The largest square in Europe is located in Kharkov – Freedom Square. During the Orange Revolution it was packed with young people in orange, jumping, shouting and dancing at one end and on the other, old ladies in red who were trying desperately and not achieving success in counterbalancing the energy coming from the sea of citrus colored supporters. I walk through this square everyday on my way to work. Everyday I’m greeted by my good old friend, Uncle Lenin. That’s right V.I. still has a place in the hearts – or at least squares – of Ukrainians. A large statue placed on top of a huge granite block engraved full of proletarians marching to a better life stands at the far end of Freedom Square. His hand outstretched pointing to the golden future Communism promises. Of course nowadays his hand points to the public pay toilets.
Passing through the park area behind Lenin, I come to an extraordinary building. One of the first of the modernist style in the former USSR. What does that mean now? It’s rather weird looking and decrepit.
N.B. Modern Architecture – the buildings and building practices of the late 19th and the 20th centuries. Famous architects of the Modernist style include Charles Rennie Mackintosh whose influence can be seen throughout Glasgow, Scotland and Frank Lloyd Wright who pioneered modernism in America by designing houses with flowing interior spaces and projecting roofs. Notable structures include the Crystal Palace in London (which, for a time I lived only three stops away from its former location) and the Eiffel Tower in Paris.
What makes this building that once housed governmental departments and now offices of the New Russians, so unique is the building materials used in its construction - concrete and reinforced steel rods. So in effect it is a massive building, interestingly designed, with a dark grey color that matches the cloudy skies here and does not give off a friendly vibe. Last year the city of Kharkov celebrated its 350th anniversary of being a city (amazing how one relatively new city in Europe predates my government’s erection and even my family’s immigration). Since many a VIP was to come to Kharkov to share in the festivities this building got a bit of a face lift – literally. Now as you approach this marvel of modernism the façade that welcomes visitors is a slightly brighter shade of grey, not so imposing or somber as its original. However as you retreat farther underneath it’s high-flying bridge connecting two halves of the structure you find the remnants of its creation myth. The old dark and rather chilling grey of Soviet times. The contrast of a newly painted face hiding the hard truth of decay is a tribute still to the Potemkin villages of old.
But enough of that. You didn’t come to read about architecture and hypocrisy. Or maybe you did.
Coming Next time:
Ukraine Unraveled [I’m a big fan of alliteration, in case you didn’t notice]
Chapter 1 – Living with babushka
Chapter 2 – Walk around the city
Chapter 3 – 5 kilos of potatoes
Chapter 4 – Life as a teacher
Chapter 5 – Nikolai – encounter in the metro
Chapter 6 – Toilet Tales
Chapter 7 – Metro vs. Tube – Mind the Gap
Chapter 8 – Communing with Nature – or – Insect air stream
Chapter 9 – Kharkov: Denver with a metro
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Monday, April 25, 2005
The Intrepid Tales of Cornwall
WARNING: What follows is a very detailed account of the 5 days I spent in Cornwall. Due to the fact that it was the best weekend of my life so far, this narration is long and it had to be so. For those who are waiting for tales of Ukraine.. wait a little longer.
Thursday 24, March – It all began on a bright English afternoon. The sun, having made an appearance that day, warmed not only our bodies but our minds as we set off to one of the most beautiful regions of the British Isles – Cornwall. I arrived at the train station a bit late as usual but this was not a problem as my escort also has a chronic time-keeping disease, in that he doesn’t keep it very well either. Eventually Darren and I met up and headed to his house as he still needed to pack and do some errands there. As I was washing his dirty dishes (yes he put me to work right away, the limey bastard!) he went to go pick up his friend Ella. I had finished my chore and was reading a bit of Tom Robbins novel when they drove up. Ella and I met and hit it off. She’s also an avid reader and had a book thicker than my arm (and that’s saying a lot considering my chubby arms) that she was working on, a fantasy novel to boot! I was quite impressed. Apparently this Darren chap attracts some good people around him, if I do say so myself. ;)
We finally loaded up the car and started off on the grand road trip across the southwest. It took about 6 hours to get to Cornwall, two of which consisted of just getting out of the London area! Having left later than we planned, we arrived closer to 1 a.m. However that was all well and good as almost everyone was still sitting up, chatting and smoking when we three arrived on the scene. First stop on our tour was at Si and Laura’s home in Chacewater, a little village between Truro (setting of the Poldark Saga and where Laura works) and Perranporth (our final destination). The wearied travellers (us) were very warmly welcomed by our gracious hosts (Si and Laura). There we met up with more of Daz’s mates. Mark and his mate Chuck came from Portsmouth for this occasion. They were still awake, mostly, when we arrived. Dave and Fliss drove in from Oxford and had already retired for the night. So we few stayed up for a bit longer and chatted, then we all found places to rest and said good night.
Friday, 25 March – Next morning most of us woke to the sound of the telephone, ringing and ringing and ringing. Unfortunately for the caller no one was awake enough to pick it up. It was more friends freshly arriving from London, Emma and Andy. Undeterred by the lack of oral communication they made their way to the sleeping home. Luckily by that time Darren had enough cognizance to answer the door when it began to cry out the presence of visitors to the inhabitants of the house. After some minutes and a few rounds of tea and coffee the rest of the house awoke and started the day. We enjoyed a rather strange (to me) but apparently usual British breakfast (they really don’t know what a breakfast should be as will be shown later) consisting of scrambled eggs on a roll with ketchup and a slice of European style bacon – not the thin crisp strips as in the States but a more rounded thicker sausage like slice. Dave was kind enough, and more awake than the rest of us, to prepare our excellent meal.
Afterwards we all got ready and headed to the beach(es). We first went to Portreath and checked out the waves there. At this point yet another mate of Daz’s showed up, a gentleman called Taz (no resemblance to the animated devil from down under). The waves weren’t fabulous however so we then headed to Porthtowan. There Mark and Chuck braved the winterish waters and surfed for a good few hours. Everyone else watched them from the increasingly warm beach. We all took it easy and let the day progress like the tortoise in the well-known tale, slow and steady, eventually coming to the finish line. Some sketched, Ella, others soaked up the sun, Emma and Andy, and Dave gave a soundtrack to the day with his guitar. Fliss, Laura and I went for a walk along the rocky sea cliff, I without shoes having already done the inevitable upon seeing the massive amount of naturally occurring water (a novelty of Coloradanites) and walked straight into the ocean, socks, shoes, jeans and all! We found a wonderful place to watch the tide come in. A rough man-made pool hugged the cliff side, a rougher man-made staircase lead down to it. For a long time I sat on a rock off the path hypnotized by the waves and the sounds of the ocean.
Eventually Laura, Fliss and I returned to the group. We were all coming and going, resting and exploring and just generally relaxing. It was a brilliant day! I had a real Cornwall pasty (pastry with steak filling, very traditional and very delicious) and amazing Cornish cream ice cream. After a while we loaded back into the cars, collecting the not-so-conquering heroes of the waves, and caravanned it up to our hostel in Perranporth. We tried to get there in time to watch the sun set over the beach. We arrived, unloaded our gear, sorted out rooms and what not, met some more people – Chris, Si’s brother, and his girlfriend Helene joined us all the way from Birmingham and France respectively. Finally we were all sorted and headed down to the pub on the beach, The Watering Hole. They had some amazing fajitas, the first real semblance of Mexican cuisine I had since my brief sojourn in Scotland. Darren got monk fish curry and I tried a bit of it, quite nice I must say for being fish. The last of the party showed halfway through dinner with the arrival of Matt and Scott. They had driven down from Brighton, though Matt had come first from Belfast. They completed our merry circle and after eating, drinking and being… well… merry we at last closed the bar down and were kicked out. Heading back up the massive hill to the hostel was not terribly fun but obviously necessary. Thus ended Good Friday with good food and even better company.
