The Fetch

“Take the Piccadilly Line, get off at Green Park Station, then take the Jubilee line, and finally get off at North Greenwich. I will meet you there.”

That’s what my uncle texted me. I quickly opened my cellphone to see if there are any new messages. I received a few from Mom and my friends. It’s annoying that Globe roaming is not working properly at the moment. Good thing Mom texted my uncle about my flight details.

No need to worry, I said to myself. Even if he just texted the name of the station he will be fetching me, I can traverse my way myself. I really love the subway system of other countries.

Doing a bit of research, I found out that buying an Oyster card will save a commuter a lot of money. It’s a card with an RFID chip that opens the ticket barriers. How efficient it is. Oh how I hope there is something like this back home.

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“The next station is North Greenwich. Alight here for The O2.”

Finally, I am here. I had 2 big luggage, 2 backpacks, and 1 plastic bag. So just imagine the ordeal I went through when changing stations. London Underground is one of the oldest subway systems in the world, and even with very remarkable efficiency, not all stations have escalators, and not all platforms were wide enough to accommodate a lot of people.

It was amusing though to be with people from different nationalities. Being the most diverse city in the European Union, London has multiculturalism flowing in its streets.

*ding*

I walked out of the Tube and headed to the elevator (or lift in British English). Good thing there’s a lift in North Greenwich station. I have to get back above ground as soon as possible. I haven’t texted my uncle about my whereabouts yet because there isn’t any available signal underground.

After grabbing seat on the bench, I glanced around. He will be here in 5 minutes, according to his reply.

I kept on stealing glances at this good-looking Caucasian guy a few benches away when I got startled by my uncle’s voice.

“Hoy Josh, musta na?’ it has been about 7 years. The still looks the same, albeit a bit fatter compared to the last time I saw him.

“I’m ok, how are you?”

“Good good. I thought I might never find you. I kept on walking around over there,” he said, pointing at the concourse at the rear end. “Let’s get going then! I am not allowed to park on the sidewalk!”

So, we hurriedly dragged my things to the trunk (or boot) of my uncle’s car. And off we zoomed.

I will get used to the driving on the right system someday, hopefully.

“It’s kinda cold,” I said while looking around the motorway.

“16 degrees is cold for you? Wait til it’s wintertime,” my uncle jeered.

Oh yeah, right. The lowest temperature I’ve experienced was -11. It was wintertime in Vienna back then, and we were touring around various towns in Austria, right in the middle of the cold snap.

“Well, here we are,” he said as he turned and entered the garage.

Wow. Number 10 Kidbrooke Park Road is such a big house. I entered the place. 3 floors plus a basement.

Before I can comment, my uncle suddenly said, “Well, it’s not mine. As you can see, my amo is a bit well-off.”

I forgot. He’s just working for his British employer as a housekeeper. But yeah, judging by the house, he must be having a great time serving him.

“Well, his family’s currently in Canada for a holiday, so you can have the boy’s room upstairs while we sort out your accommodation, okie?”

“I don’t know how to repay you, tito…”

“Oh please, I have a huge gratitude to your dad, so this is my way of repaying that. So drop your stuff in the room. I’ve prepared brunch. You must be hungry from the long flight!”

Rrrrr. Oh great, my tummy just growled. It’s time to eat and take it all in.