So after a year of saving, saving, saving - holding down multiple jobs, staying home on the odd weekend here and there instead of going out with friends, having a garage sale with the help of my family and boyfriend. A year of dreaming, a year of planning and with the help of SWAP (an organization that acts as a support for youth who wish to live and work overseas) I was finally ready to conquer four months away from home.
I will miss my friends and family with all my heart and at times I will probably want more than anything to come home. But when London’s calling (well, actually Edinburgh’s calling) a girl must pack up her things and go! I plan to see and do as much as I can (England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, Greece, Spain, Germany) make many new friends, find a job in a bar or restaurant and of course be inspired to write. So on Tuesday June 23rd, I waved good-bye to my friends, family, home and departed to the UK. Let the journey begin!
Testing out how to carry the luggage before I head to the airport.What I brought:
- A backpack stuffed with clothes
- A suitcase on wheels also stuffed with clothes
- A carry-on (faux leather to fit in at London and for carrying massive 16” laptops such as mine)
- A purse to hold my passport
- Of course make-up.
- Can’t forget: my digital camera with two memory cards
- Books
- Snacks – dried fruit, granola bars, nuts, breath strips to conquer bad traveller’s breath
- My petite I-Pod shuffle that helped me actually sleep on the plane
- About £200, my credit card, Canadian Film Centre water bottle
- Recyclable bags
- Change of clothes , packed in my carry-on
- Two swimsuits
- Knickers and socks
- A few pieces of jewellery
- And last but not least a pen and paper to write my travelling woes
Suitcase and backpack stuffed with clothes galore (top), carry-on minus laptop, passport holder, and money bag (bottom)
What I wish I brought:Just the backpack full of clothes, a battery charger that works in the UK for my camera, blow dryer instead of hair straighter (also doesn’t work in the UK), travel sized beauty products, a nice dress for clubbing, more sweat pants, black t-shirt and pants for bar / restaurant work.
Seemed easy on my neighbourhood's smooth sidewalk.Arrived at Pearson (Toronto): 7:40 pm
Checked-in: 8:00 pm
First friend made: 8:15 pm – Her name is Barb (like my mom.. hi mom!) I met her the minute I walked into the security check-in. She’s a woman in her sixties dressed in designer from head to toe, which of course raised eyes from security first in Toronto and again in Iceland. She insisted we take the shuttle to our terminal... good thing she did it seemed like a loooonng walk. When we entered the duty-free zone she went nuts trying on expensive perfume – Dior, Chanel. I made fun of her saying she’s going to stink up the entire plane. She joked that she would lure Giorgio Armani. It was nice meeting a friendly face right off the bat (even if I didn’t leave the country yet). But I was paranoid; you see among my dad’s many fatherly concerns was a warning. “Ashley do NOT under any circumstances hold anyone’s luggage! They could be smuggling drugs.” The poor woman kept complaining how heavy her carry-on was and I couldn’t even offer a hand. At one point she handed me her purse so she could squirt on some more perfume and all I could think is “My dad would kill me if he could see me right now.”
Flight departed: 9:10 PM – I sadly waved good-bye to my beautiful hometown and the people within it. I’m not going to lie it was one of the most emotional experiences in my life. I thought I wouldn’t miss Toronto until months down the line, but I missed Toronto the minute the plane wheels rolled off the ground.
I can’t believe I actually pulled this off. Here I am sitting in my hostel of St. Christopher’s Inn – The Village in the “chill” room. Groups of many different cultures partying in the bar, snacking on beer and chips, watching movies, and my New Zealand roommate who has been asleep all day long. I always imagined that I would see great things and have a great time no matter who surrounded me.
I’m all about emerging myself in the sights and sounds, taking in the culture. The way the double Decker buses zip down the left side of the road, how pedestrians seem to have the right of way... even if the vehicle was there first, free opera with a view of the Tower of London, how the London Bridge peers over the channel majestically, the architecture that dates back to before the 11th Century, the thought of the famous people that once wondered these streets the Beatles, Shakespeare, Kings, Queens, my ancestors. Then of course there are the famous people who still wonder the streets Guy Ritchie, Posh Spice, Chris Martin (who I sadly did not run into).
London Bridge (After seeing the bridge it had dawned on me... I made it to London!)
I only wondered a few blocks from my hostel, everything amazed me. What I wasn’t so amused with (and I thought I would be) was the British accents. Maybe it was the part of the city I was in but I thought I would be fascinated by every British accent I heard, half the time I barely noticed.
