Off to Africa - Lata' London

Let’s see…where to begin. I’ll start with my last night in London. So back when Ben and I found a place to live, in order to celebrate a bit, we went to the hostel bar where I had been staying and enjoyed our first Guinness. Let me just say, it is one of the most delicious beers there is. Just so smooth and tasty…doesn’t get much better than that. So it was only fitting that our last night in our London flat should be capped off with a frosty Guinness. And we did just that. Once again, I was fully satisfied.

We then made our way back to 13 Frithville Gardens, but not before stopping at the liquor store to keep up the festivities. We still had some cleaning to do, so when we got back home, we got to work. Getting our deposit back was top priority, and we did just that. Nice work Benner.

Finally at around 12:00 we finished up with everything that needed to be done, and on top of that, all my packing was done as well. Not a minute left to spare. I then spent the last night with Liz in a room of that house that had been vacant for almost two weeks. Now, just a little info about this room…it’s not really supposed to be open, or used. But, it has a queen size bed. Nuff said I imagine. So, needless to say, I found my way through the window and into the room on a consistent basis.

It was quite nice to have such privacy for the last few weeks of being in London. Couldn’t of asked for anything more. It was really difficulty living with a roommate after not having to endure that for some time. I think the hardest part was the fact that I am a night owl, and Ben, having to work most of the time would crash early. I would be left to sit in the dark silence working on my computer, or watching a movie. It didn’t really lend itself to me being able to call anyone back home past about 10 pm. I got used to it though…but let’s just say I am glad it’s over. When I move back to London, my own room is going to be a huge priority. That is for sure.

So, back to the last night. Liz and I relaxed in bed and started to watch a movie on my computer, when before I knew it, I was out cold, along with Liz. I was exhausted from running around all day, as well as from the crazy amount of work I had been doing the previous two weeks in preparation for not being online and able to work for quite some time. Unfortunately, before I fell asleep, I neglected to set my alarm on my phone. I was supposed to get up at 4 in order to start my trip to the airport for my flight at 7. Thank my lucky stars, for some reason, Liz just ended up waking up at 4 on her own somehow! I would have been screwed had she not, that much is certain.

So now I’m once again running with all my worldly possessions strapped to my back and yanking my arms down. I made it to the bus stop just as my bus was getting there, said an all to fast goodbye to Liz, and I was officially off! Too bad as the bus started to drive away, I realized my smaller backpack (containing my plane tickets, passport, books, and more) was still hanging from Liz’s back. I ran to the front of the bus and some how got the driver to stop! They never stop for anything, but I think he heard the extreme urgency in my voice. Liz ran up to the bus and I got my backpack. Whew! Fuck an a. That would have been miserable had it not worked out. So…I got to the train station after a 30 minute bus ride, and the took the Gatwick Express straight to the airport.

Once I got checked in, I sat down and had a much needed “American” Breakfast. Good shit. Too bad the Brits have no idea what the bacon is. Its more like fried ham. Not bad, but I just miss the thin stripes of fatty bacon. MMMmmm MMMmmm.

I got into Brussels around 11 am and started my trek to the hostel I had reserved a room in. Train, to bus and I was there. It was unfortunately raining like crazy so I stayed inside for the rest of the day. I couldn’t check into my room until around 2, so I sat in the common area and watched a few movies. What I would do without my computer…I might never know.

Once I could actually get into my room, I immediately went to sleep. Early flights out of London don’t lend themselves to being well rested. I slept until about 6 and then I went to the bar and had a hamburger (which seemed to be micro waved on account of the rubberyness of it.) I then started up a conversation with this awesome group of Spanish guys and girls from Barcelona. I showed them some of my artwork and hung out with them for the rest of the night. My Spanish is definitely lacking, to say the least, but after a few days of chilling with them, I was no longer speaking any English. I was quite proud of myself for being able to slip back into the lost ancient knowledge that somehow made its way back to the surface.

At around 11 that night, I went in to my room and crashed for the night…not before setting my alarm for 7:30 the next morning in order to catch my flight on time. I asked a Spanish guy that was also staying in my room if the time was different from London, and he When I got up the following day, I had a sneaking suspicion that is was later than I thought. I asked one of the guys that had shown up while I was sleeping if he had the time, and he informed me that it was 8:30. Shit. Shit shit shit. Luckily I had already packed up the night before if an effort to make my getting up and going smoother.

I booked it out of the room as fast as possible, checked out of the hostel, and made my way onto the metro. I took it one stop and then walked a good ten minutes to the Norde Train Station. I then got onto the airport train and started the so-called 15 minute trek. You can imagine my surprise when the train sat at the last station before the airport for 45 mintues! 45 MINUTES! Are you fucking kidding me! I think not. I watched as the time crawled by and I started to have a bad feeling about everything that was happening. I cannot miss my flight to Africa, this is unacceptable.

Now, normally luck is on my side in situations like this, but today…today was not one of those days. I finally got to the airport, with no more then 30 minutes to spare. I thought I was maybe going to be able to get on the flight. The person who was checking me in, did not feel the same way.

So now I am at customer service getting the wonderful news that the next flight to Yoande is not for another week! A WEEK, ARE YOU KIDDING ME! Come on people! Work with me here! They apparently already had a job and that job was to not let me get on the plane.

After a little swindling and a tear jerking speech, they switched my destination and my ticket. I was now leaving on Monday morning and flying to Dubala, a coastal city of Cameroon. Let’s just say Allen was not very pleased with the news, but what can you do…what can you do.

Looks like I am staying in Brussels. GOD do I HATE rain! It’s just so damn wet. Seeing as a bit of depression had set in, I wasn’t really in the mood to see the city or do any of that tourist crap, I just felt sick that I was still there. I went back to the same hostel, got a room, and went to sleep. Did I mention I hate rain? Yea. I do.

That night I ended up meeting that super chill dude from London named Daniel who ended up being incredibly in to music as well, with very similar taste in what he was listening to currently. A lot of the bands I love, he had CD’s of, and a lot of the time, they were the ones that I did not have. That night I ripped about 40 albums onto my computer and it was then I realized I missed my flight for a reason. The harbored resentment towards the train had miraculously vanished.

The next day it stopped raining and Daniel and I took off to check out the city. I didn’t bring my camera out with me though, it was still a bit misty and I wasn’t necessarily in the mood to do any shooting. I’ll probably regret it later, but as of right now, I am just fine with it.

That night I met some super chill Canadians that had been living and going to school in Ireland. Daniel and I took of to a sweet Spanish bar where I rocked out to some sweet Latin music, and on top of that, some Gloria Estevan. Oh yea, you go Gloria…you go.

We got back later that night and I hung out more with the Spanish kids on their last night. At this point, my Spanish was stronger then it had been in over 5 years. I was really impressed…with myself that is.

In the morning I decided I would go with Daniel to watch the English and France rugby championship. It was in fact the first Rugby game I had ever seen. Good shit. Way better than American football. These guys are hard-core…bleeding all over the place and still playing their asses off.

After the game we shot a few games of pool and then went back to the hostel to call it a night and crash. I was NOT going to miss my plane the next day.
So, now its…now, and I am on the plane on the way to Africa. A few days late, but on my way none the less. AFRICA, you better be ready, cause I don’t know if I am. Here goes nothing.