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London Tourism.

Since I'm going to London at the end of February, I decided to look up some off the beaten tracks stuff to do and see, and this was one of the Google results:

"The buildings look somehow grander, seen from these 20 feet above litter-level and, for some reason, you notice many more statues. You hear things, as the bus putters down Regent Street... a sax playing, a couple laughing... and you learn a few things from the commentary. I didn't know where Nell Gwynne or William Bligh were buried... I didn't know that Ho Chi Minh had worked in the kitchens of New Zealand House when it was a hotel, although I confess my instant reaction was that someone in the bus company recording unit was simply having some fun ('Bit dull, that stretch of Whitehall. I know... tell 'em Pol Pot used to sell trainers in Lilywhites')"  - Capital Punishment - The Guardian.co.uk

Wonderful article and the only thing missing from this vision of tourist hell, is Oxford Street.

Ferðasagan.

"Do you believe in Jesus in Iceland?"

...er án efa setning ferðarinnar! Ferðasagan kemur í smáatriðum seinna, á meðan er það bara: "Wir fahren nach Berlin! Wir fahren nach Berlin!"

Þýskaland.

Ég er svo illa haldin af HM veirunni að ég er bara farin til Þýskalands, sjáumst! Og í tilefni af því: Ze German Coastguard.

Ferðalag.

Er að fara til útlanda á morgun og eins og oft áður er 'aðalvandamálið' hversu mörg skópör og hversu margar myndavélar ég á að taka með mér...

My love/hate relationship with London.

After 9+ months in London I was more than ready to get away from its concrete-monstrosity and my short stint there in the following month of August didn't help much. I can even remember the exact moment when London won and I lost, it was on Oxford Street (a place that I loathe with every fiber of my body) on a Friday afternoon sometime in February. I had finally gotten a bank account and my mission was to switch from pay-as-you-go to pay-monthly with Vodafone, it went sort of like this:

Vodafone/Orange person: "Do you have a utility bill? Are you applying for UK citizenship? Are you going to get a UK driving licence?"

Me: "No, I live in student halls. No. No."

V/O: "OK if you can give us 100 pounds as collateral we can get you a pay-monthly account, let me just start the proceedings."

M: "Wait! I can't afford 100 pounds as collateral"

V/O: "Oops! Well then, you can't really use your phone for an hour or two because of the aforementioned proceedings but have a nice day*"

M: *growling* "Ok can I at least top up while I'm here..."

V/O: "Oh sure, just go upstairs and find someone to help you there..."

In short, I couldn't top up and every single payphone in the greater Oxford Street area was broken and ate my money and after an hour of such fun my mobile finally came back to life, I called Matti and summoned him to the Nordic Bar.

Every now and then though, I get homesick for London and it's sort of like bitching about your family, you can do it but you will gladly take a meat cleaver to anybody else who does it!

*I added the 'have a nice day' bit myself.