A Chilly day in London town

My last day in the UK was spent in London, a city in which my navigational skills make me proud. I woke early with Phil and Rachel – who really are the loveliest and most endearing couple - and rushed to the station. The first movement of my luggage – Oxford to Paddington – was a success. The second move—Paddington to Kensal Green via Tube—reminded me again of how provisional God is and what it means to rely on the kindness of strangers. Upon reaching my stop I noticed a terrible lack of lifts, meaning I would have had to lug both of my suitcases up the stairs and onto the street were it not for the kind lady who offered to help me. As I traveled through London I was ever aware of just how many people look out for the interests of others. I made it to Hostel 639, where I paid as much to store my luggage and spend the night in a bed with a lumpy pillow and blanket as I would have been charged to check one of my bags at Paddington. Sometimes it’s worth it to be cheap.
I spent a while checking the Internet and realizing how ridiculous it had been to get so worked up about flying home. People fly internationally and on their own all the time. I am 21, it’s about time I quite literally fly solo. On the recommendation of a few friends I hopped the tube to the Victoria and Albert museum to look at a hodge podge of art including clothing, Constable, Turner and Raphael paintings, assorted marble sculpture, antique musical instruments and what I would consider standard museum fair. When I felt I’d spent too much time in one place (for one can never truly “finish” a museum) I took the tube to Leicester to procure a ticket for an evening show and headed toward Covent Gardens. What a beautiful display of Christmas stalls, decorations, and collections of new and old goods for sale. I will miss open markets. After a bit too much time going through vintage jewelry and a brief display from some street performers I began a long attempt to find the British Museum. Having been there before I was quite disappointed at my inability to return quickly. I suppose that’s why they make maps – sigh – and I was becoming so independent too. I had about ninety minutes before the museum closed and opted for the “don’t miss” portion of the map including the Roseta Stone, samauri armour, medieval ivory chess pieces, Assyrian reliefs, mummies, marbles, remnants from the Parthenon, the tree of life, and a LOT of other very old things.
I headed out and onto the street where I bought some roasted chestnuts from a vendor. They really are delicious, I don’t know why the tradition hasn’t caught on better in America. I followed them up with a last Americano from Caffe Nero and read some LOTR. Getting to the theater shouldn’t have been much of a problem. Unfortunately, my Oyster card had been having trouble all day. I don’t know how many pounds I ended up using to “top up,” but I’m pretty sure it was more than it should have been. Regardless of tube trouble, I made it to the Tricycle theater in plenty of time for the Pulitzer prize-winning Doubt: a parable. The play was thought-provoking and very well written and wonderfully executed. With a front row seat for under 7 pounds I had nothing to complain about.
On returning to my hostel (the long way I might add) I broke down and bought the password for wireless Internet. It was 11.30 and I knew sleep wouldn’t be coming easily that night. I was right. My restlessness combined with a poor excuse for a pillow, a short bed, and an open window did not lend to pleasant dreams; not that I’m complaining. I knew what I was paying for, and I don’t think I would have slept much anyway.