Brock { Abroad }

I was already nodding off as I waited in the crowded one-room airport even smaller than my hometown. As we all walked out to the plane, I momentarily woke up, but then took an unassigned uncomfortable seat on the discount air carrier and soon fell asleep. Ears popping, I awoke and my arrival in London seemed to come almost out of thin air. It was a much colder air than the south of France. Ears still aching from the altitude, I endured a long speech from customs about not having an address upon arrival. Luckily, she told me, I had a return flight and I assured her I had enough money. This wouldn’t be my first mistake to make that night…

As I clambered onto the charter bus that would bring us to central London, I was greeted by Magda, whose microphone didn’t work. Yelling above a group of loud Italians in the back, she informed us in a slight eastern-european accent that we all had to wear the seatbelts we were given and we could not drink alcohol or smoke… anything; “so don’t,” she added. Finally, she informed us that she would not let us out if we stood up before she stopped the coach. When asked if everyone understood, a few of the more attentive ones replied “Yes, Magda” as if we were back in school.

Still groggy, I popped another piece of chewing gum in hopes of clearing my ears, and rested my head on my fist. It seemed dark for only being six in the evening, and soon the lights of the east-end could be seen approaching us from the autoroute. I could see a large amount of construction taking place near Stanstead station, where we were being dropped off, and realized that work for the 2012 Olympic games was well underway. I realized this was the second city this year I was visiting under Olympic construction, Vancouver being the first. Reading the paper in the tube on the way to meet a friend, I learned that people were not happy with the amount of money being sunk into the games. This didn’t surprise me. I arrived at the bar I was supposed to meet an old friend from Spain at, and after waiting 45 minutes, was disappointed that I was being stood up.

Knowing I had to be across town at a different bar called ‘Casa Blue’ to meet my couchsurfing host, I left and arrived at a much cooler bar. With huge mismatched leather couches and music ranging from Jay-Z to the Beatles, it seems like a great place to socialize. The cocktail waitress showed me to a couch and handed me a cocktail menu. I told her I was expecting a friend and as my eyes adjusted to the light, I noticed the variety of things hanging from the ceiling to the wall. Ranging from tapestries, umbrellas, rope lights, dried flowers, and even an antique gun to my left, I liked the place more and more. After an impatient cigarette thirty minutes later, I ordered a cocktail from the girl and began making small talk about the up and coming neighborhood. I told her that I was getting stood up for the second time in one evening. “He was supposed to be here at 10:30,” I said a bit whiny. “Why love, it’s only 10:15!” I had forgot to change my clock one hour back. Relieved, I took a long swig of my drink and sheepishly laughed at my stupidity as I reset my watch.

I went to the Tate Modern Museum of Art to see the urinal by Marcel Duchamp I’d studied my senior year of high school created for the seemingly sole purpose of numerous arguments with my teacher over what exactly the definition of art was. Once I realized that it really was created for that very reason, I learned to appreciate modern art much more. I also went to the British Museum to see the mummies of Ancient Egypt and spent the day with a Croatian girl who taught me just as much about Ancient Croatia.

We spent over an hour at a hands on exhibit of artifacts as old as the first humans. Touching each piece, we listened intently as an enthusiastic American woman explained each piece. It was refreshing to hear an unpaid volunteer so passionate about the artifacts. She encouraged us to ask our local museums to take artifacts unable to be displayed and allow them to be handled by the patrons. Apparently, most museums have quite a few artifacts they are unable to display for whatever reason, and are often stored unseen or untouched in drawers for years. We enjoyed the experience immensely, so I pass on her advice and encourage you all to ask your local museum what they are keeping from us…

Related posts:

1. Hoping for a life-changing experience-
2. Photo Essay; Brick Lane, London
3. fear, according to Stephen King
4. Why you shouldn’t go to Bilbao, Spain on a Monday:
5. a list of goals…