Pictures of Italy.

On top of the Duomo.

Cirque Terre

Italia.

It's been exactly one week since I've come back from the wonderful land of Italy.

I think the weather is trying to torment me, pouring down gallons of rain every minute, continually reminding me that, no, you will never get a tan again while abroad.

Actually, I didn't even think I would be able to go visit my friend Nora in Florence, due to the Icelandic volcano. I had actually skyped her and we talked about how fun it would've been, but this flying ban just wasn't going to let up. My flight was set to leave at 9.45am from Gatwick on Wednesday the 21st. On Tuesday, at 10pm, the ban was lifted. I had to scramble to wash/pack/borrow things to bring over to the warm climate, and then hurry to bed since I would have to get on the train around 5.50am. Needless to say, I was estatic, running around like a madman trying to finish everything, and even though I only got around 3 1/2 hours of sleep, I was able to keep riding on high until around 4pm the next day.

I was in Italy 5 days, from the 21st to the 25th. I ate more carbs (amazing I know) than I ever have in my life, and got quite a lovely glow. Granted it went away the second I landed in England, but I'm not going to dwell on that too much. Nora's apartment was about a 5 minute walk from the Ponte Vecchio, the famous gold shop bridge, and 7 minutes from the Duomo. Since she's been there for about 4 months, she knew where everything was, and when it was open. So I saw just about everything. We climbed up to the top of the Duomo and up the hill to the Piazzale Michelangelo. I saw the statues in the Piazza della Signoria, including fake David, and then to Accademia where the real David is kept, along with countless other Italian sculptures and paintings. We wandered around the street markets, food markets, and into gelato shops. I was able to enjoy bar crawls, clubs, and free wine. Florence was awesome.

On Saturday the 24th, we took the train 2 hours to the coast, to Cirque Terre, and hiked along the cliffs overlooking the sea. I got a plastic dragon toy and a kiwi on a stick in my happy meal at the train station.

Between the sunny coatless weather, pasta, wine, and gelato, Florence was one of my favorite trips during my time abroad. But, as soon as I got off the train to walk home in Eastbourne, I felt more at home here than ever before.

Scots, sheep and ash.

Back from Scotland.

Before I go on about how great it was, blahblah, let me just say thank god we drove up to Edinburgh and St. Andrews. I'm not sure I believe everything about this supposed volcanic ash floating all over England, but with the no fly zone in effect for the first time since 9/11, the roads were chaotic. I'm assuming things are 142 times worse in the airports. So again, lets all breathe a sigh of relief that I'm home instead of playing gin outside a Costa coffee surrounded by dirty crying children and crusty floors in the airport.

And now, Scotland was awesome. I know I say that about every single thing I write on here, but since I'm incapable of using any other adjectives besides awesome, cool, brillant, lovely and sweet, bear with me.

We started off going up to Alnwick, England for two nights before going to Edinburgh. The Castle in Alnwick (also the HARRY POTTER castle) is where Thom stayed during his study abroad through St. Cloud's exchange program, and they still have students coming and staying there. The Percy Family, which is worth about 300 million pounds (yes, I looked it up online) still lives in parts of the castle, but only in the winter. Attached to the grounds are elaborate gardens, filled with fountains and even a posion garden. They even grew a marijuana plant with a little sign next to it that read, 'please keep off the grass.'

From Alnwick we went right to Edinburgh and the lamb infested land of Scotland. We did all the touristy things, saw the castle, Hollyrood palace, Parliment, the Royal Mile, etc. There was even a tour we went on that took us underneath the streets to the underground vaults from back in the day. Apparently they're haunted from all of the murders that took place there, including the victims of the infamous body snatchers. Both nights were a bit chilly, so obviously we had to get pints of Guinness to make it through. Also, both nights we ate at this place called Kebab Mahal (yes, that's the real name) and it was some of the best Indian I've ever had. I don't know if it was becasue I was considerably buzzed both times I was there, actually it's probably the only reason, but man was it good. The last night I ordered Chicken Vindaloo, which apparently was the hottest item on their expansive menu. The server couldn't believe I ordered it, and even brought me out a pitcher of water before my plate came. Yes, it was freaking hot, but it was a delicious nice slow burn. Although my lips were a bit dry, so they had 3rd degree burns on them before the meal was through.

