This was as productive a day as it could have been considering I have no class or schoolwork to speak of until Thursday. I woke up at 5:45 am, skyped for a couple hours, then took the tube into central London by myself. I brought a pack of these “city walk” cards that were lent to me. Each card has a map on one side, and directions and information about the shops and stuff on the other side. They give you descriptions of places like good restaurants or the old homes of famous people. I did “Soho 1” and followed it exactly, which brought me to some incredible stops. It took some walking up and down the same street several times every now and then to find the next turn, but hey, I tried and ultimately succeeded. I walked by the Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Club, where Jimi Hendrix reportedly gave his last performance before he died, and the sites of Mozart’s and Karl Marx’s old houses. What a trio of things to see within a span of ten minutes.
I ate at one of the cafes that the card suggested, Maison Bertaux. It was adorable! An old, sweet couple ran it and were so kind and attentive to everyone in the shop (me and about two other people in the other room). I sat by myself at a small table while having my new favorite breakfast (an almond croissant and lady grey tea) with a coffee (typical). It was actually really nice to eat alone and just focus on my surroundings… And my lack of knowledge of British etiquette, apparently. Right after I sat down, the shop owner brought me an enormous croissant on a plate with the smallest fork and knife I’ve ever seen. I’ve never eaten any kind of pastry with utensils, so I was a little confused… I was thinking, “Do English people eat croissants with forks and knives? Will I look like a barbarian if I use my hands?” Overall, I was just very confused. The outside of my croissant was super tough so the fork and knife didn’t quite cut it, pun intended. So when the man was near me, I pretended to use the utensils. When he left, though, I sneakily (probably not) just used my hands. It was quite the ordeal. I really should do a little Googling to solve this mystery.
Speaking of ordeals, OH WOW did I get myself lost trying to get back to Roehampton. I could only find tube stations that went north and I needed to go west, so I walked proooobably five miles trying to find the right one. That’s what I get for trying to be independent and adventurous, I suppose. I finally found it, or so I thought. As it turns out, Euston Station and Euston Square Station are not the same thing. Who the heck thought that was a good idea? Someone somewhere is laughing at me I just know it. Is it you? I walked another mile or so back the way I came to get to Euston Square Station. It was quite the experience and I’m glad it happened but dear lord I hope it doesn’t happen again!