… but I’m not picking up, ’cause I have a flight to catch and refuse to attempt navigating the labrynthine streets alone.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
London, Heathrow Airport, 11:15 am (London Time)
First song listened to in the U.K.: BBMaks Back Here. I think thats totally appropriate.
My flight arrived at London-Heathrow at about 9:45 am, London time. Not gonna lie, I had a little spaz as we were flying in, when I looked out the window and saw the Houses of Parliament and London Eye along the Thames. So awesome. However, I also noticed that the layout of London has no rhyme or reason. I imagine giving directions goes something like this:
Oy, mate, just take Pall Mall to Haymarket, but dont take Shaftesbury, or youll be halfway to Kent. Keep on down Regent until New Cavendish, and pop left there. Do a full circle, but not twice, or youll end up in Shropshire, and we all know how those folk are, eh? *Chuckle* Put on your right signal but turn left at Ladbury. Youll be tempted to pay respect to the nice old woman at the corner, but dont say a word or shell take to you and knit you socks for the next 50 years. Get out, hop on one foot, and get back in your car. You should be in Queensgate. Go straight, and once youre at Sutherland, reverse your car three meters, and turn right. From there, go which ever way you want, because I cant even remember which side of Porchester my house is on
Anyway, I cant imagine navigating anywhere in this city. Which is why Im still in the airport instead of seeing the city, and will be for about 2.5 more hours. A little background: I have a flight on Vueling airlines (a small airline owned by Iberia) to Seville at 5:35, but Continental doesnt have a connecting agreement with them. Therefore, I had to go through Immigration, get my bags, pass through Customs, and navigate my way from Terminal 4 to Terminal 3 (in the worlds largest intercontinental airport) for my Vueling departure. So, here I wait in Terminal 3, since Vueling doesnt start checking bags until 1:35 pm:
Navigating Heathrow so far has gone by without any hiccups; however, if my dad hadnt drilled into my head my route (and printed out about 4 maps of the airport alone), I probably would have been hopelessly loss and brimming with tears.
Immigration took only a few minutes; hardly anyone was going through. Plus, the immigrations official was a very charming man, and oh-so English (note, the following transcript is best enjoyed with a British accent in mind):
Official: And
how old are you?
Me: Im 21
Official: *Understanding nod, followed by slightly apologetic expression* Now
Im not accustomed to asking a young lady her age. You just looked 18, and we like to take care of our underage travelers.
Me: *SMILE*
Anyway, after being advised by the Immigration official that I must see Córdoba and Granada (which are rather close in proximity, I believe), I moved on to baggage and passed through Customs without any trouble at all. I wandered over to the train platforms to take the Heathrow Connect from Terminal 4 to Terminal 3. Oh okay, one hiccup here
I unnecessarily spent 7.15 quid (I love saying that) on a ticket.:
[What message are they trying to to send with “STD ADULT”? Isn’t that a little presumptuous?]
I saw a ticket booth, panicked, and thought I needed one. Turns out it was for London-Paddington, and interterminal transfers are free. Im keeping it for posterity, though. My first purchase with pounds.
Took the train and got out at Terminal 3, and I was unclear on whether the elevators or the escalators would take me to the right place. Figured theyd spit me out in a similar location, but I was feeling the escalators. This is the part where I felt like in Terry Gilliams Brazil (the movie). The building is all grey and white concrete and metal, no adornments at all, with painfully bright fluorescent lights, and surveillance cameras everywhere. And apparently it takes 5 escalators (or was it 4? I started losing count.) to get to Terminal 3 proper. I went up and up in this massive concrete building, every the floor the same
real building, or Terry Gilliam set? Both perhaps?
Well, thats about it for my London adventure so far. I cant wait to finish all this traveling hassle and get to Sevilla and see Christy. However, Im getting a little terrified of having to communicate in Spanish
I feel like I forgot all of my vocab. Ill manage, though. For now, Ill sit here and enjoy listening to the various English accents around me. Cheers for now!
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