After Edinburgh we went to St. Andrews, home to the Old Golf Course and the British Open. Obviously, I suck at golf and couldn't care less about it, but there was a lot more to the town than it's golfing. The University Price William attended is there, and I now know why. Just by walking around the streets of St. Andrews for an hour, argyle no longer looked preppy, and the kids from Drake were made to look like the white trash of Menomonie. For these students, it was runway to streets. Plus, they had to wear velvet capes over their clothes, which didn't help their overly prep-ness.

In the 1990s, a man in Scotland bought a farmhouse outside of St. Andrews of the government website. When he went to look at the property he'd just bought, he discovered it wasn't a farmhouse, it was a massive 1950s-80s bunker for the leaders of G.B. should a Cold War fallout occur. So what did he do? Opened it to the public. So did we go? Oh hell yes we did. 'Scotland's Secret Bunker' was so weird, it was funny. I couldn't stop laughing the entire time we were in there. I can't really explain it, but since all of the original equiptment was in there (when the man bought the farmhouse it was still there) it made it all very surreal. There were movie theaters, a cafe, and even a chapel down in this massive basement They even had actual sound recordings playing over the loudspeakers.

So when we got out of the bunker and heard on the radio that the UK was a no-fly zone becasue of volcanic ash, I was a bit suspicious. I still don't really believe it. But, if it interfers with my plans to go to Florence on Wednesday, I'm going to punch someone.

Take that ash.

My twentysomething wasteland.

I got a panda hat.

Now, you're probably thinking, a panda hat?!? That's the greatest thing I've ever heard of! And you'd be absolutely right. Even though I'm across the pond the Easter Bunny was able to find me over here and hide an Easter basket in a garbage can in the kitchen. Crazy huh? Anyway, inside was a great panda hat and a paschima scarf (which always makes me think of Andy Sandberg and 'I'm on a Boat.' Anyone?) Plus, an insane amount of chocolate. It was awesome. So, i started to stuff my face, becasue there's nothing like saying 'woah, thanks for dying for us Jesus' by eating so much chocolate and jellybeans you want to puke.

So after I decided to eat my weight in sugary crap we went on a hike. Starting here in Eastbourne, we walked to the small town of Jevington tucked in the valleys of the South Downs. We stopped in a pub for an hour or so, and then headed back home along a different route. All in all it was about 6 miles, and even though the beginning was a bit rough due to the sloshing in my stomach, it ended up being absolutely brillant.

Then yesterday for my 20th Jane and I got all dressed up and traveled down to Eastbourne's seafront to the Grand Hotel, where we had High Tea. For those of you who don't know, High Tea is just really fancy tea. Or, the really fancy having of tea. They gave us each a glass of champange, then really lovely tea served in these solid silver teacups. After awhile they brought out this huge 3-tiered serving platter filled with petifores, little sandwhiches, and topped with scones. Holy crap. It was amazing. We split everything, trying every single little delicious cake and truffle. Then I stood up. My legs gave in, and I became so fat they needed to roll me home.

Not really, but thats what it felt like. When I did get home though I looked in the mirror and my entire head had sprouted grey hair. I used my cane to get up the stairs, and watched The View. Then I ate some tapoica, complained about technology and had trouble opening a jar of pickles. Then I felt a little old. Bring it on twentysomethings.

Ireland pictures

The castle Blarney.

Kissing the Blarney Stone.

Kinsale.

On top of the Rock of Dunamase.

Castle of Killkenny.

Some old famous rock burial tomb thing I can't remember the name of.

The land of Ire.

Back from Ireland.

Although I was only able to visit the green island for 3 days, it felt like a lot longer. I'm going to apologize in advance, this is more of a ranting blog post. Bear with me.

So we flew into Cork on Monday morning, our flight left Stansted at 6.30. AM. which meant we had to catch the 4am shuttle from our hotel. After going to bed around 1. Barf. Once we got into Cork we had to brave the blowing snow and rain (that's right people, I said snow) to get to our hostel. The place was lovely, and the woman who ran it was extremely nice. Soon after settling into our hostel we went to the central bus station and took the bus to Blarney Castle. The weather there was great, no rain, no snow, and sun. After wandering around the castle cave and dungeon, we got to the top to kiss the Blarney stone. I kissed it. I still don't have the gift of gab. Blarney fail.

