Greetings, blog friends! I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to post an entry from the UK, but I’ve been having some Internet connection issues (well, of course; this is me we’re talking about here … ahh, that was too cynical and pessimistic. Outlook switch … accomplished :)) Anyways, now that I actually have a connection, I hope to post much more frequently and thereby satiate the distracted queries entering your head at random points during the day as to whether or not I’m still alive.

First things’ first: the obligatory travel nightmare story. And believe me, I have a story. I find it highly ironic that Houston, a city with absolutely no cause for delays, would sit at the root of all my flight problems – as opposed to, say, Charlotte or New York (places you’d expect to present some obstacles in January). Nevertheless, this is where all the fun started. I include the following hypothetical (and somewhat whiny) letter to introduce my tale of woe:

Dear U.S. Airways,
I boycott you and all your “ladies and gentlemen, this flight has been overbooked” and “ladies and gentlemen, this flight is encountering several maintenance issues and will be delayed about ten minutes … ten minutes that will actually be stretched into three hours because we’re so incredibly slow and uncoordinated.” Never again will I use your airline. Also, for goodness’ sake, turn on your air conditioning so that I don’t have to sweat next to European businessmen in ill-fitting suits, with even more ill-fitting senses of humor.
Yours sincerely, Rebecca Dietz

Mmmm, the joys of air travel. To make a long story short, my delayed flight to Charlotte resulted in a missed connection to the JFK airport, at which point I had hoped to meet my study abroad group so we could all fly overseas together. After a frantic dash through the airport and drawn-out argument with the ticket agent (who knew I could be so pushy?), I was crowned the loser and ended up spending an extra night in Charlotte. Thank goodness Sarah was right there with me (for those of you who don’t know, my good friend Sarah Miller and I are attending the same program, and thankfully we decided to travel to New York together). The next morning, having become crossword puzzle masters in the meantime, we arrived at JFK in a considerably more rumpled state than our itinerary originally called for. Our IFSA-Butler group had already made it to the UK, having flown off on schedule the night before, so we hung around the airport all day like a couple of hoboes and waited for the next Virgin Atlantic flight. Takeoff that evening presented considerable cause for celebration; we were finally off! [On a random side note, thanks to the Virgin Atlantic flight attendants: not only did your supremely posh British accents make me smile, but your patience also helped a pathetic unseasoned traveler feel better about her unfortunate case of airsickness (yes, I realize this is the second time I’ve directly addressed an airline throughout the course of this blog; I shall try to keep all future correspondence to my own head so as not to worry you with questions concerning my sanity).]

Arrival time at Heathrow Airport: approximately 6:30am. Victory! Fortunately, British Customs felt my appearance sufficiently removed from that of a terrorist and decided let me into their country, and Sarah and I crammed all our overstuffed luggage into a tiny black taxicab and set out for London. What a lovely city to catch a first glimpse of at sunrise! Excitement pushed through despite my exhaustion and queasy stomach as we jostled alongside the other commuters (on the wrong side of the road. Bah!). My initial impression of England: narrow lanes. I’ll admit this to be a random and rather strange thing to note, for a first observation, but it’s what continues to stick in my travel-wearied mind. Drivers zip through, no problem, but I looked down to see my white knuckles clutching the seat for dear life. Kudos to anyone who dares to rent a car in a foreign country.

Unfortunately, I have nothing of interest to note about my first few days in London: just before leaving the U.S., I caught a pretty horrible respiratory infection and spent the majority of my orientation (when not in lectures) curled up in bed with a high fever and a box of Kleenex. Brilliant. I did foolishly venture out one night to take the world’s worst picture of Buckingham Palace, which I’ve posted for your viewing (non)pleasure:



The Queen was being smart that night and decided not to stay in the city (hence a very limp Union Jack) – London was experiencing a rather severe cold snap that amazingly caused the fountains at Trafalgar Square to freeze over into chunks of ice. It was cold, guv’nor! (yes, for those of you keeping tabs so that you can laugh at me later, that was a horribly lame use of British lingo.) Needless to say, I stayed in after that so as to recover quickly. And, for the most part, *hacking cough* I have. :)

This about wraps up my travel saga for now. I do realize this post carries a considerable amount of disgruntled traveler within it, but keep following – tomorrow or the next day I promise to regale you with delightful little tales of my trip to Windsor, the first day of class and pictures of my room (complete with wardrobe and coat rack. Am I at college or tucked away within some country estate? Either way, things are looking up :))

Hope everyone is warm and well back at home, and for those of you starting a new semester this week, best of luck!!

Cheerio from Egham and Royal Holloway!!