Wales at last!

We left off on the night before the trip to Wales. Now imagine if you will yet another early wet English morning heading to the tube at which we will meet our coaches. At least this time I was not heading there alone. Thank goodness for that fact. I actually managed to make it to the meeting place on time, thanks to the added company. In fact we arrived a little early. So we went to find snacks and the ever-needed coffee fix. We did get the snacks, though no sign of caffeine was to be found at 7:45am in this part of town on a Saturday. We boarded the bus, found nice seats near the rear and met up with another fellow Bunacer, an Australian named Scott who is quite a chatty fellow! (No.. seriously he's chatty. He'd drive even the infamous "Chatty Kathy" to beyond the brink.) A very nice guy to be sure, just chatty. Finally, almost on time this week, we revved the engines and set off. Well we didn't rev them, the drive rather calmly pulled out and set us on our way through the north of London, on through to Oxford where we were to pick up a few more people before we headed out Cheapstowe Castle, the oldest stone castle in the UK.

It is an amazing example of architecture that stands the test of time. Mary and I were in awe as we made our way around all over the grounds, starting with the latest buildings and working back to the oldest portion, the great hall (built circe 1067, a year after William the Conqueror was crowned King). We then went and had lunch and boarded the bus to go on to the Wye Valley and the Forest of Dean. Coming to the ruins of an abbey claimed to be one of the most incredible ruins in the country, Tintem Abbey. Apparently I was in agreement with this statement as I took several, many, dozens of pictures from every angle conceivable of this abbey (seen now on Ofoto.com ;). We were told that this place served as inspiration for many artists and writers including Turner (famous English landscape painter) and Wordsworth (Romantic poet). I could definitely see why. It was breathtaking the way the light landed on the hills around the Abbey and cast shadow among the ruins. Mary and I walked around talking about how much the place reminded us of Colorado (she's a big fan of Colorado, and has visited there several times). Finally after contented ourselves with the beauty of the valley and discussing possibilities of settling down and raising families in a place like this (obviously first, we'd both need to find husbands but minor detail really), we made our way back to the group to head off to Hay-on-Wye, my new favorite Welsh town.

You may wonder why a small Welsh town called Hey-on-Wye is my favorite place so far in all of Great Britain. Needless to say the name itself is quite a draw, and fun to say. But the real reason for my adoration of such a place is the fact that there are 39 (you heard it 39) second-hand bookstores all in about a two mile strip. Unfortunately due to our late leaving and other delaying events throughout the day, we only reached this great little town at about 5:00pm. Just about the time everyone was closing up shop. Therefore, we weren’t able to explore around as much as we would’ve liked but I hope to get back there another day so I can go in to every store. But for the time being we Mary, Scott the Aussie and I, ran into the few shops that were still open and searched for second hard British versions of Harry Potter. Then we had to leave this quaint town for the hostel. After getting lost in the dark, we managed to find our hostel for the night. A nice big manor house called Baskerville Hall. Apparently it was once the set of a film version of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s famous novel. It was a lovely place though the food service was quite a bit slow. They did have a pool, sauna, club, restaurant and bar (separate). The club services a lot of Welsh towns nearby, so there were some good times to be had hanging out with the locals. (Sidenote: The English are not great fans of the Welsh and I was warned off by my flatmate that they are basically the British version of rednecks known here as, pardon my British, “sheep-shaggers”.) Needless to say I didn’t enjoy the clubbing times as I was exhausted and went to bed early, which amazingly quite a few other people did too. The one seeming draw-back of the hostel was that for a 16-bed dorm filled with girls, they had one shower. Luckily it worked out better than I imagined. Only about half of us decided to even shower at all considering the next day would be spent on horses which would make us stinky again anyways. And those few who did shower used the one available in our room and another that was just outside the dorm room, down the hall a bit. After a night spent in relative warmth and comfort we awoke the next morning, hopped on the bus again for the drive to Breacon Beacons where the little ponies awaited us.

