Spending in London

When preparing for this trip, I sat down with my parents and we tried to figure out what I would spend my money on. There was tuition and the flight to England, obviously, which made up the bulk of my budget, but everything not included in tuition was also discussed at length: food, travel within and outside of London, bedding, kitchen supplies, school books...many things made it on that list.

So far, none of these things (save tuition) have made it to my number one spending commodity: mistakes. I've only been in London two days and I've already spent more on my mistakes than four times food, travel, and other objects.


It started pretty quickly; as soon as I claimed my baggage at the London airport, I purchased a ticket to Victoria, London. This was based on the information I'd been given by my study abroad program to take the Gatwick Express to Victoria Station, and then get a cab to my apartment. While I stood in the station, sleep deprived and confused, a man in an official looking uniform came over with this scanner thing and asked if I wanted a ticket. I said yes. He said, "Where to?" and I said "Victoria," and handed him my debit card. Looking back on this moment, I hear a dozen warning bells ringing, but luckily the man was not a criminal. He did give me a legitimate ticket.

I went to the platform, asked a Canadian student if it was the right one, and jumped on a train when she told me to.

It wasn't until I found my self above ground and travelling through a decaying part of London, that  I realized I should probably ask the woman sitting across from me if this was to Victoria Station. She looked at me quizzically and said "...No..."

"Oh," I said, and sat back in my seat. My brain and limbs were little more than mush at this point; I'd been awake for far too long.

Seeing my pathetic state, she asked "Where are you going?"

This was completely unexpected. I had thought strangers didn't talk to each other in big cities. This stereotype was completely wrong. The woman found out where I needed to go, told me what stop to get off at, and where to get a black cab who could take me there for hardly anything (which was good, because I'd already blown 18.5 pounds on the useless train ride).

In the end, things ended up alright. As have the other four times I've messed up. The formula I've found helpful in the last twenty four hours is to stay calm, be patient, and ask for help when I need it. Most people, upon hearing my heavy Midwestern accent, are happy to help. And Londoners are knowledgeable! Which gives me hope that over the next few months, these expensive mistakes will occur less frequently.

Who knows? Maybe someday a tourist will as me for directions.

Until next time...