DAY 2, 17 FEB, LONDON

Woweeee, what a day!

Woke up, went all the way to a wonderful market in the street, where I bought a delicious-looking pocket-mirror for only three euro (should’ve bargained a bit, but was a little too fresh still), and then later a really fuzzy and cozy little hat for only 6 (which I got down from eight, jay!)

The markets were really cool, ‘cos they had all these authentic vintage stuff, like leather bags and shoes, and crazy cheap furs. Oh, I would really have loved a fur coat, but didn’t have that amount of money, and honestly, who wears furs in Africa? Its too hot man.

After the market Charlotte and I made our way via bus to Trafalgar square, cruising around the area, “poodling” (in the words of Jo-ann) in the shops.

We were really just spending time until my big surprise, which ended up being two tickets (Me and Charlie) to see the Phantom of the Opera at her Majesty’s Theatre, where the first show was held 25 years ago, courtesy of her mom.

I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but WHAT a fantastic day.

PS: Free Wifi at Holiday Inn ROCKS my life.

DAY 1: 16 FEB, THURSDAY; LONDON

What an amazing day. Long, but amazing. Like the last time I write you, I am tired and not thinking as much as one should when broadcasting one’s thoughts out into the blogosphere, but that is of little concern to me right now, as my feet are completely bushed and sore from a hard day’s travel.

What an amazing day. I feel so at home in London. Perhaps it is because when I arrived on Heathrow there was Charlotte, ready to pick me up. We went on the tube first and I was amazed at how small it was compared to the underground in Paris. Perhaps British people are smaller than their French counterparts? Nah. Anyhoo, we had lovely chats all the way home, not having a care for all the other fellows beside us who acted like they weren’t listening to what we were saying but of course, they weren’t deaf and were indead bending their ears, as the rest of the tube was total silence. Not too bad. Except when I tried (and failed) at a Kockney accent on the terminal and Chartlotte almost ran away from me, the embarrassment was so much.

What an amazing day. Jo-ann’s house is lovely and cozy; glad to come home to a warm and inviting little place where I was offered hot soup and great conversation. Jo-ann is a wonderful and interesting woman; I was amazed at the interesting stories she told us. The people she’s met, oh! In London during the “roaring” sixties, Paris as well, she is a fantastic witness to a time that has, sadly, passed us by. I wondered what it would be like to experience her memories of the time in a 21^st century Europe. As  I am on my way to a Contiki tour with fellow youngens, the club scene that awaits me is very much present in my head. I don’t think the clubs are anything alike to the picture Jo-ann painted of those she experienced and the ones I’m about to. Well, if anything, they should prove interesting, as they won’t be the average pub around the corner that I’m used to from back home (and when I say pub, I of course mean someone’s back yard…with lions for bouncers, duh).

What an amazing day. I just wish I could remember everything I had made mental notes of to write about on my way. But it seems that sleep tugs not only at my eyelids but also on my memory, refusing to stay at bay until I give in and lie down and rest. Rest would do met quite well right now, old chap.

What an amazing day. Tomorrow, I just know, will be amazing too.