Ahead of our Scandinavian adventure, I found myself on my own in London for a few days. I have dog eared about 100 pages in a London travel guide and today I did zero of the things in it. Mostly because I decided I could totally figure out public transportation after an international flight. I mean, I was making a lot of good decisions, like eating at the airport instead of the in flight meal, so how could this go wrong.
If I had bought a bus ticket ahead of time, it might have worked. If I had bought a bus ticket ahead of time, I probably would have underestimated how long it would take to clear customs at Heathrow. As it was, I had a two hour wait for a bus, so I opted for the express train to Paddington station, with an underground hop to Marylebone station to catch a train to Gerrards Cross. Simple.
Except that each leg requires a different type of ticket.
The first was obvious because there were about a million signs telling riders their other kinds of transport passes didn't work. The last, though, was not. I picked up an Oyster card (London's version of the Octopus cards we used in Hong Kong), which I could use to get into the terminal for my train. Once the train departed, though, there were announcements that the Oyster card was only valid so far along this line. Three stops short of my destination.
I should really have taken a picture of the stairs I had to haul a suitcase up at that station to purchase a ticket for my last few stops. And, of course, when I did get to my stop, that ticket wouldn't scan to let me out of the station. Fortunately this problem wasn't unique to me, and the ticket agent just waved me through another door.
I want to be clear, the issues were all in how to pay for each form of transportation, not in finding the right trains. The wayfinding in the Underground is top notch. Long story short, I am now an expert at London public transportation. Or as much of one as I can be without access to the country locked mobile app for the trains.
I got to the hotel a lot later than planned, and basically just ate at the pub and walked around town a bit to try to reset my clock. It's a cute town with a cute green space full of trails.
The hotel is also adorable, and I'm kind of surprised by how big the rooms are.
Someone in the pub warned me that the showers are scalding, which I guess means I should take the warnings posted in multiple places seriously.
And speaking of the pub, here is dinner.
So now I'm back in the room, having enjoyed a long, hot (but not scalding) bath, plotting how to fit more London into tomorrow.
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| Charcuterie Plat in Atlanta's International Terminal |
Except that each leg requires a different type of ticket.
The first was obvious because there were about a million signs telling riders their other kinds of transport passes didn't work. The last, though, was not. I picked up an Oyster card (London's version of the Octopus cards we used in Hong Kong), which I could use to get into the terminal for my train. Once the train departed, though, there were announcements that the Oyster card was only valid so far along this line. Three stops short of my destination.
I should really have taken a picture of the stairs I had to haul a suitcase up at that station to purchase a ticket for my last few stops. And, of course, when I did get to my stop, that ticket wouldn't scan to let me out of the station. Fortunately this problem wasn't unique to me, and the ticket agent just waved me through another door.
I want to be clear, the issues were all in how to pay for each form of transportation, not in finding the right trains. The wayfinding in the Underground is top notch. Long story short, I am now an expert at London public transportation. Or as much of one as I can be without access to the country locked mobile app for the trains.
I got to the hotel a lot later than planned, and basically just ate at the pub and walked around town a bit to try to reset my clock. It's a cute town with a cute green space full of trails.
The hotel is also adorable, and I'm kind of surprised by how big the rooms are.
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| Room 27 at the Ethorpe Hotel |
And speaking of the pub, here is dinner.
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| Pork Belly Roast |
So now I'm back in the room, having enjoyed a long, hot (but not scalding) bath, plotting how to fit more London into tomorrow.
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