London Calling

Helloooooo,

My second stop after Dublin was London, and I have been here for the last 3 days visiting my good buddy, Eric Kuhn. The London adventures, however, started in Dublin. When I was at the airport waiting for my flight, I was sitting on the floor because all of the chairs were taken. So, of all the floor space, guess who comes and decides to sit right next to me? Some bloke with a Red Sox sweatshirt on! Bloody hell!!! (haha...I´ve been waiting a very long time to have a legitimate reason to use British terminology, so this e-mail update will be full of it =)). I´m thinking to myself, "Even on another continent, I can´t get away from the massholes" (Sorry Bethoney, you know it´s true - you damn people are everywhere).

So, I just have to ask if he´s from Mass because I hadn´t heard an American accent in a while and I was feeling a little in withdrawl. But I kind of figured he wasn´t when he responded in an Irish brogue....which makes it even worse that he´s a Red Sox fan, by the way. We got to talking, and apparently he lived in Cape Cod for a summer to travel a bit and have a new experience for the summer when he was a teen. Just a thought: Why don´t more American kids have the courage to wake up one day and say, "Hey! I feel like living in Ireland, so I´m going to plan a trip and figure out how to go". That really should happen more often, I feel. So anyways, I am liking this guy already. We talked for 30 minutes about what it´s like to go to University in Ireland as well as the states; baseball banter, etc. And we winded up sitting next to each other on the plane, so we spent the whole flight talking about all of our travel experiences and interests, and it was real great to hear from a guy who was actually from Dublin for such an extensive period of time.

As we were getting off the plane in London, he waited with me for my bags and made sure I got on my train ok (this is what I mean about the niceness of the Irish people.) Even though I asked that girl for life advice a few days earlier, I just had to ask him as well. He said, "Never stop traveling, it will help you grow!" And the advice just doesn´t get better than that. It´s going be hard to top the responses I´ve been getting so far. As we were walking to the train, he was telling me how all of his friends in Cape Cod call him a "potato" because of his Irish descent. And I, being the five-year-old that I am, say: "Oh my gosh...
You´re a Mass Potato!" He gave me a genuine laugh, and I automatically knew I had to keep in touch with this guy for being so kind as to laugh at my non-funny jokes. As I got on the train and he waited on the platform, the doors closed behind me and what´s the last thing he does? He kisses his Red Sox hoodie. Tsk Tsk. And he was behaving so well...

When I arrived in London, I found my way to my buddy Eric Kuhn´s dorm (he´s been studying at the London School of Economics for the year), and he greeted me with... a YANKEES CAP on! hahaha Long. Live the Bronx Bombers!

Despite being ridiculously tired, I carried on and we decided to go grab some dinner. We had gyros and the best tomato salad of my life in a cute little area called Covent Garden as we watched street performers; we also met up with another Hamilton friend who happened to be visiting London as well. After dinner, we walked into a coffee shop called Cafe Nero, which was apparently started by a few Colgate alums (enough said on my thoughts about it). And, we started randomly talking to two French women. Interestingly, one was spending the summer in London working at the French Embassy there. After a while, she asked us if we wanted to come to her friend´s birthday party at a nearby pub. Uhhhhh....YES. So we go to this pub, which looks oddly familiar to me, and all of a sudden I realize, holy beer gods...I´ve been here before. It was this place called ¨The Porterhouse", which looks like a brewery inside and all of the walls are glass cases lined with vintage beer bottles. I recognized it because I went to the same pub in Dublin! Apparently, there are only 5 of them in the world, and I winded up going to two in the same week. What are the chances of that? Kinda cool. I buzzed on some delightfully strong Belgian strawberry beer, and mingled with this posse of people from France. There we were, smiling, laughing, exchanging e-mails, and taking pictures- probably the closest thing your gonna get to positive American-French relations anytime soon. One of the girls even offered to host me should choose to stop by in Versailles during my travels..very sweet.

After a deja-vu Porterhouse experience, Eric and I decided to take a night tour of London and saw the great sights- Big Ben, the London Eye, Buckingham Palace, etc. We stopped at a cute Mexican restaurant for more drinks- this time, delicious raspberry daiquiris. I should probably explain my relationship with Eric- we are the two most media-crazed twenty-something individuals you will find, so when you put us in the same room, the talking never stops. Always good times with Kuhn, until our throats started hurting from talking too much. Lesson: learn sign language for future never ending conversations.

