February 16th-17th, 2019
When I was preparing for this trip to London I didn’t really know how everything would turn out. Not only was this my first time traveling to Europe, I was doing so alone. I had never travelled alone, so I was feeling a whole bucket of emotions. Excited. Check. Terrified. Check. Anxious. Check. Questioning what the hell I’m doing. Check. I wasn’t going to let anything dissuade me though. I pushed myself out of my comfort zone. I was going to London whether I liked it or not. I was hoping I would like it, but either way I was going.
The next thing I know I’m at the airport, I say goodbye to Emily, who so lovingly dropped me off at the shit storm known as LAX, and rolled my luggage into Tom Bradley International Terminal. I walked up to the self-check-in kiosk and printed out my boarding pass. Is that it? That’s all I need right? I have my passport in my pocket and now my boarding pass, so I go to security now right? Holy shit was I nervous. It’s not like it was the first time I was flying alone, I have done that many times, but getting my boarding pass now told me this was really happening.
I pull up to security and breeze through. Ok, well I have two hours to kill, what should I do with this nervous energy. I call Emily and tell her how I’m feeling, then all of a sudden my stomach tells me something. EAT.
Side Note: This eating thing is going to be a main staple of this trip.
This sudden urge confused me, but that needs some context. So, just about three hours before I had a breakfast burrito with roasted potatoes. If that was it I might not have been so confused, I am still a growing boy right? However, on the way to the airport we stopped to get me an apple fritter the size of my head along with some donut holes. Long story, but I guess the message is I get hungry when I’m nervous.
So I walk through the food court to find 800 Degrees Pizza.
Side Note: I don’t know why but International Terminals always seem somewhat empty compared to domestic. Makes sense, it’s kind of calming.
I order my pizza, pay, pick it up, and snag some ranch from the KFC next door (800 didn’t have any), and head to my gate.
I get to the gate and demolish this pizza, I’m talking gone in sixty seconds type of demolition. I call my Mom and Nana, say my goodbyes in case something happens to the plane (only kidding, they were just checking on how I was doing). Talk to Emily one last time, and then it is time to board.
I walk in the plane, put my luggage away, and when the boarding is over I get great news, nobody in the middle seat. F yeah. I start watching the first of many movies on the trip, Kingsman (I’m trying to learn the British culture here), to take my mind off of my nervousness. The doors are shut, everyone is in, we’re ready for take off.
Side Note: Air New Zealand’s safety video might be the cringiest (in the best way possible) and funniest rap video ever. Highly recommend watching it.
We finally take off. I look outside to see the fresh powder of snow and the houses and buildings that look like little specks of color on the ground. The pilot comes on the loud speaker to give an update: ten and a half hour flight, and so on. A smile creeps onto my face, my nervousness has shifted to excitement. THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING! Alright, calm down Sean, you still have a long time in the air. So I go back to Kingsman.
Side Note: Did Donald Trump get his fast food idea from Samuel L. Jackson in Kingsman? Also, did Infinity War take Samuel L. Jackson’s character ideals and implant them into Thanos? If you haven’t watched this film, I highly recommend it because: 1) It is one of the most original action films while highly entertaining and 2) You can input your answer to the questions above.
During the film dinner options rolled around. I truly don’t know if I have been spoiled with good airlines (probably), but I LOVE the food on international flights. Dinner tonight was cheese and crackers (can’t go wrong there), dinner roll with butter (solid), chicken with zucchini and rice (delectable), edamame quinoa salad (this actually did lack flavor, so not everything was great), New York Cheesecake (melts in your mouth), all topped off with a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc (what can I say?).
Side Note: There’s a baby in the row in front of me who can’t help but smile whenever I look its way. I’m able to get this reaction out of 95% of babies I encounter, truly makes me think I have a funny looking face, or maybe it’s just my big ears.
After dinner and Kingsman it’s time to try and sleep to stave off any possibility of jet lag. Right as my eyelids touch down I hear, “Would you like more wine sir?” Um, yes please. I’m not one to turn down free New Zealand wine! (I know it’s included in the price of the ticket so it’s not really free, but you get what I mean). So I pull up 2048 (a block game, I won’t waste your time by explaining it) and kill thirty minutes as I sip my wine. Ok, NOW it’s bedtime.
