An across-the-river view of another one of my favorite free museums: The Tate Modern.

Miss: Free museums

Today was a brother day. Meaning I take my brother out somewhere and we do something. After a summer of too much to do and not enough time to experience everything, I’m used to choosing between activities.

Today I was at a bit of a loss. It was fine. We still ended up at Matt’s Bar - the best place in America for a burger,  Jucy Lucy to be specific. For those who don’t know what a Jucy Lucy is, I’m sorry.

But as we were deciding what to do, I couldn’t help thinking how nice it was to have free museums all summer long. To me, this is brilliant. We want people to see and experience art, so let’s make it free. Agreed, London.

While I didn’t see all of the free museums, I saw a variety. Without question though, my favorite was the Sir John Soane’s Museum. This tiny private gallery of imagined architecture, discarded sculpture and painting even included a real Egyptian sarcophagus. Tucked away inside Sir John Soane’s house in the northeast corner of central London, it was easily the hidden gem of the London museums. The best part – there is a queue the first Tuesday night of every month because the museum is open late and lit by candles alone. It just so happens my last Tuesday happened to be the first Tuesday, and let me say, there’s nothing like it.

Happy to have: Driving

Before you get the wrong idea, I should say that I’m a big believer in public transportation. Though the tube didn’t always cooperate with me this summer, and though part of me won’t miss the “this train is being held at a red signal” sentence causing me to arrive late to work, I cannot say how nice it was to be connected to anywhere I wanted to go in the city. It’s easy to underestimate just how important public transport is in a city like London. And from my experience, London sets the standard.

Having said that, picking up the keys to my silver, slightly sporty but mostly functional Ford Contour felt right. And it really is like riding a bike. When I put my hands on the wheel, it felt like I had only just left. But somehow – unlike when I left in May – I was excited to drive.

I welcomed the freedom of getting off the freeway when I choose, going the speed I want to (within legal reason of course…) and simply being in control of my transportation. And yes, I turned up the Vampire Weekend a little louder.

Meet Paul. He's a designer for idfx. He wanted his picture taken.

Miss: Colleagues (co-workers in American-speak)

Today is Tuesday – a day I’m normally at work in London. Today I miss my colleagues. There is a commonly held belief that Europeans don’t work as hard as Americans, but I think that statement needs amending.

Because there were only three other people working on the magazine, including the designer and editor, everyone was busy. The key here is that we worked as a team. Everyone did the others’ jobs at some point or another, so we all knew how long each job took and what to expect. Obviously when I started my tasks took me a bit longer, but by the end of the summer the system was clear.

And because of this understanding, the environment was simply more relaxed. Each of them took the time to ask how eachothers’ days were going, there was never a problem with an extra ten minutes on a lunch break and no one looked down on side conversation. Basically, each minute wasn’t so precious. And it’s OK to stay late if you spend more time enjoying your day. My colleagues showed that stress doesn’t prove hard work.

I also appreciated the leeway my colleagues gave me. I was never treated like the intern, instead I was given real tasks. Their support made my work manageable. Their laughter made it enjoyable. Their leeway made it helpful.

Monmouth Coffee was one of the few coffee shops in London that did it right. Look at that single-cup drip!

Happy to have: Coffee

So I suppose this is related to co-workers. But since I haven’t seen my fellow baristas quite yet, I’ll just say….

It’s so good to have my coffee back.

I know, I know I’m an addict, and this is proof, but I don’t care. To order an iced coffee and actually get and iced coffee – not an iced americano or iced espresso – that’s brilliant. And real half and half is appreciated. Though there were a few places to get filter coffee in London, nowhere gave me a discount. Oh yeah, that weekly free pound of coffee from the “green giant;” I missed that too. Basically, coffee makes sense again. And that’s worth celebration. Perhaps with a another mug full?

I know the blog post everyone might be expecting. The one where I summarize my summer and explain how I’ve changed, but I’m still not quite ready to write that. Frankly, I have a bit of thinking to do. I have to let myself settle into being back.

