It's 4:15 am in Calgary, 11:15 am in London

I love it here.

On my second day I hopped the tube and, without getting lost, made my way to Trafalgar Square. Stepping out from the Underground station I wandered up the block until I spotted signs directing me to the National Gallery. I passed a monument to Oscar Wilde and a large glass Gazebo type structure with 'Crypt' written on it. I've since found out that they throw incredible Christmas concerts inside, where the ceilings are vaulted and the acoustics are incredible.

As I rounded the corner, following the mad crowd of people (London observation: Jaywalking is obligatory.) across the street, the sun broke through the clouds and I was standing on the edge of Trafalgar Square. Looking to my left, down between the buildings, I could see Big Ben and the London Eye. It was as if I'd stepped into the pages of a book. My heart felt as though it would burst and there was no containing my grin.

I wandered into the square, soaking up the sun and the sights. I found the Canadian Embassy and snapped loads of photos, until my camera started flashing it's 'low-battery' sign at me. Tucking it away I went inside the National Gallery, where cameras aren't permitted anyway.

Entry is free, although they encourage donations. Seems entry is free to most of the museums in London, which is just about the neatest thing you can tell a nerd like me.

I put my ipod play list to my OCD mix, the most favourite songs I've got going at the moment, and began to explore. Painting after painting filled with intricate detail. Oil made to look like photographs. Pieces done by artists I've not heard of. Beyond the biblical scenes most of the subjects were unknown to me as well. I read the little cards though, soaking up what appealed to me, deciding living in London will be akin to attending Art School.

I went from room to room, targeting pictures that appealed to me and spending time gazing at the details and jotting notes about the artist or the style or influences. I entered my fourth room and gazed around at the walls, determining which painting to go to first.

And there is was...

'Water lily Pond' by Monet.

It wasn't a poster or postcard or puzzle. It wasn't some duplicate of photocopy. It was the actual thing. It was more beautiful than I realised (London observation: stop using 'Z') it would be and as I gazed at it I found my eyes filling with tears.

Eventually I pried myself free and resumed my self-directed tour. I found several paintings with a dark twist to them, unlike the classic, bright work filled with Saints.

In one room I came across another heart stopping piece. My parents have this book about dragons which I would spend hours reading and researching in. Towards the back were some photos of classic art depicting dragons. One in particular always frightened me for how graphic it was. The picture I looked at in that book was about two inches by two inches. I stepped into another room and there it was:

Two Followers of Cadmus Devoured By a Dragon

It was life size and grotesque and stunning.

I had somewhere to be though and my back was growing sore from the weight of my bag. I finally tucked my journal away and walked quickly towards the exit, reluctant to leave but thrilled to know I could come back as often as I like. I will return with the intention of learning everything I can about the art and the history here. I will soak it up and revel in the art at my fingertips for a whole year...or two...or seven. Who can tell how long this city will capture my attention when there is so much to see and do.