There are only seven days separating myself from a seven-hour flight to London, England. Seven days and seven hours are all that is holding me back from one of the world’s greatest cities. Along with my pal, sidekick, school-chum, and friend, Jesse, I plan on exploring as much of that semi-foreign land as I can. There are many things I wish to get out of the trip, since I haven’t been out of the country yet. The goal is to document my experience as best I can through photographs, video, and the written word to share it with all the faithful fans of Khalil and Jesse Adventures®. Jesse and I are not merely travelers: we are partners in exploration; journeymen in the extreme; hunters of the ultimate quest - a good story. We have had a great many to date, and will continue if the old psychic is correct.
A few weeks ago, we made our monthly appointment to the soothsayer Gwanda. She helps guide us by offering a brief glimpse into our “near-immediate future” as she calls it. She lives and conducts business in an abandoned boxcar off of Interstate Fifty-Five. Jesse knocked on the side paneling and we were beckoned into the familiar interior of the boxcar. Surprisingly cozy, the walls were paneled with lacquered wooden panels from several different kinds of trees to hide the corrugated metal. A stove in the corner burned a few logs and the smoke exited the boxcar via makeshift chimney. Gwanda put a kettle on and we sat at the table and we three held hands for a moment. Jesse never cared for this greeting ritual, and only a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his anxiety. I, however, knew that this was necessary for our purposes and put aside my own disgust. Explaining that we were about to go to London, and needed advice, I passed her the wad of fifty one-dollar bills – her strange and usual “donation”. Gwanda’s weathered, ninety-year old face smiled its toothless grin and we knew it was time to start.
Gwanda rolled her eyes back and adjusted her body as she let go of our hands. Jesse and I could only watch while she received her visions. This time, she took a little longer than usual, and I cleared my throat. She snapped out of it and told us what we needed to do.
She started by saying we needed to first exchange our American money for British pounds because, as she explained, “de country you are goingk to vill not so kindly accept balls of dollar bills as I do!” Jesse looked at me as if to say “No kidding…” and I brushed him off as we struggled through her disturbing accent to hopefully gain some actual advice. We were disappointed when she told us next that we must learn how to use the London Underground, or “Tube” to travel to practically anywhere we wanted to go. Our fifty dollars were beginning to look like a bigger waste of money than usual – we both already knew and were excited to hop aboard the world famous subway system!
We were surprised when her third piece of advice was an actual useful tip. She told us to ride the London Eye, a Ferris wheel which I probably would have skipped had she not informed me that it is one of the best ways to get great pictures. Even if we don’t get to go inside Big Ben, she said to make sure to be outside during one of the chimes, because it is so loud and truly something to hear. Gwanda insisted we go see Parliament, West Minister Abbey and Buckingham Palace to witness historical and architectural wonders. Jesse’s engineer-ears perked up and he began to feel more at ease to see the fantastic buildings. I was however, slightly impatient, and wondered if she would have any information on museums to see. As if she read my mind, (which I imagine shouldn’t be too difficult for a soothsayer) she looked directly at me and said that we simply had to go to the National Gallery and Tate Museum for the finest collections of art in the land.
I was glad she knew something about museums and my stomach grumbled having not eaten much that day. It was particularly loud, and Gwanda poked me in the stomach and told me I had to have the local food, including meat pies and fish and chips. I was startled at having her boney fingers dig into my tummy, and a little annoyed since I assumed I would have plenty of opportunities to try local cuisine. Jesse interjected and asked, rather eagerly, if Gwanda knew what kinds of grades we would get in our courses. With speed surprising for a woman of her age, she turned and bopped Jesse on top of the head with the tips of her fingers. “Foolish boy, de purpose of your jorney is to live and learn amongst de locals. You should not vorry about precious grades or academic standing! Dis is de opportunity of a lifetime, don’t vaste it child!” With Jesse’s pride, far more wounded than the top of his head, I knew it was time to step in before his famous temper got the best of him. I thanked Gwanda and told her we had to leave, and sorry we couldn’t stay for tea (which was never good anyway). Before we left, she called out to us. “Be sure to brush up on your fencing skills boys! Vere you vill be goingk vill test you in ways you cannot imagine!”
Jesse and I walked back to his car, thankful that our meeting was over. Gwanda had never failed us in the past, but it was just a pain to be around her. This time she seemed particularly vague. She used to be much more specific, and that was what we liked about her. Maybe she was trying to tell us something though. Maybe she was trying to get us to stop thinking and planning so much that we lose focus on being abroad. Every single thing we do in London will be something new and special because it is half-way across the world, and we should probably just enjoy being someplace that is not America for as long as we can.
“Do ya really think we will get a chance to fence over there?” Jesse asked me as he started the car.
“I sure hope so. But you know what?”
“What?”
“Gwanda was right about one thing, you definitely need to brush up on your fencing skills. Last time we crossed blades, it was like fighting a--”
“Hey! As I remember it, I believe it was you who lost last time…but anyways, are you worried or scared about anything?” Jesse got serious, and I knew he was a little bit afraid of leaving home.
“Naw man…besides missing my guitar, I can’t really say I’m worried about anything. What’s there to be worried about?” I wasn’t exactly sure how he could be so afraid of London! He seemed so excited about it a few days prior.
“Jack the ripper.”
“Oh come on man, that stuff doesn’t happen anymore.”
“Theft.”
“That happens all the time here too numbnuts! Why on earth --”
“Oh yeah, what about those orphan street urchins that are roaming around with their grubby little hands in fingerless gloves?” I turned to look at Jesse and realized he was just playing around. He was just as excited as I was, and neither of us had any real fear of traveling. This was gonna be the best trip ever.