Saturday, 26 March – [from Journal] Got up around 9ish and finally got everyone up and ready. Went to Perranporth town and had breakfast. I had a traditional English breakfast. It’s alright but I still prefer the IHOP or Le Peeps. Then Darren, Matt and I went to a few shops, while the others split up. Some went straight to the beach to power-kite or sunbathe. Dave disappeared for a while (to go paragliding) and Mark and Chuck went straight back into the ocean. Matt and Daz bought winter wet suits and I bought a cool wallet. Then we three went to go hire (rent) boards. I hired one as well and a wet suit. We headed to the ocean, Daz gave me a bit of instruction and we were off. I was in the water fighting against the waves to go farther in and occasionally trying to jump on my board and ride a wave or two. I did manage it a few times for about 2-4 seconds. But it was great fun just to be out there. I was out for two hours, came back in to shore for a break then went out again. After another hour or so the gang headed to a fish and chips shop and Daz, Matt and I changed and met them there. I had haddock and chips. Then we went back to the hostel and got cleaned up to go out to the pub to celebrate Darren’s birthday properly.
When we arrived at the Watering Hole it was already pretty packed due to a surfing competition buffet celebration. We all managed to squeeze into one corner of the pub and order drinks. I chatted to Ella and Emma for a while, had a shot or two along with Daz (for his birthday). Then the band started, this time it was a different band and they were awesome! Darren and I spent most of the night up by the dance floor listening and dancing and drinking. At one point I went to the toilets (restroom) and as I was walking back up the hallway to the stage area, it was like walking through the mists of Avalon to get back to the dance floor. The entire bar/stage area was completely and utterly enveloped in smoke, which contrasted with the pure white hallway I was coming down. It was and awesome and interesting sight. Anyways after a while the surfing competition gang broke up and left, so our crew went in and seized upon their leftover buffet. Someone had to… After a while longer we too had to leave due to closing time.
Walking back to the hostel Daz and I were trailing behind everyone like usual when suddenly Matt came up to us. He made like he was going to tell Darren something when he just ran up and grabbed him! The rest of the boys came over and started to wrestle and tickle him, it was awesome fun! Darren was laughing hysterically (some say like a hyena) and Ella got it all on film. [Keep an eye out for photos of the incident]. Then the boys dragged him a little ways down the beach and tossed him into the water! Fully clothed with camera and mobile (cell phone) still in his pockets, nothing was broken luckily. Oh and they also tossed him into the air for a bit too. Completing the “pick on Daz” portion of the evening we made the hike back up to the hostel again.
We made it back into the hostel and he went to go change out of his wet clothes. Some went to bed, others stayed up including myself when we noticed Darren hadn’t been seen in quite some time… so we went to investigate. Matt heard him snoring in one of the toilets (bathrooms). Si managed to unlock the door from the outside and Laura, Si, Chris and I tried to get Darren out onto the couch in the communal living room and drinking water. We finally managed it and by about 4am he was sleeping soundly and we all headed to bed ourselves.
Sunday, 27 March – It totally slipped my mind (hungover as it was) that it was Easter Sunday. After a slow start for all, we got dressed, cleaned and ready. I finally got a hot shower (didn’t have hot water the day before)! We went to town and had breakfast. Darren went with the ol’ English traditional and I went for something less greasy and more appetizing.
The day, like our moods, started out gloomy. So we all went separate ways for a while. Darren, Ella and I went and took pictures of scenery. Taz, Emma, Andy and Matt went power-kiting again. Eventually we three joined up with them and enjoyed power-kiting ourselves. I had a great time and was fairly good. Emma yelled out to Darren “Your girlfriend’s better than you!” and it was true for the moment. But he eventually got the hang of it with Matt’s big boy kite – a 4.5 metre I think. Emma made it look like a dance, she was so graceful and smooth. I’m jealous and now want a kite of my own. [Hint for Christmas/Birthday presents.] Anyways when the wind died we went to find lunch.
Emma, Andy, Daz and I walked through Perranporth. We stopped in a few shops and I bought an incredibly cool jumper (sweater)! We also got some really tasty Mexican chicken wraps and then went to get Cornish cream tea. (That’s tea with tea cakes and Cornish cream with jam. [The tea is normal tea, but then you put jam on the cakes and top it off with thick and delicious cream.]) I could feel my arteries closing up as I munched on the cakes – it was so good!
We went back to the hostel and gathered our bags. Loaded the cars and went back to Si and Laura’s (in Chacewater village). Half the gang – Dave, Si, Laura, Fliss, Ella, Chris and Helene – were already there. Matt, Daz, Emma, Andy and I joined up later. Mark and Chuck had to leave earlier that day back to Portsmouth. Taz also took off to meet his girlfriend in another part of Cornwall. Emma and Andy left shortly after arriving in Chacewater, they were heading back to London and wanted to avoid holiday traffic. Dave and Fliss headed out as well back to London and Oxford respectively but not in that order. [Got all that? Good. ;)] After a few slow drinks we remaining went to the village shop – open later than any place I know in London, a whopping 10pm – we got frozen pizzas and added some toppings. Well Matt did, we all just sat around. We played rizzlers, a game with cigarette rolling paper. Then after some more drinks and chatting everyone went to bed.
Monday, 28 March – We rushed this day to get in some last minute surfing before heading home. Chris and Helene left back to Birmingham and it was just Si, Laura, Ella, Matt, Daz and I left. We went to Portreath but again no waves, then on to Porthtowan. Where Matt, Daz and I donned some suits, grabbed some boards and went out. I stayed in for all of about 20 minutes. The waves kicked my ass. I couldn’t even get out as far as I had the time before. So instead I decided I’d best just take pictures. Matt and Darren lasted the full hour we had. Then we loaded up again for the last time from Si and Laura’s and headed to Bristol, where Matt had a flight back to Belfast.
Matt drove to make sure he’d make it in time for his flight, of course we started out later than expected… though we did get there in plenty of time. Dropping off Matt, Darren took the wheel and off we went to London. I slept a bit in the car, exhausted as I was from everything. We dropped off Ella in Clapham [part of Greater London] and with a perusal of the map, Darren and I went to Birkbeck [another party of Greater London] were I was staying with Emma. We made it there about midnight after getting turned around a bit. Daz and I said goodnight, I woke up Matt (Emma’s boyfriend) and he let me in the house. Then Darren took off, again with no real idea how to get home, but he made it there eventually at about 1am. And so the weekend of fun ended.
Thursday 24, March – It all began on a bright English afternoon. The sun, having made an appearance that day, warmed not only our bodies but our minds as we set off to one of the most beautiful regions of the British Isles – Cornwall. I arrived at the train station a bit late as usual but this was not a problem as my escort also has a chronic time-keeping disease, in that he doesn’t keep it very well either. Eventually Darren and I met up and headed to his house as he still needed to pack and do some errands there. As I was washing his dirty dishes (yes he put me to work right away, the limey bastard!) he went to go pick up his friend Ella. I had finished my chore and was reading a bit of Tom Robbins novel when they drove up. Ella and I met and hit it off. She’s also an avid reader and had a book thicker than my arm (and that’s saying a lot considering my chubby arms) that she was working on, a fantasy novel to boot! I was quite impressed. Apparently this Darren chap attracts some good people around him, if I do say so myself. ;)
We finally loaded up the car and started off on the grand road trip across the southwest. It took about 6 hours to get to Cornwall, two of which consisted of just getting out of the London area! Having left later than we planned, we arrived closer to 1 a.m. However that was all well and good as almost everyone was still sitting up, chatting and smoking when we three arrived on the scene. First stop on our tour was at Si and Laura’s home in Chacewater, a little village between Truro (setting of the Poldark Saga and where Laura works) and Perranporth (our final destination). The wearied travellers (us) were very warmly welcomed by our gracious hosts (Si and Laura). There we met up with more of Daz’s mates. Mark and his mate Chuck came from Portsmouth for this occasion. They were still awake, mostly, when we arrived. Dave and Fliss drove in from Oxford and had already retired for the night. So we few stayed up for a bit longer and chatted, then we all found places to rest and said good night.
Friday, 25 March – Next morning most of us woke to the sound of the telephone, ringing and ringing and ringing. Unfortunately for the caller no one was awake enough to pick it up. It was more friends freshly arriving from London, Emma and Andy. Undeterred by the lack of oral communication they made their way to the sleeping home. Luckily by that time Darren had enough cognizance to answer the door when it began to cry out the presence of visitors to the inhabitants of the house. After some minutes and a few rounds of tea and coffee the rest of the house awoke and started the day. We enjoyed a rather strange (to me) but apparently usual British breakfast (they really don’t know what a breakfast should be as will be shown later) consisting of scrambled eggs on a roll with ketchup and a slice of European style bacon – not the thin crisp strips as in the States but a more rounded thicker sausage like slice. Dave was kind enough, and more awake than the rest of us, to prepare our excellent meal.
