The glory of trains

Since I won't have reliable computer access for the foreseeable future, I apologize for the onslaught of blogging.  It is hard to type on a kindle fire without a keyboard.

I love the availablity of travel modes here.  Buses and trains that are fairly regular and on time (more than in the US anyway).  However, one big difference for me is that where you are going to "end" your trip is not the same place as where the bus or train is going to "end".  So this is my journey to York...

A little back story for those of you who don't know me that well: I like sleep.  I LOVE to sleep.  Also, if I am in a vehicle (car, train, bus, plane etc.) and am not driving, engaged in conversation or eating pretzels (don't ask) I will fall asleep.  In minutes.


My train left at 06.15.  And I was up late with my courchsurfing host the night before so I got about 5 hours of sleep.  This trip however requires 2 train changes.  So I fight to stay awake for the first 25 minutes, am successful and make the first change at King's Cross station.

I get off at the appropriate station and then onto the next train.  Again, I forced myself to stay awake, despite the gentle sway of the train.  As we near the station I'm supposed to get off at, I start to gather my things, but slower than usual.  The train stops, I'm still gathering.  I finish gathering and begin to walk to the door, but the door closes.  I push the door opening button but once they close, they are closed.  Damn.  So I sit down and take the train to the next station.  I get off there, cross to the other side, and wait the 20 minutes for the next train.

So I go back to the CORRECT station, wait for the next available train, then get on that one.  I'm now running 45 minutes behind schedule.  Sigh.  Fortunately my couch surfing host, Simon, who was going to meet me at the station to give me a key, agreed to hide a key for me in his yard since I was going to be much later than expected.

So I'm on the longest leg of my journey now and REALLY can't keep my eyes open.  I have an hour to kill so I allow myself to close my eyes and drift off.  Yeah, yeah, I know.  Set a timer!  But I forget that the station I was getting off at was not the END for this train.

I wake up 2 hours later.  I'm almost at the station 1hr PAST my intended departure.  So, while I'm feeling well rested, I'm feeling rather silly.  Simon texts me to see if I found the key alright.  I fess up and tell him. He replies: "I'm laughing my tits off right now.  Sorry.  Hope it works out soon."

I get off the train, find the platform for the train going BACK the other way, wait 20 minutes, get back on a train and manage to stay awake for the hour it takes for me to get to York.

I got there 3 hours later than planned, I felt really silly but I learned.

Fortunately York was fantastic and it helped me to forget the ridiculus turmoil I went through getting to such a beautiful desitnation.

So what I have learned:
Set alarms.  Yeah, more than one.
Double and triple check the trains you get on.
Arrive early.
GET A FULL NIGHT'S SLEEP the night before an early train.
Set an alarm!
Be waiting for the door to open before the train has even stopped.
Oh yeah, SET AN ALARM!!!!!!

London Baby!!

London.  Big.  Enormous.  AND OLD!!

I decided to venture into London right off the plane, on 3 hours of sleep.  The phenomenal Julz had picked me up at the airport, took me to breakfast and in her usual level of enthusiasm agreed to go into town with me.  I had warned her that I wanted to do the touristy shit.  Big Ben.  The London Eye.  Find a phone booth and take a cliche picture in one.  She may not have been smiling as she put up with me, but let's face it, smiling is rare for her to begin with.

I owe her about 8 pints for putting up with me on one thing though.  I wanted to see platform 9 3/4 in King's Cross Station.  We got there and she pointed me in the right direction and then, there was a que.  Of course.  Granted we were there in the morning, so it could have been much worse, but still it was a good 30 minutes before I got to grab on to that trolly and imagine I was finally on my way to the Hogwart's express after receiving my letter of acceptance 20 years too late.  

Turns out they have made the platform into even more of a tourist trap.  Before the remodel apparently the trolley was just there, in the middle of a wall, no fuss, no muss.  Now it has a fancy sign and there is a new "9 3/4 Store" next to it.  They now have a staff photographer out there to take your picture and then you can go inside and buy your overpriced photo  in a ridiculous frame.  Now, they also had a SECOND staff member who put a scarf around your neck (of the chosen house) and then holds the scarf out behind you as the photographer gets ready to click.  

Now, let us paint a little bit more of a picture.  I am surrounded by about 35 avid harry potter fans, from all over, speaking multiple languages and then Julz who is less than enthusiastic about the long ass que we are in.  The photographer was Spanish and talked in a lovely Spanish accent with a little bit of a lisp.  As he got ready to take the picture, the second staff member was holding the scarf out behind the photographee, I would hear, in that lovely Spanish accent, "1, 2, 3 aaaaaaaaaaand scaaaaaaaaarf".  Yeah.  EVERY. DAMN. TIME.

Yes, I got a photo of me running through the enchanted wall.  Yes it was a blast.  Yes, I am still in love with Harry Potter.  However, I will NEVER be able to look at a house scarf without hearing that voice saying (over and over again) "1, 2, 3 aaaaaaaaaaaaaand scaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarf".