London

There's no way to sum up three days of London. I'll use short sentences. 

People drive like they're insane. 

People have better accents than me.

The buildings are much prettier.

The streets are much narrower.

The people are much skinnier. 

They're all runners, too. 

Our hotel was in the center of London, just around the corner from Big Ben, Westminster Abbey and 2 Starbucks. Basically, the ideal location. As for the hotel itself: Leicester definitely wanted us to stay there in order to better appreciate the university accommodations. I have never taken such uncomfortable showers. The first night, the faucet on the tub had a leak, so we had massive puddles to splash in. 

Went down the Thames on a boat.

Saw an amish hat in the Thames. 

Pretty sure a guy died. 

Went to the Tower of London.

Saw the execution area.

Positive that someone died. 

We went to bed early that night, hoping to combat jet lag. It didn't work out as well as we had hoped, at least for me.

Day two was long and rainy. I gawked at Buckingham Palace, visited dead people at Westminster Abbey, ate lunch with some pigeons, got lost in east London, was baffled by british apple pie and spent a bit too much bonding time with my new mobile. I also discovered that the toe I thought I broke several weeks ago really is broken. I don't recommend walking tours on broken toes, especially when they last 12 hours, unless you want to see your toe as a swollen ball of redness, which I will admit is kind of funny. It's like walking around on something that looks like cherry tomatoes. I also got to stand on Charles Dickens' grave and laugh at him. That was a great feeling. 

The group went on a tour about Jack the Ripper. Afterward, the guide went off, probably to kill someone, and left us with directions to the nearest tube. That tube was under construction. A ten minute walk produced a tube station where we caught a train and I lost my umbrella. (Losing umbrellas is becoming a trend for me.) 

Day three I saw the fake Globe theatre and the Tate Modern Museum of art. Most of the day was spent in traffic trying to get to Leicester. I carried my luggage more. I almost have arm muscles. 

Terminal thoughts

Written on January 14th:

"Cleveland - Current threat level: orange" 

Wi-fi at Cleveland-Hopkins airport has fallen victim to that brute capitalism. Yes, your wireless says it has a signla. Yes, it says it has connected. But only AT&T subscribers can access any websites outside of a "welcome" page. I have to pay to use the airport's wireless network, and I'm too cheap to do it.

My neck is already slightly sore from the walk through the various terminals. For half of it, I ended up walking with a policeman because he thought I was a lost child. 

"Are you travelling with your parents?" he asked.

It's always a bit scary to be approached by a police officer, especially when he's asking you questions.

"No, I'm by myself," I replied.

"Sorry," he said. "You just look really young."

I then got to tell him that I was twenty. And as we walked toward my gate, I was told how lucky I am to look so young, which I'm sure will continue to happen for more years than I can possibly imagine. Needless to say, no one else bothers you when you're already walking with a police officer. It does wonders. I highly recommend it. 

And now I take to my favourite past-time of people-watching.

Thank God Kurt is with me.

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"Washington, D.C. - the layover" 

Everyone at this airport is either late for their plane, racing or getting in their daily jog. Anyone not running is currently blocking the terminal whilst trying to get on the plane to Frankfurt. 

My last view of the United States: incredibly cloudy skies. 

My last meal in the United States: Wendy's. (Someone please tell dad.) 

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The flight can be summed up as 7 hours long with a screaming baby in front of the cabin and a 4-year-old aussie kicking the back of my seat. Sleep was sparse. The in-flight meal was slightly better than microwave manicotti, only because it probably didn't have freezer burn when bought. And because the screen in front of me terrified me a bit, I didn't watch the films, but did listen to lots of music. It was a fair trade. 

Flying over London at 6am is excellent. 

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Customs at 6am is not excellent. 

"Why are you coming to the UK?" is not a question I can answer on no sleep. "Because I don't like George W. Bush" is not a proper reply. Somehow, I got in. (I might be exaggerating about mentioning Mr. Bush.) 

Because our flight arrived at Heathrow so early, we ended up sitting around, waiting for the bus to Leicester for 4 hours. Heathrow airport is slightly more exciting, possibly because people were going other places than Frankfurt. And thanks to that extensive bench-dwelling, I now know the routine of the waterman at Heathrow. 

Current muscle size: one level above invisible.