We left Trieste a little too early in the morning. Luckily, our hotel packed us breakfast to go—the enjoyable part of our journey to the airport after the bus driver freaked out about us not having tickets in advance. Charla’s Italian got us by and earned a stop at a roadside café where she ran inside to buy tickets after the fact from a kind older lady. The journey from Trieste to Milano was short and sweet. There, we met up with Charla’s friend Patrick for coffee and second breakfast. Charla and Patrick met while they were studying together at the University of Bologna in 2007 as students of the Eastern College Consortium between Vassar, Wesleyan, and Wellesley, and they have stayed in touch across the continents, as neither one seems to stay put for too long. Patrick had just made it back to Italy some four months before and had lots to say about the city. Breakfast in Milano felt close to breakfast in Bologna—cappuccini, pastries, and lots of catching up (this time, we had a year and a half to discuss; it used to be the events of the night before at the Cassero). As Patrick left for work, we went for a walk around the city that took us by the Duomo, La Scala opera house, a few notable statues, and the oh-so-not Italian but rather Irish O’Connell’s Country Pub before heading back to the airport. Our last flight until Mongolia! After flying from Milan to London City, we decided the best idea would be to avoid the actual city of London. Tomorrow we’ll be picking up our car in the eastern suburbs, so we decided to head there tonight. After navigating London’s public transit lines (airport to Stratford, Stratford to West Ham, West Ham to Purfleet), we finally walked up to The Royal, our hotel for the evening. We arrived right as it was getting dark, and immediately grabbed some ciders from the Riverbay, the bar in the hotel, to enjoy on the banks of the River Thames with a view of the London skyline as the last bits of daylight were fading from the sky. Once it got completely dark we went back inside the bar and met two of the funniest people we’ve met along the entire trip. There was Wes, the bartender who met his American lady playing Call of Duty, and there was Jake, who had to explain to his wife how he innocently lost two pairs of pants within days of each other. The two of them kept us rolling with laughter late into the evening until we climbed up a couple flights of stairs to collapse into bed and dream about getting a car tomorrow.
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The coach dropped us off around 12:30 AM at Heathrow at terminals 1-3, where it is also possible to take a train to terminals 4 and 5. Unfortunately, the train doesn’t run late at night/early in the morning, so we were stuck in that part of the airport for a few hours. Many folks had already found their places among lines of chairs. Clearly, none of these people had explored the terminal before setting up, as a short walk led us to the plush British Airways first class check-in waiting area, where we spent the night The hours passed quickly, and soon we were boarding our Alitalia flight to Roma in the mass of a most confusing queue/herd of people. The British attempted to queue neatly, but the Italian passengers made sure that didn’t happen. After a short flight to Roma that took us on a scenic journey over the Alps, we boarded an even shorter flight to Trieste that took us over the Adriatic Sea. Landing in Trieste, we discovered a herd of interestingly dressed people, who we later heard were en route to a music festival in Croatia. [Again, note to selves: Research festivals nearby.]
A drive along the coast brought us into the gorgeous city of Trieste, whose architecture is a mixed salad of Italian and Austro-Hungarian Imperial seaside styles. We admired the sea and the city while eating pizza after Charla checked in at the Trieste Joyce School. In true Italian fashion, our night ended with a walk around Piazza dell’Unità d’Italia and some gelato. One of Iceland’s dirty little secrets is that the Reykjavík airport is located an hour and a half out of the city. They don’t tell you this when you book your 7:30AM international flight, which requires checking in at 5:30AM, which requires leaving the city at 4:00AM. Suffice to say, there wasn’t much time for sleep last night. Iceland was a spectacular starting point for our grand adventure because it was such an easy transition from Alaska. Rather than flying to Europe, we felt like we had just kept driving and discovered someplace we hadn’t visited before in Alaska. Iceland is a more expensive, European version of the Alaska we were used to. The climate, the topography, the 24-hour daylight; it all seemed very familiar. But, at the same time, it was slightly foreign to us. Europe was hanging in the air, and yet the ruggedness of the country made us feel at home. When we arrived in London, we were happy to get to visit with John, Chase’s friend from high school, for the evening. We had explored John’s neighborhood in the afternoon, but in the evening John’s very comfortable flat (combined with the early wake-up this morning) led to us falling asleep early watching Wimbledon. Editor’s note: Due to an unfortunate incident involving Chase’s cell phone and one of his cameras being left behind in one of London’s quintessential black taxis, we have no photos from today. We do have a Lost Property Enquiry filed with Transport for London, and are eagerly awaiting their response.
Editor's note from July 10th: We found ourselves back in London and back at John's flat, at which point we noticed a handwritten note on a pegboard in John's entryway that said, "If you left two mobile phones in a taxi, please call XXXXX-XXXXXX." Well, we said to ourselves that a cell phone and a camera could be interpreted as two mobile phones, so John called the number and lo and behold the electronics were being held by a very strange man in John's building! Apparently the driver found them and came back to the apartment building to drop them off. Success! And now we have photos to upload from the 27th for you! [Don't get too excited though, we just have transit photos as we lost the camera just after our arrival in London.] We began our journey early in the morning and surprisingly running on the schedule we had set for ourselves. After a stop on Main Street for a bag of baked goods from the Talkeetna Roadhouse (including a few Rudies-in-a-Parka for Chase, a cheesy onion pasty, and a frosty), we made the familiar drive to Anchorage. We didn't have much time in the city, but we made the most of it with a stop at McGinley's Pub for lunch with Chase's father and his friend Bob, who were also preparing for an adventure, as they are driving the Honda Pilot south. After lunch, we headed to the airport, where Nikki and Geoff from the Alyeska Resort sent us off. It was our first time flying on Icelandair, and we loved the Icelandic sayings on the blankets, pillows, and headrests on board. Our plane was named Snæfell, after the famous volcano. Taking off over Point Woronzof, where we had just run the Anchorage Mayor's Midnight Sun Half Marathon days before, was beautiful. From there, we headed north towards Talkeetna and Denali. Our last glimpses of Alaska were of the Wickersham Wall on the north side of the mountain.
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