Londytown

After the horrific traveling, I finally got to spend time in my favorite city!

It's probably not the best thing in the world for an Irish-American currently living in Ireland to admit, but I. Love. London. I don't know why, honestly. It's like an American city, but somehow sharper and cleaner and classier. I like cities that are neighborhood-structured, and London is definitely that. You probably don't hear this a lot, but I honestly think it has great food. I love going to pubs over going to some gross and sweaty nightclub, and London has no shortage of pubs and late pubs. I love the Tube. I love the diversity of the city (it honestly gives New York a run for its money in this respect). I love that I have an American accent so everyone thinks I'm a visitor (which this time, to be fair, I was) but I love surprising Londoners with my knowledge of the city. It's just unexpected or something and I relish it. I love how old it is and how they aren't afraid to show it. This is going out on a really hypothetical/tangential/theoretical limb, but Ireland is obviously an incredibly ancient society. However, they were really poor for a really long time (due to to Londoners... let's just ignore that detail). So when they got money, they tried to modernize really really fast and I think they lost of a lot of their heritage along the way, at least with regards to aesthetic detail. In a lot of ways, Ireland tries to be like America with regards to economics and politics and the brands they buy, etc, but they also try to look like America with regards to urban sprawl and the chains they choose to bring in, etc. In large part, this is obviously an attempt to forget about British imperialism, but it's still sort of jarring when you see how rapidly they've attempted to reinvent themselves and modernize. London doesn't even mess with that. They modernized naturally and didn't force it. Obviously this is due to external factors, like them having the money to do so and depriving Ireland of the right to do the same, but that doesn't change the modern-day nature of both societies and the bald fact that London just feels more NATURAL. They're like, "We've been around for forever and we're not pretending our country just started within the last 50 years." When I broke my foot in London, the hospital I went to had been standing since the 18th century. I mean, that's INCREDIBLE. It had obviously been revamped and remodeled, but stepping inside honestly felt like I was walking into a Dickens novel (or hobbling into a Dickens novel). Ireland is all new and shiny and modern (in a lot of ways... there are obviously exceptions), and London's like, "we'll build this new stuff, but let's not do it at the expense of tearing down this gorgeous old house that's been here since 1692." Anyway. That was a long diatribe but you get a sense of the ancient and timeless in London that can't be replicated anywhere in America or anywhere I've yet found in Ireland (although I'm sure I will and I'm also sure this is much more possible in Ireland than in America). I mean, you'll just be walking down a whatever street in London and you'll see a blue plaque that is like, "here's where George Orwell wrote 1984." And it's just part of the scene! I mean, when I was in Dublin, I remember walking around and seeing this old decrepit building that had a plaque that said, "This is the setting of some scene in Ulysses" (shamefully I've never read Ulysses so I don't know what scene it was). Next to that was a huge sign that said, "SLATED FOR DEMOLITION." ANYWAY. That's why I like London.

So on Saturday, after I finally got to my cousin Emmy's (she's going by Emily now, but I'm sorry, I can't make the switch... I just can't, it sounds unnatural in my mouth) she and her husband Bryan were in the midst of making a lovely Thanksgiving. They have a daughter, Tegan, who's a year and a half. They invited over two other couples and their small children and it was great to meet their friends and play with a ton of little kids. (By a ton, I mean three.) It was great times.

Sunday was a walk down memory lane. Emmy had a little kids' party to go to and Bryan had to work, so I decided to use that day to explore the old 'hood from when I studied abroad. I walked to my old apartment building and enlisted a 50 year old man who was smoking outside the pub across the street to take this picture:





hahaha YES. The Notre Dame kids who study abroad in London now have actually moved buildings, so I didn't like, happen to run into any kids that looked like juniors in college and ambush them and be like, "AHHHHH NOTRE DAME," but it would have been really fun to do so. Alas.

