Our last day in London was virtually unplanned, which is good, because in a true Sweater Giraffe fashion, I made us spectacularly late. [I’m just saying, it could have been, like, Tuesday.]
Caroline and I had agreed beforehand that we’d spend the week exploring the city, then pick our favorite neighborhood and just meander aimlessly until it was time to take our 8 PM bus back to Paris. The usual, at this point. On this day, we decided to go out with a bang and spend the day in Chelsea with a hot bowl of Phat Phuc Noodles. We ate a ton of amazing food on the trip, but nothing will quite beat that very first meal.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. We even woke up early [for us] to check out of the hostel before noon. Good riddance, because another day in communal living and my skin likely would have peeled itself off of my bones and hitchhiked back to France. I can handle a lot, but black mold in the showers are not included. At least ice-cold river baths don’t smell like other peoples’ feet and misery.
Anyway, I digress. We finished packing our bags and got out as quickly as was humanly possible. It was only when we were ON OUR SECOND TRAIN that I realized that I no longer had my phone.
Cue an awful lot of panicking and me crouching on the subway platform, tearing my bags apart and flinging my underthings this way and that. Once I’d determined that my phone definitely wasn’t in my bag, we rushed back to the hostel to see if I’d left it behind.
I interrogated other hostel-goers, broke back into our room, and hopped on Find my iPhone, all with no luck. At that point, I was convinced that some talented pickpocket [likely with a jaunty cap of some sort] had gotten the best of me and was halfway to Morocco. I mean, I was already on the first stage of grief. All until one of the kindly gentlemen trying to help me find my phone hailed one of the hostel workers.
Spoiler alert: the hostel worker had my phone, safe and sound, along with a couple of other lost items. [Not all of them belonged to me, I’m not that much of a human disaster.] I was so relieved that I gave him a hug and probably thanked him an overwhelming number of times, and with that, we were finally seeing the last of the hostel.
A long [but not unpleasant] bus ride later, we were in back where it all began–in Chelsea, at Phat Phuc Noodle Bar.
I got the beef noodles along with custard buns again, and just like last time, it was an incredible meal.
Afterwards, we wandered a bit and found a cute little gelato place and just sat in the warmth for a while. Since the station was only a bus stop or two away, we roved around the neighborhood peacefully, stumbling across occasional hidden gems, like this gorgeous flower shop.
At 8, we got on the bus and prepared for the long ride back. I mean, it wasn’t the most comfortable overnight bus, but then again, what is?
London surprised me in a thousand different ways and completely stole my heart. I’m looking forward to returning someday and learning even more about this wonderful city. Until then, peace out.
I’ve created a portfolio for my photography, since I take a million pictures every time I step outside and can never feature everything I want to here! If you’re interested, go ahead and check it out.