My February 16th 2012 date of deportation, issued by the UK border patrol back in Paris, was looking like a good date to head back to the States. It was a clean departure date, one that did not include arguing with the French embassy, and also left me with two more solid weeks of adventure in the United Kingdom. Therefore, without further ado, on January 25th 2012, I booked my flight home to Michigan.
On that very decisive afternoon, I also booked fourteen days at a hostel across town. Checkout time at Astor was at one pm, so I figured why not make another steadfast decision and start the beginning of my last days abroad in a fresh hostel. While I was booking – on a sofa in the chill out room – I met two Australian guys, Basil and… I didn’t get the other guy’s name. They invited me to join them at the Walk About Bar. It was Aussie day and I was told if I like Aussie’s I would be swarmed by them today. So that became the plan! I told the guys I’d see them soon, packed up, checked out of Astor Hyde Park, and began my two mile luggage haul across town.
Great decision. Equity Point equaled a great location, great lobby, great computer room/loft, great kitchen – with breakfast featuring peanut butter and Nutella – great bedroom – complete with a vanity (great for someone planning on staying fourteen days) and a bath tub. Ok, I’d never soberly place my cheeks on hostel ceramic, but the option was nice. I nestled in, unpacked a few things, stored my backpack in the locker next to my bed and dressed my mattress. [PICTURE] After a relaxing hot shower (walking two miles in February chilled me to my core) I changed and headed to the lobby to map out my attack on Aussie Day.
I didn’t have a cell phone, so I couldn’t call Basil, but I was confident I knew how to get to the Walk About Bar without him. Pretty sure I was wrong. I walked in the direction that Google maps suggested for about forty minutes. I circled the blocks, turned several corners, rerouted my phone a few times, but had zero luck finding the place. I FB’d Basil to let him know I wasn’t a no-show, popped into a bar that I was able to find and waited for his response. The place was called The Churchill Arms – Kensington and it was amazing! On the outside the window frames were stained black and draped in greenery from head to toe. On the inside any available flat surface was filled by an old mug, a beer barrel, a tea cup, a flag or a photograph. Knick-knacks even hung from the interior beams and plumbing. The place was incredibly over decorated and immaculately tacky. Simply brilliant! I took a seat at the bar and ordered a Stella from Michel, the bartender. I spilled my predicament on Michel and he told me I was in luck because he knew exactly where my bar was, but also that I didn’t have to go to a walk about bar to celebrate Aussie day. He told me to “look about” and notice the Aussie celebrations amongst me. I spun in my bar stool and immediately realized how right he was. Australia had come to The Churchill Arms. I turned back around and smiled bashfully at Michel as he poured us each a shot. We lifted our glasses, clinked, “Cheers mate!” he said, and the mental fuzzing began.
I stayed at The Churchill Arms for hours! First just talking to Michel when he wasn’t busy, but soon sparking conversations with any unknowing victim who sat near me. Conversation was easy at the Arms. Maybe it was the liquor or maybe it was the spirit of Aussie Day, but either way, I met a ton of travelers and locals that night. One particular spark ignited with Meg, Shannon and Joel, three Australian friends who invited me to their table. We played drinking games, took shots, talked about our adventures – past and future – our lives at home, and how incredible it is to meet new people on the road. Eventually though, even the Aussie’s were tapped out and it became time to bid our adieu. We exchanged Facebook names and hugs, “walked” our drunken happy selves to the door and hailed separate cabs – don’t judge, I had no idea where I was at this point, a cab was necessary. haha
The next night (We all know I was not up before 3pm after last night) I found myself in the computer room with 20+ Belgium MBA students who decided to stay in London for the weekend after their conference was over. Just moments had passed and I suddenly realized I had been swallowed by a group of immensely attractive, stylish and TALL Belgium classmates. Somehow they noticed me in the midst and as one asked me a question, two joined in on my response, followed by four more with open ears and so on. Soon I was on display. They had so many questions, coming from seven different directions. I had my own for them as well, especially since Belgium was so reachable, it would have made a great mini trip before heading back to the states. Unfortunately though, all I was able to get out, before the group left for their tour, were the answers to their questions. Oh well, they were excited, lively human beings with alien-like beauty, I didn’t need to be on the receiving end.
