|First off, the keyboard characters are not the same here, so please excuse the errors. And please read the following with a sense of humour.
Where to start; Adam and i arrived safe and sound; the flight was very full and the Air Canada service and crew were excellent. Very little turbulence during the flight; and it was smooth sailing throughout the night. We didn't get much sleep and arrived very tired; to be expected.
We planned in advance not take the last leg of the journey to Spain but instead we'll be making our way down there over the next ten days. Somewhere during our research, we were informed to let the airlines know that we wouldn't be taking the flight, which otherwise would have been a trigger for them to cancel our return flight. So off we go, like good little soldiers to British Airways to let them know, and that wasn't a problem. They did suggest however that we inform Air France, which is the airline out of Spain on our way home. The Irish lady said the French lady would be back in 5-7 minutes; 20 minutes later....they nice gal shows up and says it's okay with Air France, but you really ought to check with Air Canada too. \(is sounds easy enough in type, but when you travel from terminal 1 to terminal 3 by bus, hop in line, round the ramp, up the elevator, oops wrong turn, back down, over the hill and so on, one managed to get a little tired. Found the Air Canada lady who said she couldn't help us and that we would need to back to where we started...back on the bus, over the hill, two bags full, hole in my bucket, etc. Time for an Advil. Get back to the original terminal; wait in line for an hour (before the line started to move because there were only two gals at the counter; shortage of staff, etc, only to find out everyone behind us got moved to the front of the line because now their flights were running late. Advil Extra Strengh please. Shouting and pushing, need a translator for some of the customers. The white's of my eyes growing bigger by the minute, red road maps to boot....two more staff show up to process tickets, and then we finally make it to the counter. Okay she says, lets have us a look, which she does and twenty minutes later, were set to go. Back to the other terminal to Land ourselves...code for Customs. This went very well, and finally we can look at each other and say Welcome to London. Okay, let's get us a hostel. A nice young lady at the end of the gauntlet helped us out, after making a few phone calls, it appears the place it quite busy in the off season too. Okay she says, take the tube, down to Kensinton South, 'bout 30 minutes and make your way there. Which we did. Turns out it right next to the fanciest darn hotel you've ever laid eyes on. Up the steps, down the narrrrrowwww hallway, and give the chap our receipt. Gives us the tour to the basement, (code for kitchen) and then walks up upstairs to the loft where seven other bunks reside. No kidding, one single bed fit right snug into the hole in the wall...no worrying falling out of that bed. We managed to secure the beds upstairs; ceiline height about 5 feet. Adam and I look at each other, exhausted, and agreed, that we need a plan for the next two days, which is what we are doing now. It's only a huntch at this point, but I suspect that getting 'round this fair town will be a challenge. Oh, it's six degrees, cloudy, and feels like the main intersection in Winnipeg on a windy day. I haven't seen one rusted vehicle; and have seen many of the top end you only read about in magazines.
Until next time...making plans and getting some rest. End of day 1.