So what IS my strong suit?

London - May 2, 11:20pm @ Trafalgar Square
I guess I was expecting a culture shock to hit as soon as I got off the plane.

It's as if I was expecting purple skined aliens with three nipples or something. Sure, the building are grander, the prices more expensive, and people talk with accents, but it doesn't really feel all that different from Vancouver. To be fair, that's probably because I haven't really been conversing with the locals; I haven't experienced that dry British wit they are stereotypically known for.

Aside from some problems with the (crazy) phone system, I don't believe that I've done anything differently than how I would have back home. True, it's only the first night. I keep talking to others about how you should not expect change to occur overnight, yet I'm guilty of doing the same. I suppose what I should be preaching is that only expecting change does very little to enact change. If you want the change to happen, you should be proactive about it; meet it head on.

To bad confrontation is not my strong suit.

Later that night...

London - May 2, 10:07pm
I've taken some cool pictures around Buckingham Palace, one of which I plan on captioning: "Come my stony compatriots, time to storm the gates!" Use your imagination until I get a chance to upload it. Haven't thought much of where I'm going to sleep tonight. Sleeping for free is an option, but is it worth looking like a bum on the streets? Hopefully I'll find a place somewhere close to the city centre so that I can easily start my proposed Monopoly Board run tomorrow. I was thinking of doing a Monopoly Board pub crawl, but at these prices I don't think I can afford to go even half way around the board.

There's a bit of a breeze, but otherwise it's been a warm, clear night. Of course, now that I'ved stopped to writ this, my body is cooling down. Need to find a pub and get some grub.

A whopper for a Whopper

London - May 2, 8PM @ Victoria Place
Called Tom's number again. Either I copied it down wrong, Klaus got it wrong, or Tom has changed his number, because I reached the voicemail of one Linda Smith.

Contingency planning has never been my strong suit; however, going with the flow and being able to adjust is a large part of what this trip is all about. The tourist information booths are closed now and the one person I've met is likely in his hotel room with his wife right now. Even if I could get in touch with him, I would choose not to interrupt their vacation. I'm not in that bad a position. I have a good chuck of pocket money, enough food and drink, as well as my wits to help me survive a couple nights in a foreign town by myself. Thankfully everybody speaks English (you have to love the accents!).

Speaking of food, a BK Whopper meal for £4.49? That's OVER $10 CAD! Good think I smuggled a bunch of the complementary drinks and munchies from the plane ride. Oh well, I'm off to find more food, bed, and maybe hit on some chicks with sexy British accents.

In London

London - May 2, 7:30PM (London Time)
Air plane ride went well enough. Ran into a little excitement at the end when the pilot had to about his initial landing approach.

"Is something wrong with the plane?"

"Is something wrong at the airport?"

The pilot mumbled some vague reason over the intercom for having to take another approach. Did he just miss his line and decided to try again? Any way to split it, it doesn't fill me with confidence.

At the airport was another matter. It's depressing when the numerical amount of cash you carry gets shrunk by a factor of 2.5 (damn you British pound!). I tried calling Tom, Klaus' London friend, but for some reason it wouldn't let me complete the call (I now believe it's because I kept putting in the country code). I then tried calling directory assistance, and the idiot on the other end didn't help one iota. He uttered one sentence: "Directory Assistance, how may I help you?" That's it. No matter what I said or asked, he wouldn't even grunt to acknowledge that he was still there, although I did hear background noise so I assume he was. I repeatedly asked for help or just a response as I saw my £1.00 dwindle to £0.00 before my very eyes. I don't know if it was the telephone company I was using or what, but as every second ticked, 2 pence would be subtracted from my balance. It was like a ticking time bomb, just mocking my futile efforts. I'm on the express right now heading to Victoria. I figure I'll cruise around town a bit until I try to contact Tom again.

One thing I've notived looking our the train window is how much more "leafy" the trees look and how many building are made of brick. Maybe it's just me, but the leaves look asburdly large and defined. As for the brick buildings, that may be attributed to my route and age of the buildings rather than the architectural style of London.

Europe Travel Log - YVR

I brought a little notebook with me that I crack open and jot in whenever there's a lull. I'll transcribe the text here whenever I get a chance. Beware, my impromptu writing is awfully long winded.

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Vancouver Airport - May 1, 11pm
I'm sitting on a plane right now preparing to fly to London. The more I think about it, the more excited I get.

On my way to the airport, I realized that I had forgotten to pack my razor. Simple enough to replace, I figure, but we shall see. Will I live to rue the day that I forgot to pack my razor? Or has not packing it unknowingly saved me tonnes of trouble at customs? Back to the plane, I am sat next to a middle-aged asian couple. They seem nigh enought, but it's certainly no hot blonde from Georgia. Taking into account the law of averages, I suppose this means that I have something to look forward to. Hopefully, the payout won't come after a long day's travel while I am sporting a day's worth of stubble and musk.

As I entered the airport, the line to the Air Transat counter was a huge anomaly. A slow moving giant in the midst of quick, light-footed Tolkien hobbits.

The pre-trip jitters have definitely given way to excitement. At least, I think it's excitement. There's a pressure raising in my chest. It doesn't constrict, but rather it's more like an untapped energy source itching to be released. The itch rises and ebbs; it hasn't reached a tumult yet, but the potential cannot be denied. A last minute rush to make paper copies of all my digital travel information was ground to a halt by my quirky printer at home. After nearly 14 years of service, perhaps it's time to retire my Canon Bubblejet - the bubbles having long since lost their optimal surface tension, resulting in a haphazard collage of black ink.