Posto Uno

I was waiting for crosstown train on the london underground, when it struck me…

its time for a post.

not just any post.

posto uno!

My apologies to the queen (and other interested parties) for the delay in slapping up the news, but here it is now, so no worries.

We arrived at Heathrow around 8am on Tuesday to a delayed Picadiily Line thanks to suicide jumpers on the tracks. Evidently its the new hip thing if your depressed and life isn’t going your way, or if all you ever see are cloudy skies like in London. We arrived in Buckhurst Hill about 1pm later to fair weather and an incredibly welcoming Auntie Erica.

back track–

Air India is/was awesome. Relatively uncomfortable seats, but the nicest flight attendants this side of New Delhi and a plane that for whatever reason no one cares to ride on. As we boarded we were given a Hindu blessing, or at least a bow and a “have a blessed flight” from a woman in a sari who I never again saw on the flight. We got settles and after about five minutes the doors closed and I decided to move up towards Adam since there appeared to be rows of empty seats for the claiming. We were soon given little orange juice things which we both left to de-thaw while we amused ourselves with the touch screen panel in each headboard filled with both hindi and english games music and movies. I watched my first ever Indian comedy show which was hilarious although probably not for the right reasons until the flight attendants came around with more beverages.

‘what do you have?’ i asked. ‘everything coke water beer whiskey what would you like.’ ‘oh wow i guess i’ll just have a beer then’ ‘and how many cans would you care for sir?’

The above was not to be believed by me, but is, in fact what I heard and how I responded. Mind you, the television activities, beverages, and the dinner to come were at no extra cost for the flight. As the flight continued we received a heaping meal of Indian cuisine with all courses miniaturized and considered. Little did we know the gastric problems that would arrive upon landing and remain a problem nearly until arrival at Auntie Erica’s flat.

We remained at Erica’s flat that day, welcomed with macaroni and cheese and honey cakes oh my. She took us out for dinner to a pub in Theydon Bois. Never fear, this was not just your run of the mill public house, rather it was filled with shiny brass trinkets many of which relating to the historically horse-carried beer barrels of yester yore. There were also many war clippings and tributes which was neat. This pub, I decided was the authentic applebee’s but with much cooler (and much more) wall and ceiling flare. Much more worthwhile or meaningful as well. I had my first English cider and a bountiful plate of English chili and rice. Adam ate a lamb. Let me also mention the super-speciality of this bar: this bar is frequented by none other than one Mr. Sir Rod Stewart. He wasn’t there, but does have a home in the area and “grabs em a poi-nt win E’s arownd.” Good man Roddy. Erica then gave us a whirlwind driving tour of downtown London, which was grand to see all lit up for the night. Erica is filled with knowledge of London and its citizenry. I spent the hour or so rubbernecking to more precisely drive by evaluate the city’s architecture and landmarks. My camera poked out the rear driver-side window most of the night as I attempted to snap photos of everything I could see. I was rather unsuccessful, but not completely. The night ended pulling out the sleeper sofa and passing out only to arise (for me, Adam sleeps through anything) around quarter to five to start my first full day on the soggy island that is Britian.