After less than five hours of sleep, I rolled out of bed on a Sunday morning and into the brisk London air, anticipating my tour of Little Venice. After successfully taking the tube and meeting Brit, our tour guide, I waited for what seemed like an eternity for the rest of the group to arrive so that we could begin our trek to the boat. I had been looking forward to this boat tour for weeks and decided that the sleep deprivation from the night before was well worth the sights we would encounter on our tour of Little Venice. Little did I know that our charming boat tour was not going to turn out quite as expected.
After the whole group was gathered together, we unfortunately started the walking tour that I was not previously informed of. I can’t say I remember much from the walking tour…besides the freezing cold temperature and Brit hollering at the group to gather closer together and insisting that the “little ones” get a first row position, as if they were missing out on something by being short and listening from the edge of the group. Brit led us to various spots on the walking tour, one being an ancient hotel that Sigmund Freud stayed at and many others that I wish I could remember. The walking tour eventually led us to the canal that we would be taking our boat ride down.
The walk alongside the canal towards our boat consisted of rows of “houseboats” that looked like small rickety shacks on water. At the end of the walking tour we reached another small and narrow boat that made me look around and wonder where we would be led next. It was then that I was informed that this was the boat we would be taking along the canal. After climbing down into the boat and sitting, much too close, to my friend in the three foot wide seats, we sat in the freezing cold boat waiting for it to fill up so that we could leave. As I was sitting there shivering, the boat finally glided away from the dock and past the island that Brit informed us was called “Rat Island”. Soon after, our boat slowed down and reversed so that a group of French passengers could board the “shack”. As the boat floated away for the second time we were bombarded by French chatter that screamed over everything that Brit was trying to tell us on the tour. We were surprised to hear Brit translate her language to French so that the other passengers could be informed of the sights and as soon as they heard their native tongue the chatter stopped and we heard a loud “shhhhhhhh” directed at the American students in the back.
The sights consisted of old, attractive houses and a short sight of the zoo’s most boring exhibits. The combination of my attempts to stay warm on the freezing cold boat, crouching down by my knees and Brit’s soothing British voice soon put me to sleep. I was pleasantly surprised to be woken up at the end of the freezing boat tour and greeted by Camden market. We exited the dreadful boat and could not wait to get indoors. We thanked Brit, said goodbye, and after a short indoor break where I attempted to get the feeling in my toes back, walked back out into the cold on a search for the food that was overpowering the air. The ethnic food that we soon encountered was devoured within minutes and made me soon forget the miserable morning that led me to Camden market. The rest of the day was still unbearably cold, but the amazing food and unique shops made me realize why I love London and look forward to the unique experiences it has to offer.
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