Until then, I thought I’d post a few blogs about something I miss. This, unlike the summary post, is simple and readily available. But there are two sides to this story, so each of the next few posts will have not only something I miss about London but also something I’m glad to have back.

I will talk more about this later, but let me just say (generally speaking) I’m home, and I’m content.

This is when it truly sinks in that I’m no longer where I was. And for a city like Paris, this is when a consuming longing and lethargy kicks in.

But take it from me, Paris deserved every bit of that post-place depression.

For me, Paris was a cité des rêves (city of dreams). From the moment I stepped up and out of the Metro to see two signs reading, “boulangerie” (bread shop) and “patisserie” (pastry shop), I knew it going to be a delicious weekend.

Crazy crowds at the Mona Lisa. Good thing Mona doesn't have a sense of personal space.

After throwing our bags down and  grabbing some free hostel tartines, Joe and I headed straight for Mona. We sped walk though the museum, up stairs and down hallways. Then, we saw her…and the crowds. If each painting had the following of DaVinci’s ever-gazing gal, there wouldn’t be room to breathe. Don’t get me wrong, Mona Lisa was impressive hanging on it’s own wall, but it wasn’t life changing. Seeing the  crowds solidified the fact that our friend Lisa has become a photo-op.

Actually, Joe and I are convinced it’ s not even real. Think about it. If it’s that important, why display it? Especially when you can’t get within 20 feet to view it. Real or not, seeing the Louvre’s Lisa and walking around the building (which is art itself) was something worth remembering.

The Louvre was a museum that as impressive and artistic as its contents.

While I thought the Louve was a striking temple to art, the Musee d’Orsay was more moving. Boasting an impressive collection of Monets and Van Goughs, the museums heavy focus on impressionism was prefect for me. I was close enough to see the gobs of paint marking the end of each stroke on Van Gough’s Self Portrait.

The art of Paris extends far beyond its museums. Never have I ever been in a place more architecturally stunning. Paris maintains a standard of quality that sits above most cities. The city seemed set up so that every time I turned a corner I saw some new national monument. Even looking up the rooftops and terraces was enough to keep me interested.

And on the ground: cafes. So many cafes. In London and Dublin, it’s all about pubs. Though pub culture is one of the best parts about my summer, it was nice to trade the pubs for cafes last weekend. And they all had outdoor seating. I didn’t eat a single meal indoors.

Twice we even picked up baguette, cheese (good cheese for cheap!), cookies and wine and had a picnic. First time was in the Gardens at Versailles, the real sight at the palace. Absolutely stunning and massive. Glad we packed a lunch!

View of le Tour Effiel just before we sat down to picnic.

Our second picnic was the best possible cliche – a picnic in front of the Tour Effiel. This is another one of those sights that was so hyped it could’ve flopped, but it was truly awe-inspiring. And at night, from the top of the Arc d’Triomphe, the four of us watched as the Tour Effiel put on a that could’ve fit just as easily in Vegas. The tower flashed like a Christmas tree with millions of lights blinking on and off. It was as if the tower was covered with photographers taking rapid fire snapshots of the city below. Basically, it was a party.

But it wasn’t until late that night, when we went to Monmrtre, that we saw the real party. Crowds of people sitting and sharing a drink on the steps of what came to be my favorite  building in the city: Basilique du Sacré Cœur. This The surprise building sits on top of a hill overlooking the whole city. At night with people all around, music coming from who knows were and the city of lights in front of you, Sacré Cœur is the place to see Paris.

That view, the city, the weekend, they were unforgettable.

Initially I planned on taking a Eurostar under the Chunnel, but when I saw the price tag my penny-pinching brain said keep looking. So I listened. Then I found it, an overnight Eurolines coach bus from London to Brussels. About an eight-hour trek vs. an under two-hour high-speed train. It was also less than half the price – £38 round trip. I drive eight hours between college and home. This wouldn’t be so bad, right?

