We went to Europe in September-October (five weeks) in 2006.
To any ladies and gentlemen out there who have been to Europe and knows what it feels like to get jetlagged, and also those who have not entered that beautiful continent and eaten French crepes and chocolate buns and Italian gelato and pizza, here is another oh-so-tragic--and at times, if you really think so, oh-so-comic-- tale about my unfortunate--and more fortunate-- experiences in and out of Europe. HEATHROW AIRPORT"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times" as I stepped off from our enormous international plane, still feeling slightly queasy from our rather rough landing. I was of course, relieved to be in England after a tiresome day watching T.V. reruns on waxy earphones, attempting to wake up a snoring sister so I could play Twenty Questions, sleeping, waking up to go to the bathroom, coming back, and sleeping again, but I could not say I was feeling my best in that airport either. It was hot, humid, and sweaty, and the smells of bad perfume, sweat, and thousands of unwashed people (including myself, I might add) were all mixed together in one long line at Immigration and Customs that seemed to twist on and on and on for eternity. It took us about one hour or more to finally reach the end of the line, and by that time there were thousands of other poor saps in the back who were looking at us enviously. Once we had had our passports stamped and all the special things were done, we idly walked around a little bit pretending to be doing things until we finally came to our senses and went outside to wait for a taxi. There were quite a few other people there and there was some conversation but for the most part we sat huddled together, sometimes crouching or squatting, other times standing or pacing around, waiting and waiting and waiting. I was rather surprised when three large black cars drove up. I was used to the Yellow Cab taxis of America but realized these were taxis--England style! Those were followed by a few others, not all solemn black, one a glorious, majestic, shining red, a few with ads painted on their doors. One was a gorgeous dark purple, but, alas! again, we had to wait. Finally we caught a taxi--black--to our hotel, the Sheraton--and here we will begin a new chapter, telling the tale of that pleasant place, and all our adventures in it. THE SHERATON HOTELThe Sheraton Hotel was a very glamorous-seeming hotel, with a shiny floor and a well-lit lobby and an enormous reception desk in the front. Our room was not the best of rooms in all of my experiences but it was still quite spacious and nice. There were two large beds with fresh sheets perfectly lain out and striped blue coverlets, and we were provided with a lovely bathroom and a table, on which we ate a meager dinner of snacks we had saved from the plane and some free snacks provided by the hotel. It was a great hotel but a measly dinner. We spent one night there, and in the morning we went to the apartment our mom had rented, even better than the hotel. Unfortunately, something would go wrong that day. Very, very, very wrong.
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