Logroño is reasonably well-connected by bus and train to the rest of Spain, but getting out of the Iberian peninsula is a bit of a challenge. That's why I left it until this long weekend to go visit Jesse. My journey to London took the better part of a day. I began at 1.30 AM on Friday, hoping to sleep on the bus to the airport. After some confusion over my seat (each ticket has a bus number and a seat number, even though there was only one bus), I was heartily entertained by the one stop we made in snowy Soria. Our bus was visibly full, yet upwards of ten new ticket holders rushed onboard before realizing there was nowhere to sit. They all checked their tickets for the bus number, as we had done in Logroño, and found they were on number 8, the correct one. After some grumbling from the new arrivals in the aisle, we heard the driver's voice shout from outside: "Bueno, ¡hay otro ocho!" (Okay, there's another number 8!) Being 3 AM, the sheer insanity of this disorganization was entertaining rather than frustrating.
Upon reaching Madrid-Barajas Airport, I checked in and lined up to board my Ryanair flight to London Gatwick. At the exact time it was meant to depart, it was announced that it had been delayed for two hours. Gatwick airport had been closed due to weather for two days, so a two-hour delay was not unexpected. Once we finally took off, the pilot announced that he still didn't know if we'd be landing at Gatwick or Stansted because of the snow at Gatwick. As it turned out, we landed at Stansted, but I avoided the fate of many other travelers from Barajas that day - the Spanish air traffic controllers went on strike later that afternoon. I just made it out of the country.
While in London, I used a tube day pass to visit some places that I remembered, and some I hadn't seen - Abbey Road Studios, London Bridge, Harrod's, Southwark - and also had the misfortune of encountering bed bugs at my hostel. Rest assured, they have been dealt with mercilessly.
A tourist taking a picture of the crosswalk on the cover of Abbey Road.
Jesse and I met at Embankment station on Saturday to head to Twickenham to watch Barbarian FC play South Africa (rugby, if you're confused). On the way, I had my first celebrity sighting - British TV personality Dara O'Briain was walking by Waterloo station. I guess that's one advantage of living in a big city.
The rugby game was fantastic. Barbarian FC (also called Baa-Baas) is an invitational team made up of players from all over the world. In rugby, that basically means tons of players from Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa, a few Europeans, and one Pacific Islander. The Barbarians traditionally face one of the southern hemisphere sides that come to tour Europe in November, and this year, it was defending world champions South Africa (the Springboks). Barbarians won 26-20, and much of the action was in our end, which was a treat. It was a fantastic atmosphere, with plenty of South African expats in the stands screaming "Go Bokke!" in their unique accents. Although not as crowded or as competitive as an international match, it was a privilege to watch the Barbarians play their exciting brand of running rugby. The crowd loudly voiced its disapproval every time either team chose to kick a penalty rather than run it.
Jesse and I met up with Jeff, a friend from the ISC who is now there as a staff member, and headed up to Cambridge later that evening. After church the following morning, Jesse gave me a tour of several Cambridge colleges. Later, I visited my friend Renad, who is currently doing his Masters at the university. I was continually struck by the amount of history, money, and power that Cambridge possesses. One of Renad's professors used to be Richard Nixon's chief of staff, and one of the students at his college counts Facebook's Eduardo Saverin among his friends. Few of the colleges have not produced a world-famous graduate - Newton, Darwin, Keynes, Sacha Baron Cohen, and Monty Python being just a few examples. Cambridge has produced more Nobel prize winners than any other educational institution, though its 800-year existence does give it a distinct advantage.
One of the simplest pleasures of being in the UK was being immersed in my native language again. Jesse and I went to two movies while I was in Cambridge, neither of which I could see in English in Logroño. It was also quite a treat to watch Spanish people try to negotiate the fallout of our flight being diverted in English. Part of me pitied them, but part of me was enjoying seeing the shoe on the other foot. None of them seemed to have real trouble, anyway.
The return trip was uneventful and went exactly as planned. The only surprise was the change in weather - Madrid was 15°C upon my arrival, and Logroño is about the same. It is not often that I get the privilege of wearing sandals in December, but I do enjoy it.
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