I woke up at Rachel’s at 1 PM incredibly refreshed. I hadn’t slept on a bed that nice, or for that long since Valencia (almost 2 months prior) and I had my favorite kind of plans laid out for the day: none.
And I started enacting that plan promptly. I walked to the grocery store to pick up some items, turned on VH1 on Sky and dumped the entire contents of my backpack out onto the floor. Now, some people may lie to you and tell you that packing drunk is a good idea, but they are liars. Packing drunk is NEVER a good idea. And in addition to forgetting about 20 things, I packed about 20 things I didn’t need and in an order that caused zippers to bust and fabric to tear. This was my moment to attempt a repair.
After waging war on my backpack (and swearing never to carry it again, poor thing) I ate a snack, surfed the nets and watched about 2 hours of television. Score!
All of this R&R was in preparation for what I hoped to be a crazy out of control night. Instead, I got just what I needed: an incredibly relaxing and chill evening with a good friend, one of my favorite girls, and a former Los Alamos guest, Agnes.
I met Agnes at a restaurant called Crazy Homies in Notting Hill. I wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea of coming to London and eating Mexican food, but I also was not thrilled to eat more English food. Surprisingly, Crazy Homies had pretty decent Mexican food. Their guacamole was highly edible (and even refill worthy) and their selection of salsa were not tomato paste based. I was impressed. Their setup was adorable. The tiny main restaurant room with cozy booths and good music was the perfect ambiance.
But what was amazing about Crazy Homies was the company. To say I was excited to meet back up with Agnes was a gross understatement and we spent hours chatting. I was so grateful that she stuck around with me and played good hostess even though she had to ride early the next morning and had an hour train ride back to her apartment. But the time was exactly what I needed and after Agnes bid me adieu, I spent the remainder of the evening strolling around London, finally noticing things about the city that I hadn’t bothered to glance at before. The cute neighborhoods. The even cuter boutiques and corner shops. The tree lined streets and the picturesque parks.
I think what I’ve determined is that London is not my favorite city to visit. Sure, the sites are great, one time. But what makes London great, and the reason so many people live there, is the lifestyle of a Londoner. London is a great place to spend time in. Long-term. And I could definitely see myself making an extended stop here in the future. Like any place, a few rotten people can leave a sour taste in your mouth forever, and I think the combination of the abrasive Heathrow customs officials and the judgmental few I ran into at London’s top attractions had given me a bad taste of what London really is. But I’m ready to give it a 2nd 10th chance. And next time, I promise I’ll stay longer than a day.