I have so many words I want to put on this page, but I'm writing from the Apple Store because I can't use my computer right now. And this keyboard is utter crap, damn Brits, so there will be typos.
So here's the deal: In a massive brain fart of epic proportions, I managed to delete my entire photo library. (I won't explain now. That will come later.) Thanks to my friend Max, I'm trying to sort it all out, but I can't use my computer until I return home, which is one reason why I haven't been posting. If you have choice words for me about how utterly fucking stupid that was and how I should have backed everything up properly between trips, trust me, my brain has already done all the berating and torturing necessary. And also, my god I fucking know. Words of support are welcome, but also unnecessary. I'm working out a story about it in my head. J. Ryan if you're reading this, please put me on the docket for the next Hot Dish. I will have a cracking story to tell by then.
So here's the Cliff Notes for the last 2+ weeks. I LOVE SPAIN. Love it to bits. Barcelona in particular. I can't wait to go back someday, hopefully sooner than later. And to Portugal, which we never made it to. But I'm just fine with that. Spain was plenty.
I've been in London since May 4th, with a jaunt to Brussels on the 6-7th. Brussels was wonderful. I spent my days wandering the streets, visiting two museums (I adore Flemish art), finding chocolate shops, getting lost and then found, and even missing my train home. But the woman at the station was amazing, booked me on the next train, and all was well. I've never missed a train/plane/bus in my life of my own accord. Missed connections don't count. So that was a weird shock. My travel brain is full. Overstimulated to the brink of overflowing, I've turned into a bit of a fool. Hence the cockup with my photos. Hence the missed train, in spite of setting an alarm. It's like having pregnancy brain, but instead of being with child, I'm with stupid.
Anyhoo, in spite of that, I'm having a grand time in London. I've been hanging out with my dear friend Aleks, eating oh-so-well, seeing plays, taking walks, and just generally having fun. Today I met up with two old friends from Uni Sussex. We caught each other up on the 20 years that have passed since we did King Lear together. One of them has become a world-class Ultimate Frisbee player and had two children, the other has become a lawyer and published three novels, with more on the way. Amazing. So much fun to catch up with them. They looked exactly the same. (Puck, if you're reading this, you were mentioned very fondly.)
I'm absolutely gutted that I can't use my computer to write. I bought a notebook so I could start writing, but it's so weird and clunky to write on real paper with a real pen. I'll just have to go back in time and deal with it. To think there was a time that that was all we knew.
I'm so grateful that I don't have to haul myself around seeing the normal tourist things here. I took care of those years ago. I mean, I'm still going to the Tate Modern, but that's something I'd do regardless. Plus, they have a huge Matisse cut out exhibit going now and that's so cool. London has crap weather and is expensive as all get out, but it's a huge, winding, wonderful city full of so many things to discover. A week here is barely enough.
I really don't want to go home, yet I do. I'm caught in the sliding doors of wishing for two adventures to happen simultaneously. If I could split off another me and let her go exploring while the other me went home to make some money that would be fun. But what would happen with my memory? Could I partition it out and have both? There's a sci fi story for you.
Okay. For real now. I'm heading out to meet Aleks at a pub. I need a pint of something good.