Highlights of Cornwall!

Since I won't be able to blog about the trip yet, I offer these pictures up to you and leave it to your imagination to create wonderfully exotic and sordid tales. Wicked!



Portreath beach, Cornwall


Darren and I in Portreath


The gang in Porthtowan, Cornwall


Perranporth, Cornwall


Surf's up! And cold!

Sod it – The end of Scotland and Ireland

The longest running blog entry is probably my sad attempt to describe my journey to Scotland and Ireland. Though I think I’ve hit upon something in my narrative styling I’ve lost all interest in continuing trying to write it all up and post it here. Therefore here is a very, very brief description of my trip.

I had a great time and spent too much money.

No but seriously, Scotland was amazing, especially Edinburgh. I would love to go back and live there for a while. And it was great to meet up with John and drink and chat like old times.

Ireland was gorgeous. Long story short – I missed my plane from London initially and had to play catch up with my tour group. I missed Galway and the Cliffs of Moher and met up with them in Doolin, travelling the width of the country on a coach (bus) via Limerick – “the only good thing to come out of Limerick was a road to Dublin”. Then we continued on to the Dingle Peninsula and through County Tipperary back to Dublin where we stayed for a few days including New Years. The tour group was mostly Aussies with only two Kiwis (New Zealanders) and two Americans besides me. They were cool enough people but seemed more interested in getting pissed (drunk) than on meeting the locals or even venturing out on their own. So let’s just say that we didn’t really see eye to eye on how to behave while travelling through another country. Honestly there were some lovely people and had we met in different circumstances probably would’ve got on splendidly. As it was however I learned more about Australia than I did about Ireland which is all well and good, except for the fact I did it while in Dublin! I didn’t really feel like I was in Ireland except for the five minutes we spent in Dingle and my camera wasn’t working then so I have nothing to show for it! So actually my trip to Ireland rather sucked especially when contrasted with the best weekend of my life, which was this past Easter weekend trip to Cornwall. Ireland as well as Italy are both now on my “redo” country list. Those places I need to go back to and do it right. Luckily I think I’ve completed a good go of the UK and am satisfied to leave, though I’ll be leaving behind some amazing friends, most of whom I’ve only just met.

Not to be a quitter I will try and finish writing up in narrative form a detailed description of my trip including the not-so-amusing-then-but-rather-laughable-now tale of how I missed not one, but two, count ‘em two planes. When I have that completed I’ll post it here for those who are interested, which I suppose would be anyone who actually comes to the site, seeing as they made the effort to type in the address.

Stay tuned Batgirls and boys for the next episode in the journey of one crazy nutter – The Trip to Coooorrrnnwaaaall (said in slow like Cornwellian accent).

Cornwall!!!

So a quick note to let you all know that I'll be in the Southwest of England for Easter Holidays, surfing (or at least watching the guys trying to surf) in Perranporth, Cornwall. I'll return on Monday and then have only a few days left before I leave for Ukraine! But can't get ahead of myself. First a vacation and then forge onwards to the Eastern Blok.

7433 - The Longest Road

On the tube ride down from Golders Green to Southeast London, while I was moving my life contained in a large suitcase and a backpack, Darren looked over at my CSU nametag on the suitcase. He read the address 7433 *&?@% !@$(#, Arvada, Colorado, USA, he turned to me and exclaimed:
"7433 - That must be the longest road in world!" In the UK (and probably much of Europe) addresses are given in sequential order beginning on one end of a street and moving towards the other end with even numbers on one side and odd on the other. Usually an average size road will go up to house number 90-100. Some only range into the 30's like my old flat at 34 Temple Grove. They can even skyrocket into the 300's depending on the length of the road. But for a house to be numbered Seven Thousand, Four Hundred and Thirty-Three is quite extraordinary. Talk about American's obsession with size and the bigger the better!
I kindly explained to Darren, after enjoying a hearty chuckle at the quaint culture shock, that we don't address houses in the same manner (though for the life of me couldn't expound upon how we do it - where is a Master's in Urban Planning when you need it?!) He still seemed highly impressed however and as we left the tube, luggage in tow, I decided that he must come to the States and see for himself the true nature of American suburbia.

P.S. I finally managed to snap a quick shot of my former flatmate Alastair, see below. We got together for a drink before he headed home for the weekend. He gave me a parting gift of a book - good man - and a note written on paper torn from his personal "Random Thoughts" journal. Quite a meaningful gesture. It must be love!

Харквський мський молоджний клуб сплкування ноземними мовами "УЕЙ"

Bet you’re wanting a translation of the title right about now… too bad. It’s Ukrainian and as yet I do not speak or read that language. But for the record it is the name of the school at which I will be teaching English in about three weeks. Let me first back up and explain a bit why I will be teaching English and why I will be doing so in Ukraine.

Well, you see the work visa I obtained through BUNAC was valid for only 6 months in the United Kingdom. No extensions, no exceptions. It is meant as a work exchange program for Americans to come and get limited experience living and working abroad and visa versa for British citizens to come to the States. It is not meant (as was explicitly stated in our first BUNAC orientation) as a means of gaining permanent residency in the UK. Of course that was my intention regardless, however after applying to, interviewing for and finally being turned down for a few jobs here in Great Britain, I realize that it is no small matter trying to convince employers to sponsor a work visa for me. (Sponsoring a non-UK national is complicated only by the number of forms and questions that need to be answered on how the non-national is more qualified than every other UK citizen on the island to do that particular job. Note: The same principle applies to non-US nationals who wish to work in the States. For having such a wonderful political relationship our two countries seem to be very wary of population swapping.)