From Blarney we took the bus back to Cork, where we got on another bus to take us to Kinsale, a coastal town that is supposed to be the picturesque Ireland; "The one you see on all the postcards." Well, I have to say, it was nothing like the postcards. I know the weather (which got bad again) played a direct role in this viewpoint, but I didn't find anything spectacular about Kinsale. Granted, we weren't able to take the 2 hour walk to get to the fort, which is a main attraction of the town, but everything else seemed bland. It didn't help that a woman had gone missing a couple days earlier, so there were signs everywhere detailing when the next search party went out, accompanied by a CCTV sniper photo of this girl walking down the street. The picture is what did me in, it was quite creepy.

The next morning we got on a train AT 5.05 AM to Dublin. The weather in Dub was worse than in Cork, but becasue it was so horrible it was funny. We got lost in the sleet, and couldn't find the hostel, so by the time we got there I couldn't feel my feet. Although it sounds horrible, it was actually a good time.

[Rant begins.]

Ok, so one of the girls I was traveling with on this trip was one of the most high maintence people I've ever had the pleasure of meeting.

- First off, I can't stand germophobes, so our relationship was doomed from the start. A packet of disenfectant wipes needed to be carried at all times so she could wipe off every toilet seat she could find. Never trust anyone who needs to wipe off a toilet seat. It's too weird.

- She brought no real walking shoes on this trip, (it's IRELAND. it rains.) she only had 2 pairs of ballet flats and some Nike scooped open shoes. So half the time she was miserable because her feet were uncomfortable. No pity. It was her own fault.

- At the hostel in Dublin she decided, after we paid, that she didn't feel comfortable there, so she was going to get a hotel. And then asked one other girl to stay with her. So it was 2 of us in the 10 euro/night hostel, and the other 2 in a 150 euro/night hotel. We found out we were split up only after waking up from a nap, and never an apology. Just a 'we got a hotel room for us. Have fun in the hostel with no heat.'

- She also wouldn't go out unless she competed her makeup, while the rest of us went out in the old outfits and unshowered hair.

- She complained (extensively) that no men were coming up to her and buying her drinks, but refused to get up and mingle. She just sat around in a corner and sipped her cider.

- Now, don't get me wrong, I'm proud to be an American, but I don't proclaim it to everyone or chant 'usa, usa' in pubs. When a band member asked if there were any Americans in the audience (which, for people who don't know, is usually a sign for ridicule) I ducked my head and was ready to declare myself Canadian, this gem 'WOOOHOOOOed' as loud as humanly possible. The pub went silent. It was the epitome of bad tourist moments, and 3 minutes later, she unapologetically spilled 1/5 of her cider on my only pair of jeans. woohoo indeed.

- there's more (and worse things) but I know this seems a bit extensive, so I'll end here.

[Rant ends.]

The day we got to Dublin we were able to make it to the Guiness Storehouse on St. James Street. If any of you travel to Dublin, Guiness is a must. It was extremely cool, and at the end you got a free pint and we able to sit in a 360glass bar overlooking all of the city. I was feeling a bit rebellious and even stole one of the Guiness pint glasses. It'll be a nice new addition to my apartment. WOOP.

The next day we took a free tour hosted by the hostel, and took a coach around the South Ireland countryside, through the hills and fields, ending up in Killkenny. We had lunch at an old pub that used to be owned by a witch, and afterwards walked around the town castle and cathedral. We even found a patch of old headstones where the Smithwicks were buried (Smithwicks brewery.) All in all, it was a lovely day trip. It even was sunny! Getting back into Dublin we ended at a pub that had live Irish music and traditional Irish dancing. I'm just going to say it, riverdance freaks me out. It's too bizarre.

In a nutshell, even though half this blog is me complaining, I really did have a great time in Ireland. It's not as romantic as everyone makes it seem, but still is a neat place to visit. In the end though, I'd pick my Eastbourne over Cork and London over Dublin any day.

The pictures of Sam & Mike's visit.