Now, remember from a while back I mentioned buying boots especially for this trip. Remember that the boots weren’t exactly hiking boots, but had a more stiletto like heel to them? Well here’s where they come into play. For those of us who didn’t have the proper footwear and weren’t able to procure it before we left our leader, Karen, was kind enough to purchase multiple sets of Wellington boots so that everyone could ride in safety. Assuming my boots fit the bill I told her I didn’t need any “Wellies”. Arriving at the riding ground, we all started to put on our boots. Karen noticed my boots and was very distraught – of course these couldn’t be used to ride the horses! I had to either find real boots with proper heels now or not ride. My heart sank… and my embarrassment soared! I was the jerk holding everyone else up because of my stupid, fashionable, pointy-toed, high-heeled, suede boots. Luckily another girl who had Wellingtons that were my size was kind enough to switch with me and wear her normal shoes. So finally things were settled, though I still couldn’t look any of my companions in the eyes for much of the journey home. After suiting up, including boots, helmet and breast plate, we had a bit of a training session on how to ride the horses, English style, then took them out for about a 2 hour run of it. Then we went to lunch at a local pub with good atmosphere and good food. The most fun of that was watching everyone attempt to sit down. We then ventured back for another 45 minute ride on another trial.

Having said that let me now say that it was the most gorgeous, awe-inspiring part of my stay here altogether. Unfortunately I have no pictures to back my claim that this was some of the more stunning countryside, as we weren’t allowed to bring anything but ourselves on the ride. But imagine if you will, rolling hills of green with trees just turning to yellow and orange. Sheep were everywhere – hence the not so polite epithet. Over the hills we went, under the trees, crossing a little waterfall – no, not to grandmother’s house we go – through the picturesque Welsh country. It is beyond my sad attempts to describe how beautiful the scene was. It simply filled me with awe and contentment.

After our horse-riding, we all got back on the bus and headed for London. We finished watching the rest of Matrix 2 and 3 (which I rather enjoyed to my surprise) on the way back. Returning once again to ISH (Int’l Student House) everyone scattered to the winds trying to get back to their respective homes. Let’s just say though the beauty and wonder of Wales will stay with me for a long time, it took a good three days before I could move and sit normally again. So there is the tale of Wales.

Next to come: Borough Market shopping spree, Mary leaves, Thanksgiving abroad and LOTR all the way!

Bonfire night

Moving right along, the Thursday before we went to Wales I had to go buy a new coat, one that would actually protect me form the Welsh country cold. So I went to one of the little shops down the street from my flat. I walked into one that I'd been in before, just to look around and I ended up getting a coat, a sweater and a pair of boots. I love the new coat and sweater, the boots will be important to the Wales trip story later. The boots are a nice pair of brown suede knee-high stiletto heels. Earlier I received a message from Bunac saying that everyone needed a pair of heeled shoes so that they can ride the horses. So having prepared myself in the shopping department I went on to the last day of the work week and the British version of Halloween, November 5th. Known as Bonfire Night or Guy Fawkes night or the Gun Powder Plot night. Basically a celebration of when Guy Fawkes tried to blow up the Parliament with gun powder. Obviously he didn't succeed, he was actually rated out by a co-conspirator and later killed for treason. Now however they mark the anniversary of the day by setting off fireworks all over the country and set up bon fires (though I didn't see any of those in my adventures around southern London).

My friend Mary (from York and Stonehenge) and I decided to try and find some fireworks display way down south of the river, close to where she lives. So we met up there, the tube was an absolute mess! By the time we met up, we had missed the fireworks altogether. So we walked all up and down the football pitch and ate chips, candy floss and a toffee apple*. Then we walked all over Clapham Common, the area of London we were in, looking for a tube station for about a half hour before asking some rare 'locals' where we could find said transportation only to discover that the few tube stations around were all in three different directions, each about a 20 minutes walk away. We finally decided to return back to the one we had met at. Basically we had walked for over an hour for no particular reason, but we did have a nice chat, some exercise and visited a part of London neither of us had seen. She came to stay over at my house since we had to get up early to meet everyone at the tube station before heading off to Wales.

That's all I can muster for one night, it's been a long hellish week and I have to met Mary early tomorrow morning for a bit of a shopping spree. So I'll end with an English language session and then sign off for the night.

*English lesson:

British - American
football - soccer
candy floss - cotton candy
toffee apple - caramel apple
chip - fries
crisps - chips

The British Museum

I apologize in advance for the blandness of this blog... it's been a long, busy day and I'm barely able to cook my sad little dinner let alone attempt to think of witty things to say about Britain. But let us try anyway... catching up on things, we left off with the trip to Stonehenge and Bath. After that, I worked the whole week, nothing spectacular happened during that time. Then the weekend came and I spent Saturday putzing around and meet up with my friend, Mary (from the Stonehenge picture) on Sunday and went to the British Museum then we went to the London Film Festival and saw a Slovenian film, beneath Her Window. It was quite a treat and a great film. The day after that I went to see a Palestinian film, Thirst, which was also quite cool. That basically catches us up until last weekend during which I went to Wales (which will be another post yet to come).

