I took a taxi to the train station. No way I was walking the 1,7 km to the station with my bag. Then I took a train to Liege. I was in awed already. Aprehensive, nervous, excited, thrilled. It was really happening. I was on my way to London. I got to Liege and took the bus. Last time I traveled on a bus across a border I was 12. There I was, the now-me and the little girl in me that started dreaming about it, about to leave to London.

I woke up about two hours later remembering how incredibly uncomfortable it is to sleep on a bus. There were at least two sets of crying babies (that is my luck, when traveling there will always be a crying baby, if not two). The seat was unbelievanly uncomfortable. So i mentally complaint, then acknowledge I brought it upon myself, next time I am taking the freaking eurostar, and tried to sleep some more. I had to be wide awake when I met London.

Woke Up at the border. Got off the bus to go through Customs. Stupid below zero weather... It is so not comfortable. Went through Customs without a single problem and I was suddenly reminded of the days I used to cross the Nicaraguan border each year. The Xmas peregrination between my home and the other home. I remembered the days when I stood in the middle of the border and thought, since it was no men's land, i could pretend this piece of earth was London. I didn't care that Peñas Blancas it is warm and filled with trees, i could pretend it was London for a couple of minutes just until I made it to the other side of the border. But this time, i didnt havave to pretend. On the other side, there were this people who spoke with british accents and told me there was going to snow in London.

Then I discovered we were getting to England by ferry. Here is the thing... I get motion sickness in cars, so boats are not really good for my stomach. We boarded the train in Calais, where I discovered you have to get out of the bus and up in the rooms of the boat. Luckily, I was so tired I didn't get much time to get all nauseous because of the movement. I fell fast sleep for the hour and a half it took me to go from Calais to Dover.

and then it was Dover. It was nothing like a port I had seen before. It was all rocky and I didnt see any sand at all. I figured the waves just crash against the stone. It must be a lovely scene at daytime. I thought: I will be back one day to see the waves crash stone. I fell sleep once more. I read canterburry somewhere, or perhaps I dreamt it. I don't know. then I dreamt something about a ghost.

Woke up in London. Yes People. London. Could you believe it? London. My eternal obssesion city. It was there, right outside a bus door. Must admit, I was kind of intimidated. This is exactly the time when the paranoid in me screams: What if London is not that awesome?. I ignored the Debby Downer in me and walked outside the station. I got some cash out from the machines. I had actually not taken a single pound with me. Then I walked to the nearest Underground station. It was 7 am. No sunlight was even out yet. And there I found it: the red buses, the underground signs and all this people who are driving on the wrong side of the street.

I was there. London. L-O-N-D-O-N. Walking its streets. I had finally made it to London. I could finally believe I was there. I didn't need no Big Ben or palace or the Greenwich meridian. I had an underground sign and the very dizzying feeling that people were driving in the wrong direction. And I knew I was there.

And that's how London and I finally met. With the Underground sign of the Victoria Station and a "Look right" written on the pavement. That's how it begun.