London by Night

In the words of Sinatra, "London by night is a wonderful sight."

I'm not sure why it happened, and I don't know exactly when it happened - but tonight I realized that I love this city. 

I love London. I really do. 

Perhaps I am high on Olympic excitement, perhaps it's due to the fact that we've finally had nice weather, or because I finally have friends. A whole group of them actually. A gaggle, if you will. 

After work I headed to South Bank to meet up with my pals for "supper." Though I planned on getting something sensible like a salad - I couldn't resist supporting team USA by ordering the USA style burger with American Cheese and sweet potato fries, and also ended up with a bramble and par-taking in the demolition of a caramelized banana split. I blame peer pressure.

As we all get up to leave and prepare to go our separate ways, the "where are you headed" conversation begins. All my group was headed to Waterloo Station, and I needed to get myself back to Chelsea. 

"Well how are you getting home then, they ask, bugged eye?

I've learned NOT to ask an English person how for directions, anywhere. No matter what, they will always begin and mid-sentence someone else will chime in, and then another person, and then the first person will argue their route, and someone else will bring up a road closure, or some problem with their plan. After 5 minutes your head is spinning and your so completely confused that you don't want to go wherever it was that you were asking for directions to anymore!

So I replied, "Haven't decided yet I'm thinking of just walking....." but before I've finished by sentence a deep discussion has begun directed at me, but completely amongst the Brits.

Person 1: You know what you should do - you should go to Waterloo and get a train to Clapham Junction, then from there you can pick up the C3 to World's End. 

Person 2: No, no, no - you should cross the bridge and get on the Northern Line at Charring Cross, get off at Fulham Broadway and walk the rest of the way.

Person 3: No, not Charring Cross! Get on at Embankment and take the District Line to Sloane Square, then catch the 22 bus to World's End. 

Person 4: Nah - not the underground! I reckon' she should take the overground to Imperial Wharf station and then catch the C3 bus. 

Person 1 (again): Actually, if you catch the 211 bus behind Waterloo, you can take that all the way to Chelsea and change to the #11 at Duke of York Square. 

Person 2 (again): Could do. Or catch the 211, and change to the #22 at Duke of York Square and get off at Edith Grove. 

Person 3: Actually, you should hire a Barclays and cycle to Duke of York Square, and then pick up the bus the rest of the way!

I wish I was exaggerating. When they'd finally finished, I said,

"Thanks guys - I'm just going to walk." Which baffles them, since any walk that last longer than 5 minutes is quite a feat for anyone English.

The city looked gorgeous, completely lit up and people out and about on the streets, which is highly uncommon past 8pm on most nights of the week. As I crossed Waterloo Bridge the London Eye was glowing in changing colors, and Big Ben stood on the opposite site fully lit. The bridge was colored red and blue for Team GB, and paper lanterns and twinkle lights hung from the pop-up outdoor beer garden on Southbank. 

Hanging around Southbank with my mates

Waterloo Bridge, Team GB style

London by Night

I couldn't resist walking home, it was too beautiful to not soak up the sparkling landmarks and people-filled streets. When I finally walked in the door, I dropped my bag, kicked off my booties and went right for the TV to watch the gymnastics team final which I had recorded. I knew in advance about Team USA's victory since my Olympics app sends me updates medals are awarded, but I was dying to watch it happen! 

Watching the Olympics with English commentary, or "common-tree" as they pronounce it, is quite funny. They say things like, "well done for Jordan Weiber. The uneven bars is not her favorite appar-a-tus, but she managed a smashing performance none-the-less."

They also remain charmingly optimistic for Team GB in cases where they clearly do not stand a chance of winning a medal. I watched the swimming after the gymnastics, to get my daily dose of Lochte - and was in awe of how amazing our swimming team is! It was incredible to watch as Michael Phelps got his 19th Gold Medal, breaking the record for most medals earned by any single Olympian, 15 of them Gold, 2, Silver, and 2 bronze. The crowd went mental, and even the British announcers called him a "super hero" and "the greatest Olympian that ever lived." Unfortunately, the stupid BBC interviewed the loosing Brit team instead of the him. But Lochte was in the background of the shot rejoicing as the English bloke was going on and on so I didn't mind.

So now at 2am, I retire to bed with sweet dreams of marrying an Olympian and naming our first child Hercules, and our dog Pegasus.