We made a little bit of a bad judgement call when we decided to go to bed at 3 am, because we had to wake up at 6 am the next day to watch my former college roommate and great friend Bridget row in the Henley Women´s Regatta- which is pretty much the Wimbledon of crew. I was so excited to see her, and to finally watch her row...but the only problem was that the town of Henley was- unbeknownst to us- two hours away. So, we wake up at 6:45 and need to be OUT of the house by 7 am sharp. Needless to say, I took the fastest shower in my entire life (If some of you saw it, you´d probably think it was nothing short of a miracle that I got ready that fast.)

Now, for a second, clear your mind and picture this scenario...

It´s 7 am on a Saturday morning in Central London. Eric and I are sprinting in the pouring rain to the Tube- him putting on his belt and me tugging down at my dress; sprinting down the ENDLESSLY LONG escalators and stairs to catch train #1 of 2. We had 10 minutes to get on the second one, and the trip was going to take us 9. I kid you not. So we get off train #1, sprint to buy tickets for train #2 and get the fabulous news that.....we are at the wrong stop. Perrrrrfect. Even though the stress level was high, I don´t think I stopped laughing- like, REALLY laughing- for about an hour and a half. We finally realize we are going to miss my roommate´s race and sit there in silence waiting for the next train (because I finally stopped laughing) when all of a sudden Eric, out of absolutely nowhere, goes, "Jesus Christ Superstar!" hahahhahaha...Aaaaand the laughing ensues. Luckily, I caught Bridget just in time and we got to spend the afternoon together, which was terrific.

When we headed back to London, the both of us absolutely exhausted, we went to a very cool place called Portobello Market where I was accosted by an old lady for having a "terrible sounding American accent". Then we went to dinner at a place called Wagamamas. The name itself made it worth going to, but the food good as well. I finally took a much needed nap, and just when I was getting in my sleep groove.....Eric wakes me up at 11 pm blasting "I´m Blue" by Eiffel 65, and informs me that I have 5 minutes to get ready because we are going to Bungalow 8.

....Let me explain. Bungalow 8 is this disgustingly exclusive club in New York and London that you need a membership to get into. It´s the kind of place that is written about in Vogue and Vanity Fair, with no promotions, no name on the door, and a very expensive velvet rope. Let´s just say if it weren´t for Eric´s fabulous friend, there is no was in hell we would have gotten in there...ever. Now, for those of you who know me and my obsession with heels and dressing up, you can just imagine me FREAKING out because I´m living in pretty much flip flops, t-shirts, and jeans on this trip. Not only do I have nothing to actually wear to this place, but I have a mere 5 minutes to look like a decent human being with the few clothes I do have.

I pull something together, we hop in a cab because we are late meeting his friend (the cab driver said as we got in: "But it´s just around the corner...", and Eric replies, "Great! That means we´ll get there even faster now." hahaha). This place is as exclusive, fun, and ridiculous as people say it is- I had an absolute blast, and it was a huge treat for me. One minute, I am nibbling on PB & J to save my precious Euros. The next, I am sipping on a bottomless supply of $25 Summer Breeze´s (no exaggeration with the price) and Bungalow shots. At around 3 a.m., I look around as I am dancing on a sofa surrounded by London socialites, wondering to myself "How in the bloody hell is this actually happening right now?" Absolutely un-freaking-real. =0)

Oh- and the cab ride home, which thank goodness we didn´t have to pay for, was 40 pounds. To put it in perspective, that would be a little more than $85 American dollars. You are right Amy, I do hate the Pound more than the Euro.

The next day, I woke up at 1 pm (ohhhh, soooooo worth it), did some sightseeing, had an amazing dinner with good company, and didn´t forget for a minute how blessed I was to have the opportunity to travel. Eric and I saw this man on the street who asked for change, and we just walked by, but he muttered, "Ok, thank you anyway. Cheers!" ....I just had to stop and give him change. I handed him a two pound coin; he looked at it for a long while, and I looked at him for a long while. His expression is ingrained in my mind, and I was literally brought to tears. Why is it that some people get to travel all over Europe for the summer, while others must beg for change all day?

