I followed my temporary host family to their car last Thursday afternoon after exiting the airport terminal. Out of habit, I immediately walked over to what I considered the passenger side of my host’s vehicle. My host, who was walking in front of me, continued to walk to what I had known my entire life to be the passenger side of the car. I was completely puzzled, until I remembered where I was.

England.

The passenger side is now the driver’s side.

I don’t know what I’m doing. 

I’m in ENGLAND!?

These thoughts race through my head for the duration of the night. The entire next day and the day my host family and British family friends deemed “London Day,” would be the day we made the thirty minute trek into the heart of London. 

The feeling resurrects the day after that, too. It’s the day we visit Hampton Court, the lodgings of King Henry the VIII. It never sinks in that I am in my predetermined favorite city in the world, a city I’ve known I wanted to visit since I was six, at which time I perfected my British accent. 

Like many of my other trips, I felt like I was at Epcot. Especially in London, I felt like I was at Epcot because there was no way this self-proclaimed anglophile had ACTUALLY made it to the REAL London. 

I’ve been putting off writing this blog post, as I know I will always be unable to find the words to express how flawless my perfect weekend was in my favorite city in the word. Even in high school, my passion for all things British was proudly displayed, as I co-started a British Club and even had a very successful first meeting (all meetings thereafter were a different story…)

Everything about London fascinated me, just as I thought it would. The way that Heather, my American host for the weekend, could drive on the LEFT SIDE OF THE ROAD without a second thought; the way that every other day there’s a changing of the guards ceremony at Buckingham Palace that involves a very intricate system of traditions; and the way I got to drink tea with breakfast AND got to have it in the afternoon, too.

I spent a weekend in the London area, but only a day in the actual city. In that very packed day I saw all the major sights, and even got to see it all from 400 feet up while riding in the giant-by-even-Texas-standards London Eye. Staying with locals was awesome, since I also got to see an English home up close and personal. Heather and David, my hospitable hosts, even pretended not to be embarrassed (for my sake, I’m sure) when I snapped pictures like paparazzi of their neighbors’ homes to proudly display in my latest Facebook album.

I’ll be back for ya, London. Very, very soon. My love for you wasn’t over then, and it isn’t over now.