Day Two of London, Amsterdam, Paris

Friday

When we landed in Paris, we went to get our checked luggage. We ordered an Uber, who didn’t speak much English, but was very nice. The drive from CDG is sort of ugly, mostly industrial areas with lots of graffiti, but not the cool stuff. On the way, a lady begging for money holding a sign labeled “Syria” approached the car. Our driver informed us that “she isn’t Syrian, she’s from Romania.” I suspect he’s being racist against Romani, which is a common feeling in most of Europe, but maybe he knows better than I do. I don’t really know, it’s hard to tell.

Our view in traffic.

We arrived at Guard du Nord rail station and won’t lie, for a second we were sort of lost and made a costly error. We had about an hour to find our train and the station was super chaotic. It was around 10a and there were travelers everywhere. On a whim, we decided to exchange some dollars for pounds as we were about to head to London. We went into a change shop in the train station and the lady behind the counter only spoke broken English. So when she handed me back only 124 pounds for 300 dollars, I took it without questioning. As I stepped away, we both realized how badly we had been ripped off. I turned to Lola and handed her the receipt and we walked out, but I could tell she was frustrated by the entire experience. We should have done some research and paid for it.

As we stood on the floor in the train station, it was chaos. We stared at the signs trying to figure out where to go before realizing there was a small one that said “London check in upstairs.” We headed up the stairs and to a booth. A man behind the glass wanted to see our passports. He told me to take my hat off and for Lola to take her glasses off. He was a bit rude, but maybe he was used to people who knew what to do without him telling them. As we went around the corner a nice employee struck up a short conversation with us and asked where we were from. Lola mentioned Texas and he responded he was from Mexico. She then told him she was also from there originally. It was a nice point of contact as they chatted in Spanish, particularly in a place where everyone is speaking a language you do not know or are used to hearing.

We went upstairs and, after getting into one line and then hopping into another, found our way to the train. We had picked the train because it’s a different type of experience from one we have in the states, but our jetlagged minds were completely uninterested. The trip to London was spent mostly dozing off and not appreciating the wonders of modern transportation.

Once in London, at St. Pancreas station, we called an Uber to get to our Airbnb. He was a delightful man from Turkey who spoke with a heavy Turkish accent that I struggled to understand. He had lived in London for 21 years after growing up in Turkey and he had an opinion on everything. He kept asking how much we had paid for our flight, how much was our train ticket, how much was the place we were staying, and after we responded, he’d debate if it was a good price or not. He was pretty funny.

The place we stayed at was at 6 Church Lane in Fulham. The host, Annie, was incredibly accommodating, giving us a tour before exiting. The apartment was in the basement of an old home built in the 1600s. Beautiful accommodations. Across the street was a park and next to it was All Saints Church, a church old enough to have a gravestone marked 1622. I loved strolling onto the grounds and into the church, so much history, you could feel it in the air. The gravestones were tilted and some had fallen, most were faded beyond reading, victims of the tough air conditions of industrialized London. While I walked the graves, Lola changed clothes and we decided to walk into Putney, across the bridge of the same name.

Haven't met a graveyard I don't love.

Putney is full of shop-lined streets and traffic clogged sidewalks. The architecture is stunning, though the locals seem pretty oblivious to that fact. We walked close to a mile and a half, peeping through windows at wares, but not spending any money. Finally we stopped at a supermarket and purchased some food for the apartment. We walked back.

This evening I made rigatoni with meatballs, with garlic and red sauce. It was good. After we got a chance to facetime with my parents and then with Billie. She seemed excited about going shopping and less interested in talking to her parents. I was sad, but that’s just being a dad.

We sat in bed after and planned the day tomorrow.

- Dan