Afterwards we all got ready and headed to the beach(es). We first went to Portreath and checked out the waves there. At this point yet another mate of Daz’s showed up, a gentleman called Taz (no resemblance to the animated devil from down under). The waves weren’t fabulous however so we then headed to Porthtowan. There Mark and Chuck braved the winterish waters and surfed for a good few hours. Everyone else watched them from the increasingly warm beach. We all took it easy and let the day progress like the tortoise in the well-known tale, slow and steady, eventually coming to the finish line. Some sketched, Ella, others soaked up the sun, Emma and Andy, and Dave gave a soundtrack to the day with his guitar. Fliss, Laura and I went for a walk along the rocky sea cliff, I without shoes having already done the inevitable upon seeing the massive amount of naturally occurring water (a novelty of Coloradanites) and walked straight into the ocean, socks, shoes, jeans and all! We found a wonderful place to watch the tide come in. A rough man-made pool hugged the cliff side, a rougher man-made staircase lead down to it. For a long time I sat on a rock off the path hypnotized by the waves and the sounds of the ocean.
Eventually Laura, Fliss and I returned to the group. We were all coming and going, resting and exploring and just generally relaxing. It was a brilliant day! I had a real Cornwall pasty (pastry with steak filling, very traditional and very delicious) and amazing Cornish cream ice cream. After a while we loaded back into the cars, collecting the not-so-conquering heroes of the waves, and caravanned it up to our hostel in Perranporth. We tried to get there in time to watch the sun set over the beach. We arrived, unloaded our gear, sorted out rooms and what not, met some more people – Chris, Si’s brother, and his girlfriend Helene joined us all the way from Birmingham and France respectively. Finally we were all sorted and headed down to the pub on the beach, The Watering Hole. They had some amazing fajitas, the first real semblance of Mexican cuisine I had since my brief sojourn in Scotland. Darren got monk fish curry and I tried a bit of it, quite nice I must say for being fish. The last of the party showed halfway through dinner with the arrival of Matt and Scott. They had driven down from Brighton, though Matt had come first from Belfast. They completed our merry circle and after eating, drinking and being… well… merry we at last closed the bar down and were kicked out. Heading back up the massive hill to the hostel was not terribly fun but obviously necessary. Thus ended Good Friday with good food and even better company.
Saturday, 26 March – [from Journal] Got up around 9ish and finally got everyone up and ready. Went to Perranporth town and had breakfast. I had a traditional English breakfast. It’s alright but I still prefer the IHOP or Le Peeps. Then Darren, Matt and I went to a few shops, while the others split up. Some went straight to the beach to power-kite or sunbathe. Dave disappeared for a while (to go paragliding) and Mark and Chuck went straight back into the ocean. Matt and Daz bought winter wet suits and I bought a cool wallet. Then we three went to go hire (rent) boards. I hired one as well and a wet suit. We headed to the ocean, Daz gave me a bit of instruction and we were off. I was in the water fighting against the waves to go farther in and occasionally trying to jump on my board and ride a wave or two. I did manage it a few times for about 2-4 seconds. But it was great fun just to be out there. I was out for two hours, came back in to shore for a break then went out again. After another hour or so the gang headed to a fish and chips shop and Daz, Matt and I changed and met them there. I had haddock and chips. Then we went back to the hostel and got cleaned up to go out to the pub to celebrate Darren’s birthday properly.
When we arrived at the Watering Hole it was already pretty packed due to a surfing competition buffet celebration. We all managed to squeeze into one corner of the pub and order drinks. I chatted to Ella and Emma for a while, had a shot or two along with Daz (for his birthday). Then the band started, this time it was a different band and they were awesome! Darren and I spent most of the night up by the dance floor listening and dancing and drinking. At one point I went to the toilets (restroom) and as I was walking back up the hallway to the stage area, it was like walking through the mists of Avalon to get back to the dance floor. The entire bar/stage area was completely and utterly enveloped in smoke, which contrasted with the pure white hallway I was coming down. It was and awesome and interesting sight. Anyways after a while the surfing competition gang broke up and left, so our crew went in and seized upon their leftover buffet. Someone had to… After a while longer we too had to leave due to closing time.
Walking back to the hostel Daz and I were trailing behind everyone like usual when suddenly Matt came up to us. He made like he was going to tell Darren something when he just ran up and grabbed him! The rest of the boys came over and started to wrestle and tickle him, it was awesome fun! Darren was laughing hysterically (some say like a hyena) and Ella got it all on film. [Keep an eye out for photos of the incident]. Then the boys dragged him a little ways down the beach and tossed him into the water! Fully clothed with camera and mobile (cell phone) still in his pockets, nothing was broken luckily. Oh and they also tossed him into the air for a bit too. Completing the “pick on Daz” portion of the evening we made the hike back up to the hostel again.
We made it back into the hostel and he went to go change out of his wet clothes. Some went to bed, others stayed up including myself when we noticed Darren hadn’t been seen in quite some time… so we went to investigate. Matt heard him snoring in one of the toilets (bathrooms). Si managed to unlock the door from the outside and Laura, Si, Chris and I tried to get Darren out onto the couch in the communal living room and drinking water. We finally managed it and by about 4am he was sleeping soundly and we all headed to bed ourselves.
Sunday, 27 March – It totally slipped my mind (hungover as it was) that it was Easter Sunday. After a slow start for all, we got dressed, cleaned and ready. I finally got a hot shower (didn’t have hot water the day before)! We went to town and had breakfast. Darren went with the ol’ English traditional and I went for something less greasy and more appetizing.
The day, like our moods, started out gloomy. So we all went separate ways for a while. Darren, Ella and I went and took pictures of scenery. Taz, Emma, Andy and Matt went power-kiting again. Eventually we three joined up with them and enjoyed power-kiting ourselves. I had a great time and was fairly good. Emma yelled out to Darren “Your girlfriend’s better than you!” and it was true for the moment. But he eventually got the hang of it with Matt’s big boy kite – a 4.5 metre I think. Emma made it look like a dance, she was so graceful and smooth. I’m jealous and now want a kite of my own. [Hint for Christmas/Birthday presents.] Anyways when the wind died we went to find lunch.
Emma, Andy, Daz and I walked through Perranporth. We stopped in a few shops and I bought an incredibly cool jumper (sweater)! We also got some really tasty Mexican chicken wraps and then went to get Cornish cream tea. (That’s tea with tea cakes and Cornish cream with jam. [The tea is normal tea, but then you put jam on the cakes and top it off with thick and delicious cream.]) I could feel my arteries closing up as I munched on the cakes – it was so good!
We went back to the hostel and gathered our bags. Loaded the cars and went back to Si and Laura’s (in Chacewater village). Half the gang – Dave, Si, Laura, Fliss, Ella, Chris and Helene – were already there. Matt, Daz, Emma, Andy and I joined up later. Mark and Chuck had to leave earlier that day back to Portsmouth. Taz also took off to meet his girlfriend in another part of Cornwall. Emma and Andy left shortly after arriving in Chacewater, they were heading back to London and wanted to avoid holiday traffic. Dave and Fliss headed out as well back to London and Oxford respectively but not in that order. [Got all that? Good. ;)] After a few slow drinks we remaining went to the village shop – open later than any place I know in London, a whopping 10pm – we got frozen pizzas and added some toppings. Well Matt did, we all just sat around. We played rizzlers, a game with cigarette rolling paper. Then after some more drinks and chatting everyone went to bed.
Monday, 28 March – We rushed this day to get in some last minute surfing before heading home. Chris and Helene left back to Birmingham and it was just Si, Laura, Ella, Matt, Daz and I left. We went to Portreath but again no waves, then on to Porthtowan. Where Matt, Daz and I donned some suits, grabbed some boards and went out. I stayed in for all of about 20 minutes. The waves kicked my ass. I couldn’t even get out as far as I had the time before. So instead I decided I’d best just take pictures. Matt and Darren lasted the full hour we had. Then we loaded up again for the last time from Si and Laura’s and headed to Bristol, where Matt had a flight back to Belfast.