I also walked to my old school, got to stroll down Oxford and Regent Sts (two of the main shopping drags) and see how decked out London was for Christmas. I felt like I was in Love Actually. I found London's first Chipotle and ate a delicious burrito. London Chipotle has this weird curry taste to their food. It was not as good as America, but it was better than nothing. I hung out in Trafalgar Square for awhile and listened to the buskers and watched the street performers and it was just great.

On Monday and Tuesday (I didn't have class til Wednesday so I got to stay awhile) I hung out with the fam. Tegan is so. cute. Check her out:



she is all bundled and ready for the snow! We hung out and watched movies and went out in Putney (the neighborhood in which they live) and it was great.

On Tuesday, I had another terrible travel day but I don't want to talk about it. I got home safe and it's fine and let's not dwell.

Sooo weird... I will be home in 10 days.

Love to everyone!

Hands Down the Worst Travel Experience I Have Ever Had

I have been in London for about ten hours. I hope to have many epic times here and write in detail about them. However, I knew that if I didn't get this down while it was fresh in my mind, I would compromise important parts of the story.

Today, I had arguably the worst day of my life, and definitely the worst travel day of my life.

The journey began at 1 a.m. on Saturday morning (or Friday night, however you choose to look at it). I was merely taking a cab to the Galway bus station, so I could get on a bus to go to Dublin so I could get on a plane to go to London. Easy, right?

No.

I get in the cab. The cabdriver seems pleasant at first. We're chatting about this and that, I'm telling him I'm going to London, he's telling me about how his daughter lives there, whatever, when another cab cuts my cab off. Fine. Whatever. Out of line, he shouldn't have done it. However, MY cabdriver's reaction? He rolls down his window and yells, "You ain't in the jungle anymore, matey!"

At first this didn't register with me. Then, I looked over to see that the other cabdriver (the one mine was yelling at) was black. It was unbelievably uncomfortable. Just so out of line! Wildly out of line! But it didn't end there. We get over that fiasco, we're driving, we're driving, and a black pedestrian tries to flag down my cab, like to go somewhere. My cabdriver stops and is like, "Sorry, man, I already have a passenger," which is obviously totally fair. But as we're driving away, he mutters, "Like I'd let you in the cab anyway." He then raised his voice and said, "Sorry if I sound racist [editorial note: IF???] but some of our multicultural friends just don't seem to get our ways." I sat there petrified. We were in this part of Galway that is sort of between the bustling area and the bus station, and I desperately wanted to say something, but I knew if I argued this asshole was probably going to end up throwing me out of the cab, and the last thing I wanted to do was wander around Galway at 1 a.m. looking for a cab when I'm on a timeframe anyway. I just sat there staring out the window and put my headphones in, even though I wasn't playing music, so when he talked to me I looked like I had an excuse to not respond. It was one of the most uncomfortable car rides I've ever taken.

So, we reach the bus station. Don't worry, there is a LOT more ahead of me. I go inside, get on my express bus to the Dublin airport, am finding my seat, etc. The bus was supposed to leave at 1:45. At, I'm not kidding, 1:43, a drunk man gets on and demands passage to Dublin. The bus driver says, "All right, ten quid." The drunk man says, "Well, I ain't got any money." The bus driver responds with something like, "well, then get off the bus." What follows is an actual conversation and an actual event:

Drunk man: So you aren't going to take me to Dublin?
Bus driver: Well, if you don't have any money...no.
Drunk man: I just want to get home to Dublin.
Bus driver: ...I'm sorry, but I can't let you on if you don't have any money.
Drunk man (yelling): You're a sorry, cold-hearted bastard if you won't take me home to Dublin!
Bus driver: PAY ME OR GET OFF THE BUS!
Drunk man: I JUST WANT TO GET HOME!
Bus driver: I CAN'T TAKE YOU TO DUBLIN IF YOU DON'T GIVE ME ANY MONEY.

At this, the drunk man honestly sits down in the aisle and won't budge. The bus driver says something along the lines of, "Oh, PLEASE do not do this right now," and starts telling him we're all going to the airport, have flights to catch, etc. The drunk man then, swear to God, begins CRYING. He's SOBBING. He's crying about how he's lived his whole life in Dublin, but he lost his job and he got this new one in Galway, but he hates Galway and he just wants to go home to his friends in Dublin, and why is this sorry bastard not taking him home?

