Woe betide the dusty, ill-forgotten blog. Okay, maybe not forgotten. We were sick, what are you going to do? But now we're leaving London, an event I think of with both joy and remorse. There are things I've yet to seen, and I'm sure I could find some sentimental attachment to the cats if not this place. We never hung out with locals of our age, we didn't make new friends (beyond Sally and Rocky, bless them for their hospitality this long), and we missed a lot of sights. Hell, I didn't even see Big Ben or the Parliament. Well I suppose that's not completely true. I have a picture of Big Ben looming up over the top of several buildings, but I didn't stand right there and look. I waved at the Gherkin (the giant Faberge Egg-looking building that has appeared on the London skyline in any movie made in the last few years, officially known 30 St Mary Axe), I wandered the Tower of London (which was architecturally impressive, but as a whole disappointing), saw some free museums and generally enjoyed myself (except for that sick thing).
So we head to Scotland, to Paris, to Germany and Amsterdam and Belgium and then home, and I'm excited for all of those things. I've had good food and terrible food (and I'm fed up with the English habit of overusing mayo in everything. EVERYTHING!), cooked some lovely meals and even imparted a few pearls of culinary wisdom. I see now this end in sight, that everything is in planning stages, if not already planned and I feel like this has been a good trip. As my mother pointed out, 2 months of travel in Europe is more travel than some others have had in their lives.
London itself is a strange thing, something I'm not sure how to speak on. Or write on, as it were. I feel detached from the City, some visitor, some voyeur, and what I've seen is quite ugly. Cities are prone towards isolation, and the English (in comparison to the Irish, but in general) are unfriendly. But there is this feeling dwelling inside of me, this kinship with the labyrinthine sprawl that is London, that if I lived here, I'd be alright. That, I think, is something of the city-dweller in me, and the thought that I could soak up all this history through osmosis. So I will miss the city in a way, but I'm glad to be moving forward at least.
So we spend a couple nights in Edinburgh, and I'm looking forward to the train ride up there, then a night in Glasgow before an early-riser flight to Paris. I feel that same sort of excitement as Zoe, of continuing this adventure, and it feels glorious.