Remember when you were a little kid about to go to Disney World and you get up at 4AM, run around the park all day riding everything, close the park down, leave at 2AM and basically turn into the walking dead on the way home? Today was like that.

We did a LOT, and started early. Like am I seriously getting up at 4AM early. We were taking the chunnel from Paris right into London, and I really didn't know how smoothly it would all go. There were a few minutes of confused searching around the train station (only to discover we had been in the right place ten minutes before) and I'm glad we got there early. I don't know if it's because of the Olympic Games or what, but security was ridonculous. I'm used to getting the thrid degree from border patrol when I'm wearing a backpack and look like a homeless guy, but when I'm wearing a suit and tie? They must have looked at every single page of my passport. "Why are you going to London? How many minutes will you be there? Do you plan to breathe on this trip???" With great reluctance, my passport was stamped. I was looking forward to the train ride and wish I could say how much I enjoyed it, but I was dead to the world for most of the ride. I think Dad was the only one of us to actually stay awake.

Getting off the train was almost as painful as getting on, but we had made it and the hard part was over...or so I thought. Our very first stop would be the Britain branch of Jehovah's Witnesses for a tour and lunch with the family. We already had a tube map that showed which stop we need to wind up at, but how to get there was the big unknown. I just assumed the metro would be as easy to figure out as Paris. Nope! I stared at a map for ten minutes and walked all over that stinking station. There were people everywhere, criss-crossing to different tunnels. It was like a human highway with no stop lights. Only the most determined survived. I finally gave up and headed to a ticket desk. I made the very serious mistake of believing the teller and I speak the same language. Apparently he speaks English, and I speak a strange dialect that made communication extremely difficult :) I told him where we wanted to go and he sold me the ticket to get there. It was like 8 pounds a pop! I thought he was joking. Throughout the day we ended up spending like $30 on metro tickets per person. I found out at the end of the day that we could have bought a day pass for a third of that. Live and learn, grumble grumble... We bought the tickets and found the train we needed. I was really frustrated by the tube system, but as the day went on and I figured things out it really wasn't all that bad. The trains are nicer in London than in Paris, but I think Paris is easier to navigate. I really hate that the London lines have names, like Northern Line, or Victoria. In Paris they just have a number, which makes finding your way around a lot easier becuase, let's face it, I'm not that smart.

Three connections later and we were at the station for Bethel. Google Maps said it was only half a mile away so we started walking. Problem is, it was really hot and the walk was entirely uphill. Nothing like meeting a bunch of new people for the first time while out of breath and covered in sweat! The tour was fantastic. I had no idea how much territory the branch cared for. It was a lot smaller than what we see in New York at Headquarters, but there was a beautiful park-like garden on the grounds and the dining room had huge glass windows to let it all in. There were several buildings and many residences, all in a very neighborhood-like setting. Something I hadn't expected was the incredible diversity of nationalities and languages there. It never occured to me that friends from all over Europe would be serving in Britain, but it makes a lot of sense considering how easy it is for an EU citizen to move around. The convention had only been over for a week, and the branch had already been receiving letters of thanks for the program. One of the bethelites said it was part of their reward for all their hard work, which kind of struck me. I have never sent a branch a thank you note, but I think I might now. It was already after 1PM, and the friends had to get back to work. We said our goodbyes and made the (thankfully downhill) walk back to the tube station.

With only 4 or 5 hours before we needed to get back to the train staion, we wouldn't have time to do anything meaningful in the city. I had really wanted to visit the British Museum, but it just wasn't in the cards this trip. So we chose plan B, a whirlwind see-as-much-as-you-can trip to the city center. The second you step out of the tube station, you see Big Ben. On the one hand, it was much more intricately detailed than I had imagined, and on the other it was a lot smaller than I expected. Yeah it was big, but I think I had a skyscraper kind of thing in my head. Gorgeous either way. The games are starting in just a couple of days, and I think this may be the best the city will ever look. There are giant banners and flags all over the place, and the streets are absolutely spotless. Throw in the sunny sky and excitement surrounding the games, and I can see why so many people were flocking there. We walked and walked, snapping pictures and moving on without having any idea what we were looking at. It wasn't the ideal way to see the city but it was the best we could do given the time we had. There were amazing looking pubs everywhere we looked, and we were getting hungry. Dad has his heart set on fish and chips, and I was craving a solid beer. We found a pub and walked in, only to find that they didn't serve food between 3PM and 5PM. Huh? You could sit down and drink, but you couldn't eat for those two short hours. Thinking that was some kind of oddity we moved on to the next pub, and the next one, and the next one. Nobody servise food from 3PM to 5PM! Why not?!? Do people not need food then? How hard is it ot keep someone in the kitchen for those two measely hours? We were hungry and frustrated, which meant Dad and I started slipping into jerk tourist mode. We power walked through the streets, getting angrier and angrier at what we saw as a mindless hindernace to an enjoyable trip. We stumbled into some kind of main square that reminded me of Times Square in NYC. Less awesome, of course, but still very lively and fun :) To Dad's great relief, there was a Rainforest Cafe. I didn't even need to ask. Once he had spotted it, I knew that was where we were going. Normally I would have fought for somehting a little more authentic to the area, but I was so ticked off that nobody else would serve us that I just didn't care. We were seated right away and Dad promptly ordered a Bud in a bottle. It's funny seeing that on the list of pricier imports. I couldn't get myself to order an $8 Budweiser even if Dad was paying for it, so I passed on the booze...it felt wrong to spend that much on something I wouldn't drink for $2 at home. We had a great lunch to the tune of $220. London is exPENsive! We had about an hour left to kill so we did some souvenir shopping and walked the streets. We even stumbled into their little China, complete with whole roast ducks in the windows. There was plenty going on fo the games and construction crews/military were everywhere setting things up. The barricades on every street kind of killed the aesthetics for our pictures, but to be honest I wasn't all that impressed with the big stuff anyway. Buckingham palace was kind of a letdown after seeing the Louvre and Versailles. For me, the back alleys and sidestreets are what made London special. Seeing the beefeaters was fun, but that must be a really terrible job; you're basically just a punch line for a tourist's photographs. One gaurd was in fron of the gates, and there was a long line of people waiting to stand nextg to him and take their picture. How humiliating for him! Something tells me that isn't what he signed up for...

By this time I had the tube pretty well figured out and we got to the main staition without a problem. Totally exhausted, we found our seats and settled in for that incredibly terrible half-sleep you get while sitting up straight on a moving train. Thankfully, the metro was still running when we got back to Paris and we trudged home to hit our beds...hard.