The party was a bust. Tip #1 for attending underground warehouse parties: arrive before the cops do. In this case, I neither arrived before or after, but at the same time. In fact, I climbed 6 flights of graffiti-covered stairwells side by side with a cop before I realized the woman next to me with the gun on her belt wasn’t providing security for the party, she was busting it. Damn. Next time!

I wandered around the city soaking in the friday night atmosphere, all the while missing my love, before deciding it’s not a beer and a sweaty dance floor I want, it’s Indian food! (again). So I ate, and watched the party crews pass by. Apparently, in London it’s cool to tuck your pants into your boots, and even your high heels.

Today, I spent my last day in London at Regent Park with 200 couchsurfers from all over the world. Where I was alone last night, I was surrounded by hundreds of travelers all day and evening. After the park, we headed to the Metropolitan Pub, and then we ventured to a dance club called AfterSkool, but once we arrived, my crew of couchsurfers and I decided we wanted ice cream instead of a beer and a sweaty dance floor. Strawberry ice cream (1 scoop) and a cappichino. Yum.

It’s 4 am now. I must leave for the airport in an hour and half for my 8 am flight to Jozi. I’m experiencing many mixed emotions (as well as exhaustion) but I’m ready to taste the city I will soon call home.