October 25 - trip to England!
(I've just not realized I should be posting these here as well, so I'm a few days behind. Silly girl).
My journey begins when D drops me off at the airport bus. It's grey outside, threatening rain as we rub noses and say our goodbyes. I haul my pack from the trunk as he climbs out of the car to hug me. One last, lingering look before I pull the pack up on my shoulders and head off in the direction of the bus stop. As I take my first steps it begins to drizzle, as if welcoming me to the UK before I leave home.
The journey itself was long and painful. The airport bus (long!) and flight (so very turbulent, so completely without sleep) are best forgotten, as is the collection of baggage, which took almost an hour. Once I landed I realized that I still didn't know how to get to Winchester, nor did I have money to use the payphone, and my cell phone doesn't work over here. Not the best of beginnings to my trip.
The trip eventually involved two trains and spending half an hour on an outdoor rail platform only vaguely protected from the cold drizzle. I know now that I could have waited inside, but at that point I didn't know enough about the rail system to feel confident leaving the platform. I preferred the rain to missing the train. Sitting on my pack on the platform, I wrapped my scarf as tightly as I could around my head and dug my fingers into my mittens. This was the first time that I worried that perhaps I should have brought my parka rather than my corduroy jacket.
When I finally made it into Winchester, fourteen hours after D dropped me off, I was greeted my Misha and two travelling friends who were also staying with M for a couple days. They kindly walked me back to the house, put me to bed, and left me alone for a few hours.
My journey begins when D drops me off at the airport bus. It's grey outside, threatening rain as we rub noses and say our goodbyes. I haul my pack from the trunk as he climbs out of the car to hug me. One last, lingering look before I pull the pack up on my shoulders and head off in the direction of the bus stop. As I take my first steps it begins to drizzle, as if welcoming me to the UK before I leave home.
The journey itself was long and painful. The airport bus (long!) and flight (so very turbulent, so completely without sleep) are best forgotten, as is the collection of baggage, which took almost an hour. Once I landed I realized that I still didn't know how to get to Winchester, nor did I have money to use the payphone, and my cell phone doesn't work over here. Not the best of beginnings to my trip.
The trip eventually involved two trains and spending half an hour on an outdoor rail platform only vaguely protected from the cold drizzle. I know now that I could have waited inside, but at that point I didn't know enough about the rail system to feel confident leaving the platform. I preferred the rain to missing the train. Sitting on my pack on the platform, I wrapped my scarf as tightly as I could around my head and dug my fingers into my mittens. This was the first time that I worried that perhaps I should have brought my parka rather than my corduroy jacket.
When I finally made it into Winchester, fourteen hours after D dropped me off, I was greeted my Misha and two travelling friends who were also staying with M for a couple days. They kindly walked me back to the house, put me to bed, and left me alone for a few hours.