7:22am and I’m on the underground  (which happens to actually be above ground at the moment) on my way to Heathrow Airport, where I’ll catch a flight to Geneva, Switzerland to meet up with the cousins. Looking forward to having some company.

I couldn’t help but glance at this guy cut off in the picture because he is sitting directly across from me with his legs sprawled open, and rather suspiciously, the crotch of his filthy grey sweatpants seems to have been hastily stitched up Frankenstein style with bright blue thread. In my opinion, I think this dude needs new pants. Hope you enjoyed that mental image.

Also, I am on the Picadilly line, which is arguably my favorite line, and I got on at Hammersmith station. Not sure you can possibly get any more British sounding than that, which is why I love it. Bahahah… the train conductor: “Alright now… I’m going give you a break from hearing my voice now… you shouldn’t hear from me unless you need to… Well… alright. Heathrow…”

I gotta say. I am pretty pumped about this airport. According to friend Shelby, it is airport heaven. She literally said she wished she could have spent more time there. In the airport.

Okay. Let’s go back to where we left off. I had just touched down in London, was running on as close to empty as I have ever been (mentally, physically, emotionally), and I had been awake for approximately 40 hours. My plan for London all along was to try to just get as much rest as possible before continuing with my trip, since the first time I dealt with Europe jetlag, I slept for 17 hours my first night, and last year I slept for 19.

*Spoiler alert* I did not get close to sleep in the teen hours.

I also had purchased ‘groundling’ tickets to two shows at Shakespeare’s Globe Theater. Groundling tickets are only five pounds and you don’t get a seat. Standing on the ground in front of the stage, only. Hence the name. The shows were Twelfth Night at 2pm, and Tristan and Yseult at 7:30. The thing is, my head was swimming. I made it to my hostel easy enough by about 11:30, but I couldn’t check in (or get as bed, which I so desired) until 2, when I was due to be at my first show. It was quite a dilemma figuring out if I should or would be physically able to make it to both shows, and I consulted anyone and everyone I thought might be awake at 5am to get input on which show I should sleep through if I skipped one. Unfortunately, nobody was awake or online, so I had to make the decision myself. I decided to attend the 2pm show so that I would not have to deal with getting back in the dark and so that I could *potentially* get a long, uninterrupted night of sleep rather than trying to rouse myself from a nap to go outside again in a few hours.

This all may have been a bad plan.

I still had an hour or so to kill, and I spent most of this time debating bribing the hostel staff into giving me an early bed. I needed to order food to get change for the locker, so I ordered a salad and a hot chocolate, which I thought would calm me down and lift my spirits.

Wrong! Ohmygod that hot “chocolate” was without a doubt the number one most terribly disappointing beverage I have ever purchased. I paid about four dollars for a cup of what was most likely cheap hot chocolate powder mixed with water. No whipped cream and no show. As the waitress gave me the mug, I’m sure my face said, “You’re joking, right?”

But she was! She was joking in that I had not even tasted the “chocolate” yet, so had no idea just how ripped off I had really been. Not only was this an ugly, sad looking excuse for expensive hot chocolate, but they probably put about a fifth of the amount of chocolate the recipe requires. It was essentially chalky brown-ish water. What a great prank.

It also took them about half an hour to give me my tiny salad. It was alright, I guess, but not worth five pounds. Behold:

So that was disappointing. I ate what I could and drank very little and was off to the Globe. The view was nice from my hostel’s street, though:

A quick jaunt across town, and I arrived at the Globe:

It was getting hot out, and I did not plan for the shade when choosing my standing location. Throughout the show, in fact, it was a kind of game between myself and those around me to hide from the hot light and crowd in the bits of shade that moved with the sun.

The show, however, was wonderful. I wish in had been more awake and less in fear of getting sunburned, because I didn’t fully follow the story at all times, but that is quite common with Shakespeare, anyway.

I have started to get more interested in Shakespeare now that I have seen some shows live and read about the process of a theater troupe preparing a performance of Hamlet. The history is so fascinating to me. Shakespeare is really an art form separate from the rest of theater. His plays have been around for so long, and are so well known, and are played by so many, many different groups all around the world so many times a year. How could people possibly still be interested in watching them? In acting in them? In directing them? Don’t they get bored???

But that’s just it. Putting on a Shakespeare production has turned into a game of not getting bored. The directors and actors morph the scripts into shows so wildly different from each other and from the original style. I never know what to expect, now, going into a Shakespeare play. I think it really is the only way to enjoy it. Reading the plays does not do them justice.

For the Twelfth Night, the cast began with a dance number. ‘Okay….’ I thought. Then, a big, beautiful black man in drag, with a floor-length, deep-cut, glittering gown, a full beard, and an even fuller diva wig, stepped onto the stage. She was quite mesmerizing, with a deep, ringing voice.

I can’t remember how they transitioned into it, but next thing I knew, the cast was dancing around and singing, ‘We are family… I got all my sisters with me…’ Half the cast was in sailing uniforms and the other half was in disco attire.

It was immensely interesting and seriously entertaining. The performance was funny, dramatic, and showy. My favorite characters were the drag queen (narrator maybe?) and Malvolio, this little man played by a woman. She was sooooo funny and committed to her character. I had to look away sometimes, and other times I couldn’t. So talented.

Overall, show 10/10, tiredness and blazing sun aside. I hung out a little after that, went grocery shopping for dinner/ breakfast, chatted with some family and friends online and then went to bed around 8pm.

Didn’t sleep super well, unfortunately. I went through three phases of restless dozing/sleep that probably lasted about an hour or so, interspersed with texting and counting sheep. Was too hot to get comfortable, and people kept coming in and out of the room. Geneva bed don’t let me down.

I got up a little ahead of schedule and was able to enjoy breakfast outside before getting on the train.

Didn’t get to spend much time in the airport, Shelby, but it was definitely nicer than Gatwick and Luton! Later I will be flying into Stansted, so by the end of this trip, I will be able to compare all four major London airports.

On the plane, with a real window. I’m flying Swiss, and it is quite nice. The seats are sleek, relatively cozy, and have a lot of room around them. Maybe I’ll get another nap in. Next stop, Switzerland!

 

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Crap. I think I left my watch in the hostel. ):

 

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I’m liking Swiss more and more. That was one of the fastest, smoothest takeoffs I’ve ever experienced, and then they gave everybody croissants. Strangely, the croissant tastes like a pretzel…

The plane itself is so cute and bubbly, too. Not sure how to describe it. Like a cartoon plane or something. Plus everybody speaks French and has French accents.

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Something that always amazes me on flights is how much land is farmland. It doesn’t seem that way from the ground.

Also, our plane keeps flying by other planes that are flying, and it looks so cool, you have no idea. That’s one of my favorite things to see in the air.

Eeeep. Another of my favorites are the Alps. So beautiful.

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Touchdown was a little more dramatic than takeoff, but I’m in Switzerland! Talk soon!

 

Venlig hilsen/ cheers/ au revoir,

 

Lizzy-wa