On Saturday we returned from our trip to London, and as I promised, it is time for a flood of travel posts. I'll start from the first day and try to recall every detail. I'll train my memory at least. Luckily, I have a pretty decent photo cheatsheet in my phone.

Some larger museums, monuments, and attractions deserve their own post. They will follow after this Back In Time series so stay with me!

Day 1: Bloody Airports

As the name suggests, today's diary will be about the way to London. I ordered the tickets in June, and they were quite cheap. Of course, I was looking for the cheapest flights because we don't print money. Our destination was London Stansted, from which we then have to take a bus to London center. Respectively to Stratford.

In Prague

The plane was supposed to depart at five o'clock, but we went to the airport at one, because I never checked in big luggage. It may take quite a while, they said. Well, it didn't take a while. We were bored at the airport, and the counter was opened about an hour after our arrival. However, I'm glad that the Václav Havel Airport is as it is.

First of all, we wanted to find a McDonald's to have lunch (in my defense, normal restaurants are expensive at the airport). I really thought there was one, but wasn't. There were only Burger King and KFC. We didn't choose anything at BK but to not to make our long journey from Terminal 1 to Terminal 2 unnecessary; we went to at the view at least. We could compare the size of the airplanes here.

But there was nothing happening in the view, so we decided to kill time in KFC. We ordered Twisters, which were quite disgusting. I've never eaten worse. The salad that was in them seemed to be already used. We didn't get a stomachache, so we went to hypnotize the board where the check-in counter was supposed to show. It took quite a while.

There already were a few people waiting. Some Asians had been at the counter for a long time. So long that some lady before us gave up and went to spend her time elsewhere. But it wasn't the passengers' fault. The computer at the counter was not working properly. The family before us managed their check-in quite quickly, but we stood there for a few minutes. We were waiting for a computer restart. Fortunately, everything went well because a few days earlier I found out that the luggage was not mentioned on the ticket even though I had prepaid it. I didn't know if I messed up something or not.

We still had a few hours left, and so we went down to the airport mini-museum. They have some special clothes and gadgets, historical films and several tablets with games for kids here. But most of them were out of order. The cherry on a cake was a free photo of you with one of about five backgrounds with an airport theme. Then you could send the photo to your email. It would be great if some family didn't have a picnic on the green screen. So we have a part of the head of a foreign father in our photo. I think there are more than enough seats in our airport, so I really don't understand what they were trying to do. Stupid Czechs... After our photo shoot, we decided to spend time in the stores after passport control.

My fiance didn't fly in his life, so he couldn't even put his passport in the reader (display was showing him the procedure). Some guy must help him. We have a biometric passport. You put a passport in the reader first. Then you wait for a while before it loads, and then you can go to the next door. There you stand on the marked signs, and it will take a photo of you, and you can go deeper into the terminal.

We sat there as close as possible to the information boards and waited. We had almost two hours ahead of us. We were playing games, I was trying to read, and occasionally we went to the restroom. On one journey from a restroom, I noticed that that giant plane is departing. So we went to see it, and when it disappeared out of our sight, we went back to the chairs and waited. The board showed that the expected departure would be delayed by one hour due to the weather. Awesome. Well what could we do, we waited further.

Even before the time of the original departure, the Gate number appeared on the board. Somehow we didn't care, because we have to leave at 18:20, right. There was no need to hurry. After a few minutes, I looked at the board again and what I didn't see. The new time - 18:20 - WAS GONE! I started to panic. What the hell is this, we won't make it in time!

We were running to our Gate, but there was a huge queue, and on the board, I saw something about boarding! I started to panic even more. Before we get to the control, it will depart! Not that we could make it. It was clearly said that we wouldn't depart until 18:20.

We were all nervous on the queue and went through the control. Of course, nobody was boarding... People just sat and waited in the waiting room. We joined them. Fortunately, there was an automat with water in the waiting room. Otherwise, we would have dried up. Liquids and airports are not friends. I'm telling the fiancé that he can pay by card in that one (the machine where people were standing). So he got off and went to buy a drink. Suddenly I hear the clink of falling coins as if somebody won in a slot machine. "You can't pay by card, but by the banknotes. I tried to put a card in it, and nothing happened," said the winner. "I thought the other machine," and I knock on my forehead in my mind. What will we do with two pounds of Czech coins in London?

My fiancée had a bad day. At first, he didn't know what to do with his passport then he forgot to take out his phone from his pocket before going through the control and then the drink.

But there couldn't be anything wrong with boarding the plane. Well, wait. I bought priority tickets. Two queues should, therefore, be created in the waiting room. Priority and non-priority. But there was very little space in the priority one, and as soon as the bus arrived to take us to the plane, all the passengers began to crowd on the door to get there as soon as possible. Of course, that made me upset, because even people without priority did that. I bought a priority ticket, so damn I want to be on the plane before the others?! At the airport, they thought about it, and some guard checked the tickets. All the non-priority people who were hammering forward were unlucky and sent away. But we were still buried in a crowd of other people, and we couldn't get to the door. But the airport thought about it either. He asked if there was anyone else on the back with priority. That was my moment. I immediately raised up my hand with our dark blue flight ticket (non-priority was white). The crowd broke up, and we finally got on the bus and to the plane. My fiance then made fun of my reaction. The priority wasn't important to him I guess. He probably didn't realize that it cost us money.

