A fortnight-long half term, you say? Part II

After the weekend in the South of France I went home, but as a tourist. I had offered to show my country to some friends who had never been to Britain before. We started with a day in Geneva, since our flight was from there, in the afternoon. The place is eye-wateringly expensive, but worth a wander around the lake and the old town, although perhaps in Summer as we spent most of our time looking for free places where we could go to hide from the February chill.

Arrival in London, and after an unfortunate incident with a mislaid camera we arrived at our hostel by overground. (The Gatwick Express is a rip-off unless you're in a serious hurry; check nationalrail.co.uk to see the many stations you can get to in London for a fraction of the price.) We stayed for two nights in the YHA Hostel at St Paul's. Brilliantly central (obviously right by St. Pauls, but also near Fleet Street and across the river from the Tate Modern and The Globe), well priced (£15pp per night - prices vary according to season, though), clean and comfortable, what more could you want? Well, maybe free Wi-Fi would be nice, or a 'youth'-priced breakfast, but for the basics it performed well.
Our first night saw us desperately seeking a restaurant which would serve us something 'typically British' (ie. not McDonalds under any circumstances) at 9.30pm. After trying several pubs without success, a brainwave struck and we found a perfect Indian restaurant. Now some people might think this is a little odd, given our search for British food, but Indian culture has become such a part of Britain that it is said the best curries are now to be found in the UK, as some of India's top chefs have moved here. (Apparently Chicken Tikka Masala was created in Glasgow!) In  any case it was (or felt like) one of the best meals I've ever had, and for very reasonable prices. (Indian City, 4 New Bridge Street. £10-15.)

The next morning we woke early for breakfast at a lovely café called Fleet Street Pantry, then on to the West End, Covent Garden, Leicester Square, the South Bank, the Globe and the Tate Modern. We carried on until Tower Bridge, then went back to the Tate Modern for afternoon tea in the restaurant at the top of the building. So British and so classy, with a great view! Then we headed Camden town for dinner and drinks at a pub, making the obligatory stop at King's Cross to find platform 9¾... Fish, chips and beer all round (unquestionable British, for all you curry doubters).

In the morning we sped around Notting Hill, Westminster and Buckingham Palace, just making our train to Cardiff. (Side note: Paddington left luggage is a horrendous rip-off. Ask to leave bags at the hotel or go to Victoria Coach station where it's about half the price.)

The next day in Cardiff was St David's Day which meant loads of cute kids in the traditional Welsh costume and free entry to Castell Coch! Town was lively but not over-crowded and the sun was shining. Sort of. In the evening we went to a great and brand new restaurant called Mimosa in Cardiff Bay, with a half off our food bill as it was the first night! The food was great, with inspired Welsh influences, the design was cool, and I would easily go again.

The girls went back to France early the next morning, and I headed down to Exeter for the week. With the Year Abroad we're made to feel guilty about time spent at home, time spent speaking English, but I really needed it. Maybe I'm weak, but my friends are important to me, and I needed some with free of culture clashes. Strangely, being in France has made me realise how much I love Britain. Living in a foreign country you inevitably (and are encouraged to) take on their typical traits and ways of life which, for me, means becoming someone else. I enjoy many aspects of living in France, but I remarked back in Exeter that I felt like I hadn't laughed since Christmas. I never pictured myself being homesick but now I know that for me seven months is quite enough.