London ’s Heathrow airport is a fairly large airport and with the recent threat of bombings in Piccadilly Circle a week or so ago, we assumed security would be tight. We wound our way through to the immigration/customs line and saw not a single military presence. When asked why I was coming to London , I explained that my boyfriend was here to have surgery, which then elicited a whole string of questions about why we weren’t staying in America to have the same thing done when surely American medicine has to be the best in the world. Sure the quality of care in America can be fantastic, however, you get what you pay for. The more money you have to spend, the better the treatment is. Since it’s not regulated by the government for equality, American medicine is vastly different from other countries that have standardized practices of care. The customs agents, both mine and Josh, were intrigued that someone, especially an American, would be coming to England to have a procedure performed. We got our stamps and made our way out.

My first actual passport stamp. I didn't get one in Mexico.

After much traveling through many a myriad of tunnels we finally arrive at the Underground. There were so many choices in front of us as to buying tickets I thought it just best to ask someone where the Oyster could be bought. Josh talked with a friend who used to live in London about his upcoming trip and she suggested that we get an Oyster card, a rechargeable card that can be “topped up” with money to allow for the easiest and cheapest way to travel about London on the Tube. I asked someone, a cheerful fellow with a smock on that indicated he was an employee of the public transportation department, where the Oyster could be bought. He pointed to the line directly next to me. I’m sure he was thinking, “Stupid bloody Americans…”

While in line, I grabbed a brochure about the fare schedule and how things were run and decided it looked a little too much like tax law to really concern myself with it. I handed it off to Josh and figured I would, again, just ask someone. The chap behind the glass seemed amiable enough until we opened our mouths and our accents preceded us. I asked a fairly straight forward question: “how does all of this work?” to which he just rolled his eyes and bunkered down for a long, lengthy explanation in short English words no greater than two syllables how exactly the Tube worked. We began with information about us being there until the 13 th and that we’d be on public transport the whole time. He sold us a 44pound Oyster ticket that he said would provide us with enough money to get around for 9 days. We believed him. After a day or two, I looked up my bank statement and realized that the Oyster cost me $91.91 for a weeks worth of travel on the Underground. It was purchased, best to use it.

I will say that the Underground in London, although extensive was not at all hard to navigate. The junction stations like Euston and Bank can be a bit disorienting when there are many levels of trains transferring and going many different directions. This is confounded even more when there 90 pounds of luggage is being dragged along and a man with a hernia trying to navigate through throngs of people too much in a hurry to abide a set of travelers. Needless to say, we got on the right train and made the decision to take the Northern line to Hendon Central. Since we weren’t sure which station was closest to our lodging, Josh decided to get off there and walk the rest of the way. The friendly ladies at the Hendon Central station said that it was just a short walk of ten minutes up the hill to the bed and breakfast. Maybe ten minutes at a light jog with no luggage since it took us the better part of an hour to get there but get there we did.

Our host, Bob, answered the door with a slightly confused look on his face, I think we woke him up. We told him who we were and the joking instantly began. From the moment we got there to the moment we left, Bob was playfully aggressive with his humor. He pulled no punches. He showed us up to our room which was clean and without luxury. A double bed and a single, a small wardrobe, a TV we never made work and a small bedside table. The bathroom was communal and tidy. We settled our stuff and we went downstairs to do the paperwork. We met Katherine, Bob’s longtime friend and cohort. She made us some tea and we sat down to talk. The conversation was delightful but I was much more interested in a shower and finding a network connection to the internet because I still had to work. I left Josh to the conversation and went upstairs.