How I Learned To Travel

In England for the first time, to be a godmother to my friends’ new baby, I decided to take one day for myself to see London. Being from Chicago, I figured I could find my way around, and I was eager to experience it on my own.

So I did what any good tourist does, I got out the guidebooks, the pamphlets and the maps, and planned a route with my friends the night before.

They were very helpful, telling me about things I shouldn’t miss, as well as things I should. And I had some of my own ideas, like visiting Charing Cross Road. There was a wonderful book I’d read called “84 Charing Cross Road” about a bookstore there and a woman from New York who grew to love the store and all of the people in it as they exchanged letters about books she wanted to buy during World War II.

Neville thought I was crazy to go there. “You must see the Tower and you have to see St. Paul’s. Really Charing Cross Road is only a shadow of what it was. I don’t think you should waste your time.” Right. We marked out an itinerary that included as many of the tourist attractions as we could fit. If I kept very tightly to the schedule I’d have a full experience of London.

Morning, and I boarded the train. I was used to the whole commuter scene and tried to look very nonchalant as we whizzed by buildings and gardens and signs that were all totally different from home. All of the other people were bored and going to work, while I wanted to yell, “Yippee! I’m in London!”

First stop was Leicester Square to buy discounted same day theater tickets. I was standing on line and began chatting with the lady in front of me. We introduced ourselves, her name was Margie. We slowly began to suspect that we were in line for one of the “fake” booths, which don’t really offer the wonderful tickets to the smaller plays, but only slightly discounted tickets to the “Cats” variety. While she held my place I began to walk around and found the famous Leicester Square booth. I waved Margie over and she and I were having a fine time celebrating that we had avoided a tourist trap, talking and waiting for the booth to open.

In a few minutes, a man from Kentucky named Tony joined in. We compared notes about theater in general and what we would see that evening and in the end all got tickets for the same show. We said our goodbyes and agreed to meet again that evening at the theater.

Almost immediately on leaving them I started to feel very woozy. Enough to sit down on a park bench. Enough to start to worry about what to do. Down the bench from me was a man I hadn’t noticed.

Had I seen a tourist in trouble in Chicago, I’m quite sure that I would have helped. I see myself doing so in a very take-charge way. What was so different about this fellow was how he just sort of leaned in and very casually mentioned what a great day it was. This gave me the opportunity to say something about suddenly not feeling well.

He pointed out a “chemist” as they call drug stores, and suggested that perhaps I had a bit of a sinus problem. So after sitting for abit, he walked me there. Again, very understated, not Chicago style at all.

The chemist recommended a powder that you were to put into hot water. My next step was to find a café so I could order tea. Soon I was in a lovely little restaurant where I could sit outside and enjoy the weather and concentrate on feeling better.

Mentally I was cursing myself for wasting so much time. There went the tour at St. Paul’s Cathedral, and if I caught the next one, I would miss the Tower. But there wasn’t an alternative. I had to sit there and let the medicine do its work in order to salvage any of my day.

I’d brought along my travel journal, and so I dug it out and started to write about what I’d experienced so far, about Margie and Tony and the lovely Scotsman.

Then suddenly I saw myself sitting in the sun on a brilliant spring morning in a small café, sipping this medicine that tasted like peppermint tea, and munching on a lovely pastry. I was watching people go by, hearing snippets of conversation and writing as the inspiration hit.

This was my dream of being in London. Not the crazy rush to see attractions so that I could tick them off a list. But time to actually experience the city and feel its heartbeat. How had it happened? If I hadn’t gotten ill, I would have missed it all - trying to see it all.

After awhile I felt much better. I looked at my map, and realized that I was just a few blocks from Charing Cross Road. I saw the day stretch out in front of me – browsing for books, getting on a double decker bus and sitting upstairs while I watched the city go by, eating dinner in a pub and talking to and laughing with the bartender and then meeting my new friends for a lovely play.

The Tower of London would have to wait, today I wasn’t ready for prison. Today I wanted nothing more than the freedom to find this city on my own terms.

And so I did.