The only jackass that a was a bigger idiot that this guy was yours truly, the author of this blog, who actually bought all this crap as pure poetry. I got all the money I had and bought a ticked from L.A. to London. All I had was the intention to say fora week and 200 U$ in my pocket
My girlfriend at the time, Xochilt, had tried to advise against my going without as much as a phone call worth of preparation. Just so I can fully explain how stupidly unprepared I was, I will elaborate a little for you.
I had no guide book, map or address of a place to go to what so ever. I had a school backpack with 2 t-shirts, 2 pairs of underwear, a towel and a borrowed camera. I had no idea the British pound was worth almost twice the dollar and I figured the maximum I would pay for a nite at a hostel would be 10 dollars, which is 6 pounds.
Anyone who has ever been to London and is reading this is very likely to be rolling their eyes and foaming their mouths in laughter
I was so blind by the whole romantic "backpacking is freedom" crap that I felt that taking a guide book or making a reservation would go against the whole freedom thing. I felt it would be cheating.
So there I was, in Heathrew airport with 120 lbs and no a clue. A quick ride to downtown London and I was out 20 lbs. I began to look for places to stay but I couldnt find anything. It was getting dark and I was getting cold. A whopper meal at burger king and I was out another 10lbs. I found myself in a dark Picadilly Circus with no place to stay and 90 lbs in my pocket.
The whole freedom expression thing began to sound like a load of crap to me.
Another hour went by and I was scared shitless. I didnt know what to do and had no one to turn to. I went in the subway and saw these two tall blondes with a map on their hands. I walked up to them and explained my situation, asking if they knew of a place I could find a room. They told me of a subway stop around 30 minutes away, where I would find a place to crash.
I get to this place around 10 pm. It is a musty Allentown looking street, with smoke blowing off the sewage lids. I walked up to the first hotel I saw and it cost me 60lbs for a single with a shared bath. The room was tiny, the door couldnt even open all the way, as it hit the bed and forced me to slide sideways into it. Never in my life did I want to be back home so bad. I cried like a baby, feeling like I had been cheated out of my money by a stupid and naive idea of what being free really is about. I cried myself to sleep in my smoke smelling t-shirt and 25 pounds in my pocket.
The next day, London looked too inhospitable to me. I walked around for an hour and all I could think of was going back home to Riverside. I had gotten a 24 hour subway pass that was going to expire in one hour, which was an hour longer than what I wanted to be in London for. I went back to the airport and boarded the next flight to LA, which cost me a 100U$ change fee. After I tallied up the whole thing, two days cost US1100US. When I made it to LA, I was so ashamed by the whole thing that I changed the dates on the English stamp on my passport and made it look like I was there for month, even though I knew no one would ever even notice.
Going to a foreign country is not a simple thing. I spoke the language and a 100 thousand dollar limit credit card... and I still managed to freak out.
Imagine what Luke must have felt like. He was two years younger than I was went I went through this fiasco. He was fresh outta high school into Santiago, Chile, without speaking a word of Spanish. No wonder he was freaking out.
When he asked me if he could come to Salta with us, I knew exactly how he felt. All I did to him was what I wish someone would have done to me that spring break in London...
Of course you can come with me, it will be fun. I answered when he asked if he could join me.
So after I found out there was no room for me in Matze's bedroom, Luke and I were off to Salta.
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