Safra

Lost in London

In couture on May 22, 2011 at 2:46 pm


OK. So I am back in the UK. I expect this to be some trying times. You know, you’ll find out who has your back, who’s really going to help you out in times of need and all that good, celestial stuff.

I got in at about 12PM. Had to do the check in. Landed in a cab. For some reason, I couldn’t help but feel I was getting ripped off. Landed in front of the first and only hostel I assumed would be available when I got in. The doors were locked. No one was answering the door. What’s a girl to do? I acted on instinct. From the outside, I could hear some in the ‘kitchen’ so, I hopped the fence and knocked on the window. Someone was in, didn’t speak English. He came to the door. There were one of those direct dial phones in the front. As it turns out, the hostel was booked. Realized that I had to think quickly. Very quickly. My luggage was falling apart at the handles. So, knowing I could not take my stuff around with me, I through them in the garbage pale of the hostel in hopes of coming back to get them later. Was about to make my way to the tube until it hit me: go back. With my intuition in tact, I made my way back to the building. I stood outside and listened very carefully. Sounded like someone was in the kitchen again. Knocked on the window, scared him this time. “Hi! I thought I could stay here but this hostel is booked. If I give you 20 pounds can I leave my bags with you until I find somewhere?” He was kind enough not to charge me and brought my bags in. I took the most important stuff: my iPhone, chargers. I figured, fuck it. If people are gonna steal, they’re gonna steal. But all I have is prayer and it’s time to get tough. Besides, I suppose some will enjoy my knickers anyway. But I have to tread lightly with this. I don’t want to contact too many people. Just the pertinent ones.

Ended up in Kilburn tube, bought a zone 1-3 travel card. Started messaging people I know on Facebook and via email. All I can say is ‘We’ll see what happens.’

I’m not worried. Not in another english speaking country. I’ve been stranded in New York City, was a lone solider in Paris, didn’t know my way around in Barcelona. I suppose it’s not so much what you do, but how you do it.

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