Once we returned to the Underground, we noticed that one train exchange and two stops later, we could be in Notting Hill. Like any other twenty-somethings out there with a love for sappy movies and especially sappy movies that involve Hugh Grant, Adrienne and myself didn't even need to use words to know what our next destination would be. Forget museums, we were meeting our main man...or at least be where he once was.
Can you tell by the pictures how much I loved Notting Hill? Can you tell how beautiful it is? If not...
^George Orwell loved Notting Hill, too.
^We stumbled upon a Bubble tea place where I tried some for the first time. I can't say I would ever go out of my way to obtain any ever again, but it was definitely interesting and altogether a pleasant experience. Also, the guys were nice and let me charge my phone.
We sipped those puppies really slow.
As much as we enjoyed walking about this lovely little neighborhood, I began to become frustrated that I just couldn't find the Travel Bookshop. I thought for sure there would be dozens and dozens of girls (okay okay, tourists) that would flock to the shop every hour. Surely there would be some sign that said "ladies this way" with a big arrow with Grant's face on it. Alas, we had to rely on our street smarts (and like, six different people's directions.) And BOOM. Finally.
Hugh Grant apparently doesn't work there anymore...who knew?
Next stop? Kings Cross. ;)
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