Matt drove to make sure he’d make it in time for his flight, of course we started out later than expected… though we did get there in plenty of time. Dropping off Matt, Darren took the wheel and off we went to London. I slept a bit in the car, exhausted as I was from everything. We dropped off Ella in Clapham [part of Greater London] and with a perusal of the map, Darren and I went to Birkbeck [another party of Greater London] were I was staying with Emma. We made it there about midnight after getting turned around a bit. Daz and I said goodnight, I woke up Matt (Emma’s boyfriend) and he let me in the house. Then Darren took off, again with no real idea how to get home, but he made it there eventually at about 1am. And so the weekend of fun ended.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Too many stories, too little time...
Back at the internet cafe for a little bit. Life is still going on over here in Kharkov. I'm adjusted now fairly well to the job and everyday life, though I still have bouts of culture shock and interesting anecdotes to go along with them. Due to the inconvenience both time and money-wise I will have a ghost writer for some of my blogs. Actually I'll still be doing the writing but my dear friend, Mike, will be doing the posting all the way from D.C. Isn't technology grand? So bear with me as we sort through the technical difficulties for a while. I promise to make the blogs well worth the wait! Until then... счастливо!
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Homeless
To prove I'm not homeless, here is my address. They write it from largest to smallest so it goes Country down to city, street then the person. If you can't read the characters let me know and I will send postcards/snail-mail letters with the address.
61098 Украйна
г Харьков
у Полтавский шлях
№ 152 кв 182
Dacia Dyer
Cheers!
61098 Украйна
г Харьков
у Полтавский шлях
№ 152 кв 182
Dacia Dyer
Cheers!
Monday, April 11, 2005
All's well that ends well...
Well to break the hard truth to you.. I've been eating nothing but one loaf of bread and one length of sausage this whole week. I'm hungry and rather agitated. Today however things were settled. It was all of course a misunderstanding. (Not my starvation, that was well understood by me, but the reasons for it were not well comprehended by anyone.)
Apparently my babushka who was supposed to cook for me didn't know what I wanted and doesn't eat very much herself so I was supposed to buy my grocceries and tell her what I wished to eat. I was under the assumption that she'd buy and cook for two (her and I). Well I didn't buy anything (partly because I had no money) and neither did she (buy anything) beyond the original loaf and sausage. So... I've been gradually eating my supplies until they were gone this morning with my last two slices of a baguette and three slices of sausage for lunch. Then I went into 'work' - a make-shift language school with even less organization than the Fashion department in CSM, if you can imagine that, and voiced my frustration at the situation!! [Translation: I meekly asked about the second option for homestay and they asked why I didn't like this one. I said that babushka wasn't holding up her end of the deal as politely as calorie deprevation would allow and they informed me of the real deal. (That being I'd buy the food and she'd make it.)] Sergei, husband of Kate who runs the administrative side of the school, even informed me that babushka had asked him why I don't eat anything?! So there you have it - unknowing self imposed hunger strike. I wonder if this is how Gandhi got his start?
Needless to say I got paid today, a whopping $60 for the week (a nice 318 gryvnias). That should hold me over until next week. I plan to find a cafe tonight and gorge. So that's that. Amazing how the world looks so much better when you have some food in your stomach.
Apparently my babushka who was supposed to cook for me didn't know what I wanted and doesn't eat very much herself so I was supposed to buy my grocceries and tell her what I wished to eat. I was under the assumption that she'd buy and cook for two (her and I). Well I didn't buy anything (partly because I had no money) and neither did she (buy anything) beyond the original loaf and sausage. So... I've been gradually eating my supplies until they were gone this morning with my last two slices of a baguette and three slices of sausage for lunch. Then I went into 'work' - a make-shift language school with even less organization than the Fashion department in CSM, if you can imagine that, and voiced my frustration at the situation!! [Translation: I meekly asked about the second option for homestay and they asked why I didn't like this one. I said that babushka wasn't holding up her end of the deal as politely as calorie deprevation would allow and they informed me of the real deal. (That being I'd buy the food and she'd make it.)] Sergei, husband of Kate who runs the administrative side of the school, even informed me that babushka had asked him why I don't eat anything?! So there you have it - unknowing self imposed hunger strike. I wonder if this is how Gandhi got his start?
Needless to say I got paid today, a whopping $60 for the week (a nice 318 gryvnias). That should hold me over until next week. I plan to find a cafe tonight and gorge. So that's that. Amazing how the world looks so much better when you have some food in your stomach.
Friday, April 08, 2005
Still alive and kicking
I'm still here in Ukraine, working hard and trying to make my way in pigeon Russian. Luckily all the students are very eager to talk with me so I'll be very busy. Still haven't found cheap or easily accessed phone/internet connections. So if you think I'm snubbing you.. I'm not. I just don't know how to function in this upside-down like society. Brooke - as for your questions I'll get to them as soon as I get paid and can actually afford to spend more than 10 minutes on the internet. So until next time.. know that I'm well and miss you all!
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
'A World Away'
So, still in the Ukraine. I'm living with a babushka, grandmother, now. She's quite nice and we can basically understand each other for the most part. I can't write much now, as I should get back to her soon. Just had my first classroom experience. I was a hit apparently. More to come later, when I actually find an internet cafe. Right now I'm using the school connection and the keyboard won't allow me to use the 'shift' key, so I'm having difficulties typing capital letters. Anyways I need to get going PROMisE TO write soon!
Saturday, April 02, 2005
Welcome to Ukraine!
I made it! Did you ever doubt me? ... Yeah, me too. But I'm here, alive and kicking and very weirded out that I'm in Eastern Europe. I'm now in the internet cafe in a swanky post office in the heart of Kiev. My boss, Kate, has left me to fend for myself for a while as she and her ex-boyfriend from Moscow hang out together. I'm supposed to find some ancient monasteries by myself and then find my way back to our hotel. Yeah, right. We'll just see how that goes. On the plus side, I'm remembering more Russian than I anticipated. I guess it was all there, milling about in my mind waiting for the opportunity to be used again.
So quickly: I got to Warsaw just fine. Darren's brother-in-law was kind enough to give me a lift in his car so that I didn't have to hassle with public transportation. Thanks Rabah!!!!!!! I had to repack and take out more things from my overstuffed luggage and left them with friends all over London (well just Darren and Emma but still...) Got on board the plane and it only took two hours to get to Poland. Not bad. Got my gear together and found the right bus to take me to the train station to catch the overnight to Kiev. Luckily on the bus there was a lady sitting next to me with her boyfriend and another guy friend and when I asked her if the next stop was the Central Bus Station she not only answered affirmatively but said her fellows would help me off the bus with my stuff. I expected they'd just dump the suitcases off on the corner but no! They helped me all the way to the very platform my train was to leave from, how nice is that?! I think Conrad the taller of the two men, not the lady's boyfriend, may have fancied me. He kept looking at me and smiling and trying to make jokes using body language and pigeon English. He was quite funny considering.
As for the train ride itself I will now quote you from my journal (because I'm too lazy to be original):
"I'm now sitting on the top right-hand berth (looking in from the hallway) with a woman named Lena opposite me, Irina (Ira) below her and a girl named Julia below me. [Note: It was rather like the three fates of Greek mythology - Irina as the crone, the older woman who has seen the world in all it's beauty and ugliness; Lena, the woman who is in the prime of life, experienced but not fully wise yet; and Julia, the maiden, still fresh and naive, looking at the world as from the beginning of a book. I don't know if these three woman really suit the analogy in their personal lives as I believe Julia was my age and has a child already but still, nice to imagine.] Anyways I chatted with Ira for a while, showed her and Lena my pictures from Cornwall and I did it almost all in Russian! Woohoo, boy am I rusty! Well I will work on that later. I'm fairly surprised I understood as much as I did. But now everyone is either sleeping or readying for it so... I'll be back, still have another 15 + hours to go.
2:20am - Passport Check
Good times to be woken up by big burly men in dark grey-green uniforms who talk loudly while they take your passport away behind the open sliding door where you can't see them and finally return with your passport with an extra little stamp.