I got on the bus with another good friend studying in London for the summer, Joe. He and I were ready, armed with backpacks of reading material, iPods and Mars bars. But it wasn’t long before we ran into problems. Lack of leg room, reclining seats in front of us, frigid A/C and lack of leg room. Basically, our space was smaller than I expected. “I have to do eight hours of this,” I thought. I feared for my sleep.

We reached our first stopping point in Dover. We got off the bus and onto a ferry, which was as grand as the Titanic to my stretched out legs. But the respite didn’t last long. It was a false comfort. We were back on the bus in an hour and a half and separated by two other tourists who helped themselves to our seats by  moving our bags up above. I didn’t sleep.

Needless to say, I was less than thrilled about the overnight return, especially because I had class as soon as I got back to London.

But as the return ferry pulled up to Dover at sunrise, my sleepless journey to Brussels was instantly worth it. I saw a sight worth paying for – the White Cliffs at dawn. The orange sun pierced up and though the purple clouds painting the cliffs a slight cool blue. I stood out on the cold deck. My tee-shirt did nothing to protect me from the forceful wind, but I couldn’t leave. The cliffs were sublime against the still dark water.

But don’t take my word for it, try my photos.

My view off the ferry deck. What a happy accident.

Signs for the Expo were all over the city. I found this one in the Urban Planning Exhibition Center.

No matter the expressed theme of the 2010 World Expo – Better City, Better Life – the talk was on the pavilions. Look no further than the minimum hour-long queues for each one, or rumored 5 hour-long line for Saudi Arabia’s, to understand the pavilions were the show. And this makes sense. At the Expo, the pavilion is the nation. Each one is a chance to express national ideals, culture or make a statement. Armed with my World Expo passport, I set out to see “the world” in about 10 hours. Here are my thoughts on the highlights.

The UK was represented by the Seed Cathedral, a surrealistic pincushion containing a catalogue of seeds. Building design by Thomas Heatherwick.

UK Pavilion: Along with being one of the most talked about pavilions at the Expo, I figured I should start where I left off. As I approached the pavilion, better known as the Seed Cathedral, it didn’t feel real. I knew what it looked like from articles, but it just felt like I turned the page in a magazine and there it was. Resembling a smushed sea urchin this building seemed to blend into the gray sky. But on the inside, light flows though each glass rod. Colors danced around the cube like an optical illusion as I walked around. Though the cube-shaped pincushion is impressive from a distance (inside and out), its social impact is in the detail. Designed by Thomas Heatherwick, the Seed Chathedral is literally what it sounds like – a home to an extensive catalogue of seeds. On the inside ends of each of the over 6,000 metal needles is a seed crystallized in glass. It’s a library that preserves the natural world. It suggests the seeds are just as big a part of the future as the innovative building, which after exiting the inside looked a little more like a dandelion.

Close up of basket slabs covering the Spanish Pavilion.

España Pavilion: This one wasn’t on my short list, but the building’s design caught my eye (go figure). Wavy wicker rectangles covered the outside. Inside, it was a cave. And in true Spanish style, a Falmenco dancer welcomed us (and our cameras) in with a short show. The Spanish tradition continued as we walked further into the cave. Around six long film-strip-like video screens hung about the next room. They worked together to give us a time-lapse of Spanish culture with plenty of stunning beach and bull-running photos. After our engaging history lesson, we went into the final room. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. The final room was devoted to “the children.” More like the child. The big anamotronic baby. Simply frightening. Spain, I have to admit, you had me at Flamenco but nearly lost me robot baby.

India Pavilion: With two Indian students in our group, I was confident we’d get a good opinion on whether or not the pavilion was a success. Much like the Spanish one, culture was key with curry and mango lassie not overlooked! But the main attraction was stage in the center of the pavilion. Four Bollywood dancers put on a hip-shaking show featuring popular Indian song. How do I know they were popular? Well, my friends were singing along.

The Canadian Pavilion was truly a sight at night. Thanks, Cirque du Soleil.

