Habitual runners get off on the kick in of endorphins that give them that extra boost they need. I get the same jolt from an exciting day of travel or an unexpected side trip to a new and undiscovered land (for me…not for all mankind) that I hadn’t planned to visit. Traveling seems to give me a near constant roller coaster type of adrenaline rush. It’s a healthy drug, travel, but may cost a bit more than crack.

I was flying to New York City in five days. My trip was winding down. I was about to return to the United States after 15+ months traveling around the world and living out of the same bag (my faithful traveling companion…which I often refer to as my boyfriend—he’s sturdy and trusty, but can often be a pain in the ass and the wheels and metal zippers aren’t too cozy to cuddle with). My last few days in England I was not planning a whole lot, but then wham!

Another spontaneous trip miraculously presented itself on my very last weekend abroad. I was staying in the charming old Roman town of Bath, England (aptly named for the natural hot springs discovered there by the Romans about 2000 years ago) for a few days before I headed back towards London just to jump into Heathrow one of the world’s busiest airports and go through a possible strip search at the tight British airport security for the zillionth time and board the thirty-fourth flight of my world tour to rack up approximately 115 hours of flight time and 42, 220 miles (67, 946 kms) around the planet.

A British friend and fellow world traveler, Caroline, who I’d met during a ‘swim with the Dolphins’ experience in the chilly waters (freeze your ass off type of ‘chilly’) off of the North Island of New Zealand, lives near Bath and we planned to meet for lunch before I was to hop on a train and head back into London. I was planning to spend my last three nights in England actually outside of London in a small town near Windsor with another friend I’d made in Turkey who graciously offered up his flat to me and my boyfriend (Mr. Suit Case), but then he (Glen, not my bag) came down with the flu and feared his nasty germs were coating all the surfaces of his home. Caroline emailed me about how it was too bad I couldn’t join her and her girlfriends for the weekend in a resort town on the north coast of Wales. ‘But…wait…I can join you!’

And another great trip unfolded perfectly before me right when I needed it.

I joined four other single thirty-somethings for the weekend in Llandudno, Wales where we hiked and laughed over glasses of wine by the fire sharing tales of travel, men, and other girly things (so “Sex & the City”). We even got pulled over by some lovely Welsh policemen. Caroline had forgotten to put her lights on—good thing they didn’t notice us driving the wrong way down a one-way street about five minutes prior (and it was the Brit driving on the ‘right’ side of the street, not the American). The area was beautiful with rocky, green hills meeting the sea through the foggy mist. It was a perfect weekend and the perfect temporary ending to my travels.

Oh, how I will miss this rush of the unexpected trip that seems to come out of nowhere, but really comes from all the cool friends I’ve made around the world. If it weren’t for them I would never have seen the amazing terraced mountainsides of SaPa, Vietnam, the beautiful vineyard covered island of Bozcaada, Turkey, or the multi-personalitied charming yet industrial city of Gothenburg, Sweden. I guess it’s true what they say: When one door closes, another one opens.

Sorry to jump ahead in the chronological order of things and post a story out of order. But I’ve just traveled to a new town…see if you can guess where:

Back on terra firma…

What’s that in the distance?

Another Train Journey…

When you get caught between the moon and New York City…

This is the city that never sleeps, the Big A, say it with me…New Yawk City! Yep, I’m back on American soil. I landed at JFK International Airport and made my way to chilly Manhattan on the subway while the sun set and a full moon rose. And there she was, looking a bit shorter than I remembered. No, not the statue of Liberty, my nearly 94-year-old grandmother, Esta Lubin. Oy Vey! I’m home.
Now back to the London story…

Random London Musings:

One rave:

The city is full of amazing museums. I’m not a huge museum goer and still checked out the Tate Modern (housed inside an old power plant on the banks of the Thames), the Victoria & Albert, the Natural History Museum, the British Museum (which boasts the largest covered square in Europe), and the National Gallery. They are all great and the buildings themselves were oftentimes just as impressive as the contents inside. And the best part—they are free. You can just pop in for no more than an hour and not become overwhelmed because of their size because you know you can always go back whenever you want thanks to the no-admission fee.

And one rant:

What is up with the eat-in/take-away differing prices? I don’t find this very fair and frankly don’t understand why this concept is still around.

One Cheer:

All the pubs, bars, and restaurants have gone ‘smoke-free.’ I have to say it is wonderful to hang out in pubs now where it just smells like someone’s living room (not even stale beer smell) and not a smoky den that would make my clothes stink and usually make me leave early due to the inability to no longer breathe.