3:30am - Woken up by big burly woman, nice change up. Didn't get new stamp in passport. Got a customs declaration form from a fairly cute man in camouflage wear and storm boots with extraordinarily light blue eyes. I forgot to buy/bring any food or drink for my 17 hour journey... man I'm dehydrated. All I have in the way of food are the chocolate chip cookies Darren bought me before I left. For now I'm going to try and get some more sleep.
P.S. Welcome to Ukraine!"
End of quotation. Stayed tuned for the rest of my journey and arrival in Kiev. Now I'm off to find me a monastery and hopefully some water. Still a bit dehydrated.
So quickly: I got to Warsaw just fine. Darren's brother-in-law was kind enough to give me a lift in his car so that I didn't have to hassle with public transportation. Thanks Rabah!!!!!!! I had to repack and take out more things from my overstuffed luggage and left them with friends all over London (well just Darren and Emma but still...) Got on board the plane and it only took two hours to get to Poland. Not bad. Got my gear together and found the right bus to take me to the train station to catch the overnight to Kiev. Luckily on the bus there was a lady sitting next to me with her boyfriend and another guy friend and when I asked her if the next stop was the Central Bus Station she not only answered affirmatively but said her fellows would help me off the bus with my stuff. I expected they'd just dump the suitcases off on the corner but no! They helped me all the way to the very platform my train was to leave from, how nice is that?! I think Conrad the taller of the two men, not the lady's boyfriend, may have fancied me. He kept looking at me and smiling and trying to make jokes using body language and pigeon English. He was quite funny considering.
As for the train ride itself I will now quote you from my journal (because I'm too lazy to be original):
"I'm now sitting on the top right-hand berth (looking in from the hallway) with a woman named Lena opposite me, Irina (Ira) below her and a girl named Julia below me. [Note: It was rather like the three fates of Greek mythology - Irina as the crone, the older woman who has seen the world in all it's beauty and ugliness; Lena, the woman who is in the prime of life, experienced but not fully wise yet; and Julia, the maiden, still fresh and naive, looking at the world as from the beginning of a book. I don't know if these three woman really suit the analogy in their personal lives as I believe Julia was my age and has a child already but still, nice to imagine.] Anyways I chatted with Ira for a while, showed her and Lena my pictures from Cornwall and I did it almost all in Russian! Woohoo, boy am I rusty! Well I will work on that later. I'm fairly surprised I understood as much as I did. But now everyone is either sleeping or readying for it so... I'll be back, still have another 15 + hours to go.
2:20am - Passport Check
Good times to be woken up by big burly men in dark grey-green uniforms who talk loudly while they take your passport away behind the open sliding door where you can't see them and finally return with your passport with an extra little stamp.
3:30am - Woken up by big burly woman, nice change up. Didn't get new stamp in passport. Got a customs declaration form from a fairly cute man in camouflage wear and storm boots with extraordinarily light blue eyes. I forgot to buy/bring any food or drink for my 17 hour journey... man I'm dehydrated. All I have in the way of food are the chocolate chip cookies Darren bought me before I left. For now I'm going to try and get some more sleep.
P.S. Welcome to Ukraine!"
End of quotation. Stayed tuned for the rest of my journey and arrival in Kiev. Now I'm off to find me a monastery and hopefully some water. Still a bit dehydrated.
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
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!
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).
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).
Thursday, March 24, 2005
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.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
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!
"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!
Saturday, March 12, 2005
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.
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.
Friday, March 11, 2005
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.
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
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.)
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.)
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Sunday, February 27, 2005
Scotland and Ireland – Take 2, Scene 1, The Arrival
Picture it – Glasgow, December 22nd. Sitting in a Café Nero (the Starbucks of Italy, a chain that has more links than the one that tied Prometheus to his rocky prison). A lone American girl just arrived in a new and fairly strange city. The only sense of commonality is the tall, skinny, hazelnut latte and biscotti that she orders in every new and strange city. Having checked into the youth hostel down the street from St. George’s Square and spending the day wandering up and down the two pedestrian thoroughfares that create the heart of Glasgow’s shopping and meeting spots, she settles down to write in her journal about the day’s travel.
Now it’s Christmas time and I find myself (well, sent myself not ‘find’ like I just woke up and I was here…) in Glasgow! God love men in kilts!
She writes enjoying her individual pizza as the first meal she has on her first trip alone. Sure, she made it all the way to London by herself, but this was a holiday visit to Scotland. Whatever she wanted to do and see, she would have to decide it and do it alone. A big difference from every other time before when the decisions were always a matter of consensus and compromise or simply a matter of doing what someone else had planned. Now it was all upon her shoulders, a burden no less daunting than Atlas’ but much less weighty.
After perusing the mall (St. Enoch’s) a while I headed out to Buchanan Street, went through Argyle Arcade – gorgeous massive amounts of wonderful, shinning jewellery. Popped into a few shops until I finally found a good deal at H&M (got a skirt and jumper for half price). Then I went and bought tickets to a choir concert at the Glasgow Royal Concert Hall for tomorrow night and continued to walk the entire length of Sachiehall Street (found a cool restaurant called Stavka that serves Baltika beer!) [Beer of Russian descent, the staple of all American study abroad students in Petersburg, a.k.a. liquid bread.]
The first day alone, from boarding the bus to get to the airport, boarding the plane to arrive in the kingdom to the north, hopping the train to get into the centre of the city and finally wandering up and down foreign streets gave her a deep sense of accomplishment. At last, she was in Scotland! Land of William Wallace, Robert the Bruce, Bonnie Prince Charlie and most importantly Ewan McGregor.
Yesterday – got up about 8ish had a nice leisurely time getting ready, not the greatest of all showers but not terrible for a hostel. Then I put on one of the new outfits from H&M, a yellow turtle neck and dark denim long skirt (in case you were wondering). Then I planned to go on a city bus tour, but before I made it to the starting point I got distracted again by a sale at the Gap! (I know, shopoholic much). Well who can resist 50% off? I went in and bought another skirt I’ve had my eye on for a while and the top to match plus another white camisole which I needed and this really fun bright, but not obnoxious orange knit sweater which I’m wearing today.
Satisfied by the purchases and weighed down by the bags, she dropped off the new additions to her wardrobe at the hostel before attempting yet again to get to the city bus tour. Arriving in St. George’s Square she found the bus stop and the ever present pusher of tourist tickets.
There was a guy on the corner, who strangely enough reminded me of Loren only with a Scottish accent, who was the point man for the tour. It was only me on the bus when we started off so I got my own personal tour of Glasgow by the very friendly grandpa-like bloke who I think loves the sounds of his own voice. Anyways I went all over Glasgow and got a native’s perspective on things, including bits of ancient and modern history along with ‘There used to be beautiful houses here 30 years ago, but they torn it down to build the highway.’ It was a good time, I truly appreciate the city planers of Glasgow and think that dad would find it a fascinating place.
The Counting House, former Bank turned pub. Quintessential example of the United Kingdom drinking culture, The Counting House stands on one corner with three more pubs circling the intersection so that no matter from which direction you approach there is always a pub near by. Dropped off again at St. George’s, she walks into The Counting House and after casing the joint for about twenty minutes finally finds a place to sit and enjoy a meal. After eating and drinking some traditional ale she heads out again to continue on the touring agenda for the day.
After lunch there I took a tour of the city hall, beautiful place – Glasgow is a sister city of Rostov-on-Don, Russia – then I went to the visitor centre for the city and bought Stephanie a present, necklace, very pretty I think and bought myself a bookmark for the book I bought at the airport (Plato’s Republic). Then I went to the Royal Concert Hall and heard and sang! Christmas carols.
The last full day in Glasgow was just what was needed, a little shopping, a little sight-seeing, ending in a bit of cultural experience. The next morning she awoke early to walk around the east side of town and get the last few pictures to complete her collection of tourist memento. University of Glasgow – check. Kelvingrove Museum – check. Mansions on the Hill – double check. Through the grey dawn (at 9am) she finally finished the walk through the rain back to the bus station and boarded the Scottish Citylink bus leaving Glasgow at 10:40 heading for Edinburgh.
