This is my blog...against my will, I am doing this now. Edinam, I will never forgive you!
Everything changes the second you cross that border; you know, the bit where it says, 'no return after this point'. After the first bit of your victory dance, you realize, you actually made it across. The people who gave you the visa at the embassy hadn't actually made a mistake. The Spanish inquisition at immigration was just a bunch of random questions. Nope. No MI6 agents are gonna swoop down the ceiling, rope you up, and ship you home.
You're out of that hell hole that is your place of birth, origin, and probably death. You're in JAND. And for those of you across the border, you're in YANKEE Mehhhnnn!! Then you realize it's not as cold as they told you it'd be.(probably cause its July, GENIUS). But you are determined to keep the jacket you've got on.
Then you wait. You wait and wait for the person that was supposed to pick you up 4hrs ago. Then you wait some more. Afraid to wander the unknown territory that is the airport. Eventually you use a payphone, call your good-for-nothing friend, who tells you its 'easier' to take a bus or train. With credit to you, you find your way to the bus (not ready to risk the train, being underground for an hour does not appeal to you, understandably). You pay your 'oh my God, that's the cost of feeding for a month' fare and sit, holding tightly to all you have in this world, your ticket and your hand luggage.
By the work of higher powers, you make it to your destination unscathed, where your Friend is impatiently waiting. A short ride later, you're inside a London flat. You observe how small it is. And how abnormally close the bathroom is to the kitchen.....