Chille, Mexico, Canada Pavilions: And finally, we made our way to the Americas. Since the Expo was clearing out, we got to see a number of pavilions, among them Chile, Mexico, Canada and USA. Chile feel somewhere in between the social question style of the UK and the cultural focus of the Spain and Indian pavilions. Covered from floor to ceiling in wood, the Chilean pavilion asked the question: what is a city? Candidly displaying images of a less than sparkling Chile, this pavilion was striking and thought-provoking. It made the point that no matter the condition of the city (developed or not), a city is about relationships. The Mexican pavilion acted as a mini museum featuring a chuck of crystal from Mexico’s Cave of Crystals, which contains some of the world’s largest natural crystals, and an ancient Aztec frieze. I wish I could say more about Canada’s pavilion, but I was so distracted by the fun, intriguing design by Cirque du Soleil that I really couldn’t focus. But I made sure to spend some quality time with Minnesota’s neighbor to the north by enjoying my first Canadian poutine (fries with gravy and cheese cubes)…in Shanghai.

Here's an artist's rendering of the USA Pavilion from above. Do you see the eagle?

USA Pavilion: OK, on to the US. I saved my homeland for last. To say that the pavilion was very American is both a compliment and a criticism. The outside, which looks like a discarded insurance building, leaves little to write home about. Apparently it looks like a soaring eagle from above…why am I not surprised. The inside was a series of movie theatres feeding viewers with an image of the US, starting with Kobe Bryant. The first film focused on America’s future – the children – as told by CEO of Chevron and the other pavilion sponsors. And this sly PR plug continued throughout alongside video of Barack Obama, Hilary Clinton, Tony Hawk and other celebs. Then there was a video of a little girl who dreamed of turing the junk heap across her New York street into a garden. After a few failed attempts, her gracious neighbors come out of their apartments to make transform the gray spot into a colorful garden. Honestly, it was pretty vanilla. But the idealistic American in me sees the message – America as a supportive community, a place for dreams…brought to you by GE.

With each pavilion offering something different, my faux trip around the world felt slightly authentic. Seeing how each nation represented itself in a building gave me a good snapshot of culture. But after the day was all done, I couldn’t help but ask if it was worth it. To give it legitimacy, China poured two times the amount of money into the Expo as they did the 2008 Beijing Olympics. For me, it was worth it. However, when I looked around, I expected to see a greater diversity of Expo attendees. The Expo brings pavilions together, but what about people? If an Expo exists but no one has the money to come see it, does it truly impact the world? The idealist inside me hopes so.

Editor’s note: I will post more original photos as they come. My camera ran out of battery right after the UK Pavilion. It was rough.

This slight spacing mistake I found in a museum is nothing compared to my attempts at Chinese.

I like adventure. I knew when two of my group members and I said we were going to stick around at the Expo after the arranged bus left with everyone else that it would be just that. You can’t live your life only taking pre-arranged buses. Sometimes you have to take a city bus, take a subway, take a chance on the unknown public transportation system. So we stayed.

After the Expo shut down at 11pm, we walked a little ways to the metro (underground subway). We knew basically which stop we needed. We approached the ticket monitor with slight hesitation. “Oh, thank god,” we thought – there was an “English” button.  We selected our stop, feed the machine, grabbed our passes and headed down. We joined the small town that was the subway occupants, and literally squeezed into the car.

To give you an idea, I was standing with my hands holding on to the wallet and passport in my pockets. Without a single finger on a rail to maintain balance, I remained completely still. If it were a game of sardines, we would’ve won…big time. But we couldn’t stay in that car for long. We had to make two transfers to get back to the hotel. Luckily for us, every sign was also English. It was almost too easy.

When we got out of the car for our first transfer, we noticed the other people were running. I thought, why? Is this how everyone gets their exercise? Oh well, when in Rome. And we started running with the pack. Then, we reached our destination – line no. 1 – and my questions were answered.