The Roman Baths, from the outside... 

A new friend and myself at Stonehenge. 

Would you like a little Bath with your showers?

Flash forward a week. . . . . . ok, ok, if you really want to know what's happening here I'll tell you all. I worked. That about sums it up. I worked everyday, got home and had no energy to blog or anything even mildly strenuous. There, Now flash forward a week. . .

Picture it: A lovely English morning, with just a bit of dew left over from the previous night. The sun is shining upon the birds, singing their morning song perched on the tree branches just outside my window. A beautiful day to relax, to take your time and enjoy the unfolding of the day. Is that what I do, you ask? Yes, and No. I do take my time, until I realize that I will be late for the bus going to Stonehenge. So then I kick it into high gear, run to the tube, and just make it to ISH in time to hope the bus and head out of London. We leave fifteen minutes late thanks to people like me. One hundred young people on three coaches… needless to say it took time to get everyone collected and organized. We finally take off, spend three hours on the bus to arrive at Stonehenge in a veritable downpour. It seems as though one cannot see Stonehenge, unless they see it through a sheet of rain. (For verification of this see next picture post.) We then load the buses again and drive bit more before we reach Bath, where the rain seems to have increased in ferocity. I walk around Bath with a new friend made during the previous Bunac trip to York. We have lunch in a pub that Charles Dickens stayed in while he was writing the Pickwick Papers. We then attempt to visit Bath Abbey and the Roman Baths. Being as rainy and cold as it was we managed to get through the Abbey, but we decided to skip the Baths, due to lack of funds, time and warmth and suffice ourselves with pictures of the outside. Having already seen the Baths myself, I was not terribly disappointed. So once again we load up and head out back to London. My bus was unfortunate enough to get stuck in a massive traffic jam, caused by a double decker bus that broke down. I didn't arrive home until well past 10pm, I went to sleep as soon as I could since I had to work early in the morning. It was a fun filled day of rain and sightseeing, more so of the former. However despite the weather I had a wonderful time.

Mary Queen of Scots

The tour took us to a well, where a young girl is said to have met her fate and continues to lurk around looking for her mother. Then we went to the requisite dungeon and were told tales of bones left to rot on the shackles attached to walls. Lastly, we were taken to the very bedroom where my friends and I were to sleep for the night and there we learned that not only had Mary Queen of Scots stayed there while she was exiled in England, but that the last servant of the house had in fact killed himself there. Immediately after hearing this, everyone bid us goodnight and the six crazies got into our sleeping bags and tried to go get some peaceful sleep. For the most part we did. Only one of our party actually thought she saw a ghost in the night. I was so tired and cold that even if I had seen one, I probably would’ve yelled at it that I was sleeping and gone back to my dreams. In the morning we had a nice breakfast, courtesy of our Lord and Lady and then we packed our bags, returned the sleeping bags and air mattresses and headed off for Robin Hood’s home, Sherwood Forest.

Another few hours ride later and we arrive in the forest of the famed hero… only, it’s not really a forest nowadays. It is more so a large swath of open space. In fact the word “forest” literally means only “King’s hunting land” and it is only through the eventual evolution of language that we now associate the word with the current day idea of tree-lined areas. There we have an archery contest. Six rounds of three arrows each. I managed somehow to win the first place, having shot 116 out of 180, where the average score was about 70 points. I really enjoy archery, I believe I might find a club here and continue to improve upon whatever skills I might possess in that sport. Finally we leave Sherwood and head back into London, concluding the weekend. Returning back into the city we are dropped off at the International Student House (ISH) and I get onto my tube line and go home. Thus ends the journey to York. And my blog for the night. Stay tuned for next time when our heroine (me, in case you were confused) goes off in search of adventure to the Roman city of Bath and the ancient mysterious site of Stonehenge.

York, Bath and Beyond

It's been quite a while since my last blog. I apologize profusely for that. I could say that I was busy, but that wouldn't be entirely true. I was in part busy, with work, traveling, etc., but I also had many a time when I could've sat down on my comfortable couch and written about the past few weeks. Now I intend to make up for the recent communication blackout. . .