Now it’s Christmas time and I find myself (well, sent myself not ‘find’ like I just woke up and I was here…) in Glasgow! God love men in kilts!
She writes enjoying her individual pizza as the first meal she has on her first trip alone. Sure, she made it all the way to London by herself, but this was a holiday visit to Scotland. Whatever she wanted to do and see, she would have to decide it and do it alone. A big difference from every other time before when the decisions were always a matter of consensus and compromise or simply a matter of doing what someone else had planned. Now it was all upon her shoulders, a burden no less daunting than Atlas’ but much less weighty.
After perusing the mall (St. Enoch’s) a while I headed out to Buchanan Street, went through Argyle Arcade – gorgeous massive amounts of wonderful, shinning jewellery. Popped into a few shops until I finally found a good deal at H&M (got a skirt and jumper for half price). Then I went and bought tickets to a choir concert at the Glasgow Royal Concert Hall for tomorrow night and continued to walk the entire length of Sachiehall Street (found a cool restaurant called Stavka that serves Baltika beer!) [Beer of Russian descent, the staple of all American study abroad students in Petersburg, a.k.a. liquid bread.]
The first day alone, from boarding the bus to get to the airport, boarding the plane to arrive in the kingdom to the north, hopping the train to get into the centre of the city and finally wandering up and down foreign streets gave her a deep sense of accomplishment. At last, she was in Scotland! Land of William Wallace, Robert the Bruce, Bonnie Prince Charlie and most importantly Ewan McGregor.
Yesterday – got up about 8ish had a nice leisurely time getting ready, not the greatest of all showers but not terrible for a hostel. Then I put on one of the new outfits from H&M, a yellow turtle neck and dark denim long skirt (in case you were wondering). Then I planned to go on a city bus tour, but before I made it to the starting point I got distracted again by a sale at the Gap! (I know, shopoholic much). Well who can resist 50% off? I went in and bought another skirt I’ve had my eye on for a while and the top to match plus another white camisole which I needed and this really fun bright, but not obnoxious orange knit sweater which I’m wearing today.
Satisfied by the purchases and weighed down by the bags, she dropped off the new additions to her wardrobe at the hostel before attempting yet again to get to the city bus tour. Arriving in St. George’s Square she found the bus stop and the ever present pusher of tourist tickets.
There was a guy on the corner, who strangely enough reminded me of Loren only with a Scottish accent, who was the point man for the tour. It was only me on the bus when we started off so I got my own personal tour of Glasgow by the very friendly grandpa-like bloke who I think loves the sounds of his own voice. Anyways I went all over Glasgow and got a native’s perspective on things, including bits of ancient and modern history along with ‘There used to be beautiful houses here 30 years ago, but they torn it down to build the highway.’ It was a good time, I truly appreciate the city planers of Glasgow and think that dad would find it a fascinating place.
The Counting House, former Bank turned pub. Quintessential example of the United Kingdom drinking culture, The Counting House stands on one corner with three more pubs circling the intersection so that no matter from which direction you approach there is always a pub near by. Dropped off again at St. George’s, she walks into The Counting House and after casing the joint for about twenty minutes finally finds a place to sit and enjoy a meal. After eating and drinking some traditional ale she heads out again to continue on the touring agenda for the day.
After lunch there I took a tour of the city hall, beautiful place – Glasgow is a sister city of Rostov-on-Don, Russia – then I went to the visitor centre for the city and bought Stephanie a present, necklace, very pretty I think and bought myself a bookmark for the book I bought at the airport (Plato’s Republic). Then I went to the Royal Concert Hall and heard and sang! Christmas carols.
The last full day in Glasgow was just what was needed, a little shopping, a little sight-seeing, ending in a bit of cultural experience. The next morning she awoke early to walk around the east side of town and get the last few pictures to complete her collection of tourist memento. University of Glasgow – check. Kelvingrove Museum – check. Mansions on the Hill – double check. Through the grey dawn (at 9am) she finally finished the walk through the rain back to the bus station and boarded the Scottish Citylink bus leaving Glasgow at 10:40 heading for Edinburgh.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Il Mercante di Venezia
To start from the beginning is usually a good idea. So for now we will start at the beginning of my last trip to Italy and then retrace our steps back to Scotland and Ireland over the holidays.
The plan was this: Stella was coming to London on Friday night. We would spend two days in London and hit some of the sights, markets, etc., then take an overnight train up to Edinburgh to arrive for my Monday morning interview at Napier University. Spend the day there and then board a plane in Edinburgh headed for Rome that afternoon. Stay in Rome for a day or two, then take a train up to Florence for a while and eventually end up in Venice, from where we would leave on Friday morning back to London and then Stella would catch a flight from there back to Hong Kong. A little rushed, yes; a little hectic, definitely; this plan really left no room for improvisation or mess-ups. Therefore what happened? A big, ugly mess-up.
Though we tried and tried, we could never find just what Stella was looking for in London, a great open market, such as in Notting Hill. We went at the wrong days at the wrong times. London was not as fun or fabulous as it could have been, but still we forged ahead. Hoping for better luck in Scotland we left later than we should have and therefore missed the very last overnight train by about five minutes. Not able to go by train, we looked at flights. But they were all too expensive and too time consuming to get to the airport, etc. to make them feasible. We abandoned that part of the plan and my interview. I called to inform the university that I wouldn't be attending. There was no chance to reschedule. But there is another job there for which I applied to that sounds better.
After a night of disappointment and moderated yelling, Stella and I finally got some sleep and awoke to adjust our plans for the last few days of her visit. We refunded our train tickets and called the hostels in Italy to reschedule our reservations, switched the time and place for the flight from Edinburgh-Rome to London-Rome for Tuesday morning. Then we spent the rest of Monday going around London a bit more and I got some fashionable digs from Covent Gardens.
Tuesday morning arrives. We find our way to the airport with little problems and get on board for a five hour flight. Getting into Rome at about noon, we spend the afternoon finding our hostel, checking in and getting settled. By then the only thing we could do is walk around Rome as everything else was pretty much closed. We went to the Roma Termini bus station and got on the number 40 bus which took us through the heart of the city. We got off about half way through the ride and walked down the street window shopping until we finally happened upon the river and a great view of the castle on the bank. After filling ourselves and our cameras with the view we wandered on down to the castle, crossed back over the river and made our way to Piazza Navona. There we found some beautiful fountains-and Rome is full of fountains-as well as a a Chinese lady who wrote my name in characters for only 2 Euro. Stella and I then had a proper pizza and Italian wine and enjoyed the beautiful night.
All else we saw of Rome was Il Colloseo, the Collesium, which we spent much of the next day exploring. We met a nice American guy named Joe who is studying in France for his MBA and happened to be traveling around Europe during his school break. Stella and I meandered around Il Colloseo and the Forum with Joe who was a welcome break from our mutual company (not that we don't love each other, but the wounds were still festering from our ill-fated beginning). Finally it was time to depart on an evening train to Venice. We missed the 5pm train (our bad luck with trains continued through from the Scotland fiasco) but we managed to get the 6pm train and finally got into Venice about 11pm that night.
We found our quaint hostel down a few hundred metres from the Santa Lucia train station, hidden in a little courtyard. It was a beautiful setting which finally set our minds in the frame of holiday-makers. We spent Thursday first by walking down to San Macro Piazza, then in a failed attempt to find Stella's parents the perfect set of fountain pens. Winding our way through the vias and calles of Venice was the best part of the trip, though at the time we were both dead tired and simply wanted to finish our quest and go home. Filling up both of my camera memory cards on the views from the piazza, we gave up the search for gifts, boarded the number 1 bus that would take us all the way back up the Grand Canal and bring us back to the train station. We walked back to our hostel and relaxed for a bit before we went back out into the cold to have dinner with Dan, a friend from high school and college.
For my birthday dinner, there was no cake, there were no songs or candles. There was simply a lot of pizza, a bit of strong wine and at the end of the night, the best present of all. Stella and I finally had overcome our mutual people-culture-shock (the shock and awe of two friends who have been growing and changing thousands of miles apart from each other for months and upon finally meeting again realize they are quite different people) and returned to being good friends who could talk all night about any and everything. We talked until midnight when the wine took hold and we both crashed to sleep. The morning we had a bit of trouble getting to the airport as I forgot to have enough cash on hand to pay the hostel bill and in my rush to run to the cashpoint and back I lost my hat. But eventually the bill was paid, we got to the bus station then to the airport and finally on the plane itself.
