Trek to Swansea

Today I was glad to get off of my flight at the London-Heathrow Airport. I had to sit next to a middle-aged man who kept telling me that he could "extract poetry from my eyes" and other annoying nonsense for eight hours. Basically, I pretended that I was asleep almost the entire time so he wouldn't talk to me and I wouldn't have to look at him. All this to say that my flight would have been perfect, but my delusion of a pleasant flying experience this time, was quickly destroyed. I got off of the plane at 5:05 London time, 11:05 Central time, mind you so the jet lag began to set in as I had to make my way through customs and onto two different trains. Customs was horrific; I almost didn't make it through because I purposefully forgot to put the address of my destination; big mistake. Being bleary-eyed and completely disoriented, I surprisingly just stared him down while he railed on me about how stupid I was to forget this information. I didn't get upset but I just gave him an alternative and he angrily put me through. Then I cried a tear or two when I was safely out of view.

The next challenge was to get on and off of the Heathrow Express in one piece. I have been carrying two big suitcases, a big backpack and my messenger bag. I am a bit petite in size so there was a lot of swaying and such that went on. I felt pretty ridiculous. However, my one success of the day was that I even told a British guy which platform he needed to get on for the Heathrow Express to Paddington. I was proud. This temporary high was brought down by my getting on the wrong end of the train to Swansea, Wales and having to drag all of my bags through the train to the back while the thing was moving. I felt so UN-chic with everyone around me in scarves and leather briefcases and there I was tripping don the first class aisle bumping the elbows of tailored shirts. "Pooh, pooh" I said to quote my lifetime heroine, Madeline, and set my self down for another three hour journey. All worked out well. I played Harry Potter in the train. It was just like I had imagined the Welsh countryside. It was gray clouds laden with rain, chilling, damp wind and David Gray playing on my IPOD that brought to life the painting I had always conjured in my head of England.

I am jet-lagged for sure now and ready to sleep. The rain never stops in Swansea supposedly, but I got to walk out to the sea today and it was beautiful; from a dream really. Pictures to come of Swansea. I plan to feel better tomorrow and explore, explore to my little heart's content!