London. Settling In . . .

May 19, 2001 -- Here I am in London, typing this in an Internet bar near Piccadilly Circus. This town is a lot of fun. There is so much to do, but it is very expensive. The prices may look the same, but they're not! Here's the best deal in town: I bought a Red Bull this morning for 1.12£ = a little less than two bucks, so about the same price in Hermosa Beach.
So how is The Generator? It feels like a big college dorm, but nobody's studying. The showers are decent (hot) and I have been careful to wear my slippers so I don't pick up any foot fungi. The best graffiti I found was in the Generator bath-room. Some bloke wrote "a poet left his excrement here" and another scribbled "better than a shithead leaving a poem."
I share an eight-bed room, 15£ a night. Haven't met too many people yet . . . one guy named Tommy, a quintessential backpacker type; he's from Quebec (a Canadienne) and he came to London to protest something . . . some court case for the environment. I nicknamed him Tommy the Humanitarian. The guy in the bunk above me is from Tennessee and loves Theatre. He's been to Les Miserables, Phantom of the Opera and Chicago already . . . I wonder about that. People seem to come here with a purpose. The solo travelers anyway. I haven't really met any Americans yet, which is good/bad . . not sure. I found a good pub near my Hostel, and I didn't know any of the beers on tap. I selected something called Strongbow. It turned out to be a cider, which I refused . . . and then some drunk Brit slaps me on the back and shouts out "Get 'em a Pint o' Bitter" so I had my first taste of Bitter pumped up from the basement.
I've only got a few minutes left on this terminal so I better go . . .