I TOOK THE TUBE to Paddington to meet Mary Elizabeth and Charlotte which saved me a £35 taxi fare.  Luckily it was Friday night and all the lines were running properly so I got to Paddington Station which is where the Heathrow express would deposit them – hopefully on-time, safe and sound.

As exciting as it was to get away and be on my own in a foreign city, I always felt a little disjointed when I was separated from Mary Elizabeth.  It was like that gnawing feeling that you’ve left the light on, or forgot to lock the car.  Just enough above the subconscious to be unsettling, but not enough to obsess over.  I was really looking forward to seeing them both, and was a little nervous about finding them. I tried several times to email them as I approached Paddington to see which train they were on, having already received a short email from Mary Elizabeth letting me know that they had passed successfully through customs.

Grand Central notwithstanding, the New York train stations are nothing like the termini in London so every time I see the elaborate ironwork supporting the glass shed, it takes my breath away. Even a relatively modest station like Paddington (compared to the behemoth St. Pancras) has an elegant curve of iron columns and supports, and the painted wrought iron screen separating the shed from the concourse.  It’s oft-observed, but the antiquity of London in almost every aspect – from the decrepit old gas fixture hanging off a wall under a railroad bridge to the gilded crowns on fences, walls and anything vaguely royal is captivating – particularly to this American.

As I wandered the platforms at Paddington, looking for Mary Elizabeth and Charlotte, I admit to a certain level of rising panic.  There was no reason for this unease – Mary Elizabeth was after all a more experienced traveler than me, but for some reason as I paced back and forth at the Heathrow Express platform, I was worried.  I hadn’t gotten any emails from Mary Elizabeth indicating which train they were on or where they were, so I was staking out the platforms to meet them as they stepped off the train.

I decided to walk around the concourse a little just to be on the safe side, and suddenly I saw them, standing at a soup stand. Mary Elizabeth was wearing a camelhair coat which looked like it was glowing in the drear December air in the station.  A surge of joy ran through my chest as I saw her and Charlotte standing there, waiting for me.

I came up to them and greeted them warmly, welcoming them to London.  They seemed a little tired and Mary Elizabeth wanted something to eat before catching a cab to the hotel, so we hung out eating soup among the homeless before heading out.  As happy as I was, I was a little irritated that we had to loiter in the dusty cold, instead of grabbing a cab – £35 fare notwithstanding – back to the hotel.  But Mary Elizabeth wasn’t budging and I told myself to relax and go with the flow.

Soup finished, we headed for the taxi queue.  I was excited to show Charlotte all the landmarks of London as we headed to Canary Wharf. Charlotte was going through a phase of writing everything down, and had decided that she would journal every step of the trip.  As a result, she sat back in the cab taking notes in her journal, while the evening sights of London went whizzing by.

I urged her to look around her and pointed out the lights of the Hyde Park Winter Fair as we headed south on Park Lane.  The London Eye turned slowly in the distance, while the light show bathed the cabins in alternating shades of green, purple, red and blue. As we approached Westminster Abbey and the Houses of Parliament, Charlotte started getting very excited as Big Ben was a favorite of hers, and she couldn’t believe she was seeing it in person.

As a child growing up in Manhattan, I was probably a little jaded about landmarks, and even held the gaping tourists in mild contempt as they stopped in mid-sidewalk staring at the Empire State Building or some other landmark.  However, it wasn’t until I went to Paris and London for the first time that I understood what the tourists were gaping about.  So as Charlotte’s excitement grew as we passed the Tower of London, dramatically lit at night, I started to feel it myself.  Mary Elizabeth seemed a little cranky and tired, and was looking forward to seeing the fancy hotel room.

We pulled up in front of the hotel and were helped out of the cab by the friendly doorman who paid extra attention to Charlotte, which we appreciated.  When we got to the tenth floor and I opened the door revealing the suite, their reaction was appropriately enthusiastic.  For Charlotte, it was the floor to ceiling windows and the expansive views of the Canary Wharf skyscrapers and the yellow mast-like support towers of the O2 Arena in the distance – as well as the basket of goodies on the kitchen counter.  For Mary Elizabeth, it was the full kitchen and separate bedroom.  I felt relieved that she was pleased and I got busy unpacking our suitcases into closets and drawers since we’d be there for a full week.

In almost 20 years of traveling together, Mary Elizabeth and I had pretty clearly delineated responsibilities.  Upon arrival at a hotel, we would generally inspect the room and in many cases reject it in the hopes of getting a better one.  In this case, I had already “approved” the room so we moved on to phase 2, which involved my unpacking all suitcases into closets and drawers and then stowing the suitcases.  Charlotte would be sleeping on a rollaway bed in the living room and had her own set of drawers to stow her clothes. While this was going on, Mary Elizabeth reclined on the bed, reading travel guides and thinking about our itinerary for the following day.  After everything was put away, we realized that we were all a little hungry, so we ordered indian food from room service, as well as a plate of little cheeseburgers for Charlotte.

I had a wonderfully relaxed feeling of contentment as we lounged in the living room, watching British TV and eating a late night snack.  We were all together, and while it wasn’t a vacation for me, it was Friday night, and we had the whole weekend together.  We had decided that we would approach the next day gradually and ease into the week.  Since it was well past midnight by the time we retired, we all agreed that we would sleep late on Saturday morning and make our way to the London Eye to get a bird’s eye view of London for Charlotte.

Go to next chapter: The East End, Innit?