One Jeer:

The London Underground does not run all night nor were there any train or bus services at all on Christmas Day. C’mon people, this is London not Albuquerque (sorry my friends in NM)! London is one of the biggest cities in the world with an incredibly diverse population who certainly don’t all celebrate Christmas and need to ‘move’ on the 25th of December. I mean even New York and Chicago have public transport still going on that day and have 24 hour trains the rest of the year.

I have traveled all over the world and had trouble reading the street names in some places in Germany or Turkey (Can you say: Mecidiyeköy? It’s pronounced Medj-i-dee-ye-kurr), but even though they are in English, some names in London are just as foreign to me. I couch surfed near “Tooting Bec” tube stop. I could have eaten at the very appetizing sounding restaurant chain, ‘Slug and Lettuce,’ but I didn’t. I passed pubs with names like ‘The Blue-Eyed Maid” and “the Rat and Parrot” and “the Hairy Armpit.” And I could have eaten ‘winkles and whelks’ (snails), but I didn’t.

One night I met Tony, Emma, Nick, and Sara at the Cow, a famous pub near Notting Hill. I don’t often go into bars alone as I usually feel more comfortable going solo at a café with a coffee and a book. But it was damn cold out and when I got there, the friendly, intimidating atmosphere beckoned me inside for a quick pint. This surprisingly turned into a few pints and dinner.

The Cow was a nice corner pub (not really sure if it is on a corner though), not too trendy and not too ‘over done’ fake British. I was at a small table just across from the bar partaking in a pint and reading my trusty guidebook (Lonely Planet) just minding my own business. That is, until I started eavesdropping on the conversation next to me between two guys (one of whom had an American accent) and two gals. Their conversation had turned to Americans and how easy it is for them to find ‘legal’ work in Britain. This sparked my interest and my nerve to jump into their chat. I was feeling a kinship with my fellow American and, as always, was curious to hear his story. I finally blurted out in my tell-tale American accent, “Please tell me where to find work because I’m an illegal American always looking.” They laughed, introduced themselves, and in literally seconds were inviting me to join them for dinner. Tony was a documentary filmmaker in New York, Emma was an Artist. Oh, and she used to be married to George C. Scott’s son. It turned out to be another fun night and quite typical of the solo traveler who may not be alone enough to even use the word ‘solo.’

I spent the rest of my rainy and damp days in London strolling around picturesque ‘hoods like Chelsea, Hampstead, and South Kensington catching up with friends I had met during my travels around the world: a late ‘English’ breakfast with the fun English School owner I’d become friends with in Istanbul, lunch with the sweet British law student I’d cruised down the Danube with in Budapest, dinner and drinks with the charming Airline CEO I’d met years back at the British Consulate’s house in Chicago, sleeping at the flat of a cool chick I’d met on a tour of Turkey, wine and feasting with an Australian Couch Surfing Host and her cool Tasmanian (and nicely devilish) friend, beers with a cute chap and fellow Crisis volunteer, dinner with a Sri Lankan/Australian I’d also met in Turkey who lives in London, and a partridge in a pear tree…

London is an expensive city. The British Pound is worth twice as much as the sad, weak U.S. ‘greenback.’ So for those making bags of Sterling, that can mean a lot of disposable income floating around and of course, there are a lot of places to spend it. Besides the glittering and massive stores like Harrods and Harvey Nichols, there are other great places to find just about anything you ‘don’t’ really need. Oh, and the first ever (and the largest) Whole Foods outside of the United States has recently opened here in the fashionable South Kensington neighborhood.

I had fun checking out several of the local markets:

Camden Market— Commercialized hippie Market with intense incense, smiling Buddhas, and heaps of hemp clothing. It’s huge, fun, and goes on forever, but you can always take a break and feast at some of the great ethnic food stalls scattered about.

Borough Market— In a great location just under the London Bridge across from the gothic Southwark Cathedral. This arched brick cavern of gourmet delights was one of my favorites. It was all about food and I’m all about that. What to eat? Ostrich burgers, Panini sandwiches, German sausages, juicy olives, Moroccan cous cous, gooey brownies, and steamy coffees beckon you on a chilly, damp London afternoon. And apparently the famous ‘naked chef,’ Jamie Oliver, shops here often for his local organic ingredients.

Spitalfields Market— A trendy, modern glass-covered market surrounded with restaurants and boutiques, this market has the standard jewelry, photography, and t-shirt stalls.

Sunday Up Market—This one was just a block away from Spitalfields, but was it’s edgier pierced cousin. Located inside the Old Truman Brewery…which is old, just like its name, and in 1873 it was the largest brewery in the world, .is a hip, alternative market full of young artists and designers selling overpriced cool t-shirts, jewelry, and the like. This market of current coolness is also has some great food stalls—from Ethiopian specialties and Spanish paella to hand rolled sushi and Turkish delights.