Winter Vacation: Part 1

So, I just got back from my week long winter vacation which was actually 11 days...because I'm awesome.  I went to visit friends from Luther in England and Ireland and had an absolutely wonderful time.  In an attempt to not overwhelm my audience, I will be recounting my travels in multiple entries.

England:
I left for Nottingham from Aix at around 7:30am on Thursday 11 February.  I made it to the train station and to Lille without much excitement, however my voyages this semester are destined to be plagued by stressful travel mishaps.  To provide some background,  I had to take a bus from London to Nottingham.  There was one at 3:30 and one at 5:00.  My train was supposed to get into London at 2:30, so I intended to take the 3:30 bus, but figured if it took me longer than an hour to navigate my way across London, I could hang out for an extra hour and a half and take the later bus.  Unfortunately, my train was delayed and I did not get into St. Pancras Station until 4:05.  At which point I had to(1) find the tube,(2) find an ATM, (3) buy a subway ticket, (4) go to the incorrect line (5) run to catch the correct train, (6) get my purse caught as I jumped through the closing train door, (7) be told I was disgusting by a stranger who witnessed said jump and subsequent purse ensnarement, (8) panic because it was already 4:25 and I had no idea where I was going (9) follow the bus signs out of victoria station and onto a street with no bus station and no signs (10) get pointed in the wrong direction by a passer-by (11) get pointed in the right direction by a cab driver, (12) walk for several blocks searching frantically for the coach station (13) find the coach station and search for the ticket windows (14) wait in line for 10 minutes holding back tears (15)contemplate the prospect of spending a lonely night in London with no way to contact my friends in Nottingham (16) buy a coach ticket at 4:55, and (16) run to gate 14 and board the bus to Nottingham at 4:59pm Greenwich time.  I really wish I was making that more dramatic than it really was.

Upon my arrival in Nottingham, there was no one waiting for me.  I arrived at 8:45 and I had told my friends I wouldn't be there till 9:00, so I decided to give it till 9:15 before I caught a cab.  I waited outside the station on a bench, supposing I would see anyone who would enter the station.  I stuck my head back in once and looked around, but saw no one.  At 9:20 I hailed a cab.  Another good story. We will call it, "Lizzi takes a taxi"

I open the cab door and tell the driver the address as I am sitting down. "67 Homefield Road"
"What?"
"67 Homefield road"
"What?"
I have the street address along with the postal code written on a post-it note, so I hand it to him.
"Oh! 67 Homefield road"
"yeah"
"What area is that in?"
"What?"
"What area?"
"I don't know.  I don't live here I'm visiting a friend."

He sees that my friends number is also on the post-it and decides that he should call her. I hear her confused voice on the line.

"Hello?"
"Where are you?"
"What?"
"I have your friend.  I need to know what area you are in."
"I think you have the wrong number."

He also thinks he has the wrong number.  I am the only person who kind of knows what is going on, but I am too upset and tired to notice or comment (or to see the hilarity of the situation) so I sit back as he pulls away from the curb. He assures me he has figured out where he is going now.  I was told it would be about a 6 pound fare so as the meter mounts, I suspect we are approaching our destination.  He is driving slowly down a dead end road and ends up turning around and calling my friend once more.  This time I tell him that her name is Lauren and I instruct him to tell her that he has her friend Lizzi in the car.  He does this and she begins to understand the situation. I can only hear his side of the conversation this time.

"Are you Lauren?"  " yeahyeahyeah, I have your friend Lizzi in the cab. where are  you?"  "What area are you in?" "yeahyeahyeah I have the postal code, but that is no good I need to know the area"  "Where are you? I can come pick you up in 5 minutes."  "Stay where you are and I will pick you up."    "Aspley?!?! It's by Aspley?!?  That's in a completely different part of town." "Okay"

I am now thoroughly confused and getting kind of angry.  It has been a very long day and England especially has been a chore to deal with. I watch the meter run all the way back to the bus station (where we started) where it now reads 10.40, and he takes a road leading in a different direction.  All this time he is assuring me that he really does know where he is going now and lecturing me that Nottingham is a big city and an address is not enough I really should have known the area and my friends should have known better than to just give me an address and a postal code because that's just not good enough.  We do not pick up Lauren anywhere.

By the time he drops me off on the wrong street the meter reads 14.80.  He offers me a deal of 12 pounds which I do not accept based on my calculations of base fare plus the actual meter from the bus station to where he dropped me off, I figure I owe about 6.50.  I offer him 10 because a) I didn't have anything smaller and b) I didn't think he would give me change.  We argue and argue and argue, and it comes down to me saying ten or nothing and starting to leave the cab.  He took the ten.  I then had to walk to the correct street and hunt down the elusive apartment which was apparently located above a church.  I later found out that Lauren had been waiting at the bus-stop since 8:50 and that any cabbie worth his salt would be able to locate an address based on a postal code.

My next five days there were wonderful.  I drank a lot of tea and spent a lot of time catching up with my friends who I had not seen since last summer.  I went to the university on Friday, Camille arrived Saturday and I may have witnessed the playing of a certain game that I don't talk about, and we went to Newstead Abbey on Sunday.  Monday I went to a class on Islam and then had sushi off a conveyor belt (a much more satisfying experience than my first European encounter with sushi).  On Tuesday evening Camille and I left for Ireland.  But that is a story for another day.