:: UK Interrail (1) London Monday, September 18, 2006 |
On Saturday September 16 I grabbed the train from Nijmegen to Den Bosch. A little boy sat across me saw my large duffel bag and told me he was going on a trip with his grandmother today. "Where are you going?" he asked. England. In Den Bosch I had to transfer trains to get to Breda and on to Rotterdam, then to Hook of Holland. In the last little train a NS salesteam were selling photo railcards on the spot. "Do you travel this route often?" Nah, I don't particularly enjoy going through Rotterdam to get to Britain. It was nice being at the boat terminal at Hook of Holland again though, reminiscing about my '99 trip to Scotland with Marjo. The Stena HSS got me to Harwich in no time (4pm to 6.30 or so) and I had a pretty good connection to London Liverpool Street.
I was tempted to use one of the internet booths here to check if Lottie had been on Yahoo Answers, but thought better of it. With WH Smiths and other shops closed by now I couldn't buy a London map, so I had to find my way to the hostel with a bit of luck. Though I had never been to the Thameside YHA hostel and never been confronted with Oyster cards on the London Underground - I managed to find my way with amazing ease. Having a big heavy duffel bag didn't stop me from walking through the tunnels and over platforms any slower - yet I had extra space in the trains! From Rotherhithe station to the hostel I must have annoyed a few people with the noise made from my bag's wheels on the cobbles. The bed at the hostel was a disappointment, with modern bunk beds shaped like paint sample fans: one low berth, one at 90 degrees above it, then another above the first. Too close for comfort to fellow sleepers, really. I ruffled my bed a bit, put my bag on top of it, then showered, changed and went back to reception to go call my mum and go online to chat to Lottie. Still unsure whether to stay in London till Monday or go to Manchester to meet her earlier.
After midnight, realising I had skipped dinner and had forgotten a torch to use in the dark dormitory, I decided to shop for it. Despite it being a late Saturday night, the neighbourhood around the hostel seemed nice enough to walk through safely. Not like it was in '99 when my sister and I stayed in Stockwell. In fact, walking alongside a canal surrounded by tall modern flats and private gardens, on a pleasantly warm night, London reminded me of Düsseldorf and Frankfurt. It looked wealthy, neat and clean - so much unlike what I had gotten used to in Edinburgh and Chester that I thought of it as continental. At the all night Tesco it was slightly less friendly among other late night shoppers, no problem though. I strolled back, setting my new alarm underway and playing with a cheap and weak torch. When I arrived back at the hostel, my bed was taken and my bag placed elsewhere - the bloody cheek. Still, the torch helped in disturbing the git who had taken my bed, though I found another berth.
This blog entry is really getting much too long, so I got up well, had breakfast at the hostel and travelled to Kings Cross in one sentence. At breakfast I had decided to leave London, as Manchester and Scotland appealed more. I could either meet Lottie a day early, or go on to Edinburgh and come back down again. Oh the freedom of Interrail!
I was tempted to use one of the internet booths here to check if Lottie had been on Yahoo Answers, but thought better of it. With WH Smiths and other shops closed by now I couldn't buy a London map, so I had to find my way to the hostel with a bit of luck. Though I had never been to the Thameside YHA hostel and never been confronted with Oyster cards on the London Underground - I managed to find my way with amazing ease. Having a big heavy duffel bag didn't stop me from walking through the tunnels and over platforms any slower - yet I had extra space in the trains! From Rotherhithe station to the hostel I must have annoyed a few people with the noise made from my bag's wheels on the cobbles. The bed at the hostel was a disappointment, with modern bunk beds shaped like paint sample fans: one low berth, one at 90 degrees above it, then another above the first. Too close for comfort to fellow sleepers, really. I ruffled my bed a bit, put my bag on top of it, then showered, changed and went back to reception to go call my mum and go online to chat to Lottie. Still unsure whether to stay in London till Monday or go to Manchester to meet her earlier.
After midnight, realising I had skipped dinner and had forgotten a torch to use in the dark dormitory, I decided to shop for it. Despite it being a late Saturday night, the neighbourhood around the hostel seemed nice enough to walk through safely. Not like it was in '99 when my sister and I stayed in Stockwell. In fact, walking alongside a canal surrounded by tall modern flats and private gardens, on a pleasantly warm night, London reminded me of Düsseldorf and Frankfurt. It looked wealthy, neat and clean - so much unlike what I had gotten used to in Edinburgh and Chester that I thought of it as continental. At the all night Tesco it was slightly less friendly among other late night shoppers, no problem though. I strolled back, setting my new alarm underway and playing with a cheap and weak torch. When I arrived back at the hostel, my bed was taken and my bag placed elsewhere - the bloody cheek. Still, the torch helped in disturbing the git who had taken my bed, though I found another berth.
This blog entry is really getting much too long, so I got up well, had breakfast at the hostel and travelled to Kings Cross in one sentence. At breakfast I had decided to leave London, as Manchester and Scotland appealed more. I could either meet Lottie a day early, or go on to Edinburgh and come back down again. Oh the freedom of Interrail!
Labels: travel