Once at the airport, I located the Heathrow Express which would take me into London proper. This would connect me to the metro line for Paddington Station. I was nearly sold into a sex slave trade by a large Nigerian named Cokely. He cornered me as soon as I stepped out of the elevator and onto the isolated platform. It was definitely a scene out of the Twilight Zone that not one other traveler was in sight. Just my luck.
Eventually, I hailed a black cab at Paddington Hotel. London is notorious for the black cab service and you have to be leery because many run off the meter. This is obviously a problem. I learned to ask up front for the meter, a receipt, and a quote on the rate. In many places, you can haggle on their rate. I reached 68 Sellons Ave. NW by 10:30 a.m on June 24, 2010. My friend Christin's housemate, Sam answered the door and gave me the complete tour including a walk to the Roundgrove Park. The five flatmates live in Harlesden, a working-class community in the southern part of London. I unpacked my essentials and jogged three miles, napped and freshened up. Luckily, I found adaptors for the British outlets. Christin and I headed to Notting Hill after securing an Oyster (metro) card for the underground. "Mind the Gap!" We found a little Mexican cantina, Taqueria, and then a pub named Mason's Arms. Tacos al pastor and chips and salsa were 12 pounds. We wandered in a few souvenir shopped for coasters and tea. One cider ale and pics. Passed a few hostels with major sketch people lingering outside. Will this be foreshadowing of what's to come?
Dinner at Uncle Ali's Pizza: Pizza with goat chz and spinach roma tomatoes. Yummo!
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