Travel – Page 14 – Katie L. Carroll

One thing about visiting London that always excites me is knowing that tea is the norm. (I know it doesn’t take much to excite me…really people, it’s about the little things in life.) I’ve never been much of a coffee drinker; I love the smell of it, not so much the taste. When you order tea at most restaurants in America, the teacups are more appropriate for my three-year-old niece than for a grown adult and the water is less than hot. They know how to serve it in London: boiling hot water, a variety of tea bags for the picking, full-sized mugs, and natural sugar–none of that fake sweetener for me, thank you very much.

I never thought it would be difficult to get tea in London. My husband didn’t have any trouble. Every morning that he went to breakfast alone (he was alone because I hadn’t arrived in London yet…not because I don’t like eating with him!), the waitress offered him tea as soon as he was seated. Every morning I ate with him, we made our selections from the buffet, prepared toast, returned to the table, and ate half our food. And still, no tea!

On a bit of a diversion, continental breakfast is definitely worth it if you ever stay in London. Even if the hotel charges a little extra for the privilege, pay it. There’s hot food (admittedly the runny eggs, the weird boiled-tomato thing, and the sausage that doesn’t really taste like sausage are a little scary), Danishes, toast, cereal, cut fruit, whole fruit, juice, milk….you get the point. And there’s always the opportunity to take an extra roll and banana for later. Just be a little more discreet about it than one lady I saw. She had her big plastic bag right on top of the table and was shoveling in the food.

Back to the issue at hand. It wasn’t as if the waiters weren’t diligent about serving tea; they went to every other table about every five minutes. I must look too young and too American to be much of a tea drinker. Appearances can be deceiving. Give me some tea already! Eventually, I would have to ask and they would fill my cup with delicious, piping hot tea. I wonder if it would have tasted so good if I didn’t have to wait.

As an American who had never been out of the country before, London was a great first international city to visit. There’s a ton to do, the Tube is super easy to navigate, and they speak my language…well sort of. (Admittedly this story is from my first visit to London, which was last year. The trip I just got back from was my second trip. I just thought it was fitting to include this as my first travel entry.)

Now in my defense, I have “lousy sinuses” (as my doctor so scientifically described them) that tend to get backed up when I’ve been on a plane, especially when that plane ride is about seven hours long. Add to this only a few hours of plane sleep in a 24-hour period, and that was my state as I walked into the hotel in London.

A man stood at a desk. I looked at him, hoping to be able to check-in and fall into a nice comfy bed as soon as possible. He said something that sounded like, “Et on ou.” I stared at him stupidly. “Excuse me?” I said. “Et on ou,” he said with more emphasis on the syllables. Unfortunately I had no idea what those syllables meant, so more emphasis didn’t really help me.

“Excuse me?” I asked again. “Et on ou,” he said again. I was thinking Clearly I’m a stupid American, who can’t understand a word you’re saying. What sort of tongue are you speaking anyway? Open your mouth and enunciate, you fool. I, of course, didn’t say any of this and just stared at him with eyes that could only be saying, “Why oh why can’t I just check-in and fall into bed?”

My husband proceeded to usher me through a second set of doors. It took about three steps for me to have a revelation. The man was at the concierge desk and wanted us to move “Straight on through” to the check-in desk. Duh! So much for speaking the same language!