Well, more or less. A man standing in front of where our connection was going to pick us up started talking to us and pointing at the other train. But when you don’t know the language, it’s more like talking at you. I stood in confusion until another person who needed the same train approached. He was turned away. We asked why. We received the same response and point.  Then, we saw a sign we hadn’t seen before. Until this point, all signs with train schedules must have only been posted in Chinese. But this one was clear. It read 23:01. It was 23:03. Like I said almost too easy. We thought they ran until midnight.

Defeated, we decided to take a cab. But this was no London black cab or NYC yellow cab. This was a Shanghai taxi with a driver who spoke Chinese, only Chinese. But no worries, the university gave us a card telling him where to go in Chinese. Still, it was not clear. I leaned forward and said, “Fudan University. Fundan?” He shook his head and spoke words that earned him a similar response from me. I was sitting in the back seat, but the driver and I were a hemisphere apart.

This calligraphy is eye-catching, but what does it say?

The difficult thing about Chinese for a Latin-language mind is the characters. I couldn’t even sound out where I wanted him to take us.  He continued to look at it and after noticing the map on the back, he put his glasses on. Then he talked for another minute and a half. He had questions; it was clear. But there was nothing I could do. We all started to get a little nervous. He had a map and the name, but we were still sitting there. Why?

He eventually stopped talking and started driving. This didn’t make me feel better. Did he know where we were going? If he did, why did it take some long? And what was he saying? We’re going to get lost, I thought. Lost because of translation. Thankfully, we made it back just fine and with enough time for me to fall asleep watching a World Cup match…in Chinese.

Forget the five course meal. In China, the courses continue and repeat.

There’s another course?!

In Shanghai, our group was lucky enough to have the help and guidance of a few students from Fudan University. This also means that our gracious hosts prepared welcome and farewell dinners for us. And in the nicest way, it’s fair to say they over prepared. In America a fancy dinner consists of five distinct courses. In China they keep coming. We sat down at the table. The rim of the large, glass lazy susan was lined with dishes. Then there was another. And a few more. Then the fried rice came. Then another dish. Honestly, I don’t know when it stopped. At both meals, a new dish was presented before I could use my chopsticks to maneuver the previous one onto my plate.

While there, I set up a don’t ask unless you really can’t tell and are a little scared policy. So I just ate and kept a close eye on how my Chinese friends approached each new dish. There was one thing I remember asking about. A pale, pink, fleshy tree-branch looking dish was in front of me, and I simply had to know before I took my twig. It was chicken feet. “Eat around the knuckle,” my professor told me. Eat around the what? Call me what you will, but I don’t eat feet. Gelatinous purple spotted diamond thing, yes. Feet, no.

Smog cloaks the otherwise stunning Shanghai skyline.

Smog, stop blocking my view:

Shanghai is an intriguingly beautiful city. Nowhere is the city’s unique design more apparent than on the top of the Shanghai World Financial Center, the third tallest building in the world. From the 97th floor, I was able to see…almost nothing. It wasn’t until I walked right up to the window that I saw the city below though the thick, hazy smog. I probably should’ve expected it, but the smog came as a surprise.

Juxtapositioning itself between two worlds:

Walking around Shanghai the first day, it was immediately apparent that it is a city of progress. But according to our tour guide and a number of exhibits at the Urban Planning Exhibition Center, it’s more specifically about rapid progress. The Shanghai I saw this week looked almost nothing like the one from 30 years ago. Shanghai grew and grew fast. Thereby juxta-positioning itself somewhere between its traditional Chinese history and its technologically minded present. But this is an important part of their culture. There is an obvious Western influence – in dress, pop music, etc – but keeping some of the old structures around maintains tradition. Though some of these building were sad to see, beaten up and forgotten about, others stood with cultural charm. This juxtaposition was emblematic of the nation as a whole – building a competitive future from a historic society.