. . .we begin on a fine fall evening, a little overcast, promising rain, however holding at the moment the right balance between breeze, moisture and cloud. I leave work, heading towards the meeting place - the International Youth Hostel. We meet there and just as we (the 30 or so Bunacers on the tour) are loading up the vans to embark, the rain comes. A nice ride (as far as group van rides go) for four hours finally brings us to our destination - the ancient city of York. We check in to our hostel. A backpacker friendly, clean, and well situated place. My five Bunac friends (Richard, Ryan, Whitney, Autumn and Camille) go downstairs to the in house pub for a drink or two and after wandering the streets of York a little, scavenging for food, we all go to sleep. Bright and early the next morning, well early at least, we get up, dressed and ready to head out to take a walking tour of the city. We walk along the ancient city walls, first built by the Romans as part of their northern outpost, then maintained by the Victorians as a piece of national history. Along the way we see an Abbey, or ruins of it; an ancient Roman tower; the Minster (cathedral); medieval housing; modern shopping centres (Starbucks included) and an early British tower. The afternoon is spent walking around the old city and in book shopping. (I bought James Joyce's Dubliners for only 99 pence!)

Another two hour bus ride later we find ourselves in Wensedale Vale, a valley known for fantastic cheese and superb waterfalls. We go to the creamery and sample a few choice cheeses before heading off to the waterfalls featured in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (where Kevin Costner's character fought Little John and later bathed naked). Two of my friends, Whitney and Autumn, take the tour guide's bait and dive into the little pool at the bottom of the falls (video recording included). We then warm up a bit in the nearby pub/hotel and pile back into the vans. Finally we arrive at Bolton Castle. A half-ruined 13th century castle, turned tourist trap by the current Lord Bolton (not related to Micheal, as far as I know) who spends his weekends cooking up meals and ghost stories for young American tourists. We are escorted into a hall and told to don the "medieval clothing" provided for the banquet. (See previous picture post of us looking silly.) We are then shown into the lesser great hall, the larger hall having been destroyed over the years and various wars, where a feast of sorts awaits the famished travelers. There is wine and beer in jugs and the requisite bottled water. Two kinds of soup, stew and rice-based; a few different kinds of meat including chicken and roast beef; bread; cheese and wonderful apple pie.
After the dinner, we have an medieval scavenger hunt around the ruined castle. My team comes in 3rd and have a wonderful time running around the castle with only one lantern for five people. To top off the games portion of the evening we go out to the garden maze, where one person from each team is placed in the center, then another team member is supposed to work their way to the center and lead them both out of the maze. The best part about the maze game is that the member placed in the center has a pitcher of beer, and once both members make it safely out of the maze, the entire team has to chug the pitcher and the team who manages this feat first (not a terrible challenge among college students) wins the game. After this the six of us (my five friends and I) decide that rather than staying in the lesser hall with the rest of the group, we would go to the upper floor and stay in the one remaining bedroom. After setting up our air mattresses, sleeping bags, etc., we six go back to the main room and head out on a ghost tour of the castle.

-- As it is now almost midnight in London and the polls are just beginning to be called in the US, I’m afraid I must close for the night. I’m sure more of you will be far more interested in the election than my trip to York, as in truth so am I. So good night, good luck to all parties, though I will be praying that Kerry wins. More on castles and ghosts later. . .

Coming soon...

So after having spent a good 30 minutes writing an amazing description of my trip to York, I managed to push a button and it all disappeared. Since then I haven't had the heart, or time, to try again. Tomorrow however my flatmate leaves for the weekend and I will have the internet all to myself for the entire time, so expect greatness to come over the next few days... or at least verboseness.

Waterfalls in Wenselydale 

Feasting in a castle: (from left to right) me,
Whitney, Camille, Autumn, Richard and Ryan.

At the waterfalls in Wensleydale 

Ofoto

Just spent about 2 hours going through photos and putting them in an online album. Therefore, my blog will consist of one bit of advice:
Go look at the pictures.

After the weekend, when I'm refreshed from the Yorkshire country air, I'll write an extensive blog to make up for the slackness of tonight.


English lesson for the day - "can't be bothered" basically means "I'm too lazy/not interested", it's one of my flatmate's favorite sayings. I.e. I can't be bothered to write a proper blog tonight.

My home for a week, Hyde Park Hostel (bottom bunk was mine). 

The London Eye, a.k.a. Millenium Wheel, a.k.a. Gigantic ferris wheel thing, on the south bank of the Thames. 

Packed and ready. Leaving Mike and Stacy's apartment. 

