Friday evening I told my colleagues, in French, that I was leaving (and they all proceeded to laugh hysterically at my terrible accent) and hopped a train to London. Ok, hopped makes it seem a little easier than it was.

I bought my Eurostar ticket about two months ago. This week I carefully planned my route to the train station (Gare du Nord) and got detailed instructions from my coworkers about how to get there (via bus) and how to use the bus system. Gare du Nord is only about a 25 minute walk from the office, but I decided to take the bus since I’d have a suitcase. However, turns out Paris traffic is just as bad as Chicago’s. After about 45 minutes of standing on a jam-packed bus, I decided I’d have to go by foot. I ran the rest of the way to the station and got there about 40 minutes before my train departed (you have to get there 30 minutes in advance). My friend, Rick Steve, told me how to get to the London trains, but the stairs I was supposed to take were closed. I finally found someone to point me in the right direction and checked in right before the deadline. I’m guessing the border control officer detected my fear, because he grilled me about my travel plans (again, because I look so much like a terrorist).

Finally, I made it to the train.

For the next hour or so all I saw was beautiful green countryside. (Did I mention that it’s rained every day since I’ve gotten to Paris? Because it has.) In my head I thought I’d be in the chunnel the whole time, so for a moment I feared I was going to end up in Brussels instead of London. My fears were allayed when the conductor announced that we’d be entering the chunnel, which turns out you’re only in for about 20 minutes.

When I got to the train station, I realized that I forgot my ATM card (since due to the fear of mugging that every person that has been to Europe has instilled in me, I leave it at the apartment unless I know I’ll need to get out cash). [Sidenote: why are pick pockets so prevalent in Europe and not the US? Not like I'm looking to switch careers, but it seems like an untapped market.] England still uses pounds and not Euros, so I had no cash. I was thinking of taking the tube to my hotel, but I couldn’t buy a ticket with my card—European credit cards have some kind of special chip in them that American cards don’t , so inconveniently I’ve been able to use my card at a number of locations (including the Paris metro). Luckily for me, the hotel where I was staying was relatively close to the station, so I just walked there.

The first thing I noticed on my walk to the hotel was the fashion of the British people, or lack thereof (apologies to my British friends, but I speak the truth). Parisians, for the most part, are pretty fashionable. Men wear tailored clothing and women wear a uniform of skinny jeans, flats, a trench coat and a scarf (I almost have the uniform down, just need to get a scarf). British fashion sense is just all over the place. I felt like half the women I saw were on their way to an 80s theme party to which they were dressing as Madonna (from her punk phase). The men mainly looked like they had just been at a soccer (excuse me, football) match.

Another thing I noticed is that painted on the ground at crosswalks are warnings to “Look Left” or “Look Right.” I thought to myself that the warning are kind of stupid, everyone knows that you drive on the other side of the street in England, but then when I almost stepped into oncoming traffic at the second intersection, I realized that the warnings are brilliant.

I arrived at the hotel at around 8:30 and waited in the lobby to meet Kim, my friend from law school who arrived in London a few days earlier, so we could begin what I was sure would be a memorable weekend.