One sole Belgian boy, named Lev, couldn’t be bothered with the tour. Instead, he stayed back and continued to “interrogate” me. Lev and I sat in the computer room for the remainder of the night discussing – with sincere position and opinion – politics, globalization, environment, choice of lifestyles, the pros and cons of money and why the world does or does not need it. I have to tell you this was one of the best argumentative conversations I have had in my life. It was like Ping-Pong in word form and our mouths were the paddles. Well done old sport, well done.
In the morning I crawled downstairs in my pajamas for a piece of toast and yogurt. I was so beyond exhausted, feeling the repercussions of drinking into all hours of the nights, that I couldn’t even nibble at the breakfast table like a normal person. I immediately went back upstairs, put my breakfast in a Tupperware container that I had bought along the way and slothed my limp limbs back into bed. Sleep was easy. I rose hours later at one pm and decided not to waste the entire day. I had found several yoga studios in the area when I had been on the kick to find work in London, so I Googled one of the names I could remember and figured out when their next class was. Clothed, fed and ready to finally start the day I hiked it to Indapa Yoga where I purchased a two week membership and jumped in to my first yoga class in months – Hot power Hour Dynamic Yoga – similar to Bikram. The studio was pretty and clean and they gave me a giant mug of tea when I walked in the door. It was so delicious and exactly what my dehydrated body needed! I practiced my practice and then took a loonggggg luxurious shower in the spa-like locker room.
When I eventually made it back to my room at Equity Point there were six French friends unpacking their bags. They were actually three French couples and they wanted nothing to do with me. I introduced myself and tried to entice conversation, but they really were not interested at all. I don’t even think they gave me their names. This was a first among my travels, but that’s ok, I could tell they were there to be with one another, not to make new friends, so I politely excused myself and headed back out on the town for dinner. I found a restaurant called The Pride of Paddington. I had an amazing grilled vegetable sandwich with “chips” and hummus all by my lonesome. It was kind of nice to take a break and turn off for the afternoon. The conversation flow the day before had been enough to suffice for a week (such a great night!) but this day had a different pace and it was indeed what I needed. After dinner I walked around Paddington, took pictures of the fountains and architecture. It was a good time to check in with the fam back home, so I turned back to the hostel where I grabbed my laptop and plugged in down in the chill out room. I was able to reach one of my best friends, Jack, which was perfect because we hadn’t been in touch for a couple weeks. She and I talked for only about an hour before she had to take off, but it was every bit of perfect catching up.
As soon as we said our goodbyes, this guy who had been peering from afar came over to ask if I was from East Michigan. I thought for a second “creepy” but only for a second because Jack and I had been talking about Rochester, Imlay City, North Branch, Brown City, etc. etc… all of “farmville estates” of East Michigan and I could comfortably assume that he had just been ease dropping (that or I also talk really loud when I’m on the phone… I know, it’s annoying, I’m working on it).
His name was Scott and he was from Eastern Michigan too. Well, originally from Ohio, but had been living in Michigan for years with a girlfriend (ex. girlfriend and instigator of said trip he was on… Go Scott! Haha). He stood uncomfortably over the table at which I sat for a few sentences of small talk before I invited him to join me. Scott and I hit it off instantly. It was nice to talk to someone who was exactly like you. Everyone I had met along the way was extremely fantastic, beyond great, fun and different, and that truly was one of the very best reasons my trip was so amazing, but it was also really nice to feel like you were hanging out with an old friend or a relative at this stage in the game. Scott and I hung out for a couple of hours, talking about the “where we had been’s” and the “where we were going’s”. We also made plans to meet for dinner and to go to the Tate Museum of Modern Art the next day. I had passed this museum on one of my walks and was sure I would have to come back to it. The exhibit was free, on the river, and at night the boardwalk lights up like Christmas! It’s stunning! I couldn’t wait. Scott had a bus tour to catch at 5:45 in the morning, so he headed to bed, but I headed outside with my night cap – tea tonight. I wrote a bit of this blog from the damp hostel porch step, but the doorman and I began casually chatting, so I closed my laptop, nestled into my seat with my knees tucked into my chest and braced my back against the concrete column behind me. I coddled my mug of tea in my worn mittens, deeply inhaled cold English air and enjoyed the occasional comfortable silence with Souley, the peaceful Equity Point doorman from Guinea, as we both watched the British traffic drive through the melted snowy sludge of winter London.