Internet at home

I finally have internet at home. Ahh... so nice. I really have nothing much new to say. My life is fairly boring since I got a job and flat. I still like my job, it's a bit hectic now and again but in a good way. Alastair spent this weekend painting his room, it's now all white with the frame around his bay window painted red. It's a cool eye-catching effect. Soon he'll be putting up prints and other things on his walls to help spice up the room. It's funny how quickly things can become habit. Alastair and I have a nice routine in the morning where whoever is up first, usually him, will put on the tea kettle and make coffee in the french press. We eat breakfast (he has a strange habit of combining several types of cereal in one go, but then again I guess I'm weird too for not using milk) and listen to public radio (which I think may be part of BBC, seems like all media here is somehow connected with them). Then we leave at our respective times and go to work. I have memorized pretty well the street that I walk down to get to the college and have been buying fruit and even a Boston fern from a little kiosk on the corner. Then we return home. Usually I make it here first and get to watch some tv in Alastair's room before he gets in, I have the "early bird" dinner at about 6:30-7pm and Alastair eats eventually around 9pm. He reads every newspaper he can get a hold of, which in London means a lot of newspapers. I read bits from one or more of the several books I've bought here (all for 3 pounds of less) and then time for bed and get ready to start again tomorrow. There you have it, my life in a nutshell. ("Help, I'm in a nutshell. How did I get in this nutshell?" -Austin Powers)

I will be going on a trip with Bunac this weekend to stay in a medieval castle near York. Apparently we'll also be going to Sherwood Forest, where Robin Hood had his 'hood. (Ha ha... terrible joke) I'll be leaving late Friday night and returning Sunday night, so no worries if you don't hear from me for a while. I'll be dressing in 16th century costume and running around the north of England. Wait.... maybe you should worry about me. Well, now that I have my computer up and running I think I'll find some photos to add to the blog.

All the small things

Have you ever noticed that it's the little things in life that make all the difference. I've found that every day living here has taught me something new (and usually exciting - see previous "bus ride" post). Allow me to take a moment and list of few of the little things that make me chuckle, ponder, cringe and all out remember why I came to England in the first place. (Consider it my Top 10 list - 8 at least)

• When people say "goodbye" on the phone, their voice rises interminably higher than the entirety of the phone conversation, possibly being the only polite bit about the whole call.
• How every sink has two taps, for hot and cold, and when it says hot they mean it!
• How when you've just finished scalding your hands with the hot tap, and go to use the hand dryers, you're blown back by the sheer force of the air coming from them.
• Passing by rather shabby looking fellows who will randomly yell at someone beside them that is apparently only visible to themselves.
• Watching my more druken neighbors stumble about trying to get off the tube.
• Noticing my own vocabulary evolving to help myself be understood, i.e. use of "lieu" rather than bathroom (which is literally a room with a bath tub here) or the more vulgar sounding (for Americans) toilets.
• Being asked by my South African colleague if my parents are farmers in Colorado (the most interesting stereotype I've come accross here.
• Being told by an Indian shop owner that I am a pretty girl, but I shouldn't gain any more weight or I'd become ugly.

Now I'll end with the English lesson of the day: a "lie-in" = to sleep in; and a DIY shop = Do It Yourself store (like Home Depot)

Central St. Martin's

I'm finishing up my first week of full time work again and it's been great to be back in the game. I feel quite at home in my new job. The people I work with are fun and interesting. My boss is from France and she has a cute little accent. I work with one guy from South Africa, he's Afrikaans and will occasionally (meaning often) answer his cell phone and speak his native tongue, which is apparently a mix of Dutch, German and French. How much more messed up could you get for a language? (j/k, I love all languages) There is another girl from London working temporarily, she's a free lance photographer and quite nice. I picked up some fun words for the English lesson of the day from her.

The work itself is not terribly difficult, just a lot of it. Basically if you take all the inquiries that DU admissions (on both sides) get and process them, that is what this one office does. My boss also heads the Marketing department, which consists solely of herself... so she's quite busy. It's crazy how antiquated this place is, considering they are still using FileMaker Pro 6.O for their database and one of the computers I've seen still uses Microsoft Office 1997! (Gasp! from the computer geeks, such as myself.) Beyond that it's really fun to watch all the hoity toity art students milling about. The fashion students are the greatest, because they always look like they are walking down a Milan or Parisian runway, crazy encoutrements included.