As I was saying… couldn’t find a job that would sponsor me to stay in England. Therefore, determined to keep moving east I started to apply for jobs in Eastern Europe teaching English. I found one in Czech Republic, but they didn’t pay very much (and they paid in Czech currency as well) and then I found the one in Ukraine. The job is not in the capital (Kiev) but in Kharkiv (a.k.a. Kharkov, Harkov, etc.), which is the second largest city located in the eastern side of the country, right across the border from Belgorad, Russia. So starting on April Fool’s Day I will begin the next leg of my journey in Ukraine. I arrive in Kiev about 4pm on the 1st and will spend a day or two touring that city with Kate, the Director of the school. She’ll then help me to Kharkiv where I will have accommodation paid for by the school and I should start teaching straightaway.

As for the rest of my time in jolly ol’ England… I have about three weeks without a job (as my contract at Central Saint Martins ended at the end of February, right before my visa expired) to get in all the sights of London I haven’t been to before or want to see again. Yesterday I completed moving out of my flat with Alastair in Golders Green, which I’m very sad to leave, and will be staying with my work-mate Emma and her boyfriend in southeast London (exact opposite direction of my old flat, about an hour’s public transportation ride away). They are generously letting me stay in their spare bedroom for the time. Also I will be going to Perranporth, Cornwall with Darren and a dozen or so of his good friends for his birthday the last weekend in March. I am going because I mentioned to Darren that I had yet to make it out to the southeast of England and as yet to see the coast, which is ridiculous living on an island this small! So he very kindly invited me along to his surfing birthday bash. So there is my plan for the next few weeks. I am going to take as much advantage of my time left here as possible and to that end I need to get off the computer and go explore southeast London!


P.S. The official translation of the school is Kharkiv City Youth Language Club also know as WAY Language School. So there. You got your translation out of me after all.

Scotland and Ireland – Take 2, Scene 2, Hogmany…a week early

I got off the bus, walked out of the station and John was standing right there. Smoking as usual. We didn’t hug or shake hands, we just did the “Hey” – head bop thing. It was like we hadn’t seen each other in only a few days. Even though its been three years.
Arriving in Edinburgh was an amazing experience in itself. As you head east from Glasgow you see the Castle to the south. It looms over the city, devoid of life except for the throng of tourists that come to ogle at the impressive structure where once the heart and soul of this city was centered.
Anyways we walked to my hostel, found it, I checked in then we went to have some awesome fajitas at a bar called Native Son. After that he had some errands to run and I wanted to chill a bit so we parted ways but said we’d get together later for drinks. I went back to the hostel (Brodies 2) for a bit then went walking around.
Edinburgh is a city of architecture and nature. Each street has a character and face all its own. Go a little beyond the city and there are mountains as beautiful as the city is vibrant. It is a breathtaking scene. A meditative scene.
She wanders the streets watching the human activity that buzzes around her creating the incessant noise of holiday-makers. Over there a couple stops for a quick smooch on a park bench. There two boys try to knock each other off their skates while a very young girl and her mother swerves to avoid them. A few more phone calls. “Merry Christmas everyone! Yes, I’m in Scotland, it’s freezing but beautiful! Yes, I’ll be careful and stay warm. It’s off to Ireland next. Call again soon.”
John called and we made plans to get together later. So about quarter to eight he met me outside the hostel and we went on a pub crawl really and chatted for 4 or so hours. Well about midnight, we said goodnight and he pointed me in the direction of my hostel.

Tracey (British co-worker), Ryan, Emma and I in the front office. It's a fun place to be! :) 

Ryan (American co-worker), Emma (British office manager), Isabelle (French boss) and myself, working hard as you see! 

Darren on Box Hill (pre-accident). 

Ryka's

**NEWSFLASH** This just in... we interrupt the painstakingly slow narration of holiday travels with a report that the author of The Next Great Adventure was involved in a car accident last night. No major injuries. The author (a passenger in the vehicle) incurred a slight bump to the noggin; the driver simply wounded pride; the car... well it didn't make it so well, with a flat tire and smashed passenger-side rear door. The car was side-rear ended coming out of a roundabout on the A4 heading to London via Leatherhead. Surrey (county) bobbies (police) came to cordon off the accident as it was situated in a treacherous curve. After an hour of waiting and phone calls the flat tire was repaired thanks to a good friend and the author and driver were back underway.

Yep, you heard it right. I was slightly jarred last night after my friend Darren and I had some tasty burgers at a place called Ryka's. As we were getting out of the roundabout and onto a fairly major motorway - something in between I-25 and University Blvd, or any major road and highway mixed. We are alright, though his back door doesn't open now. We were just leaving a national park in the southern county of Surrey. We managed to locate his spare tire, but not the jack (found it later though). So Darren called his friend Dave who drove about 40 minutes to us and changed the tire. Then we parted ways and Darren and I went to drown his sorrows (and my sore head) in ale. (Actually we just went to his house and had juice, but ale would've been good too.)

Buchanan Street, the main drag and home of great sales (as I discovered) in Glasgow 

Sachiehall Street, shopping mania in Glasgow