Day 2 - London

Landed in London.
Everyone looks British.

Since I am a genius I forgot to have directions from the airport to the hostel ready when I arrived. Looking  in the airport for the tube to central London, all I could find was the express train.  Didn't want that..it's super pricy.  Some bloke on the platform tells me where to fine the queue and told me where to buy an oyster card.

An oyster card?
An oyster card.

Well okay, sure sounds like you're saying "oyster" but I'll roll with it.  Turns out I was supposed to get an oyster card after all.
Great!

So I studied the map of the tube looking for Guilford St (where the address for Smart Russell Hostel is) and although I understood the stops and junctions, I had no idea how the layout corresponded to the city above (nor did I have any idea where Guilford St was). I saw a small stop on the map called Russel Square and recognized the name so I took the Picadilly Line of the tube to the station.  Immediately after getting off I felt like I was taking the visitors entrance to the Ministry of Magic. "Lifts" "queues," the whole nine yards.

And why are you driving on the wrong side of the road?

Fascinating.

Well it turns out my hostel is right around the corner but they won't admit me 'til 11 so I bum around the area for a bit, find Russell Square, and organize my stuff. I came back at 11, dropped off my stuff, and head off to the British Museum which is right down the street.  It's massive, free, and takes me hours to get through most of the exhibits. At this point I'm exhausted and decide to head back and nap for a bit so I can head back out at night.

At night I walked down to SOHO which has a big SF vibe.  Holes in walls, flashing lights, and...transvestites?
Okay, I'll find a different pub.
Down the street a pub is somewhat busy for a Wednesday night so I stroll inside.  Immediately I'm greeted by a guy inside who's looking for action.

Where am I? Probably a gay bar. New pub.

I get to Dog and Duck and it's calm. Nothing crazy, nothing boring, so I have a pint of Sir Rev. James cask ale and settle in.  A half hour later I want something new and had to the other side of SOHO. I find a new pub with a youngish crowd and order another.  Dissatisfied with my last hand-pumped ale, I ask the bartender what he prefers. 

"I drink Nicholson pale ale"

Okay. I'll try that.

The drink still isn't a home run but it's not bad.  A group of people stroll in and it's their last night in town before heading back to Turkey.  We get to talking when they ask what I like on tap.  After a few minutes I look behind the bar and notice bottled Sierra Nevada (which was also served at the British Museum) so I ask a different bartender what's similar.

"The Nicholson is the closest thing to it."

Guess I'm just not used to the cask ales.

Anyways, it was getting late and I want to make sure I adjust to the time change so I head back to the hostel..and here I write! Cheers!

P.S.-My iPod is having issues with the hostel's internet, so this post is actually one day late. Some of these posts may be off a few days, but I'll try to write them down and type them up when I get on the internet again.