We have made it through the toughest part of the trip: changing from American to UK time. No matter how prepared you think you are, it’s never easy to leave the US at 9 pm and arrive in the UK six hours later at 9 am. No matter how well you plan, you can’t really sleep on the plane. Or at least I can’t. I’ve tried benedryl, melatonin, and massive doses of alcohol – sometimes all at the same time! – and at most I can grab about 2 hours of shut eye. This time, I don’t think I managed 2 minutes. But I’m starting in the middle…
We had lots of firsts already on this trip. First time we’ve used Uber to get to the airport, for example. Worked wonderfully. First time being to KCI 2 hours before a flight. Completely unnecessary. First time flying international from KC. Nearly unheard of. We have joked for the entire year that we’ve been here that we weren’t sure why the KC airport had the “international” designation. Well I can attest that there is at least one flight that goes to another country because I took the flight from MCI-YYZ (insert Rush joke here) as the first leg of our journey was an Air Canada flight to Toronto. There we changed planes to a jumbo jet from Toronto to London. Completely booked – in fact, overbooked. Brand new plane which meant unbelievably uncomfortable. But we tried our best, drank much, and put on the neck pillow and eye shade. Alas, sleep would not come. I managed to watch half of the new Avengers movie (not even Robert Downey Jr. and Chris Helmsworth made it worth watching the whole thing!) before switching to Moneyball – which I had never seen nor cared about before becoming a Royals fan – and Big Hero 6 which both of my kids had recommended and which I thoroughly enjoyed. Unfortunately, all the cinematic indulgences were due to the fact that I could not sleep!
So we landed at Heathrow an hour late at 9:30, whisked through customs and immigration, hopped on the Heathrow Express to downtown and arrived at our rented flat at 11 am (or 6 EDT/5CDT). We’ve now been up for about 24 hours but Rob, the flat owner, was lovely to let us in early and show us how everything works. We dropped off the bags and set out to not be dumb.
There are differing schools of thought on how to handle time changes and jet lag. The approach that has served me well over the years is to NOT go to sleep when you get to Europe/UK and tough it through until about 8pm when you will crash hard and sleep soundly until something that looks like a normal wake up time for the locals. This means that the first day pretty much sucks but you should be set for the rest of the trip. (Note: I have not had the opportunity to travel more than 8 hours off my normal time zone so I cannot speak to the efficacy of this strategy for longer trips.) We refer to this day as “the 24 hours of stupidity” where one can do one’s best to have fun but under no circumstances should important decisions or large purchases be made because one is not really all there.
The plan for the day was to find some shops to purchase essentials and then find some lunch. After that, the only agenda item was something like “don’t be stupid”. We walked endlessly looking for a real grocery store, forgetting momentarily that we were in the middle of the tourist heart of a metropolis and were lucky to find well stocked mini-markets. We also needed to find a good size Boots (drug store) as we had opted to not pack any personal hygiene products and purchase everything here. This plan I credit with helping keep our packed cases at around 37 pounds each leaving 12.5 pounds leeway for bringing back additional stuff without paying the overweight baggage penalty that kicks in at 50 pounds.
Purchases secured and delivered, we set off for lunch. And the skies opened up. It had been raining off and on since we had arrived and we were suitably prepared with rain jackets but the steady deluge proved too much for our thin nylon coverups and by the time we had found a suitable eatery, we were pretty well soaked. On this occasion, as has happened on others, we nearly made the mistake of looking for the “perfect” first meal on our holiday. This mythical event usually reeks of nostalgia or some imagined triumphant dining experience. And during the “24 hours”, this imagined perfection tends to the absurd. I am chagrined to admit that we have traipsed all over foreign capitals looking for “the lunch to launch the holiday”, only to have sleep deprived temperaments and growling stomachs lead us to the local sandwich shop or fast food establishment because everything else had closed.
However, experience has been a good, albeit strict, teacher and we managed to find an acceptable pub to have a jacket potato and toasted sandwich along with pints of cider and hand pulled ales while we dried off a bit from the wandering. And then we realized we had completely exhausted the planned itinerary for the day. And it was only 2pm. And we needed to stay awake for another 6 hours at least. And it was still raining. {sigh}
So we set ourselves a quest: find the collectable car shop that used to be somewhere in the west end by Trafalgar Square or it was the last time we were here together 7 years ago. And we were off. To the extent that we could, we relied on (utterly untrustworthy) memories from more than 20 years ago to work our way through the densely populated sidewalks through tourist havens to try to find a shop that Frank loved years ago but hadn’t been to since 2007. How hard could it be in our state?
If not easier, it would have been a far more pleasant journey if not for the rain. We don’t mind rain generally – especially the drizzle that is usually the norm in Scotland – but this was generally steady with periods of torrential downpours. We were soaked and trying hard not to snipe at each other. So we made pitstops. Like at Hamley’s on Regent Street, the most amazing toy store bar none (and yes, I’ve been to FAO Schwartz). Funny, we had no problem finding it from memory. And we wandered around several of the 5 floors of toys and sweets and let our clothes slowly dry.
Then we made the final push to the model shop which we *knew* was in St. Martins Lane by the English National Opera company. But which wasn’t there. Memories searched, street scoured. Yet the shop that we both vividly recalled being “right there” was no more. So we dodged more rain in a local cafe with a cup of tea (and free wifi) and were able to find the new location around the corner from the old one. Score one for Google! But of course, journey stories are about the quest and not the outcome and the particular model that Frank was hoping to find was not, in fact, to be found. But we had fulfilled our quest and stayed awake without causing bodily harm to each other or innocent bystanders and so it was time to hop on the Tube and head back to the flat for an early night.
(And I mean early. It is 7:30 pm local time as I write this and Frank is already asleep. But in his defense, he’s been up for 30 hours already.) But we’ve both soaked in a warm bath, enjoyed England’s second national dish – curry take away – and have broken into the bottle of duty free Grey Goose that we picked up in Toronto so the evening itself has been fulfilling. So I’ll finish my cup of tea and say goodnight. There will be lots more to report on tomorrow. I think it will involve rain.
Today’s numbers:
- Hours slept: ~ 0
- Steps to be climbed from the street to our holiday flat: 95 (and those are actual stairs, not the number of times your foot hits the ground.
- Step count on the fitbit: 21,596 (of which I am dubious because it’s not clear how the time change is handled. But my dogs are tired.)
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