Queues seemed endless at the 2010 World Expo

Queues, queues, queues:

Shanghai is the largest city in the world using all of city proper or the 10th largest metropolitan area. Either way, it’s dense and crowded. Like London, this means one thing above all else: queues. Each attraction usually has more than one – a queue and then a line for the queue. So needless to say, we spent a lot of time waiting, especially at the 2010 World Expo (more on the Expo in an upcoming post). I usually don’t mind waiting. I’m pretty patient, I think. But the queues at the expo were not passive or relaxing. They became a site for minor battles between Expo-goers. Some trying to push to the front, person by person. Others, like myself, just trying to move with the line. These pushy dissenters soon became a source of frustration for me and three other group members. Our solution was to form what we referred to as an “inseparable cube” spanning the width of the line. And this cube worked. We blocked the tricky sneakers and made it though in one square-shaped piece. Queues work, but only when proper queue educate is followed. I’m looking at you, short older woman in the straw hat.

Under the 雨伞, ellas, ellas, eh?

I noticed a trend in Shanghai. Frankly, you’d have to be actively dumb to miss it. No matter where I went this week – Expo, Yu Garden, People’s Square, etc. – everyone had an umbrella. Though it never rained once on the trip, umbrellas were a sunny staple for the locals. Personally, sun-brellas are annoying. I just don’t get them.

After being hit by a few and running into a few more, I was talking to one of our guides about their purpose. Explicitly they are used to keep out the sun. However, the reason for avoiding the sun goes beyond keeping cool. I was told Chinese women want to have lighter skin because it’s considered more beautiful. Interesting. Nice to know sun-brellas have a deeper purpose. Still, they just look out of place everywhere…except for Shanghai.

Fishes fly above market-goers' heads at Yu Garden.

On the third day, we didn’t have an agenda. So naturally, we spent our money on neat, but probably not all that unique, market goods. For me, this experience at Yu Garden was less about the souvenirs and more about the process of getting them. Everyone knows all of the items are ridiculously overpriced, so it becomes a game of haggling prowess. After a near transaction and some sound advice from one of the people in the group, who has haggled at markets in Mumbai (he’s from India), I felt ready. I haggled my way into a few gifts.

For anyone in a similar situation, here’s my advice: haggle, haggle, walk. Offer 1/4 of the price, offer your final price and if you don’t get either, walk. And if you’re like me, you’ll get your final offer after you walk out. But make sure to completely leave the store. He/she must believe you no longer want the product. Only then will he/she succumb to your price.

If that doesn’t work, try the same shop two doors down.

Chinese clubbin’

I’m in college. I couldn’t leave Shanghai without checking out some of the nightlife. On our last night there, we did the Chinese cliché: karaoke bar. Let me tell you, without hesitation, it was everything I expected but better. Trading English and Chinese songs with the students from Fudan was simply hilarious. They shared some of their favorites with us, and we brought such classics as “Livin’ on a Prayer,” “YMCA,” and “Help!” to their attentions. But there was one song we all – Chinese and American students – knew the words to (though we didn’t all admit it right away): “Bad Romance.” Who knew Lady Gaga was a cultural bridge? After karaoke, a few of us went to a bar called Banana Bar. I don’t have much to say other than to share an observation another in the group made: “We’re at a club in the People’s Republic of China.” Yeah, that was different.

Well, I hope you’ve enjoyed my random musings and stories about my trip to Shanghai. There were more that I didn’t include, but I’de be honored if you even read all of the above. If nothing else, I want to say that my trip was truly out of the ordinary. I saw a culture so unlike the ones I’ve been a part of in the states and in the UK. It was a trip I won’t forget, and I’m incredibly thankful for the opportunity. But I was ready come back from being abroad…to still being abroad. Funny thing, London doesn’t feel so far away now.

Yu Garden features more traditional Chinese architecture.

Modern Shanghai from 97 floors up in the World Financial Center.

Worried about finding a queue like this inside of Heathrow, I left early...really early.

Some part of me knew I would mess up. No matter my particular planning, my first flight out of Heathrow was bound to be rough. However, I didn’t know that last Friday.

I had everything set.

