May 1—London . . . well, Staines really

                I never thought of myself as having an accent until I heard myself today against a backdrop of Brits. We keep our vowels round in the United States, using our whole mouths to pronounce them instead of keeping the backs of our tongues stuck to the roofs our mouths to flatten them. Even just a few hours later, I’ve caught on to some of the local lingo—lift instead of elevator, toilets for the bathroom, bus stand and so forth. I ordered a chicken fa-HEE-ta sandwich today for lunch and the gal behind the counter had to clarify my meaning. “The warm FA-gee-ta baguette?” Judging by the fact that it’s been two and a half hours and I’m still tasting it, I think we were talking about the same thing.

                The plan today was to meet Holly at the airport and go to Westminster to see Big Ben. I was really looking forward to seeing the trademark architecture of London, but alas, it was not meant to be. The London airport does not run like Atlanta. I climbed up the jet way and an escalator to come out into the most barren terminal I’ve ever seen. Gray walls, no pictures, no shops, and  only my fellow travelers coming off of a flight, directed by judiciously placed signs pointing to the bathroom and the exit. I sat and waited at the end of the long gray hallway, waiting for Holly to come down it as I assumed she would because we flew with the same airline. I for forgot I had a clock on my ipod and there wasn’t one visible where I was sitting, so I waited for a long time, until I was sure it had been at least an hour. Indeed, when I finally found a time display, it was 11:30. I had landed at 9:00, Holly was supposed to land at 10:00. Something was wrong.

                Maybe she had slipped past me somehow. I went through customs and down the stairs to baggage claim where I found the BAA desk (I still don’t know what that stands for—maybe British American Airways?) and asked for help.

“Oh ya, flight 4676 arrived almost two hours ago at terminal 5. So I imagine your friend won’t be there any more. Was she going to wait for you?”

“Well yes, but we were planning on meeting in the terminal.”

“She won’t be there now, but she might still be land side if you hurry. What you need to do is catch the Etra (Heathrow) Express. It’s to your right and down the stairs.”

I scoured terminal five, but couldn’t find Holly anywhere. By this point, it was 12:30, and I imagined that after realizing I wasn’t in the airport, Holly decided to see what she could see.

                At this point, I had a choice. I could go sit at my gate for the rest of the day until my connection was scheduled to leave at 7:30, or I could leave the airport by myself and go visit London. The first option promised safety amidst incredible boredom. The second, adventure, a taste of London and more than a little bit of terror. I dawdled making my decision, but finally chose to check my bag and buy a ticket for Paddington station. Fortunately, I didn’t know which ticket to buy, so I went to the information desk and asked.

“Why are you going to Paddington if you don’t mind my asking?”

 “I wanted to see London. Isn’t that where London is?”

“Well not exactly. What time is your next flight?”

“7:30.”

“Ok. So it’ll take you about an hour to get into London and an hour to get back. You probably need to be ready to rumble by five, so that would give you an hour or two in London if you still want to go. It might be worth it.”

“What if I’m a basket case when I travel? Do you still think it’s worth it?”

“If you just want to get out of the airport for a few hours and don’t mind where, you could just get a bus ticket into Staines, the local town. That’ll cost you about ₤5, and you can get some lunch and have a look around. The next bus leaves in five minutes. To your right, outside at stand nine.”

Public transportation scares me. Having to get into London by myself with the possibility that I might get lost and stuck in London unable to get back to the airport was what I realized was holding me back. But a 15 minute bus driven by a human being that could reassure me I was at the right place and not a senseless computer made venturing out seem much more appealing. So I did it. I bought a return ticket, caught the bus and rode into Staines.

When we left the airport, I was a little bit surprised. Outside the Atlanta airport is a dirty city and some of the scarier parts of town. The Heathrow airport is surrounded by green fields full of grazing sheep and lambs, old country lanes, and 100 year brick houses. It’s beautiful. I think I could have been happy just sitting on the bus all day and looking at the country side, but when the driver announced Staines, I got off. He told to get back on the bus, all I needed to do was wait at stand 8 for #71 and he kindly gave me a book of bus times. It was more than obviously that I was a little bit nervous.

I’ve created a photo tour so that you can all see what I saw in Staines.

  

The bus lets off at the Elmsleigh shopping center. For the most part, it looks like any shopping center you might see in the United States, except that while all of the storefronts are new, they are clearly built into much older buildings. On top of all the stores are old apartments and offices with pigeon poop stained roofs and old glass windows.

  
  

Poundworld and Poundland. Almost as good as Disney World/Disney Land!! It was in pound world that I made an incredible discovery. This next picture is for all of you American Flushed Away fans out there.

Yes. I now know that Rita’s boat is named after a cereal bar.

I also liked how they called these “Choccy” muffins.

  

In the middle of the shopping center, I discovered that Staines is famous as the hometown of Linoleum.

     

Elmsleigh sits between two rivers. The Thames, and one that is more of a creek to me. Close to the creek was a store that looked vaguely familiar, and sitting in the middle of it was this swan. It was just chillin there, moving stuff from one side of its nest to the other. I’ve rarely seen swans in my life, but definitely never in the wild. Seeing the swan was one of several moments I had while in Staines that I was living in somewhere out of a movie or a book. My mom and I have always been huge fans of what we call corset dramas—Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice etc. I’ve seen so many movies and read so many books set in England that it was almost surreal to be there.

After a while, I had seen what there was to see in the shopping center and started venturing further into town. There’s a little town square a street or two over with a WWI/WWII memorial for natives of Staines that were killed.

The war memorial was right across from the old Town Hall where I discovered Staines’ other claim to fame.

In 1805, when it became clear that invasion by Napoleon was no longer a threat, Lieutenant John Richards Lapenotiere was sent aboard the H.M. Schooner PICKLE to take the news to London. He landed at the opposite corner of Great Britain and rode across land, changing horses 21 times before arriving. His path is known as the Trafalgar Way, and Staines is proud to be the 20^th of the 21 stops he made. I love this story for two reasons. First, because the boat was named the Pickle, and second, because I think it’s adorable that the town is so proud to be one of 21 pit stops before London.

The Town Hall backs up to the Thames River. Along the shore is a river walk.

     

   

    

From the town hall side, I had a view of this beautiful old hotel called the Swan. Again, to me it was something from a movie. I crossed the Staines Bridge to the other side of the Thames which was took me into a more residential area.

As I was walking down this road, I crossed paths with an old man dressed as the epitome of an English gentleman. His hair was white and his blue eyes popped out of a round wrinkled face. He had a brown paper boy hat pulled snugly onto his head that matched a brown suit, vest and tie combo. I think he might even have been carrying a cane. I also saw this incredible blue door.

Behind the houses was my favorite part of the whole day: a little lane, muddy after all the rain, that walked along the other side of the Thames.

It was so beautiful! And so relaxing. Staines wasn’t exactly the quintessential London experience, but it was exactly what I needed. After an hour or walking around there, I was able to return to the airport ready for 12 more hours on the plane.