London, and all my love.

Here was my thinking after Kilimanjaro: What did I really have to rush back to in the states? While I'm over here, why not spend a few days in one of my favorite cities?

I studied abroad in London in college, and it was probably the best four months of my life. I know that semester had more to do with the people around me and the friends I made, but with London as a backdrop, how can you not love life?

We arrived in London from Tanzania at about 6:00am. Since I couldn't check into my hotel until 3p, I got some coffee and read my book, then hopped on the tube up to Columbia Road, where a Londoner on the trip told me about a great flower market. I asked him if that was where Eliza Doolittle was supposed to be from, but he said no, :( womp womp. Regardless, I had a great time perusing all the flower booths, the sellers yelling out "two for five pounds!" and smelling all the wonderful flowers. There were some cute shops around there too, and I ducked into most of them to see what hip London shops had to offer.

Flowers for days.

I was pretty close to Islington, my old stomping grounds, so I walked up to Angel station and looked around. It smells and looks the same, and all these wonderful memories came flooding back. I remembered having a very in depth conversation with a friend as we turned the corner onto the high street to go into the tube. I remembered feeling sorry for the homeless people who slept on the air vents to keep warm in the winter, and shuffling back home after (many) nights of drinking in pubs. Oh it was wonderful.

At this point, it's a wonder I was even awake, let alone walking with some mental faculties throughout a large city. I stopped at The York near Angel station for a fish sandwich, some "chips," and a couple glasses of wine. I read my book and helped a young couple fix their caddywompus table, glad to be out of the chilly wind for a while.

A few more shops later, it was finally past three o'clock, so I headed back to the St. James's Hotel to check in. I spent the rest of the night like an old lady: took a bath, ordered room service, and watched a movie.

--

I woke up rested and relaxed, and ready to do some shopping. I wandered down Regent Street, went into a few stores, and bought a couple things. My general goal was a book store near Marylebone called Daunt Books. I read about it a few months ago and couldn't wait to go in. It was basically the cutest bookstore in the world probably, and I loved getting lost in it while the rain ting-tinged on the long glass skylight.

After a little bite of hummus and pita bread in a pub, and a glass of wine of course, I walked over to Baker Street, where...you know...

#obsessed #bethbreeding

*sigh*


So then, I decided to walk down Baker Street back to my hotel. It was a gray, rainy day, and I loved getting to see a different part of the city. Right down Baker Street is Selfridge's, and I couldn't not go in, especially since my mom and I love that show "Mr. Selfridge" on PBS. I noticed that they had a salon on the top floor, and I was in no hurry, so naturally I got a manicure. The manicurist got all that dirt out from underneath my nails from the mountain (ewww), and I was feeling so pampered.

I spent the final night of my trip at the hotel, content to just read my book, eat a delicious meal, and drink some good wine. I know most people don't ideally want to spend a few days alone in a foreign city, and I probably would have loved some company for part of it. But after being in close quarters with 32 other people for the better part of a week, it was nice to have some time to think, to process what I had just done, and enjoy civilization. As usual, I'm already ready to go back.

Anyone want to come?