1. Bag packed
2. Oyster card topped-up
3. E-ticket printed
4. Hostel information printed
5. Money for coffee at the airport*

I was ready for my first weekend away from my temporary home base. Ready to leave my summer “vacation” in London for a quick holiday in Dublin. (And ready to see a special someone, you know who you are)

I left the house, equipped at 12:40pm and made my way to the tube. I planned for an hour on the tube and about two hours to get through security at that five-terminal monster. I heard horror stories of endless queues, and was recommended to give myself the extra time. My flight was at 4:50pm (16:50 in London time).

When I stepped off the tube at 13:40, I looked at my phone. Did some quick math, and realized I had 3 hours to get through security. Now, I know journalism majors like to joke about their math skills, so I’ll refrain. But, come on! That was an hour earlier than planned, but my subconscious knew what time it was from the start.

In that moment, a wave of panic washed the relaxing feeling of the three-hour time frame from my mind and I thought, “I’ve made a huge mistake.” I forgot my passport*.

I didn’t even look. I didn’t even stop to question whether or not it could be in my bag or in my pocket. I knew it wasn’t there. Suddenly three hours felt like 10 minutes. That one ride took the whole hour. I didn’t have two more to spare. Minutes were precious, and that inevitable stop between Paddington and Edgeware Road would’ve been minutes wasted. So I thought, I have to bite the bullet and take a cab.

£60 (that’s $100 for my American friends) and 30 min later I was back at my apartment. It was 14:20. Without stopping for the elevator – sorry, lift – I ran up four floors of stairs and found my passport right where I left it. Like I said, I never thought about it. I knew where it was, just didn’t think to bring it.

The Heathrow Express. Faster than the tube, but expect to pay for it.

Then I ran with my backpack bouncing from side to side with an embarrassing thud, thud, thud towards the tube station. I was going to cab back, but the cab driver advised me not to – rush hour. He said my best bet was the tube or Heathrow Express. Still mentally rushed for time, I choose the express.

£18 ($27) and a 40 min later, Goliath and I met again. The clock read 15:10. Last step: security. With about an hour and a half to spare, I felt OK. There was always the possibility of getting lost inside the maze though (which I saved for the Dublin airport on my return flight).

I read 15:20 on my phone after it joined me on the other side of the security check point. 10 minutes, it only took 10 minutes to get through. £80, it took £80 to get me there and through before my gate was even posted.

And though I spent $120 on a mistake, I still had the money from #5 in my pocket and time to spend. (see above list)

*most important

Sometimes I stick out like this Underground sign. My confusion signals my red, white and blue heritage.

In so many respects London feels like a more historically focused, reserved New York. Much of the time it is familiar and not so far away from home. But since coming here there have been a few little things that I just cannot get used to.

For your amusement, here’s a list of some of them:

1. Stairs, streets and other walkways – OK, I get the whole driving on the other side of the road thing. That’s an expected quirk. You’d think this law would apply, as it does in the US, to the general flow of traffic on stairs and other walkways. From what I can tell, it’s stand on the left. In practice, this is not the case. People simply walk wherever there’s space and say polite ‘sorry’s or ‘scuze me’s. I’m constantly confused.
2. Wi-Fi – It’s nowhere….unless you’re willing to pay. I believe this is an international issue, but it’s especially cumbersome here in London. It’s 2010, time for free Wi-Fi.
3. Frequent grocery trips – In Columbia, I go to the grocery store, stock up and return a few weeks later. Here, you buy for the next day or two because that’s how long the food on the shelves will stay good for. Oh, and mind the expiration dates! They’re serious.
4. Street signs - They’re impossible to find. You have to look on either side of the buildings to find them. Sometimes they’re at eye-level. Sometimes they’re next to the second story windows. Other times they’re not even next to the corner, instead they’re a little ways down the street. Patience is necessary.
5. (On that note) Layout – This city is not set up on a grid. It’s not parallel 1st Ave, 2nd, 3rd. This city has narrow veins that wrap around it’s architecture in peculiar ways. This I do not see as a bad thing though. It encourages exploration because you will get lost, and for now, getting lost means seeing the city. It just means giving myself twice as long to get anywhere.

Honestly, these are “challenges.” Nothing major, but enough to remind me that I’m an ocean away from home.