I did the Florence-to-Pisa-to-London part with a friend, but after we landed, I was on my own. We originally planned to go to this Andrew Salgado exhibit together, but trying to meet up in that tube-tangled city was barely even realistic in our heads. She had a friend in Bristol. I wanted to stay in London, and kind of marveled at the idea of being on my own anyway. I've always known of friends my age doing this kind of thing (all guys) and figured why can't I? I'm a girl, but I could do it. I'm sort of known for being incredibly stupid, but I'm brave. I had never done anything like this but at least they spoke English.
Taking not much more than these facts and my passport, I went head first into the weekend and didn't look back.
I actually made my hostel reservations on my iPhone in the Pisa airport, about 6 hours before I would check in that night. Literally googled it, closed my eyes and picked one. In Wimbledon. Maybe I'd see one of those hot tennis players. When I got off the plane and through border control, I didn't really know what to do next. Get to my hostel? I think it's in Wimbledon, but I didn't write down the address and of course I don't have wifi anymore. I went to the train station beneath the airport and told the lady I needed to get to Wimbledon. It was like a 30 dollar/euro/pound/who knows anymore ticket and a 2-hour ride with 2 changes. Ahhh English. Like a cool glass of water.
But wait what.
What. Did I get myself into.
There were plenty more stomach-dropping whatamIdoing moments, and even more ohmygodIlovethis ones, and I learned so, so much.
Like when 0 of 3 old man taxi drivers in Wimbledon who have lived in Wimbledon for 30 years have never heard of your hostel, you go for the young one, try not to freak out first, then go for the young taxi driver with the iPhone who can look it up for you.
I'm talking to myself here, people.
And when you get to your hostel and the owner is a handsome 30-year-old Scottish guy who gives you the tour of the place like you're the newest member of the family, give yourself a secret pat on the back for unintentionally choosing the best hostel in the world.
When you're lost on the sidewalk and a 20-something jogger comes up and asks if you're lost and need help, say yes. Especially if you can hear Drake playing loudly through his jogging earbuds. Because even though he's ditching his errands and not to mention his run just to help you find your way, in the next 4 hours you'll have seen half of Islington through the eyes of a local and make a friend you'll probably never see again.
When you start tearing up at the Andrew Salgado exhibit because it's so beautiful, it's O.K. Because the art director of the gallery will be moved by your sensitivity and introduce himself. And he's an art director and that's what you want to be, so. Wipe those eyes.
When some new friends invite you to party with some Hollister models from South Africa, say yes. And maybe say yes again, just to be sure they know that yes, yea you do want to do that. If you're wondering if they smelled like August, they do.
There were fish and chips to eat ketchup with and underground trains to master and fall leaves to crunch. Did I mention Banksy? That's one hell of a blog post in itself.
And I got to do a lot of
So, even it's for a long weekend, go somewhere completely new by yourself. Have no plans and every intention of getting so lost you want to scream. Let your adventure turn into an adventure. It will be one you couldn't plan if you tried. And when you're in such a hopeless mess of confusion that you're convinced you're not coming out alive, just know that it always, always works out. I don't know why. But it does. And it's beautiful.
