Maggie Goes to the Doctor!

In the weeks leading up to London, with an extension of the past few days, life has been pretty rough. Between a mountain of stress, medicine problems, getting used to a new time zone and culture, having to go into surgery when I get back, and, starting today, getting a cold, I feel like all the forces out there are trying to break me down.

And, oh yes, I had to go to the doctor.

I feel like my life is turning into one of The Series of Unfortunate Events books. Like, if Count Olaf appeared at my door at 1:04 a.m. (that's what time it is now, by the way), and was all, "Oh hey. I'm your guardian now. Surprise!" I wouldn't even be shocked.

The Count, as portrayed by Jim Carrey 

But yes. The doctor. Here in London, to be perscribed with certain kinds of medicine, you have to go to a doctor to get a note. Interestingly enough, in the British hospital that I visited, my doctor was French.

Also unfortunately, because she was French, English wasn't her first language.

We got along all right, though. The visit was rather unsuccessful, however, because she sent me to a specialist rather than prescribe the medicine I needed right then.

I was feeling a little disheartened after the visit, but two of my amazing flatmates, who had accompanied me that morning, went out to lunch with me, which was a wonderful comfort.

FIRST FISH AND CHIPS YEAH.

With a cuppa tea, of course. 

Even with the stress of the doctor visit still looming, my flatmate Amy and I had a excellent, genius idea. Make fondue, but with garlic butter!

Welcome to the Honesty Flat, where we win all of the things.

Needless to say, the fondue was wildly successful in our flat. I also got to make duck for the first time! On the same, fowl, subject (pun shamelessly intended), I've noticed how duck is so cheap here, and yet turkey is so expensive, when in the US, it's the other way around. The cultural differences go down to event the meat.

It was a bit of a silver lining to an otherwise cruddy day, but it's been a bit of a hard, hard week. At this point in time,  my only words are, "Life...COME AT ME BRO."

For the sake of brightening up this sad post, I should mention a notable exception. A trip to the Victoria and Albert Museum with my flatmate Kalli, this past Sunday, while not exactly what the doctor ordered, was exactly what the patient needed. We could only visit one part without getting museum'd out, 'cause the place is just too darn big.

Trying on traditional hoop skirts, which just made our butts look big. Marie Antoinette, how did you do it? 

The cravat is back. 

But with no class tomorrow, I'm going out into London. There's still so much I haven't seen, and it's there, waiting for me to explore it. Just that thought itself cheers me up just a little bit.

Here's to brighter days to come! Cheers!

In Which Amy and I Quest for Tex-Mex

'Twas a grand journey, fraught with peril and cold, as we trudged through the night to our final destination, eager to soothe our rumbling bellies. We faced untold evil, lonely paths, and dying cell phone batteries. But triumph! Those obstacles in our way could not stop the determination that comes with the craving for Mexican food. The quest ended, at last, with delicious.

Okay, so me pretending to be a bard aside, I really enjoyed myself. But let's rewind to the beginning of this little story.

My friend Amy and I were hungry. We had just finished dinner, but we were still wanting something to eat. Our original plan was to raid the fridge again, but a commercial came on TV for a website where you could order take away food. After browsing the list, a Tex-Mex place was found. But instead of ordering take away, we decided to go there ourselves.

It was about ten o'clock at night when we left the flat to head toward Tequila Tex-Mex. Little did we know, however, that the restaurant was miles away. Following a map on Amy's phone, we ambled down the quiet streets of South Kensington, our hunger growing by the minute.

What seemed like years later, Amy and I finally made it. The restaurant, it was more of a bar really, was quiet. We settled into our seats, pouring over the menu. Tequila Tex-Mex has over two hundred different shots, and their menu refers to tortillas as pancakes. After chuckling at the choices, we selected our substances.

Amy ordered fajitas and a strawberry margarita and I ordered some chips with salsa, sour cream, and guacamole with a mango daiquiri. We tucked in with relish. Everything was delicious, except the salsa. That was a little weird. The bartenders were really sweet, and even gave us a shot on the house.

I'm not sure what it was, but it was blue. I had never taken a shot before. I'm not much of a drinker. In fact, I had my first alcohol here in London. It burned my mouth like crazy. It would have been rude not to, but I'm staying away from the shots from now on. Alcohol, burns, kiddies. But since the drinking age here is eighteen, my curiosity has gotten the best of me, I'm afraid.

After paying for the edibles, we took a cab home. It was cold, and we were both sleepy. It was almost midnight after all, and we had to get up the next morning for a tour around London.

My belly full and my spirits lifted by good food and good company, sleep came easily that night.

'

A horrible picture of our feast. Such good stuff! 

But if you're in the area, Tequila Tex-Mex is a great place to hit up. The food and drinks are great and the service is friendly and quick. I would say that our little trip was well worth the walk we had to take to get there. However, I'm taking the bus next time.