Well, we made it.
The flight to Chicago was uneventful and with one eye on the clock we caught the shuttle from one terminal to the other just in time to hear our names being called at our gate. For some bizarre reason my friend and I weren't seated together on the YWG-ORD flight (I like to try to memorize airport codes) and we didn't have seats next to each other for the ORD-LHR flight either, however the lovely lady at the gate changed that for us.
The flight was the emptiest I've ever seen for an overseas flight, which was nice as me and the travelling companion (TC) had a row of three to ourselves (we each could have had our own row if we had've been quicker on the draw). London greeted us with gloomy skies but a balmy +12, it was good to be (other) home.
A quick nap and then up to the high street we went. The high street, for those of you who haven't been is basically the main road through a community and has one of every "major" store on it (the more important the neighbourhood the more shops it's likely to have). The particular neighbourhood we stay in in London has roughly these equivalents: Sobey's, Winners, Suzy Shier, Le Chateau, Rogers, MTS, TD, Royal Bank, Family Foods... you get the idea. It would be like what Charleswood would have, a few key players but you still have to go elsewhere to get ALL of your shopping done.
After re-familiarizing ourselves with the British way of life (saw a fantastic Gucci leather jacket in a secondhand shop, but alas, wrong size), picking up a few favourites we headed back to casa Graceland. Yup, the house has a name, and no, it has nothing to do with Elvis. In the UK you can name your house instead of using numbers - the whole idea freaks me out so I always address packages to both what number it would be and the house name.
Saturday night gave us some well needed rest and after a delicious Sunday Roast we were back off to the airport again, this time to Gatwick (LGW). We were taking a flight that seemed to be a cross between a charter and a regular flight and it only allowed 5kg as carry on (right now, go weigh your empty carry on - it probably weighs almost that much). Thankfully we had possibly the most pleasant airline staff member in the history of time, who quite graciously allowed my TC to move things from her carry on to her checked baggage. He also kept apologizing which was pretty funny as technically we were in the wrong. Perhaps he was so pleasant so that we would be in a good mood when dealing with the horribly rude cabin staff....
I don't think I slept a wink on the 12 hour flight here, and then nearly died of a heart attack once I arrived... you see, a couple years ago, my passport had an unfortunate encounter with a bottle of water whilst in my bag during a verrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry long bus ride in Peru. This has left it in a fairly wrinkled state. I have travelled several times (US and overseas) since it happened and am usually asked why it looks like it does and then let into the country without further incident. TC suggested that I get a new passport before the trip (she once had issues with a mangled passport while in Bali) and I got the photos taken but never ended up renewing it. Well, TC almost had the biggest "I told you so" moment in the history of our friendship. The nice gentleman at Kenyan customs asked what happened to it (I told him) and then he continued doing what he was doing, handed TC back her passport and told me that I couldn't come in because it was too damaged. Enter beginning of heart attack. After some what I hoped was very nice pleading and "please, is there someone else I could talk to?" he handed it back to me with a big smile and told me to enjoy my trip! He was just messing with me! Although, I imagine had I been really bitchy he really might not have let me in.
Fast forward to today. TC has been sick since we arrived in the UK and basically hasn't left the room, I spent a bit too much time in the sun yesterday so today I took a matatu (mini-van) to the major supermarket up the road for a change of scenery and because I'm not really a resort sort of girl. The way the system works is like magic. You get in one of these mini-vans tell the guy who takes the fare where you want to go and you pay a fare based on far you are going. Assuming you are not some dumbstruck tourist (like myself) when you want to get off you bang on the roof and they let you out. If you are a dumbstruck tourist they just pull over when it's your turn to get out.
We have yet to book our safari, which seems like it will be a daunting task as the quality varies widely and of course everyone tells you what you want to hear so it makes it difficult to sort out truth from fiction. The heat here is incredible, at night it's still warm enough to walk around in a tank top and shorts! I'm in heaven. Let's hope I make it back to the hotel from here (I had help getting on the matatu to get to this supermarket/internet place).
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