So, it has almost been a week since my arrival here and let me tell you, it’s been a doozy. But the good are still outweighing the bad a million to one, and I really like those odds so far.

It started off almost too good to be true. For those of you who don’t know, I am a type 1 diabetic (among other things) and with diabetes comes great responsibilities! And these responsibilities have some expensive knickknacks that go along with it such as!: an insulin pump, insulin, insulin pump supplies (which include three separate doohickeys (technical term) that make up the all encompassing “insulin pump supplies” list), back-up insulin and pens in case said pump goes wonky and I need to be on needles, a glucose meter, glucose strips, alcohol swabs, a continuous glucose monitoring system (CGM) and it’s supplies (four doohickeys for that guy), glucagons (in needle form and obviously not the snazzy stuff your body can make on its own) and if I really wanted to – but didn’t – ketone strips! A 4-6 month supply took up a suitcase (not the carry-on kind, either). It is also worth close to $3000, not including said pump, which is attached to me at all times and costs roughly $10,000. The CGM is also attached to me two weeks a month. Yes, folks, I’m a step in the right cyborg direction. Due to allllllll of this nonsense, I tend to get stopped at security going through the airport and stopped for quite a bit when I leave the airport. Doesn’t matter the airport. All will stop me, some for longer periods than others. Therefore(!), the fact that I cruised through the entire airport process, both leaving and arriving, made me do a bit of a pelvic thrust victory dance. I’m sure it was terrifying for other travelers to witness, but fuck ’em! I have never been through so quickly. And it just kept going from there.

I ended up getting picked up by a lovely friend of mine, Vas, which I hadn’t expected until I got word about a day or two prior to leaving. Which, by the way, thank goodness she did. Due to the Noah’s arc of medical supplies in my second suitcase (which I was able to bring along for free!), the suitcase full of nonsense that is to last me for close to two years, plus my carry-on and camera, we figured that I lugged around close to my weight (a healthy 140, thank you :)) in bloody baggage. And, p.s., I don’t pack like the typical girl. So she picked me up, it was all hugs and kisses, more hugs and loud, excited conversation and we went to her place where I promptly proceeded to vomit into her toilet upon arrival. Took a lovely nap, woke up and proceeded to be sick again. And again. And once more for good measure(!) before going to the chemist, drugging up and was dropped off at the tube station with more hugs, but no kisses. Then, I slowly made my way to a subway car at Hammersmith Station.

Paddington Station in London, is just plain stupid. I haven’t been to all of the tube stations yet, but I’m pretty sure this one is one of the worst for getting lost in. There are two circle lines, a happy yellow colour, but it doesn’t completely connect. And where one stops, the other begins at a completely different end of the station and the station has the bloody National Railway right in the middle! The signage is great going one way, but the way that I came basically had signs that read: National Railway ->, Taxi’s ^, Some Road That Is In The Direction of St. Mary’s Hospital <-, and You’re Fucked If You Need To Be Anywhere Else O. Well, the directions to my hotel started from You’re Fucked If You Need To Be Anywhere Else, and I had no idea where that was. And because I stood there for awhile, vomit and dumb struck, hoping that that last sign would turn into Norfolk Square/Hyde Park thattaway!, everyone had gone and disappeared so there was no one to ask! I knew it wasn’t far, so I dragged my limbs up to a taxi and told him where to take me and he immediately did a full body sigh and I could see the words, ‘buhloody fuckin’ ahmerican,’ in his mind. Apologies to all you American readers, but for whatever the reason (I might know a few), you have acquired a bad reputation in the way that you travel. Sometimes, since I don’t sound like a hoser, people tend to believe that I am, in fact, an american and that does not always work in my favour. Anyhoo, he let me know right quick that the hotel was right around the corner and I could just walk it. I replied, ‘that I could indeed, but I just arrived, was completely wiped and would really. really. appreciate it if he would just drive me there,’ alls the while having a big, eat-shit-you-prick smile on my face. So he did and he perked up quite a bit when we got around to where I was from. Then he wouldn’t shut up. We arrived at the hotel two minutes after I got in and he kept me there for what seemed like forever with tips on what to see, where to drink etc., which I wouldn’t have minded any other day but this day. Should’ve thrown up in his black cab. Jerk… 

Arrived to the Cardiff Hotel on Norfolk Square (www.cardiff-hotel.com) and was told that I had two bookings. Haha. Ha. Hahahahahahaaaaa…
That was quickly sorted and blamed on Expedia.ca and I carried myself up five flights of stairs to my humble abode during the next three nights. This place was actually quite lovely. Nothing fancy but they bumped me up to a double bed with an en suite as opposed to the single bed with shared toilets, which was lovely. The place was clean, well kept, had stellar free wifi, free breakfast (traditional English breakfast, which is rare for free), fantastic location, free luggage storage the day upon arriving and leaving, and very friendly service to boot! Plus!, it didn’t cost me an arm, a leg and an eyeball, either. The meds were kicking in and I was a happy camper.

Soon after arriving, I received a call from Adam, a very dear friend of mine, and we arranged to meet. I met him at Paddington station (the confusion-free side) and we went for a lovely walk around since the sun was shining and it was beautiful out. I had not seen him for a year, so we caught up on our stories and laughs and rants and musical endeavours. When it got chilly, we found a quaint pub, the kind I’m used to in Ireland, and we sat down for some delicious food. We parted and when I went back up to my room and breathed in. I felt really good about where I was.

Hyde Park