Living Large in London

London is expensive, to put it mildly.

As refreshing as it was to fly over from Prague and leave the world of dark fairytales, sullen faces and an impossible to learn slavic language behind, I find myself waxing nostalgic for a country in which the exchange rate worked in my favor.

What's that you say? The exchange rate? Isn't that some funny little term that economists bandy around that doesn't actually mean anything real to real people? Like 0% APR and the rate of inflation?
Oh no, for you see, all those superfluous little concerns that people warned me about before I left for Europe, such as the value of the American dollar, that used to make absolutely no sense to me back home, have now become tangible to my young, inexperienced mind. Because £6 for a day pass on the Underground sounds reasonable until you realize that translates to $9 American.

Our weak dollar has made staying in the city of my dreams just a little bit stressful: Because in London, in 5 days, I've spent what I did in 2 weeks in Prague.

Perhaps I could learn to love dark fairytales, sullen faces and an impossible-to-learn slavic language...