The last day was spent as all the days before should have been, by relaxing, watching downloaded episodes of Charmed and talking about things. Stella's trouble was still far from over for when she tried to get on standby for the flight home, it was full and there was nothing more to be done for the whole night. Apparently all of Heathrow and for that matter London itself basically shuts down by midnight, unless you want to go clubbing, which was far from our minds. We opted for the faster and easier but more expensive option of taking a taxi back to my place and got some sleep before we tried again for standby in the morning. Finally Stella had to buy another ticket but she made it home, and we parted as we did when she went to Hong Kong in July, as close friends and sisters. So that's all there is from Italy, except of course pictures and the souvenir of my name in Chinese characters.
The plan was this: Stella was coming to London on Friday night. We would spend two days in London and hit some of the sights, markets, etc., then take an overnight train up to Edinburgh to arrive for my Monday morning interview at Napier University. Spend the day there and then board a plane in Edinburgh headed for Rome that afternoon. Stay in Rome for a day or two, then take a train up to Florence for a while and eventually end up in Venice, from where we would leave on Friday morning back to London and then Stella would catch a flight from there back to Hong Kong. A little rushed, yes; a little hectic, definitely; this plan really left no room for improvisation or mess-ups. Therefore what happened? A big, ugly mess-up.
Though we tried and tried, we could never find just what Stella was looking for in London, a great open market, such as in Notting Hill. We went at the wrong days at the wrong times. London was not as fun or fabulous as it could have been, but still we forged ahead. Hoping for better luck in Scotland we left later than we should have and therefore missed the very last overnight train by about five minutes. Not able to go by train, we looked at flights. But they were all too expensive and too time consuming to get to the airport, etc. to make them feasible. We abandoned that part of the plan and my interview. I called to inform the university that I wouldn't be attending. There was no chance to reschedule. But there is another job there for which I applied to that sounds better.
After a night of disappointment and moderated yelling, Stella and I finally got some sleep and awoke to adjust our plans for the last few days of her visit. We refunded our train tickets and called the hostels in Italy to reschedule our reservations, switched the time and place for the flight from Edinburgh-Rome to London-Rome for Tuesday morning. Then we spent the rest of Monday going around London a bit more and I got some fashionable digs from Covent Gardens.
Tuesday morning arrives. We find our way to the airport with little problems and get on board for a five hour flight. Getting into Rome at about noon, we spend the afternoon finding our hostel, checking in and getting settled. By then the only thing we could do is walk around Rome as everything else was pretty much closed. We went to the Roma Termini bus station and got on the number 40 bus which took us through the heart of the city. We got off about half way through the ride and walked down the street window shopping until we finally happened upon the river and a great view of the castle on the bank. After filling ourselves and our cameras with the view we wandered on down to the castle, crossed back over the river and made our way to Piazza Navona. There we found some beautiful fountains-and Rome is full of fountains-as well as a a Chinese lady who wrote my name in characters for only 2 Euro. Stella and I then had a proper pizza and Italian wine and enjoyed the beautiful night.
All else we saw of Rome was Il Colloseo, the Collesium, which we spent much of the next day exploring. We met a nice American guy named Joe who is studying in France for his MBA and happened to be traveling around Europe during his school break. Stella and I meandered around Il Colloseo and the Forum with Joe who was a welcome break from our mutual company (not that we don't love each other, but the wounds were still festering from our ill-fated beginning). Finally it was time to depart on an evening train to Venice. We missed the 5pm train (our bad luck with trains continued through from the Scotland fiasco) but we managed to get the 6pm train and finally got into Venice about 11pm that night.
We found our quaint hostel down a few hundred metres from the Santa Lucia train station, hidden in a little courtyard. It was a beautiful setting which finally set our minds in the frame of holiday-makers. We spent Thursday first by walking down to San Macro Piazza, then in a failed attempt to find Stella's parents the perfect set of fountain pens. Winding our way through the vias and calles of Venice was the best part of the trip, though at the time we were both dead tired and simply wanted to finish our quest and go home. Filling up both of my camera memory cards on the views from the piazza, we gave up the search for gifts, boarded the number 1 bus that would take us all the way back up the Grand Canal and bring us back to the train station. We walked back to our hostel and relaxed for a bit before we went back out into the cold to have dinner with Dan, a friend from high school and college.
For my birthday dinner, there was no cake, there were no songs or candles. There was simply a lot of pizza, a bit of strong wine and at the end of the night, the best present of all. Stella and I finally had overcome our mutual people-culture-shock (the shock and awe of two friends who have been growing and changing thousands of miles apart from each other for months and upon finally meeting again realize they are quite different people) and returned to being good friends who could talk all night about any and everything. We talked until midnight when the wine took hold and we both crashed to sleep. The morning we had a bit of trouble getting to the airport as I forgot to have enough cash on hand to pay the hostel bill and in my rush to run to the cashpoint and back I lost my hat. But eventually the bill was paid, we got to the bus station then to the airport and finally on the plane itself.
The last day was spent as all the days before should have been, by relaxing, watching downloaded episodes of Charmed and talking about things. Stella's trouble was still far from over for when she tried to get on standby for the flight home, it was full and there was nothing more to be done for the whole night. Apparently all of Heathrow and for that matter London itself basically shuts down by midnight, unless you want to go clubbing, which was far from our minds. We opted for the faster and easier but more expensive option of taking a taxi back to my place and got some sleep before we tried again for standby in the morning. Finally Stella had to buy another ticket but she made it home, and we parted as we did when she went to Hong Kong in July, as close friends and sisters. So that's all there is from Italy, except of course pictures and the souvenir of my name in Chinese characters.
Sunday, February 06, 2005
Leaving on a midnight train...
That's right folks. I'm leaving on a midnight train tonight (well... 22.58, which is near enough to midnight) going to Edinburgh. Why Edinburgh you ask? Didn't I see enough of it during Christmas, which I still haven't told you all about? Well I did enjoy and see a bit of it the first time around and now I'm going for "business". That is I'm going for a job interview! I applied a while back as a Registry Assistant at Napier University and they sent me a letter requesting that I come up and interview with them on Monday. The only snag was that it was right during the time that Stella, my friend and former roommate, was coming to visit me and our planned trip to Italy. Not to be deterred on either getting a job in the UK or missing out on the Mediterranean, Stella and I re-planned it so that we would train it up to Edinburgh, see the castle (which I missed last time due to Boxing Day closure), I'll do the interview and we'll head over to Glasgow, grab a plane (well ride it at least) to Rome and do three + days there. Not too bad a plan I reckon, but now it's time to put it to the test as we are flying out the door this second to get to the train station. So I will keep in touch over the next week on where we are and 'whatsa' happening (said with terribly fake, Joey Tribiani style American-Italian accent). Until then... Ciao!
Sunday, January 30, 2005
Sun-burnished copper
At some point in every adventure there comes a moment when all the uniqueness that was dissipates. The bright shiny newness of everything rusts and turns the color of sun-burnished copper. It is at this point that time stands still, days will pass is minutes; months are gone in a matter of hours. What else can be said about such a time but that it becomes impossible to pull yourself from the black-hole which devours time, space, and potato crisps with reckless abandon? Afraid that at any moment someone will come along and at last switch on the light – the mortal enemy of black-holes – its hold on those unfortunate souls who came to its hiding place on a quest for nourishment is obliterated. That had been the state of things for these past minutes and hours. Now, looking back on the time that truly has pressed forward, the lone traveler, who once sought after a quest, is left to retrace the lost steps that lead into the black-hole’s enticing trap in the first place. Let us know this time the way out can be found.
