So that one time I went to England…

In the midst of starting senior year (insert quarter life crisis), interning (“You take sugar with your coffee?”), and life, my blog has gone by the wayside for a better part of the last few months. But it’s a new year which means a new start for all of my hobbies. Yoga, blogging, and my daily New York Times (can I sound anymore like a yuppy?), welcome back to my existence!

I’m thinking that I should probably finish up my Europe travels before I continue discussing my current life events. Luckily, I only have one more locale left: London, England! A wonderful transition home, it was strangely overwhelming to have the capabilities to understand every conversation I overheard on the metro. We were fortunate enough to stay with a friend we had made while in Amsterdam which meant living in a real home! With a private bathroom! And food! And English tea! Made by a real Englishman!

Michael and I naturally did the standard tourist itinerary: changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace, the British Museum (the best museum in the world due to the fact that the English pillaged everybody at some point in history), the London eye, South Bank, Abbey Road, Platform 9 and 3/4 (it’s more ghetto than you imagine), Westminster Abbey, and of course eating a healthy serving of fish and chips. But we also had an opportunity to escape the city and visit Stonehenge, Windsor Castle, and the town of Bathe. While I’m ordinarily against organized tour groups, Evans and Evans travel provides efficient and enjoyable travel to these more out of the way locations. Booking through them actually ends up being cheaper than if you went independently. See: nothing wrong with selling out every once and a while.

If you’re looking to do something a little out of the ordinary, be sure to check out Camden Market off the Camden town tube. A punk paradise, the streets are filled with tattoo parlors, funky markets, and cheap, delicious ethnic food. Be sure to walk a solid 10 to 15 minutes into the area once you arrive; that’s you’ll find some of the best food stands and shopping. If you know you’re on the prowl for some Indian cuisine (London has some of the best thanks to that whole colonization thing) you might want to check out the area of London known as Brick Lane, also home to hipster boutiques and great nightlife.

While we had a great time enjoying the city, the highlight of our UK adventure was easily going to Wimbledon! If you’re lucky enough to be in the area during that special time of year, you can actually get rush tickets any day of the competition. Simply arrive between 1 and 3 PM and, well, get ready to wait. Our friend from high school joined Michael and I, and the three of us waited out on the green for about 2 and a half hours before we were let into the grounds. The wait (which was really felt more like a chill lawn party) was well worth it. For the the equivalent of 8 American dollars, we received center court seats in main stadium. Novak Djokovic (the number two tennis player in the world mind you) was just meters away! All for the price of some fish tacos from my hometown.

Like every college educated American with little grasp of the financial constraints of the real world, I could easily see myself living in London at some point in the future. But after a month and a half of living out of a backpack, I was most certainly ready to have my bed back. After almost a year before I left for Italy, I have finally finished blogging about my time abroad. At some point, I’ll probably post something more reflective in nature. But for now, reliving it all just fills me with joy and an uneasy sense of vicarious exhaustion.

Oh, one last thing. Bed bugs: they’re real. We spent one night at hostel before arriving at our friend’s house. My last hostel experience in Europe for quite sometime. And what happens? My catastrophizing grandmother’s prediction manifests. I discover some days later, after four dozen violently itchy marks appear all over my body: I am a victim of bedbugs. And I was so close to the home stretch. Ain’t that a bitch?