The next morning I woke to the sounds of a new roommate, Tara, from Queensland. Tara and I conversed as I got dressed for yoga. Spontaneous as she is, she decided to put on her yoga pants and join me. We spent the half mile jaunt to the studio getting to know one another and snapping shots of the red chateau filled streets where hierarchy resided. When we reached the studio we were greeted with the exquisite cinnamon apple tea in large ceramic mugs that I had spoke of before. Tara bought her two week trial and we both signed up for the next class. The type of yoga we practiced was called Iyengar Yoga. Ropes, blocks, chairs, blankets and wall straps are used in this form to assist in posture, strength, alignment and stability. It was interesting, very helpful, but I’m not sure that I enjoyed the class. We spent most of the time setting up chairs with blankets and moving to the wall or repositioning our mats for the next move that not a lot of yoga went on. Nonetheless, it was worth doing. After class, we stopped at a tiny grocery store where the bananas were ten cents and grabbed a post “workout” snack for our walk back.
Tara invited me to meet up with her and her friend Anna from New Zealand, so I gladly tagged along. The three of us walked around Oxford Street – aka shopping extravaganza. Having not been there yet, I was filled with childlike excitement! I took shots of the beautiful stores, window displays and street signs. There were people buzzing in every direction and languages swirling latte aromas. I was all warm and fuzzy inside and grateful to be hanging out with two very chill, very down to earth, welcoming friends. Tara, Anna and I stopped and had lunch at a diner right off of Oxford Street. We each ordered some sort of fish; grilled, in the form of a patty and fried – appropriate. Lunch was great and OBNOXIOUSLY filling, but unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on which of us you asked) we had previously discussed this place just around the corner that the girls had been to for a cookie dough lava cake with ice cream (ok, kill me now) and it was obvious we were headed there next. The girls were confident that I had never tasted anything remotely like it, so to gluttony we went.
Tara had been texting a mutual friend of hers and Anna’s during lunch so on the way to the patisserie we hit the train station and picked up another backpacker. Jesse was also from Australia, he and Tara had met in Northern Europe earlier in their travels. Coincidentally, they had similar paths planned, so they would meet up along the way when they could. Jesse was a lot of fun! He was a character full of humor and with such a gentle, relaxing demeanor – I was starting to understand this “demeanor” was an Australian thing.
It had taken us a hot second (no pun intended. It was a warm night in London and we were all bundled up like Frosty) to find the patisserie. We had actually almost decided to call it quits when, AH HA! There it was! The place was packed and even though the patio had been emptied for the night the hostess let us sit under the stars as long as we didn’t mind waiting a little. We all agreed we were the winners in the situation and filled a table closest to the street and the iron gated entrance. Our waiter came out only a short while later to ask us if we would like menus. We denied the menus, letting him know we already knew exactly what we wanted. Each of us ordered the cookie dough lava cake with ice cream and a blend of winter drinks; hot chocolate, warm milk, cappuccino and black coffee. The dense wafts of fudge, creams and cookie dough combined with the approaching night air closing in around our steamed and swaddled bodies, slow motion laughter, smiles and stories, made this night one more positively decadent evening to lock away in both my figurative and literal chest of memories. We were fat, happy and content, but I was supposed to meet up with Scott in the Equity Point lobby soon, so I had to interrupt our splendor. I invited everyone to come with Scott and me to the Tate Museum of Modern Art and everyone agreed!
The Tate was fun! It was so cool to see each of us really interested in looking at the different mediums and crafts. In my experience, usually someone is ready to go after a quick five minutes, but that wasn’t the case. The museum had really unique art! Staircases hanging from the ceiling, art made from books and nails, piles of seeds as big as a four cars, photographs of the most extreme cases of obesity. One pic I particularly remember was of a woman, a naked woman, who weighed over 300 lbs napping in a netted hammock. It was not a flattering image. There were also video rooms showing films on ants and rooms filled with comic strips the length of the walls. Everything was different, some were awesome, some were questionable, but the whole experience was indeed “greater than the sum of its parts”. We left completely satisfied with our free purchase. After the Tate we walked back in the direction of our hostel, we took pictures of the River at night and the Towers Bridge lit up. There were old ships that were visually appealing and the landscaping around the Tate appeared to be intentionally strange as well. It was a calm, melodious, museum paced stride home… that is, until we found a little bar on the river.