I toss and turn, get some winks of sleep, but three hours goes by and I notice it’s just not happening. You’re going to have to power through it Sean. No problem. So, Kingsman: The Golden Circle is up next.
Side Note: This film was fun, first scene sequence was incredible, but too much going on with multiple characters. Solid action film, definitely worth a watch just for the Elton John cameo alone.
As I pull up the next film, Bohemian Rhapsody, I looked out to see the sunrise. This is a new chapter that I get to open up in my life. A new journey. OK Sean, too philosophical, back to the movies.
Side Note: I really liked Bohemian Rhapsody. Rami Malek is unreal as Freddie Mercury, and Oscar-winner John Ottman’s editing was great (shameless family related plug). I understand that some people think it skimmed over some things, but a movie about Queen with all that history, packed into that time frame, this movie, for what it is, was fantastic. Happy to debate, or if you disagree without wanting a debate that’s also fine, just giving you my opinion.
Now the breakfast options roll out halfway through Bohemian Rhapsody and I’m feeling adventurous: egg omelette please. I thought, might as well get my stomach ready for this week-long eating extravaganza. Breakfast included the egg omelette with tomato and cheese (better than some restaurants, but obviously a little dry), potatoes (not the crisp I wanted, but for heating up in the airplane, great), yogurt (standard, solid), and OJ (what you would expect).
Side Note: If you’re thinking “Sean, will I get more airline food reviews for the flight back?” Of course. Next question.
As Bohemian Rhapsody gets to the Live Aid concert scene the pilot announces our descent. Getting the energy up right on time. Then the film finishes and there is ten minutes till we land. It might be the most awkward amount of time before landing. Do I watch part of a show I have already seen before? Should I pull out my book? I guess I’ll just play 2048 till we land. But wait. We’re right over London.
There is a kid who is about eight years old sitting behind me. He’s giddy with joy looking out at all these landmarks. I don’t mean to compete with the kid, but I am on his level of excitement times ten. It’s unreal to see the city you are about to explore look so small. Seeing this bird’s eye view was amazing. I could see Wembley Stadium (pretty awesome after just finishing Bohemian Rhapsody), the London Eye, Tower Bridge, and on and on. I’m. So. Pumped.
Side Note: When we taxi into Heathrow I can’t help but think there might be the next Freddie Mercury out there. You’ll get this if you watch Bohemian Rhapsody.
As I walk through the beautifully crafted Heathrow airport I hit my first obstacle: waiting in customs. It didn’t take that long, but the one thing I noticed about traveling alone is there is only one thing possible for entertainment: one’s phone. With the shotty free WiFi service at the airport I just decided to people watch as the thirty minutes passed. I saw families at the start of a Euro (for now, since Brexit and everything is happening) trip, couples excited for an adventure to commence, poor souls subjected to wait and be questioned by border agents, and of course the lucky Brits in the other line flying through the customs process.
I got through this without a hitch and am onto my first mission, getting an Oyster card (the cheapest way to travel through London: highly recommend). I walk blindly around the exit of the terminal searching. I see the Heathrow Express, other travel cards, a Starbucks (yes, they are everywhere here too), and after five wasted minutes I ask where to find one. A terminal worker politely tells me they can be retrieved at the customer service area in the underground. I thank her and continue my hunt.
I walk outside, down an elevator to the underground, and walk up to the cashier. “How may I help you?” She asks. “I’d like an Oyster card, please.” “How much do you want on it?” “40 pounds, please.” (You can always get what you don’t spend back when you come back to the airport, or top off with more money at most tube stations if you need more). “That’ll be 45 pounds.” (5 pound deposit for the physical card, you get it back if you return it). I pay, she hands me my Oyster card. “Thank you”, and I’m off.
I find the line going to King’s Cross (Picadilly), and hop on. I whip out my book for the hour-ish long ride (A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway, courtesy of Abby Perkins) and start reading, thinking we will be underground the whole time. However, five minutes or so into the ride, sunlight pours through the window. Even though you could tell these were the suburbs of London, you could see the history of the brick faced buildings, and clusters of chimney’s sitting atop these housing units. So I alternated between reading and scanning the scenery depending on if we were underground or not.
