After about a 44-hour whirlwind through London, I’m on a train to Harwich, on the coast of England, where I hope to catch a ferry to the Netherlands either tonight or tomorrow morning.
When I arrived at Heathrow Thursday evening, I had been thinking I would head for one of the campgrounds on the outskirts of the city, since I had a tent already. However, I arrived about an hour later than scheduled, and I was exhausted from five days with little more than one- and two-hour naps, so I wasn’t relishing the idea of spending another hour or more on a train to pitch a tent in the dark. So I booked a hotel at Heathrow. Accommodations at the airport come in two types: outrageously expensive and frighteningly expensive. I chose outrage over fear.
It turns out the place I booked, the Marriott London Heathrow, had only opened five weeks earlier, and it was beautiful. I took a very long shower, had two pints in the hotel bar, and went to sleep. And I slept. And slept. Straight through until my alarm at 10. I guess maybe I was tired.
After breakfast, I decided that since I hadn’t gotten in touch with any of my friends in London at that point, I decided that it was just as good a place as any to spend the night again, so I extended my reservation. Then I went into the city for the day.
I took the Underground to Leicester Square, which was a good central spot for seeing a number of sights in London. I saw St. James Park, Buckingham Palace, Parliament, and so on. In the meantime, I managed to get in touch with a college classmate who lives in London, and we set up a time and place to meet.
Actually, I’m going to stop here for now and catch up later. I’m feeling a little sleepy. Last night was a little rough.