Me and the bro outside Buckingham Palace.

Sam took this sweet panorama outside our hotel in Caen.

chocolate turtle!

Ohama Beach memorial.

Engraved in the German bunker.

Macaroooooooons.

After all this, I still know no French. [Mike & Sam's visit]

This was France, take two.

Me papa and brother came into England last Friday, the day we got back from Paris. After forcing them to quickly overcome jetlag, we started them off with a 6ish mile walk around Londontown. We hit all the regular sights, Big Ben, Tower of London, Buckingham Palace, the Eye, Tower Bridge, Spittlefields Market, etc. It was lovely, we saw a lot, blahblahblah.

Sunday, we got up to head to France. Instead of taking the Eurostar like we did for Paris, we took a ferry from Portsmouth to Caen. On the way there, we grabbed an express ferry, so it only took us about 3 hours to travel across the channel. Upon arrival we went right to our hotel, then wandered around the lovely town of Caen. We got to see William the Conquer's lovely home, and window shopped along the small arcade-like streets. Dinner was lovely, and we all tried (and liked!) steak tartar, which is just raw meat. The room we had the first night was intersting, it was quite small and Mike and Samuel had to share a bed. (HA.)

Morning #2 we got up and went to pick up our rental car (although there was a moment of panic beacuse we had reserved a car in Cannes, not Caen) and headed on the road to Ohama Beach. We stopped at a little D-Day museum first, and I have to say, it was a little dissappointing. The only thing I really found interesting there was all of the artifacts they found while surveying the beaches and excavating. Everything else was a bit lame, they had painfully fake mannequins everywhere dressed in 40s garb with fake sound effects and flashing lights. After the museum we got to the beach. Sam immediately started taking pictures of everything random he could find...rocks, dead eel things, animal crap, the usual.

By far the coolest thing at the beaches was the American Cemetary. But, before you walked inside there was a small path you could follow that led you to the old German bunkers and concrete holdings that they occupied on D-Day. You could still see the gun rivets in the floor and the engravings of '1944' on the walls. It was awesome.

We spent the night is Bayeux and had dinner at a pretty bad French chain restaurant. Thom ordered some sausage thing, which turned out smelling like feet. It was too horrible to finish, so then Mike decided to pick it apart, and found lots of wonderful bits inside, including a huge chunk of stomach. Num. Not everyone's food was that bad, and I tried escargot. It tasted fine, but I still felt it squirming in my stomach afterwards. Blech.

Our ferry was supposed to leave pretty early on Tuesday, but once we got there and waited for a hour we found out that it was cancelled, and the next one left for Portsmouth at 11.00pm. Meaning we had to wait a long freaking time. The port is a long way from Caen itself, and since we had no car, there wasn't a way to get back into the heart of the city. So, for about 2 hours we laid on the semi-cold, windy, and shell laiden beach, then wandered around the tiny town for about another 2.5. It was beginning to get dark, so we headed back to the ferry waiting lounge, and played about 5 hours of gin. If this trip taught me anything, it's that I speak terrible french and am pretty bad at cards.

Britanny ferries gave us 2 free cabins since they cancelled our earlier ferry, so at least we got to sleep (or tried to anyway) on the 7.5 hour ferry ride back to England. For 2 days after, everytime I closed my eyes, all I could feel was the boat rocking back and forth.

So we got in around 6.30am, and it was about 9.15 once we got into Eastbourne. It was a bit rainy, so we scrapped our plans to go to Brighton and decided to walk the South Downs and up to Beachy Head instead. We ended up going 6 miles on about 4 hours of sleep. 'When I got home, I was tired.' (name the movie.)

Thursday we hit up Leeds Castle in the rain. Despite the fact we were drenched, it was amazing. It has the most beautiful grounds I've ever seen, and the tickets to enter are good for one year! There were albino peacocks, black swans with bright red beaks...waterfalls, streams, flowers everywhere....it was sweet. Ignore my minor freakout, but it's one of the coolest places in England that I've been so far.

Thursday night we made popcorn, ate some delicious chocolate, watched Black Books and went to bed. They flew out this morning. Tomorrow I'm off to London, and staying there until Monday when we fly into Ireland. I need sleep.

