for the faint of heart.) It made me feel a little better (ha!), in that at least I wasn't just being a pansy about the pain, there was physical proof of my owwie. 

After a little help (with new shoes on!) from one of the cleaning people I made it to customs where, for the first time in my life, there was literally no line. I walked up and got in immediately. It was a blessing in disguise because after getting through customs it was a mad search to find the rest of the group. 

I do not exaggerate when I say, I spent an hour looking for anyone, at least three after I found Jesse before we were discovered and then were able to get on the bus to our dorms. Heathrow airport no long holds any secrets for me! I have thoroughly walked (with a chunk of my heel missing at that) through nearly the entire building. It was here that I got to partake in my first (of many) missed attractions from the UK. 

Orange soda.

What you say? We have that in the States. Oh Ho, my friend. It is not the same, one of my classmates, after tasting it, said "it is more like carbonated tang" only better; because it's the truth. Warm or cold, Fanta Orange is far more superior to our Fanta Orange. It is as if it is orange juice that is carbonated and yet, it is not. It is unique and without having had some, you cannot really understand (trust me, I have tried to explain it many times). 

Upon buying the Fanta Orange I managed to find Jesse, a fellow classmate (and now roommate), just as lost and confused as I was; separately we had covered much of the airport, together we doubly covered it, trying to find any minute clue as to were anyone else was. For hours we searched, combing over all of Terminal 3 (our supposed meeting place), lost and confused. Eventually we decided to call one of our professors to try and find him, only to find that their flight had been delayed and were in process of going through a very LOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG customs line (a far cry from my own). This however, did not solve our other, now, more pressing problem. Where were our other classmates?

It became, as we looked and searched, and eventually gave up, our personal hell. The metal and cold concrete was not pretty to look at; Jesse put it best when she said it seemed like a prison rather then an airport. While I do not agree with that statement as a whole, Heathrow is a very lovely airport, this particular area holds no love in my heart today.

Jess completely agreed, and we chronicled our dislike with pictures.

Eventually however, everyone was found (and we all have determined getting pay-as-you-go phones are a smart investment!) which sent us off to our home away from home for the next 3 weeks; they are cozy, though I don't think what anyone had expected. Located in a flat block in South Kensington, they used to be an old house for the in-area school but were eventually closed down because of low enrollment. Close to nearly everything, they are quaint and have a very strong Old English charm. 

As our landlord gave us the low-down the building procedures, he happened to inform us of more fire safety tips then I have ever known in my entire life. Also, his name was Fabio (no he's not a tall, tan, blonde).

It was after that we all nearly collapsed. We were scheduled to do a walking tour of our area, but everyone (and I mean everyone) wanted a shower first. By the time 3 o'clock rolled around we were all ready and raring to go. I have to say, the last time I was hear I did not spend nearly enough time in the Kensington area. It is beautiful and exciting; the Kensington Gardens (built by Prince Albert for his loving wife, Queen Victoria) were beautiful and melded into Hyde Park almost seemlessly. Which was where we came upon something that was not quite finished when I originally had travelled. 

Princess Diana's Memorial Fountain is beautiful, and today was the perfect day to discover it. The sun shining, heat gently wrapping around without being too humid or too hot; people had their shoes off and were walking around in the water. It was a beautiful place and it seemed most of the parents of the area agreed. 

I came to the conclusion I probably looked like some sort of creeper with all the pictures I was taking of the little kids running around in the water. One set of sisters were in nothing but their undergarments running through the water, and it looked like, having the time of their lives. Another set of girls, eventually joined up with another set to play some sort of game that only kids can fully enjoy and understand, even if explained to us.

From there we took our first ride on the Underground. This was the part that I was most looking forward too. The last time I was here I loved the tube and had been looking forward to it once again. 

As we walked along the tunnels it was like I was walking back in time. The smells were the same, the sound of trains rumbling carrying through the walls and their screeches as the made their quick stops all along the underground rail. I could almost imagine being back on it that one late night laughing and joking as we wondered if we'd make it home in time before the tube closed, watching as the station turned from a subway to a train and back again. It's a unique place, even with all the other subway systems in the world, I don't think there is another quite like London's.