Getting from Heathrow to London Bridge was a major challenge. The moment I landed in London I didn’t let the excitement overcome me just yet. I knew I had a 1 hour tube ride ahead of me, combined with dragging heavy luggage along the streets of London. My family had warned me about pickpockets and their clever schemes to steal your wallet. Ryan suggested I keep my luggage wrapped around me at all times. So I was rather good at being aware of my surroundings. I encountered my first pickpocket when I was trying to find my luggage. I was walking with my carry-on over my shoulder, paying attention to signs when a sudden wave of urgency rushed over me. I looked to my left to see a middle-aged man, well dressed, walking extremely close to my purse (There was plenty of space for him to walk elsewhere). I felt his eyes on me, I turned quickly and he immediately looked away. After a few moments of staring at him coldly he began to distance himself.
I reached the information desk and asked about a shuttle from Heathrow to St. Christopher’s Inn. They informed me that it would cost £19 and I would have to wait an hour. I asked how long the tube would take and the man laughed at me. He said, “With that luggage the tube will be no good for you.” Well, being from Toronto I took this as a challenge! I would prove this Brit wrong using my ‘Toronto-ian’ survival skills and conquer the infamous London tube.
The tube in London uses different 6 zones, 12 lines, serves 270 stations to transport you virtually anywhere in London – quick and convenient. There are signs everywhere explaining each route, stating when the next train will arrive and announcements made every few minutes. It is impossible to get lost.
When I reached the ticket machine to buy a pass I had no idea where to begin. Luckily, the lost expression on my face captured the attention of a Brit boy. He gave me his day pass for free!
I met a nice British lady on the train, who kindly welcomed me by telling me about events such as Wimbledon happening in the city. After a few minutes of sitting in a fabric cushioned seat (yes that’s right) a middle-aged woman dressed in a flowing white skirt began to preach God to all who would listen. Felt like I was back in Toronto.
Located in Central London, London Bridge is the first place I got lost. Pulling along my suitcase, up and down escalators (massively high escalators – think Cineplex Odeon on Richmond St.) For the London Underground the greatest depth is 221 feet. I asked a few times for directions and still managed to get lost until I found the exit to the street (located closest to my hostel, I was trying to avoid the hot sun and manoeuvring my suitcase along the cobble stone street.) Stepping out onto the busy Borough High St. was the first time it had dawned on me, I was a long way from home. The moment quickly passed when my arm started to feel like it was going to fall off. I had to weave through a sea of people (I can’t imagine how ridiculous I probably looked). After taking a few short breaks, passing it once or twice, I had made it to the hostel...Success!. I was then greeted by a rude French-Canadian who simply took my money, said where my room was and failed to help me carry my big suitcase up the stairwell to my room. (Side note: I enjoy French-Canadians, I actually talked to him a day later and he was much nicer) Starving, hot, tired I plunged my face into my bunk bed and sulked for a total of two minutes. Then, I took a deep breath, slapped myself across the face and told myself to suck it up or go home!
After getting myself organized, speaking to a friendlier face (a very nice Australian guy) at front desk I attempted to call home. Attempt failed. I brought a calling card (I couldn’t find the one my mom gave me) but no matter how many times I tried it told me I had the wrong pin. This launched a battle between me and pay phones eating my money and pooping it out in the UK (battle: to be continued...). I arrived in London at 11:40 am... it was now 3pm. I was sure Davide (the boyfriend) and my parents were freaking out. So I managed (after also having some more bad luck) to connect to the internet and send an email ensuring them that I was alive and well.
I ordered some food from the pub at St. Christopher’s and it took forever to arrive. But, they gave me extra chips (in the UK chips = thick fries, fries = thin fries and crisps (ssss) = chips) that took up ¾ of the plate.
When I got back to my room Lisa, the coolest New Zealand girl I have ever met was awake. We chit chatted and I started to feel myself again. So I ventured out for a walk to the river to check out the London Bridge and boy was the view amazing! After taking in the scene, watching a free Opera and snapping away with my camera, I walked back to my hostel as the sunset.
Bed time: 12:30 am
Sleep: Very nice! Besides the loud karaoke blasting in the bar downstairs.
Check-out the videos and photographs on my journey from Toronto to London / Day One (Jet legged in London).
Much love from London,
Ashley
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