I get to King’s Cross and wheel my bag out to the likes of St. Pancras station. Historic towers, arches, and brick laying in front of me. This is a train station. Wow. It’s hard to look away, but I need to locate my hotel. Down Argyle St., past the Burger King, and next to McGlynn’s pub.
Side Note: Pedestrians here will walk if there is a small clearing of cars. I will master this within the first couple of days. I don’t know why, but it helped in making me feel like a true Londoner.
I check into my hotel about three hours before I thought I would. Heck yes. The Wardonia Hotel is perfectly imperfect. It has a twin size bed, a small TV, a little shelf for belongings, a two foot long hallway, a toilet, a shower, and a sink. No extra frills, no extra space. Perfect. I will only be here for sleeping, and there is no excuse otherwise.
I get ready and I’m out to my first stop: The British Museum. I made a reservation for a Sunday Roast (a British tradition) at Hawksmoor in Soho (Air Street), so I am slowly making my way over. Just walking through this city is incredible: the architecture, the cobblestone, the parks everywhere you look, it’s truly amazing.
I get to the museum and once again am in awe. First off, all museums are free here. Secondly, the history of the art and collectibles is unreal. Mosaics from thousands of years ago hang over mummified remains, swords clash with jewelry, and the main draw of it all is the Rosetta Stone. While I might of hyped myself up a little too much for this draw, the history behind it is still amazing and a must see.
Next up, the National Gallery. In between the British Museum and the National Gallery I walk through Seven Dials, a cool pocket of shops, restaurants, and pubs. I see a place I recognize from my list of recommendations, Udderlicious. Ice cream before dinner? Why not.
I walk into Udderlicious and it has that perfect smell that only proper ice creameries do, the mix of hot waffle cones with the sweet deliciousness of ice cream. I was going to just get one scoop, but now there is no way in hell. One scoop of chocolate peanut butter, one scoop of speculoos (cookie butter). As I leave, the six year old in the corner gapes in envy and I’m out.
Side Note: The ice cream was delicious. Perfectly creamy, and unlike a lot of places in America, not too sweet. Of course the crunch of the waffle cone was just the cherry on top, but anyone in the Seven Dials area I highly recommend Udderlicious.
After this delicious stop, I walk over and my first impression of the National Gallery is that it is a lot smaller than I imagined. I walk around and browse art and photography both older and more modern (a bust of Nelson Mandela next to a picture of Elton John). God I love London. I decide I have to cut this short to explore some more areas, so I walk toward Trafalgar square.
As I walk toward T square (makes it easier to write), I notice street performers, music, and crowds of people, but in the center is a 30-40 foot high column, with a statue perched on top and two huge fountains on each side adorned with lion figures and such.
Side Note: What the hell?! I know this is my first time to Europe, but every turn I take I am amazed not only by the architecture, art, and scenery, but how much of it there is. This just increased my itch to travel exponentially.
As I take this all in I turn around to notice the grand entrance to...the National Gallery. Turns out I was in some sort of branch of the National Gallery. Oh, well. I’ll come back to the spectacularly roman collumned gallery another day, for now I must go to my meal.
I get to Hawksmoor, it’s quite the swanky set-up. I encounter my first coat check, I decline (like to keep my eye on my things), and sit. My waitress comes over and asks what I’d like to drink, I ponder between an IPA and red wine to go with my roast. I go with what’s comfortable, “IPA, please.” As I can’t do anything on my phone, I sit and patiently wait for my beer.
Side Note: I’m not one to care about eating alone, but then again it feels like others judge you for it. It’s somewhat liberating to me, no phone, just me alone with my thoughts, beer, and food. I wonder if people think I’m a tourist or a loner eating Sunday roast by himself. Either way, who cares?
