Walking is like breathing here in London. No one thinks twice about it, and public transportation is ingrained in daily life. As a semi-native Londoner, (more on that in a later post) I don’t mind either of them. I’m not in London as much as I would like to be, so when I come, it’s a nice change of pace.

However, yesterday’s change of pace escalated a little too quickly. I’m officially here in London for a study abroad trip with classmates (although I’m unofficially here for friends and family). Yesterday was our first day of activities. We had the pleasure of going to the Frontline Club to hear panelists discuss how Brexit and other national events are changing human rights in this country.

After it was done, we exited to a very cold, windy, and rainy street. Mind you, the weather for the past week in London has been a mid 70 with sunshine and pretty birds chirping, literally. So picture this: a bunch of American students from North Texas stuck in the cold rain who have no idea how to navigate the merciless transportation system. Perfect.
Nonetheless, we took a bus and an underground train to get home, but the ascension out of the station was death. 175 steps of spiraling death to be exact. My legs were numb for about 2 minutes after the ordeal. We were all cold, all wet, all legs turned into spaghetti.

Welcome to London!

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