‎"I feel about travel the way a happy new mother feels about her impossible, colicky, restless newborn baby- I just don't care what it puts me through. Because I adore it. Because it's mine. Because it looks exactly like me. It can barf all over me if it wants to- I just don't care." Eat, Pray, Love

I am officially in London! After what might end up being my worst transcontinental journey to date, London is now charming the pants off of me. Nothing went as it was supposed to- flights, medical emergencies (not me- fellow plane passengers), converters, phones, directions, and the internet. But if there's one thing I've learned about terrible starts of journeys: the worse the beginning, the better the experience.

In Greece, I went for 3 days sans clothes because my luggage had all been lost on the way over [shout out to Liz KS for letting me borrow so many things!]. When it was finally recovered, customs had torn the front of my suitcase off and duct-taped it back for my convenience. What a way to begin a 5 week trip.

Then, there was France. I think my brain has actually blocked out most of what happened in those first 48 hours, trying to protect itself from the horror. But what I do remember is Staci and I sitting on our suitcases in a parking lot after the last train had left for the night in what was the smallest haystack village in France.* Which, of course, had no hotels. I believe we were on hour 24 of travel. There were tears of frustration involved, and of course, cursing all things French.**

In London, I had just exited the Tube and taken a first look at my new neighborhood. Right when I thought I was going to collapse due to exhaustion, I heard a familiar accent ask me: "Did you go to Carolina?" And right from the heavens, God dropped a fellow Tar Heel down to save me. Living one street away, my savior carried my (deceptively heavy) duffel bag 5 blocks. And don't get me wrong, lots of British people had helped me along the way- up and down stairs, onto and off of planes and the Tube. But none showed up right when I was running out of energy and optimism.

I want to end with this thought: Thank God for North Carolina boys.

*We were saved when "the last train" did not mean "the last public transportation" and we could hop a ride on a bus.

**Which is a big deal, especially because one of my greatest passions in life, cheese, often derives from the country.