On my last night in London I checked out Regent’s Park which was near my hostel. And by hostel I mean my third hostel because I moved every single night. Let me just tell you that places to stay in London are incredibly hit or miss. Granted the city is freaking huge so of course it was quite the motley but never ever will I ever stay anywhere other at a friends house or in a hotel there. By the time I landed in London I had so much stuff from a vintage shopping bender in Belfast (the randomness…I know) and I refused to use the tube (4 pounds for two stops? Thanks I’ll walk) that it couldn’t have been anymore inconvenient to continue relocating 75 lbs of crap but I kept staying in the weirdest places. One was filled with men I can only assume were homeless from their sour smelling dreadlocks; they played guitar all night and only ate chips. American chips. The next was student housing that promised me the use of a gym then retracted it after I paid. Me=pissed. The last was a super sketchy place named “Clink 261” where I had to share a room with boys. BOYS. This Japanese dude on the bunk above me shook his bed back and forth all night, then tried to pay me for keeping me up all night because we had become “friends.” I mayyyy have accepted it.