London Debrief

Any girl who goes abroad should be prepared for one thing. Men. The men in London are no different. With their charming British accents and their chivalrous attitude, a girl can be charmed into thinking she’s found her Prince Harry. This is the story of how I found myself charmed in London for 72 hours.

My best friend and I flew to London on a Wednesday night at 2am. We booked the cheapest hostel we could find that still felt safe, for a shopping $123 each for 4 nights. Our trip abroad is not like your favorite Instagram influencer’s. I would describe myself as a nepo-baby at heart being forced to live on 1,000 euros a month.

It's two a.m., we just got off our Ryan Air flight from Madrid at Stansted Airport, which is actually not in the city at all. We took an hour-long bus ride from the airport to a closer location in the city and then finally an Uber to our hostel. We arrive at PubLove Rose & Crown Hostel and they tell us Expedia accidentally messed up our reservation, so they only had one bed for us. The sweet man at the counter was able to find a bed for me for the night but the next four were going to be tricky. Little did I know I would only be staying in the hostel that night.

Madison and I are in separate rooms and I walk into the stale air of my bunk bed abode to smell a mixture of feet and farts. My last experience with bunk beds was living in my sorority house in college. Needless to say, I was doing my best not to throw a fit and practice gratitude for the experience I was about to have. The air was HOT in contrast to the frigid 29 degrees that is late November in London. The lights were off, I didn't know where to put my stuff, and I was scared of my backpack going missing. But at that point, I was so damn tired I decided to sleep with my purse and if someone wanted to take my Skims dress and Zara scarf they can have it! With only three days in London, we had to get a move on so I set my alarm for a mere four hours later and attempted to plug in my phone to the charger. I did come prepared with an adapter as the UK has different plugs than the EU, but alas it would not work for some unbeknownst reason. Just dessert for the armpit I was smelling for dinner.

I woke up the next morning with my phone on 29% and I lugged ALL of my belongings into the downstairs bathroom which was also the bathroom for the restaurant connected to our hostel. We quickly got ready in the dimmest lighting I’ve ever encountered, locked our stuff in a storage room, and ran out having no idea what we looked like to go to the British Museum.

The British Museum has a lovely collection of artifacts from just about everywhere you can think of in the world. The free entry is what enticed us and in an attempt to save money, we were keeping ourselves busy until lunch to avoid spending money on breakfast. After the museum, we found ourselves on a brisk stroll through Primrose Hill and found the cutest lunch spot on Regent’s Park Road called Lemonia. The Mediterranean fusion food was the perfect warm meal to go in a cold body. Mulled wine is also a necessity for what I’m sure you can imagine London in December is like. My lamb kebob came perfectly charred with grilled onions and peppers right on the skewer. It came with a side of rice and caramelized onions that made me want to gorge on my already full belly.

That satiated me until our dinner plans with two gorgeous authentic Brits found on Raya- the caviar of dating apps. If you don’t know Raya it’s a semi-exclusive dating app that used to only be for celebrities but now allows for recommendations to become a member. Aka how some of us normies can date each other- it’s the dating pool that’s a step above the freaks on Hinge.

The evening was off to a rushed start after trying to cram in as many tourist attractions as we could during the wee daylight hours (no seriously, the sun sets at 3:57 pm). After shoving ourselves and all our luggage into the best-lit bathroom, (which also happened to be the smallest bathroom in the hostel) we made up some excuse that allotted for our late arrival. The boys met us at our hostel, only we didn’t tell them we were staying there in case they were the stalker type. About three drinks in the lads (named two of the most Love Island names you can think of) charmed these two American girls nearly falling in love. At 24 years old and teaching English in a foreign country, I would say these days I’m looking for a more mature man who can put his card down at a moment’s notice. Okay, they were pushing 30 so when I say mature don’t think I mean someone my father’s age. Not yucking anyone’s yum- you’d be surprised, but I digress. After quite a few drinks and quite literally the spiciest meal I’ve ever had (check out my blog post for London Eats to hear about Kiln) I was convinced my Welsh, 6-foot-tall, green-eyed brunette with a big boy engineering job for a race car company (pretty sure my 10-year-old self manifested him in a diary somewhere) might actually be the Prince of Wales. If you’re my family or some sort of parental figure in my life please skip over the next couple of paragraphs for your sanity- yes we did end up staying the rest of the weekend with these gentlemen. I swear they’re good people!!!! Anybody reading this with any common sense might think girls! no! It's a trap! As a somewhat intelligent person myself, I would have the same thought upon hearing this story from your perspective. 

Sometimes you meet people in this life and it feels like your brains have met each other once before. That witty response rolls right off the tongue, your hand fits in theirs like somewhere in your DNA knows their skin, you can tell who’s coming in the room just based on the sound of their footsteps, and silences are comfortable already. To put people’s hearts and minds at ease, I’d categorize myself as a deeply empathic person and talented at sussing out untoward characters. These men were of upstanding character- I even got a bed to myself most of the weekend. (That’s a story for another time).