The place was kind of a stand alone, with a deck trimmed in patio furniture and lanterns. Inside there was a maze of bar top, table length, wooden planks for posting on. We flocked to the only open one like pigeons on a French fry. Tara and I went to the bar to grab the first round. I was pleased to find that they had a plethora of cider flavors for sippin’ on. The first one I tested was banana bread flavor; not the best concoction, but I chalked it up to “I tried it”. Later I also tried raspberry, peanut butter, lime, something wheat… and a shot we the group. The whole night was a gift of life, full of interesting convo’s with intelligent people and curious minds. Full of travel hopes and inspiring dreams, full of funny stories, embarrassing laughs and OMG situations. Tara, Anna, Jesse and Scott bring life to the people they meet, I am sure of it. At the very least they brought life into me. My little internal lantern flame that had been dimming slightly had its wick cranked that night. Once again I couldn’t wait to embark on more adventures and I hadn’t even finished the one I was on.
January 29th… wow! The New Year was officially almost over. Tara and I woke up relatively early again and took our butts to yoga. This class was amazing! It was so rejuvenating and necessary after the boozery of last night. Beginning in shavasana (lying pose, dead man’s pose) we filled our lungs with deep breathes. Our teacher circulated through the room asking us to mentally stay on our mat, breath from our core, simulate paradise, be present and reject all distractions that come to the surface and try to agenda-size the day. Her voice was therapeutic and the lilac oils she massaged into each of our temples awakened our senses bringing paradise that much closer to reality. I am certain I have never been more relaxed in my life. Carefully gathering our attentions back to life the teacher brought us from shavasana to lower body stretches and forward folds. Each movement was carefully guided by her instruction to stay in the flow, dance with your mind and your body. “Press slowly through each pose, stretch just a little bit further, push beyond your last bend, breath with your body” she steered. She made it so much easier and much more enjoyable to deny your body’s natural desire to stop at its current maximum and to grow, to lengthen. Innnhaleeeee… reachhhhh… sweat. Holddd. Reach……. holdddd. HOLDDDDDD… sweating…. SweatTTing… sweating! …exhaleeeeee…… endorphins. Detox. Detox. Detox. Life. Is. Good.
Tara and I hit the showers and girl-ed it up quickly after yoga so we could meet up with Anna and Jesse for brunch. We zipped over to a place in Camden that Anna had heard was awesome for Sunday roasts. Of course, I loved this place too. Even though it was chilly out we decided to dine under a lamp heated outdoor tent. Picnic table style with candles adorning we chowed. After the roast we moved indoors for some wine and heat. After a couple rounds we agreed the morning had turned into a bar hopping, day drinking, kind of day in Camden. It was FREEZING out by then. Instantly, after hitting the streets, we scouted for another pub to duck into. I wish I could remember the name of the next bar found. It was epic! Massive in size, stories high, many a café in length and looked like you were in the streets when in actuality you were sheltered inside away from the weather of London. Could we have been any luckier? We had been attempting to drink outside since morning, only to stumble into an indoor outdoor bar – genius. We hung out there for a while, enjoyed the ambiance and eventually decided drinks back to our hostel sounded warmer, cheaper and less of an obstacle than hopping bars in February. Braving the cold one last time, we hit a convenient store and stocked up on a million snacks for our carpet picnic back at the hostel.
The next morning Jesse and Tara were leaving for Egypt. We said our sad goodbyes, but something stopped me from feeling too depressed. Again, with these guys, I felt like goodbye was only a formality and seeing them in the future, near or far, was a sure thing. Plus, knowing they were off to experience more great places made me happy to see them go do their thing! They had inspired me to get back into it as well. Exhausted, had I mentioned? My mistake. This word is not allowed in a traveler’s dictionary and IF it so happens to sneak “its” way in, “it” should quickly be addressed, reevaluated and made aware of where “it” actually is.
With my restored mindset, I walked to yoga (this time solo) scanning my thoughts for what I was going to do with my forgotten gift of time. Four days prior, I was ready to go home, but having been moved by my lighthearted Aussie/Kiwi friends, I was keen and motivated again to discover the wonders of the world, to take a hold of the incredible trip I was on and to realize it’s okay to miss familiarity, but just miss it and move on because life is for living, not for wishing.
Akoss The Sea 