It was SO. UNCOMFORTABLE. The bus driver, at a loss, begins to try to reason with him - tells him this isn't going into Dublin at all, it's just going to the airport, he should go to the ATM and get out 10 euro, come back and get the 3 a.m. which is going to the city, etc. The drunk man literally just keeps sobbing about how he hates Galway and he just wants to go home to Dublin and he doesn't understand why the bus driver won't take him home to Dublin.

Everyone on the bus is exchanging these panicked glances. I was on a pretty tight timeframe (which turned out not to matter so much... more on that later) and I was pretty worried I was going to cut it realllllyyyy close to my flight. The drunk man, meanwhile, is still sobbing and is now rocking back and forth on the ground in the fetal position. His lamentations are getting louder. No one knows what to do. The bus driver is now standing over him, begging and pleading for him to get off the bus. Finally, a couple of honest to God POLICE OFFICERS come on the bus and escort him off. I missed the exact happenings because I was kind of far in the back, but since our bus wasn't leaving I think someone from inside the bus station got curious as to why and came out to check. They saw the shenanigans and I think called the Garda. It was insane.

So, we get on the road. I slept through the entirety of it. I'm sure, given the rest of my day, something absolutely bizarre happened while on the road, but I was not privy to it. We arrive at the Dublin airport, I check my bag, go through security, everything is fiiiiiine.

So my flight was supposed to leave at 6:40. Due to (I am not kidding) a HALF-INCH OF SNOW ON THE GROUND, "extreme weather conditions" were declared and we were delayed. Annoying enough. We told we'd be delayed 30 minutes. Then an hour. By the time we boarded, our 6:40 a.m. flight had turned into a 9:10 boarding time. I. Was. Livid.

(N.B. I avoid using specific details when possible, like the airline, because I don't want this to turn into a huge issue. I have this blog to keep my family and friends updated on my life while I'm abroad. I don't want people flipping out at this airline for one really stupid clerk. Although I plan to write a letter, I'd like to keep specific details at bay because I doubt this one horrid woman represents the airline [which I've had nothing but pleasant experiences with in the past] properly or completely. I also want to view this more as a "of course this happened to me" story rather than a "can you believe what's wrong with the world today?" story. ANYWAY.)

So I get up to the front and hand the woman my boarding pass. She squints and says, "Sorry, you must have the wrong flight," and hands it back. I'm like, huh? No, this is my flight. She says, "Sorry, someone already checked in at seat 7D." She cocks her head at me and says in this condescending tone, "This is the 6:40 to London Heathrow."

I say, "yes, I know. That's my flight. That's why I'm in this line. I don't know what the deal is, but this is my flight and I need to be on it."

She says, "Sorry, but someone's already checked in. You're not on this flight."

I try to show her my boarding pass and passport. "Listen, look. This has all the information. This is my flight, this is my name, this is my picture. You HAVE to let me on this flight."

She waves them aside. "I don't need to see those."

Me: Ummm... it's just that I feel like they'd kind of prove my point.
Her: I don't know what to tell you. You can't be on this flight. someone already checked in for that seat.
Me: Well, I don't know what to tell YOU, but this. is. my. flight. Please go check who you checked in at seat 7D. I don't care what you do, but I have to be on this flight! You already delayed me like three hours, I CANNOT catch an even later one.
Her (extremely condescendingly): Maybe you have the wrong date.

I actually began to cry at this point. I was exhausted, this was absurd scenario #3, and I just did not have the energy for it. I broke down and cried. I was waving my boarding pass at her and saying, "This is my flight! I need to be on this flight! I have to get to London! You have to let me on this flight!" I think this totally freaked her out because she sighed and was like, "fine. I'll go check who is in *your* [said in a mocking/condescending tone] seat."

