Hanging at Heathrow U.K. Trip Day 1b

We knew there weren't any attractions or sites to see in the area nearby so we just hung around the airport, killing time until it was time to check-in at our hotel. We talked to people in their little tourist booths, got some of our American dollars changed into pounds, figured out how we were going to get to our hotel from the airport, had a snack and just took a load off in those comfortable airport chairs! During one of my little reconnoitering strolls around the airport, I spoke to a tourism employee (with a wonderful accent...that I had a little trouble understanding) He attempted to explain to me that the cheapest way to get around in London was a wonderful invention called the Oyster Pass. You paid a deposit, loaded it with however much money you thought you might need for transportation and then you were good to go. You were charged up to a certain amount of money per day and then once you met that amount all the rest of the day your travel was free. The Oyster Pass was good for all the buses and subways in zones 1-6, which was basically most of London--all the interesting parts, anyway  And, if you didn't use up your money by the time you left London, you got that money back along with your deposit. Definitely a most user-friendly, budget-minded option for travel in the city! But, remember the part about me not exactly understanding the friendly tourism ambassador? Yeah. I didn't totally understand the Oyster Pass at this point.

We decided to take a Hotel Hoppa bus to our hotel. And stepped out to the bus stop. It was drizzling, of course. Just as one might expect. But that was ok, we were jazzed to be getting the whole real London experience and rain was totally part of it! As I recall, the Hotel Hoppa  cost about 4 pounds and took a long time to go the mere mile or two to our hotel. This might be because we stopped at every hotel between the airport and our hotel. You can just imagine how many hotels there are near Heathrow Airport in London, England.

So we wrangled our luggage off the bus and checked into our hotel. We conscientiously avoided lying down or even sitting down!! We decided to take a walk around the neighborhood and get into the London frame of mind...It was a little chilly, kind of cloudy and you could tell it had rained a lot earlier in the day. We just stepped around the puddles and shamelessly gawked at the little houses with flower beds and roses still in full bloom in those tiny yards.

We wondered who lived in those little houses and exclaimed at the name of the street--Cherry Lane. I loved the lace curtains that were in virtually every window and decided, then and there, that England and I were a good fit because I love lace curtains! There were flowers in every little postage stamp sized garden. And every house had its little garden. We enjoyed watching the double decker buses go by and laughed at the cars on the wrong side of the road. We (make that ME) almost got run over because of not looking to the right when we crossed the street in the middle of the block. Poor Rachel. It was just a forerunner of the many times she would save my life on this trip.

After saving my life and earning my everlasting gratitude, Rachel and I went back to our hotel, cranked up the heat, had some hot tea (the first of many cups of hot tea) slipped into our bathing suits and went down to check out the swimming pool, hot tub, sauna and steam room. The pool area was wonderful and the hot tub was heavenly after our chilly walk. We decided to try to the sauna room in an effort to dry off and save our towels. (plus it seemed a very European thing to do)  We didn't last very long in there. Finally decided we could go to bed, little realizing there was a storm brewing. And I don't mean a tempest in a teapot. I mean, a real, hurricane-strength wind storm named St. Jude.


Because I am feeling particularly media savvy today, I will post links to some BBC news reports about St. Jude. If you are also feeling particularly media savvy (or just insatiably curious) you can click the links below to see pictures and read all about the storm that we slept through.

http://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-24701419
http://www.metoffice.gov.uk/climate/uk/interesting/2013-octwind
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/October_2013_United_Kingdom_storm

Of course, if you don't feel media savvy, or you couldn't care less, or you have already heard about the storm named St. Jude, don't click the links. And I will never know the difference.

Leaving, on a Jet Plane U.K. Trip Day 1a

In Which  Rachel and I Embark On a Long Flight Over the Atlantic Ocean

Day 1 - Friday Oct. 25, 2013-

So begins the adventure I never could have even dreamt I would ever have! Rachel and I...going to the U.K for two weeks, splitting our "holiday" between England and Ireland.

We were both just a little over the top excited to be going overseas. We arrived at Will Rogers Airport 2 1/2 hours before our plane was scheduled to depart. Nothing like being a little early. (in our defense, Rachel and I had read that if you have an overseas flight you need to arrive 3 hours early for customs, etc. So, with that in mind, we were actually a little bit late...) For some reason, I got to go through the short "line"  that didn't make you take your shoes off, x-ray you or pat you down. Without knowing how I did it somehow I pulled off being high priority passenger!! So of course I got through more quickly than Rachel did and so I had to locate the gate she would be coming through. Once we made it through that hurdle, we had a "little" more time to kill  (like 2 more hours!) So we took pictures of ourselves and our traveling companions (Pooh and Tigger) (ok, I took pictures of them and Rachel just endured it/rolled her eyes at me)



I was feeling a little bit giddy as we soared (ok, barreled) (we were in a huge airplane) through the skies. Maybe it was the anticipation that made it so thrilling, maybe it was a slight lack of oxygen or maybe it was the close quarters that made my feet go numb and my toes tingle and my ears pop. Whatever it was, the whole stuffy, painful ears thing  was probably the only part I didn't enjoy. And then the fact I was not too good at sitting still and falling asleep. Maybe I am just not good at sleeping while sitting pretty much straight up. I don't think too many people are good at that, actually.

I had never understood the concept of a red-eye flight until a few hours into this trip. I thought a night flight would be a real good idea because we would be so tired we would just sleep through the long hours of flying. Ummm, no. I don't know if I was just too excited to relax and fall asleep or if I just couldn't get comfortable enough to sleep. I did doze on and off but not as much as I had hoped I would!!!

We landed at Heathrow at noon, local time. The first thing we had to do was to get through immigration. Not that we were immigrating or anything but that is the drill. Somehow Rachel and I got separated--Ok, I lost her. I wasn't too organized with the whole ticket/passport/driver's license identification situation. so every time I needed it, I had to dig it out of the safe place I had stashed it. Usually in the bottom of my backpack. sometimes in the zipper section. Sometimes I just carried it around in my hand, thinking I was going to need it again soon. Anyway, she got in line ahead of me. (it wouldn't be the last time)  The way the whole immigration/security thing works is that you stand in a long line and wait until you're called to an immigration officer who checks your paperwork. And grills you for information. Or maybe that was just me. I watched Rachel go through the process very quickly with just a few words to the agent. Not me. I got stuck with Ahmed Askalot. He was decked out in his turban and robe and smiled reassuringly--I think it was meant to be reassuring--at me. I handed him my passport and id. He also wanted to see my plane ticket. He asked why I was in London, how long I was going to be there, if I was traveling alone, who was traveling with me, what we were planning to do, where we were staying, when we were leaving, where we were going next, whether we had return tickets, what I did at home in the states, what my partner i.e. husband  did for a living, whether I liked jello and I can't even remember what all else. He wanted to know where my traveling companion was and why we weren't together at that point. He told me we needed to stay together. He was fairly adamant about this. Actually, extremely adamant. I felt sufficiently reprimanded and rather sheepish by the time he changed the subject. Finally he decided I wasn't a threat to the English government and he initialed my paperwork and let me catch up with Rachel who was watching my progress with bemused interest. I think. Maybe that expression was boredom. Or consternation about why I was becoming such good friends with the immigration agent.

                                                                WELCOME TO ENGLAND!!!