I made my way back to the Gare du Nord station, feeling the best I had since starting the trip. Whatever ailments I had been suffering from had finally vanished.

Checking the departure boards, I couldn’t find my train to London, and assumed I had time to wait. With nothing better to do, I made my way to a café for lunch and then headed to a small shop to buy a pack of batteries for my MP3 player. Walking back, I noticed a terminal catering specifically for the Eurostar line I had bought my ticket with. Checking in consisted of filling out an immigration card and another security checkpoint before getting another passport stamp.

Despite the achievement that the Chunnel is, linking Britain with the continent by rail, traversing the 30 mile long underwater tunnel is less exciting than it seems. However, once the train burst into the daylight, the dark tunnel was transformed into green rolling countryside, the hills spotted with dense tree groves, occasional farms, or small while flecks I assumed to be sheep. 

My hostel, The Globetrotter Inn, was on the far outskirts of London, and although my directions were based on arriving at a different station, I soon found my way there. I checked in, dropped off some gear, and headed back into the city for dinner.