In airplane

We entered the airplane through the rear entrance because this time I booked the seats in the back behind the wing. I was so nice to let my fiancée sit at the window. It was his first flight. He was excited as a small child from it, and he still shot something. The wind power plants in the sea he liked the most.

In the cabin, it pleasantly surprised me that the instructions how to fasten your seatbelt, to put on a life jacket, etc. were also in the Czech version because not all low-cost flights have them. But the crew spoke only English, and we didn't understand some reports. Especially due to the noise from the speakers.

At Stansted

After arriving at Stansted, we went into a building where some surprise waited for us. Most Gates are quite far from the airport hall, and the only access to them is with a train that is completely automated. So no man drives it. It has about two wagons, and there are almost no seats. There are three stops. Gate 1 - 19, Gate 20 - 39 and Airport Hall. It was quite an experience because we went to the first door and saw everything from the perspective of the driver (who was not there). I tried filming it, so here's a little tasting:

In the hall, we first had to pass passport control, which was essentially the same as in our country. Then we had to pick up the luggage. It was already spinning on the belt, so we didn't have to wait for it, and we went to find a bus stop to get to the center of London.

Because of the flight delay, we didn't catch the bus we booked. Fortunately, on the ticket, they wrote that you could also go one hour sooner or later if there is a place on that bus. So we found out when the next departed and went to look for our bus stop.

There was a bus stop marked on the ticket, so it was easy to find. We stood there and waited. But there were only some bizarre public buses coming in, which had complete nonsense mentioned on the light panel instead of the name of the destination. But really nonsense. It started to be weird. There was no mention of going to London anymore. My fiance went to ask some girls in a stand where they were selling bus tickets. Those women told him to go through the second exit.

We came to the second exit and went again to those strange bus stops. We turned around confused. We were really desperate and angry. Then I noticed that one bus driver is waving at us. After a while I went to him. He asked if we were looking for a bus to London. I told him that yes, to Stratford.

I'm glad he noticed us! Otherwise, the next bus would have left without us. He told us to go to an underpass that we didn't even notice, at the end of which was the bus station with the long-distance buses. We found it just in time it was about ten minutes before the bus arrived and we finally could sit and relax.

Except for a French-speaking Arab-looking family with two children sitting behind us. And of course, these kids have been doing a mess all the time, and nobody hasn't spoken to them. Only families from Bohemia do this.

In London

We got off the bus and tried to find a public transport stop that would take us to our temporary home. We got our accommodation through Airbnb because otherwise, the London accommodation is expensive. Already on the bus, I wondered where our hostess is from. Her name was Tejumade. I haven't met such a name yet. "You know that this woman will be Indian," I say to my fiancé. "Or black," I add after a moment of thinking about the origin of the name. I put a beetle into his head at least.

We stood for a while on the sidewalk and tried to find the best way to our home, and when we started looking at where the DLR (such a metro that runs mainly on the surface) we were addressed by a swarthy guy who probably came with us from Stansted. He was a native (originally Italian, said my fiance) and he offered to show us where to go. He was the second person to help us that day. We've come to a different world.

He first asked where we were going. We said that Woolwich. There had to be the apartment from Airbnb. The guy was terrified. He said that Woolwich is one of the most dangerous districts. We were terrified, but what can we do? We didn't even think of looking at the quality of the neighborhoods.

He was going the same way basically, so he offered us to go with him. We agreed. He picked up one more confused tourist with us.

DLR just went wrong, and we had to switch twice. We missed the DLR that went straight to our destination. It took us a long time, but before 11 pm we came to the final Woolwich Arsenal station. From here, we only had to take a bus directly to the house where we were supposed to live.

When we got out of the DLR, we were terrified. The stop was really disgusting. Beggars and weird individuals wandered around. And black people everywhere. Just a little white people were around. I don't consider myself a racist and I have nothing against them, but I'm just not used to such a concentration of black people because it's not in our country. We have just Russians and Vietnamese and gypsies. I felt quite odd between them. Are we still in Europe?!

Then came a bus that brought us in front of the house. But we didn't know it yet. We were supposed to be living in one of about five identical blocks. But which one is right? We are accustomed from the Czech Republic that the blocks have only one house number. In Woolwich, every apartment in the block has its house number. I'm not kidding. So at the block there was not written "Random St. 5," but "Random St. 1-100" and so on. This is probably because they don't have a mailbox at the entrance. Each apartment has a hole in the door. So we had to find a block with the right interval. We succeeded. We rang the bell, and the house lady put us into the block.

Again, we were terrified. The corridor and elevator were messy. The mirror in the elevator was so dirty that we could hardly see ourselves in it. We hoped the apartment wouldn't look the same as the rest of the house.

It didn't. But in England they don't have doorbells, and instead, they have door knockers. We knocked on it and guess who opened us!

She wasn't much older than us, and she was so energetic and crazy. She showed us our room, bathroom, and kitchen and went to sleep. It was almost midnight.

It was such a cozy top floor apartment with a nice view of the Thames and the main London airport (the most expensive one). It was tidy, and she even prepared a tea tray for coffee, tea, and other liquids every day for breakfast and even baked a cake. She was so kind.

And when she baked it? At about 2 am. But my fiance should tell better. I fell asleep.

To be continued...