Day two in London can be described simply as BIG BUS. Yep, you know the big red London buses. If there’s a place to do it, we thought of London, even if only to live out some Harry Potter dreams.

The photo ops were adorable and torturous. Big Ben, the London Eye, Westminster Abbey, blah blah blah. The Big Bus gave you headphones you could plug into your seat to get the history lesson, which I participated in but because when I have a crush on someone, my mind finds it impossible to retain any information, so sadly I cannot relay any of the facts to you. I have this theory where, when you think you have a crush on someone after a date or spending the night with them- just give it like 36 hours and the lovesick generally fades. Anyways— after using BIG BUS LONDON as a roundabout Uber we attempted drinks in Mayfair, which is essentially the boujiest part of London, and very exclusive we came to learn. 

 Every place we asked to sit at the bar and consume one single beverage required a reservation. We finally were welcomed at The Wellesley Hotel which I think is technically in Westminster? Sorry, after walking miles and miles all weekend some of the neighborhoods get blurry. The warm lounge was a safe haven after the cold winds and the light FLURRIES we experienced that day. Yes, snow flurries. The staff was absolutely lovely, they even charged my phone for me. Madison’s date met us there (my man was out of town for the rest of the weekend for anyone wondering, no trouble in paradise) and took us to Winter Wonderland. He had only acquired two tickets but like the good sport he was, he tried to get me a ticket as well and was scammed online so he was going to try and convince the security guards to let us in when I slipped right through the cracks and snuck into the event. Not to condone trespassing? but some things must be done. My abilities include: perfect timing, charming others with my wit, and/or gliding through crowds when distractions arise.

After impressing our new friend with my tricks, our first stop in this giant Christmas-themed carnival was the bar, naturally. I opted for hot cocoa spiked with Fireball. (it actually was Fireball Friday now that I look back on it). We walked around and enjoyed the lights until I made the grave mistake of encouraging us all to go on a ride. This was one of those rides that spins you and then spins you more, and then almost upside down, at speeds that seem to rival the speed of light, all while playing music that would be perfect for an EDM Christmas carnival. This ride lasted too long, to the point where I considered the fact that maybe the ride had mysteriously malfunctioned. In my mind, the operators were frantically trying to figure out how to turn it off only to make it spin faster and harder. It was at the point where I started giving myself exposure therapy by thinking of my recent ex (who I miss) to try and get myself to stop missing him. I was trying to associate thinking of him with the unpleasant and nauseating sensation of being on that ride, which kind of worked, so I would say that was the only mildly redeemable quality of this experience. After pleading with God in my head, the ride finally stopped and I quite literally threw up afterwards. Madison’s man and I both had an unfortunate case of relieving stomachs while she, in a sick twist of fate, had a great time! If anyone knows Madison, she is the kind of girl who cannot tolerate much physical discomfort. She has the lowest pain tolerance on any spectrum, she fears heights, she has about 1000 medical ailments but she ENJOYED the experience which made our debacle even more comedic. After spending basically our entire evening dealing with the sickness from the ride, we got some food quickly and the carnival closed at 10 pm. We met him with said man’s friends and went to a bar to meet a family friend of a friend of Madison’s? This happens to us a lot honestly so I won’t even explain it. We always seem to know someone who knows someone, even if we are thousands of miles from home. We are also the kind of people to always meet up with them because, hello, it’s a good story.

After this eventful day, we returned home, and by home I mean our new friend’s house where we decided to make our home base for the weekend. We only had one more day in London. After a lovely sleep not in the hostel, we woke up at about 10 am, returned to our hostel to get our belongings, and checked out early because we were fully moving into our new abode. This day was filled with a few more touristy stops, St. Paul’s Cathedral, Shakespeare’s Globe, telephone booth pics, and the London Eye ride. I don’t think I have mentioned that our new friend was a singer, so to show our appreciation for his hospitality, we did attend a gig he had at the local pub that evening. And let me tell you, we were the best cheerleaders. Not that he especially needed it, drunk people are some of the most supportive people in the world. We were having such a whirlwind time that he bought us new flight tickets because he had offered to drive us to the airport the next morning, but our flight left at 6 am, which meant leaving about 2 am. Whether it was for selfish reasons of not wanting to drive us to the airport, being able to get drunk that night, or (most likely) just wanting to spend more time with Madison, he bought us two new flights to Madrid late Sunday afternoon.

The next morning, my man for the weekend returned in time to tag along for the melancholy airport journey. The drive to Heathrow which should have only been about 45 minutes, turned into two extra hours with our crushes, thank you London traffic. After a solemn goodbye kiss, I can say I love London! You should visit! Hope you find a nice Brit, just not mine. xoxox Livy