It's A Kind of Magic: A Queen's Journey Through Europe

As Anna and I awoke at three in the morning to catch our bus for the airport, fear and dread weighed heavy on our minds. The past eight hours had escalated from amusing to nightmarish, to say the least. Everything was a blur - a very sickly blur.
It all started when Anna and I were taking the tube up the Piccadilly line. I was visiting London for the second time. Anna was one of my best friends from high school and she was studying abroad in London. I managed to snag an extremely cheap ticket and flew out on my college spring break to have the experience of a lifetime - or so I thought. As the train stopped at Knightsbridge station, I suddenly felt unbearable queasy. I chalked it all up to motion sickness. However, my body could not hold it in. In a flash I realized that I had projectile vomited all over the concrete inside the station. Embarrassed and frazzled, Anna and I ran as quickly as we could towards Harrod's to find a bathroom and sort out the whole mess.
A few hours later we made it back to Kensington where Anna was living in a student dormitory. To keep it short and sweet for those with a weak stomach: anything that had been inside of my body before was expelled every half hour for almost four hours. We were supposed to be leaving for Berlin in a few short hours, but at that point we had to decide whether it might be better to go to the hospital. After a short nap, we set off for the bus on our two hour journey to the airport.
I was vomiting continuously, and very publicly. It happened on the bus ride to our coach. I managed to snag a few plastic bags for the hour long coach ride to Stansted airport, and informed my driver of my precarious health situation. He seemed alarmed, but I assured him that I would be clean and tidy. Luckily, we made it through the airport unscathed by my mysterious illness, and set off for Berlin.
Berlin was meant to be the holiday of a lifetime for me. I've loved Germany and German culture and German food for many years, and was excited to return to a place I loved so dearly. However, rather than enjoying the local cuisine or walking the streets as though I lived in Berlin, I constantly found myself asking people, "Wo ist das Klo?" or "Where is the bathroom?" Locating the bathroom dictated my entire Berlin experience. If we were to take a tour of Berlin together, I bet I could tell you where every bathroom on Museum Island was, but not any of the fascinating artifacts or paintings located inside.