To recap a long chain of events for you…
Three days ago, on my birthday, after a very restless night,I got up at 4 AM. At 7 AM, Nettie and I got into an Uber to make our way to the train station. We got out of the Uber at the train station, and got onto a train. Then we got off a train, and got onto another train. Then we got off that train to get onto a shuttle that never appeared. So we got into another Uber, got off the Uber to get onto a bus. Got off the bus and then onto another bus. Got off that bus and onto a ferry. Got off the ferry and onto a bus. Hoped to get on a train, but instead got onto another bus. Got off the bus and onto a train….are you seeing a pattern here?😂😂😂😂
At last, we are on our final train journey into London, St. Pancras. A kind gentleman with his two sons was sitting near me. As we were cruising into the station, I asked him…”Can you tell us how to get to Putney Station?”
It looked like he was putting way too much thought in to what should’ve been a simple three or four word answer. 😂
He began his lengthy discourse of trains, tubes, and transfers, but all I heard was ‘something something something Victoria, something something something direct line, something something something Putney station.’ 😂😂😂😂 My eyes began to glaze over as I wondered how much more challenging this evening could get😂. And then I smiled, thanked him, and watched him walk away.
“Well,” I said to Nettie, “ shall we give it a go?” Any mental ‘windows’ still operating at this point, we’re quickly shutting down.😬😂
By now our carry-on bags and backpacks were beginning to feel extremely heavy. We had schlepped them all over Belgium, into France, and now over to England. We needed to bring this day to a quick and efficient end.😂😂
Walking over to the map of the public transit routes, we realized getting to our Airbnb would take well over two hours given the time of night (7:39) and the number of transfers we would have to make. That said, we had told our AirBnb host we would try to make it by 6 pm to collect the keys, but as it turned out, he had a family emergency come up, and instead left the keys with a concierge at a hotel near our hometel. We sent him a quick message explaining the train snanfu in Dover, and told him we were running late. He quickly got back to us to tell us that the hotel concierge‘s office had closed down for the night, and his friend Mirabel had picked up the keys and was expecting our call when we arrived.😂😂
So we decided to try to get an Uber again. St. Pancras Station was literally crawling with people! I don’t think I’ve ever seen it so busy. The Uber pick up spot was noted on our Uber app, but we could not figure out how to get to it. After asking several people who both worked at St. Pancras, as well as those lingering on the sidewalks, we were consistently directed to the Uber pick up zone. But there were so many people waiting for rides, and so many cars lined up along the street waiting to pick up passengers, and so many cars winding by trying to cut through all of the traffic, we never found our car, and eventually our ride was canceled. 😳
So we changed our location and crossed the street to the St.Pancras METRO station. That put our blue dot in the direct lineup with the anticipated pick up location in a freshly ordered Uber. But we kept getting notices that Uber was ‘busy’, and drivers could not be found. After waiting about 40 minutes, I noticed the short queue for the charming, black taxis famously known in London just across the street. The price would probably double, but we would at least get to a place where we could lay our heads for the night.😂
Off we went. We stood in line for about 10 minutes, and joyfully crawled in to a very comfortable and spacious black cab. Our driver was delightful, and he was a right wing conservative, although that’s not what they call them in England. He loved Trump, he loved our country, and he talked excessively about the enjoyable ‘taxi-ing’ he did for the returning FIFA World Cup players who were so enchanted with the USA. After we told him of all of the touching Facebook and Instagram posts we were seeing while they were in our country, he verified they every single one of them said the World Cup in America was the best they had ever been to.😌💕🥹
We finally arrived at Maribel’s to collect our keys. She was a sweet lady from Romania, and as she came out to give us the key, she lamented the fact that she had no car to drive us to the flat, as she was aware of our difficulties in getting to London. But instead, she offered to walk us halfway to make sure we had no difficulty finding it. By now it was late, and it was dark, and we were tired. Nettie had Google maps pulled up the entire time, but we were enjoying visiting with her. We finally told her to head back home, because we didn’t want her to walk so far alone. Our neighborhood felt exceptionally safe, it was quiet, and we were only about 15 minutes away from our hometel by now. So we bid her farewell, thanked her profusely, and continued on our way alone. We decided to walk in the street because there were very few cars out, it was a lot smoother than the sidewalk, and that made it easier to pull our carry-on bags. We were quiet by now, enjoying the peace, happy to have escaped the craziness of London, reminiscing on our enjoyable 46 minute cab ride, the thoughtfulness of Mirabel, the awareness that we would soon be able to take our shoes off and go to sleep, and feeling renewed gratitude that we had at last made it to England.
“You know,” I said, “money couldn’t buy memories like these.”
We burst into fits of laughter, as I shared that that was something Dad always said when we were at our lowest. And it helped to put things into a proper perspective. It turns out that he was right all along! Money couldn’t buy memories like these, and I will laugh about this day for years to come!💕
Thanks, dad 🥹🤗💕.
Our hometel at last…
Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a spacious living room, and comfortable beds. This is going to be a lovely and relaxing place to be for our last seven days in Europe! 💕