Some say the difference is hard work, desire, perseverance. I say that´s a load of crap. Not that all of those things aren´t important, but I know there are many people in this world who work their butts off 12 hours a day trying to provide a good life for themselves and their families, and they bring home a few hundred dollars a week- if that. Then there are people who never really work a day in their lives and have inherited millions. Yes, life can be unfair when you think about it in these terms. But regardless, people have to live this unfair reality every single day. In the end, it´s not just about working hard and being passionate or driven. A lot of it is about circumstance- the family you were born into, the way in which you were raised, the color of your skin, the slant of your eyes, and the place you were born. We can´t always control circumstance, but we can control how we react to the things that happen to us. That man on the street chose to say "cheers" instead of "bug off". He chose to see that 2-Pound coin as 2 Pounds more than he could have asked for, rather than 2 Pounds less than what he needed.

I guess if I could pinpoint the most relevant part of this trip for me, it would be getting lost, being late, and having the whole morning on the way to Henley turn into a somewhat humorous disaster. It´s interesting how being behind by just a few minutes can set off the course of your entire day. It makes you feel like you are always playing catch up...like there´s always more to do than can be done. Even though I tried my best to laugh my way through it, I´m not going to lie- I was mentally and physically exhausted by the end of that day. When we were at the race, Bridget was talking about how just one tiny movement of a stroke could mean the difference between winning and losing an entire race. One arm spasm, one bad gust of wind, one leg movement- it could throw the entire boat off. What I realized, thinking back on the whole day, is this:

Every Moment Counts.

It´s hard to think of things in those terms because then we start to overanalyze all of the little choices we make. And who can live like that? Luckily, I´m already obsessive compulsive, so I´m used to it! But seriously, each movement is a decision-- to talk to the stranger in a Red Sox hoodie; to laugh your way through a bad situation; to introduce yourself to random French people in a cafe; to smile with your head up instead of walk with a frown...

All of these small movements are choices. While they seem minute and somewhat unimportant in the present, we just never know when one day, a small choice might change the trajectory of a life. We can´t look back, and we can´t really predict what is ahead, either. All we know is the moment we are in- if we give it the attention and care it deserves, this funny thing often happens...circumstance takes care of the rest.


I am in Madrid now, so updates to come in a few. Hope this e-mail finds you all fulfilled and happy!

Love life,
Melissa


Observations:

1. The seats on the Tube and the National Rail are about an inch or two closer together than NYC subways and Amtraks. Juuuuust enough to make a New Yorker slightly uncomfortable and claustrophobic.

2. I think the escalators are a tiny bit faster than the ones in NYC. Or, that could have just been sleep deprivation.

3. Why is the Thames river so damn long?

4. I really like British accents =)

5....I really don´t like that I can´t talk like that, too. Sounds so much classier (Roman, you know how I feel about this).

6. All bus drivers in London should be required to know where Buckingham Palace is. Come on now...I´m not even from there and I know where it is.

7. Something needs to be done about how expensive transportation is there. It costs $45 just to get to the airport by train. I might as well fly to the airport, too.

Trip-to-Date:
Days: 7
Roommates: 7 (one of which was a pre-roommate....love you Bridget!)
PB & J Sandwiches: 5 (I´m happy to say this number is the same as in the last e-mail)
Local Life Lesson: "Work Hard" (Thanks to my new buddy Ali for that- see you in Queens, so soon!)
Jukebox: "London Rain", Heather Nova
Random Thought: Why do they call biscuits "digestives"? ...Anyone?
Quotables: In true Melissa fashion...

(while looking at the Big Ben clock in London as it strikes midnight...)
Eric: That´s weird, all the lights just went off. I´ve never seen it do that.
Me: Hmmm, strange. Well, what time is it?
Eric: Melissa....you're looking at a clock.

(after a non-PC comment was made by a certain individual)
Me: Hey, you know I hear it´s really important to have a filter.
Eric: For water?
Me: For your mouth.

Overheard: "If you rearrange the word MARRIAGE, what do you get?? A GRIM ERA, that´s what you get." hahahaha....love it.