The other interesting/down right weird thing about this place is the seemingly total lack of "customer service" or even "professionalism". I put those phrases in quotations not to suggest that no such things exist but that perhaps I'm seeing the British version of each and interpreting them with my American eyes as deficiencies. For instance, the South African guy, who is normally quite cheery and polite to me and the other girl, will upon answering the phone become outwardly distraught, like it's a trouble for him to pick up the telephone and answer the questions of the general public (as is his job description I imagine.) He sighs, rolls his eyes, gives out our email address in such a tone that denotes the offensive caller should've already known it and not bothered to call us. Disclaimer: Do not think that I'm demeaning my co-workers or their manners. Again this seems to be a trend across the board that no one is "polite" and "friendly" as in the American sense. At least as far as my observations have taken me. There are of course other little "quirks" such as this, but for now I better get going, I'm running out of time, yet again.

Newsflash ---- (not really, I've already known) ---- Newsflash for you:
I'll be getting DSL internet next Monday, once BT comes over and sets everything up, so the blogging and emailing should becoming a regular (and probably cheaper) habit starting next week. I'm so exited! One more step away from my highly technologicalized life. (I'll be copywriting technologicalized by the way, right after Trump gets "Fired!", so hands off!) Now the last thing is getting cable television, which Alastair and I will be doing - him for the sports channels, me for... sorry... Scifi - so that'll be a very exciting and fulfulling time, but it'll have to wait until we both get paid.

JOB!! (and the joys of public transportation)

I got a job!!! I had an interview this morning with Isabelle at Central St. Martin's College of Art and Design, a part of the greater University of the Arts London. They specialize in fine art, creative expression of all sorts from theater, graphic design and are most known for their fashion program. Apparently many prestigious designers have gone through their school. (I'll have to brush up my knowledge of the fashion world for sure now.) Anyways, I'll be working in the Information Office, basically the front desk for student inquiries. I'll be doing very much the same thing as I did at DU, so it shouldn't be hard to get into the swing of things fairly quickly. The best part is the money.. which will be enough to pay for rent (always a good thing) and I should have enough to save up and travel a bit. They want me until the end of February, when my visa expires. Another cool bit is that it's just up the street from Alastair's job, so we can maybe commute together, unless we have our fill of each other at home that is.

Now.. on to bigger (well funnier) events. Ahhh, don't you just love public transportation? -- No really, do you love it? -- For me it's more of a love/hate relationship, especially when you are rather unceremoniously dropped off in a very different part of town than what you intended or expected. Let me tell you of my latest fun bus experience. The other day, I was a bit down after traipsing all around the city and still no farther on securing a job, so I decided to go to IKEA and get some things for the flat. (I know, brilliant plan to go spend money when you're unemployed, but give me a break it was supposed to be shop-therapy.) So I walked to the nearest bus stop which is conveniently close to my flat and wait for the number 102 bus towards Brent Cross (where the mall and subsequent bus change is). I must break here to explain a funny thing about the bus system that no one here was kind enough to explain to me. First, it would be a good thing to know that there are two types of bus stops. One is the usual bus stop, where you are assured a bus will pull over to the side to let you on. The second one is a "request stop" where once you spot the bus you're looking for you have to put out your hand, like you're calling a cab, so they know to stop for you. The only way to tell these two stops apart is simple (once you know it). The usual stops will have a white sign with a red London transportation symbol, you know the circle with horizontal line through the middle. And the request stops with be opposite, red sign and white symbol. Well my nearest bus stop is a request stop. Luckily as I was beginning to figure out this elaborate system by sheer observation, someone else had called the bus. So I get on and we start to go the same way that Alastair and I went that one day, until we reach this one interchange and the sign pointing to Brent Cross is pointing to turn right and we go straight. At first I thought maybe I'd gotten on another bus that goes a different route but still ends up at the mall. Alas, no. We go a bit farther until finally only three people are left on the upper deck (I must say I do love the double deckers, they really are fun) and then we come to a stop at a bus depot. Again luckily for me, someone else figures out that things have gone astray and this is the last stop for the bus. She jumps off, the other girl and I run after her and we all disembark to wait for another bus. Unfortunately, I was no where recognizable (and in a bit of a dodgy neighborhood). So I cross the street and decide to wait for the same bus (number 102) going in the opposite direction, heading towards Golders Green. I finally get one, at another request stop. This time I stick my hand out to get the bus, having now gotten the hang of the situation and get on with no problem. It takes me right back to where I started and I had spent an hour going around northern London for no particular reason. Consequently, I went home, made dinner, got a glass of wine and didn't stray out of my flat for the rest of the evening.

Sorry this was so long a story, but it needed to be so.