I felt stuck. Not just in the literal sense, but I hadn’t made a great sequence of movements since I began my work in France. London didn’t really count. It seemed more like a vacation where I arrived by air, drank beer, and spent more money than I’d wanted to. Usually, I’m much more, well, cheap, but perhaps making some extra cash on the road working long hours in the middle of nowhere with sick kids made me go a little stir-crazy, I don’t know. Anyways, I fueled my splurging spree by going to see the musical ‘Wicked’ in the West End, buying new shoes, and spending close to the same amount in cocktails in the up-and-coming and very bohemian Brick Lane neighborhood. The museums were free, of course, and I thoroughly enjoyed my days spent at the Tate Modern Museum of Art finally seeing Marcel Duchamp’s urinal and spending the afternoon looking at the Mummies of Ancient Egypt with a Croatian girl who taught me just as much about Ancient Croatia. Mostly, though, London just made me want to buy overpriced things, want to eat overpriced food, and in general, want things I was forgetting I really didn’t need.
Dec 10
Nov 10
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… Read the rest of this entry »