The IPA is a little sour, not bitter. Not my favorite. The roast is perfectly pink, tender, and with gravy, is delectable. The vegetables are plain, so nothing special but not bad. The yorkshire pudding is fun to eat along with the gravy and roast, but the best part is the addition of roasted garlic. Cloves, perfectly roasted, combined with the horseradish and roast come together to make the perfect bite. I order their Amber Ale which tastes like a watered down Newcastle, and finish my meal.
Side Note: These beers are hitting a little quicker than usual. Probably cause I’m tired.
I wait for what seems like forever for the bill, until I notice they don’t give you the bill unless you ask! So I ask, I pay, and I’m off to the South Bank area. Next up on the list is Gordon’s Wine Bar. I walk into this establishment and you can tell that it was made hundreds of years ago: one person’s width staircase to the bathroom, barely enough room for patrons to make it to the bar for their wine, and a cool little cheese and meat counter to the right of the entrance. I thought this was cool as I ordered my drink, but nothing spectacular. There are tables and seats sprinkled throughout the crowded space but they’re all taken. I walk outside and the many tables lining the alley are also taken. I decide to go back in and try my luck again. This time I venture further back and hit what I have now found to be the main appeal: a literal wine cave. Part of the bar was built into this cave that still survives today. This is so cool. Unfortunately there are still no seats and not anyone to talk to, so I finish my wine and head onward.
I walk over a bridge toward the Southbank Centre and notice the London Eye. I stop, bask in it, knowing I’m probably not going to go in it. It’s well lit red lights shine over London. What a city.
I get back to my quest, but I get to the Southbank Centre and it’s closed. I try to go to Somerset House, and it’s closed. I decide to go to what seems like the only place open.
I make my way back closer to my hotel and end up at a recommended pub, Cross Keys. This is the typical English pub that one pictures in their mind. Old wooden tables with small wooden chairs to go with it, the walls are plastered with old pictures and soccer pictures from floor to ceiling, and pint glasses lining the overhead of the bar. I have the bartender pick out the beer, and she picks an English Pale Ale. I sit and drink while people watching. One thing I notice is that not many people will engage in conversation with a complete stranger like myself. So while I’m sipping my beer I start to feel like calling it a night. I’m either getting tired or the travelling through pubs alone is getting to me. But then I hype myself up, “You’re in London. Enjoy every little bit you can!” Yeah. I’m only here for a week so let’s make the most out of it!
Side Note: The pale ale was fine. It was very light in comparison to American pale ale.
So I’m up and roaming the streets of London. It’s only 9:30pm, but the streets are pretty empty. It is Sunday, but everything in London does close pretty early. I walk by a poetry shop and notice a flyer for an open mic that upcoming Tuesday. I jot it down in my phone to go to if I’m free. Just down the road I stumble upon a comedy show at “The Top Secret Comedy Club”. They tell me stand by tickets start at 10pm. How much are they? One pound. Any drink minimum? Nope. Wow, ok I will be back for sure. Worst thing that happens is I don’t get a ticket and I walk back to the hotel to pass out.
So I walk down the street and find another pub/restaurant. This one was more of a place for watching soccer matches. TVs are everywhere, the venue is open, but there were still plenty of places to sit. The atmosphere is amplified by the drunk and raucous peaky blinder looking men that fill the bar. Full suits on, some a little more disheveled than the rest, some have hats, but all have a beer in hand. I get a beer from the bar and think, hey what’s out there better to do on a Sunday night? Well if you work the next day maybe some rest, but they seem to be having a good time.
Side Note: At this point I have concluded that English beer really isn’t that good. It is light and easy to drink though. So I get how these Peaky Blinder guys get to the drunken state they are at now.
After my drink I make my way back to the comedy club and get in line. I get my ticket, find a seat, and listen to some comedy. The first guy was alright, got a couple of chuckles, and then the next comedian was an American. The only problem with her set was that she went for the easy laughs, she just talked about Trump. It definitely hit well with the British crowd, but it wasn’t novel to me as a fellow American. Don’t get me wrong, Donald Trump makes it very easy to have a bit about because of all the moronic things that he does, but I’ve heard it all before. After the comedy show I walk home, buy a crunchie bar from the store, get back and read some Hemingway before falling asleep. Day One-Two Accomplished.
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