London, United Kingdom

It was a sad morning today.  We left Paris. 

Only a few group days remain and mixed emotions seem to be developing. While some are looking forward to being alone, others are sad their trips are coming to a close. I am not thinking that way yet.  There is still much to be covered.  A lot more. 

I do admit being tired as we arrive at the London station.  Then we get the news...Vanda will no longer be with us on this leg of the journey. Shocked and saddened with the news, I become are aware of the slight dependency and bond that has been created. 

Vanda has been consistency in a sea of variances. Her voice, always soothing and welcoming, is like that warm throw that covers your legs as you watch tv on a rainy day.  You find that the usual activity is not the same without it. And this is the realization we are all, in our own odd way, experiencing.  Going forward things were not going to be the same. But, are they ever?

I really didn't know what to expect from a tour director.  Having  never completed such a long and complex tour before, I really didn't know what their role was and how it played into it.  I also didn't ask friends or co-workers for fear of being influenced by possible bad experiences. And so, I came into this blindly.  For which I am glad. But now, now I find myself suddenly experiencing a sense of loss.  

Vanda has been our oracle, dictionary, interpreter, source of humor, and all things British both on and off the coach.  Throughout the journey I have been amazed by her grace and ability to not go around calling everyone naff based on all the ridiculous questions that have been asked. Not to mention the multiple times the same questions were asked by what appeared to be the same individuals. Not once did she lose her composure or show any kind of frustration. Or maybe she did and we were too enthralled with her soothing voice and accent to notice.  Maybe that was it.  It was that all masked with cute little sayings that made us chuckle and miss the point.  Hmm, a refined  Jedi mind trick.  Brilliant. 

"They are good boys and girls..." she tells us for the third time before handing us off to the main London tour affiliate.  I suspect the panic-stricken look  of the most, how can I put this nicely...needy, forces her to reassure the bunch. I take little comfort in this repetition and look out the window to the surrounding buildings. New country, new rules, time to kick into independent mode.  This isn't Napoli - they speak English and there is the Underground for me to learn and experience. What is it with me and subways? Freud would certainly have a heyday with this fascination of mine. Now that I put it that way, I best not look into it.  Smile.

Facing the departure from Vanda, I realize that the reins that I gladly handed over in Roma were being returned. My planning and coordinating  break was almost over and my temporary partner was shifting responsibilities back to me.  I understood and embraced the reality. Mind you, I wasn't exactly sorting towards it.  More like a slow saunter while I gazed about.  If only romantic relationships worked this smoothly. 

"They really are good boys and girls" she continues about our new guides.   This time there is a really in the equation.  Not a good sign.  

It has been a morning of farewells. Vanda has officially departed and we are under the quasi care of the London group.  Im indifferent towards our new attendant.  She seems rushed and flustered. So, instead of sitting about and hearing the day's plans...I excuse myself and opt for a free day until evening.  With that out of the way, I walked to the post and shipped my box.  Finally.  May it reach the States safely and happily. If it does not, I apologize in advance to those who do not get gifts.  

Box out of my hands, it was time to find a pub.  That took all of .5 seconds.   Do we sit ourselves or wait to be seated? Used to how things are done back at home, we stood and wondered if we sat ourselves or waited. Given the nod from the batman we find our seats and start our typical looking about.  And then we wait some more. And wonder. Do we call someone over? The waitress , we think that is what she may be comparable to - more like a mix of waitress and busboy,  speaks to us from the counter...

"Ahr you ohrdering food?" she inquired.
We give her eager nods followed by the usual courtesies for assisting us.
"You ohrder ahnd pay aht dah bahr", she instructs and smiles. 

Ah, a strange man in a strange land.  How fun.  Having gained some clue on the process, we promptly order Shepherds' Pie and a soda for Mireille. and a lamb sandwich with a pint of hard cider for me.

Foodstuffs at pubs are nothing like the pittance of vittles offered in the States.  My goodness are we ever cheated out there. Here the day's fare ranges from rich sandwiches and toasties (think grilled cheese-like nature) to Sheperd's Pie to leg of lamb with roasted potatoes, roasted chicken, and...oh it was endless.  Vanda had told us days before that pub food was freshly made and delicious. The working man's eatery at reasonable prices. She failed to mention the heaping helpings.   With the exception of us, there weren't any tourist with us in the little establishment. At least to start. 

Where are they preparing these feasts I wondered aloud to Mireille who, like me, was visually scanning the small  edifice for signs of a kitchen.  Beside us, an older man struck a conversation with me regarding the cost of things and my experience in the UK this far.  He asked if I found London expensive - and in all honesty, compared to Switzerland, I said no.  London seemed actually very reasonable. While we were now using the Pound (£) as currency, the exchange seemed to our advantage. 

A hint to where the food was prepared finally showed itself when a short man clad in oven mitts and holding what looked like a big lasagna dish emerged from what we thought was a storage closet.  Prior to his appearance we could hear steps but not couldn't find the source.  We determined this was a stairway and that the kitchen was above the establishment.  For all we know, it could have been below it.  All I do know is that the door to our left led to the kitchen.  

Had I been a barfly in a place like Boston, San Francisco, or New York this scene would probably not have been such a curiosity. However, having always resided in places where space was abundant, history limited, and microwaves a-plenty, it was fun trying to figure things out.  

Meanwhile, we watched the barman prepare sandwiches on the counter in between pouring ale to the patrons seated around.  When our food was deliveredour eyes popped at the humongous serving of pie that comprised Mireille's plate accompanied with a  heap of cabbage.  Without a doubt, this was a lot of food and, the two meals could easily feed four people. Mental note made. Take a buddy to pub lunch and share your plate. Total cost, including soft drink and pint -  £11.00

After feasting at the pub it was decided that a good walk was required.  Since my evening entailed sitting about for two hours at a play, I was content in coming to know the neighborhood on foot.  

I debated all afternoon on whether or not to give my ticket to Wicked to another traveler.  I really felt like the journey was starting to take a toll. I started missing my bed.  I was longing for a beach with palm trees and London's blustery wind was not helping the situation. I realized I truly needed a nap and not let this get to me.  Heck! I still had another country to go.  For the most part,I kept my cold complaints to myself.  Well, sorta.  

While here I searched for a scarf and helped a friend shop for a hoodie that would shield her from the cold on  the double decker hop-on hop-off bus,  a friend in Florida shared in his pain and desire for just a bit of that cold wind to relieve the heat out in the Florida waters.  Ahhh, Florida warmth. 

I took a moment to hear myself and appreciate my situation.  "Ugh!! I sound like such a brat' I thought. This whining must stop.  

It was also he who informed me that London had riots happening and wondered if I was safe.  You know, there is that wild abandon thing I wrote about previously.  A total disconnect from the real world.  I had no clue what was happening in London.  His inquiry did however explain why all those police figures were lined up and sitting outside their cars when we were going to the show.  We just figured someone important was coming. Ha!   I just have not turned on the television since starting the tour and admit being completely clueless.  Thank goodness for reality checks and grounding. 

The next morning Mireille informs me that she found me fast asleep with all the lights on and tech stuff  spread all around me.  I recall getting in from the show, changing, writing a bit, texting a bit, and then....nothing.

It was bound to happen.