Roaming Newton Chapter Two:
It gets you like a slap in the face. The bracing cold seems to cut through even the sturdiest of runway corridors. Most of the passengers on my particular flight seemed prepared for the change in weather. Jackets were taken out of bags, gloves come magically out of the jacket pockets and everyone assumed the all-too traditional stance – hunched over, hands in their pocket and ready for the chilling wind. A little voice in the back of my head began to laugh. Something told me the jeans and shirt were just not going to cut it, one day earlier and I was chilling on the beach having my last surf before a year of adventure and cold began.
I was finally there, the big city of London. The place where a million young South Africans go to make their home for a year or two. Stepping out of the airport the eery dark was the first thing that struck me, at 9:30am you would expect a little sunshine at least. I suppose that was my fault for arriving in mid-February.
It is amazing how organised the public transport system is in London. A quick look at the map and I had sussed out the entire system, well for the most part anyway. I knew I had to get shelter, the travel book I bought informed me that Earls Park was the centre of the universe for backpackers and youth hostels. An hour later I walked out of the tube station, looking for any sign of cheap accommodation. I found one quite quickly. At first glance I was a bit skeptical though – 12 years of education had taught me one thing – do not trust an establishment called Dwayne’s budget backpackers. However with a light wallet the choice was obvious and I moved in that day.
Everyone in my dormitory seemed to be at work so I unpacked my bags. The big job search would start tomorrow, today I needed sleep. If I wanted to travel I need a job, if I want a job I need sleep, no complaints there.