Jolly Olde London

I was much better today.

What's that? Oh, I didn't tell you about yesterday? Well, let me remedy that for you fine people.

After some stellar peameal bacon sandwiches and chocolate pecan tarts at the market in Toronto, Canada and I said our farewells and I got on the plane to London.

The aforementioned delicious Chocolate Pecan Tarts.

I found Dennis and Stacey with ease, and perhaps became overconfident with my navigation skills having so expertly found my way around using the London Underground.

Then I picked up my motorcycle...

I don't know how I even debated whether a GPS (or Sat Nav as those crazy Brits call it) would be necessary or not. In fact, I almost hesitate to share the following with you for fear of embarassment. But I'm sure it won't be the only shame I suffer along the way, so basically, and keep in mind this is with a GPS, it took me 4.5 hours and 80km to find my way back to the hostel that was 14.5 km away. Granted, in my defence, I forgot the GPS craddle in my car back home, so I have no way of mounting it to my handlebars, and can only really check it once I pull to the side of the road having accepted the fact that I have once more gone in the wrong direction. But still... 4.5 hours. I was starting to wonder if perhaps I had made a horrible, horrible mistake.

The GPS doesn't just give directions... it also keeps track of everwhere I got lost

The bike itself is great, mind you. I've only ever heard great things about the SV650 and I can see why. The upright riding position alone is enough to make me question my sanity when I think about what I ride normally. The engine figures on paper aren't terribly impressive, but once you get the bike on the street it's another story. It has more than enough get up and go. Err... I mean plenty of safe get up and go... sorry, mom.

A well-earned meal after finally making it back to the hostel.

Which brings us to today: after a morning stroll to all the touristy stuff around London, it was time to make my way to Paris - which meant navigating not only London once more, but also Paris and everything in between. And, I can safely say without exageration or overconfidence that I am, once again, the greatest navigator that has ever walked God's green Earth. Not once did I get lost, or even take a wrong road. Read that again. Twice, if you have to.

Data from the flawless ride to Paris. Drink it in.

Aside from that, there's not a lot to say. I took to the left side of the road with ease, and there wasn't a whole lot to mention of the drive. The channel tunnel was pretty cool, albeit a touch pricey, and the French countryside kind of reminded me of rural Alberta - with farmers dumping pig 'fertilizer' on their fields, which, as you can imagine on a motorcycle, was a real treat.

Tomorrow = Louvre and other Paris sights.