She returns with a mid-20s/early-30s gentleman who looks bewildered. She turns abruptly to me. "Okay, so that was my mistake. The guy I let onto your seat wasn't supposed to be on the flight. He was supposed to be on a different one. Sorry. You can go on the plane now."

I stood there absolutely speechless. I can't even begin to comprehend the things that were wrong with this picture. Let's just make a list:

1) I am by no means a paranoid person about terrorism. I do not walk around terrified that my flights are going to blow up nor do I worry that I'll be the victim of some extremist violence. BUT WHAT AN INSANE BREACH OF SECURITY. ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? ARE YOU KIDDING ME???
2) She acted as if I was the idiot. ME. When I was trying to show her my boarding passes and telling her I was sure I was on the right flight, and I ended up being RIGHT. How did this guy get past her in the first place??? Did HE have to show a boarding pass or passport?
3) Her apology was insane. INSANE. Although I did petition for (and receive) a free coffee when on the flight. They tried to charge me and I stared daggers at them and was like, "Really? Seriously? You're going to make me pay 2 euro for this after what just happened?" It was a small victory, but I felt like I earned it after her failure to apologize.
4) If I had not cried/gone mildly crazy at the gate, she probably never would have checked and I never would have gotten to London.

Also, I am writing a letter to the airline and I am really hoping for some free flights.

Don't worry, there's still more.

So we land in London, like 4 hours behind schedule. I studied abroad in London and am still fairly familiar with the city. I also kept my Oyster card from studying abroad. They're the cards you use on the Tube, and they're actually sort of expensive to buy for the first time - like 4 or 5 pounds. I kept my one from studying abroad because I knew someday I'd probably need it. Today was that day.

I'm off the plane, I'm feeling pretty good. Like, some insane shenanigans have happened, but now I'm in London, on terra firma, all I have to do is catch the Tube to my cousin's house.

I go to the top-up station in the Tube stop that's underneath Heathrow airport. My Oyster card expired. 5. days. previous. Are. You. Effing. Kidding. Me. I kept that card for OVER TWO YEARS AND IT EXPIRED LESS THAN A WEEK AGO?????

But at this point, whatever. It honestly doesn't even faze me. Like, why would something go easily for me today? So I wait in like a 20 minute line to buy a new card, blow 5 pounds on something I SHOULDN'T HAVE HAD TO BUY, load some money on the sucker and get on the Tube.

I found a seat, am chilling, whatever. I'm relaxing. All I have to do is ride the Tube for ten stops, transfer to another line and go to my cousin's. So. Easy. Smooth sailing, right?

Except I make the mistake of twisting around to study the Tube map on the wall behind me. I just wanted to gauge how long I had, etc. The guy next to me says, "You visiting too?" When I say yes, I am then forced to spend the rest of my supposed-to-be-relaxing Tube ride looking at a middle-aged Australian man's pictures from his trip to Greece. I had to make mmmhmmm and wow noises the whole time. All I could think was, "This is not happening. This is not happening. This. Is. Not. Happening." I was ready to start sobbing again by the time I got off the Tube.

But then I got to my cousin's house. She lived there while I was studying abroad, so I remembered where it was and found it really easily. She and her husband made an absolutely delicious Thanksgiving, they invited over two other couples and their little kids, and it was really, really, really fun. It was a great night. We ate really good food and drank good wine and told good stories and had good chats and it was really, really nice. I got to play with my first cousin once removed (I know genealogy, thank YOU) who is absolutely adorable and who voluntarily sat on my lap and cuddled with me while we watched Toy Story 2 (she's one and a half! I realized how creepy that might sound if you didn't know how old she is). So overall, the day was probably a win. Both because I had a lovely time with my fam and because now I actually have a travel story to beat my "traveling home for Christmas 2009" story. (This is the one where the man ahead of me attempted to bring a handle of Jack Daniels and a hunting knife on the plane, and then a woman tried to give me her baby and walk away. If I've never told you it, ask me it sometime. Although it's probably now less amusing than this sucker.)

And I have three more days in the best city in the world! This day was definitely a win.