London or bust.
London Travel Blog› entry 1 of 20 › view all entries
The flight from Montreal to London was uneventful. The food was not horrendous, and there were no screamy kids. Landed and spent a brief period in customs, due to the fact that we were the closest of seven planes to disembark at the same time. Watching the room fill up behind us was staggering, and I made a mental note to make an offering of thanks to the travel gods (which I forgot to do and paid for later in the trip.)
I caught the tube from Heathrow to Piccadilly Circus, even though I knew that I couldn't check into the hostel for another 6 hours. As might be expected, Picadilly was packed with morning traffic.
And like a magnet, I was drawn to the British Museum. On my previous trip to London, I stayed at the same hostel and arrived at the same time... and pretty much went straight from the hostel to the British Museum. In fact, if you were to compare the first few pictures I shot of my trip back in 2004 and the ones from this more recent trip, you'd be hard pressed to tell the difference (except for the fact that my new camera has 9 bazillion megahertz doohickeys.)
At the heart of me, I'm a geek and I like museums, most specifically museums that center around history, although an art gallery now and again is good for the soul.
Several hours killed, I stumbled back to the hostel. I mananged to get into my room extra early and immediately proceeded to the showers. That refreshed me, and made me more willing to stand in public. At this point, I'd been up for around 30 hours and I knew that if I gave into the temptation to take a nap now, I would need to spend the next several days trying to adjust to the time difference. Deciding to power through until bed time, I repacked a little bit to make my day bag lighter and then headed out into the afternoon.
The weather was unpleasent, but not daunting. Overcast and way more muggy than I would have expected in October. I walked about two block to Trafalgar Square.
It was closing on 10PM, and I figured as good as time as any to pass out for 8-10 hours. I walked back towards the hostel, but stopped in my tracks when I saw that the pub nearest the hostel carried Spitfire, one of my favourite ales. I popped in a ordered a quick pint, followed by a slightly less quick pint, before finally moving off towards the hostel and sleep.