Pictures from Paris

Sacre-Coeur: built as a memorial to the 58,000 French soldiers killed during the Franco-Prussian War.

Arc de Triomphe

The lit up Eiffel.

Paree and me.

Just eternally eating some grapes. No biggie.

On top of the Eiffel Tower.

Paris = success.

From Paris, with Love.

Paris was lovely. Simply lovely.

We met Mineer at King's Cross, and then headed out on the Eurostar around noon. After a delightful train ride of gross packaged food and copious amounts of disney coloring book pages, we arrived in Paris. After we checked into our hostel (in the Latin Quarter...which was awesome) we got right to the sightseeing. The first stop was Sacre-Coeur, which we could see right from the terrace of our hostel. From the steps you overlooked a beautiful panoramic view of the city. After that we walked down the main streets of Paris, by the Academy of Music, the Obelisk, Arc de Triomphe, and the Eiffel Tower.

By the time we got to the Eiffel Tower, the lines to take the elevator up to the top were already filled. However, you were able to take the stairs. Jane and Mineer opted out, ("If my knees could reach up and punch me in the face right now, they would." -Jane) but Tayler and I decided, hell yes, we were going to walk to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Level 1, no sweat. Level 2, hardly a challenge. Top level, oh wait, we didn't get that far. Apparently from the 2nd level, everyone takes a different elevator to the very top. We were too stupid to read the signs. AND, since it was pretty late when we got there anyway, the ticket office was closed. Not going to lie, I was pretty pissed. But, times my pissed offedness by 10, and you get how mad Tayler was. Not going to lie, it was slightly terrifying. We walked down, got on the metro, and headed back to the hostel. [Day 1].

On Thursday we got up and went down to Notre Dame right when it opened. The inside was pretty neat, although I think the inside of St. Paul's cathedral in London is much cooler. The best part though, was walking to the top of Notre Dame. From there, you can see all the best landmarks of Paris, with a side order of gargoyle. We also got to see Emmanuel, the biggest and best bell of them all. I felt a bit like Quasimodo, and it was awesome.

From Notre Dame we traveled over to the Lourve, where we spent our time in the Egyptian exibits, along with seeing the Mona Lisa and Venus de Milo. In the Napolean Plaza (Under the Pyramid) Tayler, Mineer and I were waiting for Jane to by the tickets, when a woman came down the elevator. She had a horrible nasaly voice, with a touch of bad American accent (I know that's hypocritical, whatever get over it.) and kept calling out RITA...RIIIIIIIIITA. Since then, we can't stop saying it. It's been the tagline of the trip.

It took us longer in the Lourve than expected, so we didn't get to go to the catacombs, which was a bummer. But instead we took a nighttime river cruise, which proved to be well worth it. We got to see all of the sights from the river we haden't seen yet, all while recieving wonderful facts and advice from our headsets. ("Be mysterious, be in love, and you will be happy."-headset "BAHAHAHAHAHA."-all of us in unison.)

After the cruise, we went up to the Eiffel again, this time on the elevator (Don't judge, we took the stairs down.) Although it sounds lame that we went up twice, going to the very top the second night proved to be well worth it. The view was amazing. Windy as hell, but amazing. After the top we all hudled over to a little cafe to grab a late night dinner. Tayler managed to polish off almost 2 plates of chips by herself, along with her dinner. That girl has some skill, let me tell you. [day 2].

Friday we headed out early so we could catch some sights before our train left. The Moulin Rouge was about a 7 minute walk from our hostel, and after we went there we just explored the expansive food markets and stores set up along the road. I can't remember a time where an entire street smelled so good, including the fish stalls. I can't keep saying it enough, it was amazing. Before we headed out, we grabbed lunch at a tiny bakery so take with us on the train. I got some real French bread, and it was everything I imaged it would be. [day 3].

I do love me some bread.

March 11th-13th Photos

Inside Choccywoccydoodah. I hate typing that.

Cake.

Tayler and the burnt down pier.

Tayler and the not burnt down pier.

Royal Pavillion.

Banksy.

At the entrance to St. Pauls.

Caaaaaaake.

From the very top of St. Pauls.

omnomnomnomnom.