Thursday, January 06, 2005
SaKi-hall Street and the Castle on the Hill
The following are excerpts from my journal entries, written at the time of traveling through Scotland. I apologize for the seeming unoriginality of this, however since I wrote very detailed accounts in my journal already and as it is less time consuming to resummarize events, I do this for your benefit after all. Believe that?... I hope so. ;)
Journal entry:
December 22nd 2004 - God save Cafe Nero
I left my flat this morning at 3:48ish and got to Golders Green where I waited in the rain, massive rain, for about ten minutes for the A6 service to Stanstead airport to come. Finally it came, I boarded and slept for the hour it took to get to Stanstead. Then after figuring out the crazy airport check-in system I got through security and sat in the lounge... Then we boarded in the torrential rain and I slept again for the hour slight here [Glasgow]. Got off the crowded plane, found the train to come to the centre of town and found my hostel. Of course I got there at about 9:30-10ish and check-in was at 2pm so I dumped my luggage off and started to wander the city. Stopped in a mall for a bit (that was nice) and had a coffee and some down time to get my bearings. Read over the Glasgow section in the travel book and determined a sort of plan for the day - to wander up to the shopping sections and hit a few museums along the way. [Can you tell my priorities at the time?] After perusing the mall a while I headed out to Buchanan Street, went through Argyle Arcade - gorgeous, massive amounts of wonderful, shiny jewellery.
Journal entry:
December 22nd 2004 - God save Cafe Nero
I left my flat this morning at 3:48ish and got to Golders Green where I waited in the rain, massive rain, for about ten minutes for the A6 service to Stanstead airport to come. Finally it came, I boarded and slept for the hour it took to get to Stanstead. Then after figuring out the crazy airport check-in system I got through security and sat in the lounge... Then we boarded in the torrential rain and I slept again for the hour slight here [Glasgow]. Got off the crowded plane, found the train to come to the centre of town and found my hostel. Of course I got there at about 9:30-10ish and check-in was at 2pm so I dumped my luggage off and started to wander the city. Stopped in a mall for a bit (that was nice) and had a coffee and some down time to get my bearings. Read over the Glasgow section in the travel book and determined a sort of plan for the day - to wander up to the shopping sections and hit a few museums along the way. [Can you tell my priorities at the time?] After perusing the mall a while I headed out to Buchanan Street, went through Argyle Arcade - gorgeous, massive amounts of wonderful, shiny jewellery.
Monday, January 03, 2005
"Can't be bothered"
Well I've returned victorious (as much as I can be) from my travels around the Emerald Isles. I'd love to stay and chat (meaning write up all of the adventures of to and fro and to again) but I really can't be bothered tonight to do it. I've become my usual lazy self now that I'm back in the comforts of my home in London. So to compensate, I will try to assuage your curiosity with a few photos and hope you'll forgive me.
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Luck o' the Irish
By luck and perseverance (mostly of my quasi-twin) I've finally made it to Ireland just yesterday night. Ohhh yeah, it's an interesting story, but too traumatic and long to get into now. So the blog will be put on hold until I reach London and then look forward to mostly stories and little pictures of Ireland. (Ah, buy a travel book if it bothers you that much!)
;)
;)
Saturday, December 25, 2004
Merry Christmas!!
I'm in Edinburgh now, got into town yesterday and went out for drinks with my friend John whom I met in Russia. He took me to a lunch place that had gooood fajitas! I was very excited for that fact. Then I wandered around the Christmas market here and bought some more presents. After watching ice skaters for a while, I met back up with John and we did a pub crawl for a while. Today I walked literally the entire east side of town with a Korean girl, Sophie, who is the only other person in my hostel room. It was fun, but walking for five hours straight in the cold and wind.. not so fun. Now I'm warming up in the hostel and I think some Aussies are going to cook Christmas dinner for the orphans here in the hostel. For now though I'm going to work on reading and recoperating.
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Bumming around Town
Hello all! Just a quick note, since it appears all internet access is expenive here, to let you know that my second day in Glasgow is going so far as well as my first. Actually all I've been doing recently is shopping. They have a huge long stretch of pedestrian street that is filled to the brim with shops. And now all the Christmas sales are on, so I've finally been stocking up on winter clothes. I did manage to tour the city via bus this morning and plan to hit a few more tourist traps for photo ops before I go the the Christmas Choir concert at the Glasgow Royal Concert hall tonight at seven. Have to run now, I'll write more soon and expect wonderful blogs once I return to London and have my own internet to putz around on. 'Till then!
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
Welcome to Glasgow
Just a quick note to let you all know I arrived in Glasgow this morning and have got to my hostel. Can't check in quite yet as it is still early, so I'm going to hit the town for a while, find a cafe and read over my travel guide and plan the next few days. More to come once I find a cheaper internet cafe (the one at the hostel is £1 per 15 minutes, a ridiculous rate!).
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
And a Happy New Year!
Notice the stocking? I crocheted that myself. And our friend 'Dave the Wireman' has transformed into words for the season.
Merry Christmas!
Our little Christmas tree, which I dragged (carried really) all the way back from the greenhouse down the street.
Saturday, December 18, 2004
UPDATE!!!
NEW AND IMPROVED!!
No, I'm not trying to sell you a car or the newest version of the Swiffer, but for a good time call... 555 --- I mean read the latest, actually correctly detailed, version of the Wales trip. Enjoy!
No, I'm not trying to sell you a car or the newest version of the Swiffer, but for a good time call... 555 --- I mean read the latest, actually correctly detailed, version of the Wales trip. Enjoy!
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
Leeds castle and Rochester - Under Construction!
Last, but not least in the recounting of days gone by is the Sunday trip to Leeds castle and Rochester that I went on two weekends ago. There's not much to say in regards to this but that on a lovely Sunday morning I again made my way to ISH and boarded the coach with 90-some other travelers and headed to the south east, first to visit Leeds castle (which is not in Leeds city by the way) and then to the city of Dickens, Rochester. Leeds was beautiful, an amazing example of English countryside. The late eccentric benefactor fixed up the castle and left it to a foundation to take care of. She also left behind an aviary, Victorian hedge maze and a grotto. The slogan of Leeds castle is "The Loveliest Castle in the World", not too much to live up to, eh? Well I will say it is quite a lovely castle, completely restored according to the various periods of architectural style. In one of the wings there was a spiral staircase made entirely of one gigantic tree trunk, carved with an entwining snake ending at the top with the head of the snake and a wizard crowning the exemplary work. That was truly amazing. Also interesting was the size of the castle, it was in fact a bit smaller than one would expect for the loveliest castle in the world. Not that size matters really. This point was picked up by another Bunacer, a girl from Alabama or Georgia or some other quintessential Southern Belle state, who upon entering the grounds and seeing the castle exclaimed in her discernible accent "It's so small!" The gate keepers laughed awkwardly, and said "Sorry" as if they needed to apologize for the let down of British culture and heritage. I walked around the grounds with the extremely chatting Aussie bloke, Scott, who was good company for the most part though I was inclined to run away or stay behind at certain points in order to gain the much needed composure to listen to him ramble on again. Finally we had to go back to the bus so that we could make it to Rochester in time to see the city and lantern parade.
We at last arrive in Rochester and are separated into groups for our tours around the small city. It came to be known later that my tour guide was quite good and told us many an interesting fact and anecdote whereas other tour guides left their groups with little more information than they came with. My group on the other hand learned that though Charles Dickens never actually lived in Rochester he often made the ancient city the setting for many of his novels. Also one of the boasting points of Rochester is that Dickens wished to be buried in the city, however our guide let us in on the fact that good ol' Chuck also asked to be buried in about half a dozen other cities. The matter was easily solved with the Queen said he would be buried in Poet's Corner in
Westminster Abbey. We also learned that Henry the VIII met one of his wives, Anne of Cleaves in the abbey of Rochester, she was lucky in that she was later only divorced rather than killed but was unlucky enough to be known as the ugliest wife he had. Last but not least of the interesting anecdotes was that the castle was only attacked once by the King of England himself (James that is, a most unloved king). But more on that later, if you really care to know the details.
Anyways, fter the quick tour around the city (quick because Rochester is really exceedingly small, at least the old city/interesting part) we were let loose to wander up and down the high street which took all of an hour and then we had to wait a little bit before the lantern parade started. Again I wound up hanging out with the Aussie fellow, he and I had a little cheap lunch at what looked like a soup kitchen but really was a Church trying to get a few pounds by providing hot lunches to the tourists. We were then joined by another girl who I'd seen before on Bunac trips but hadn't really talked with much. We had a good time fighting through the crowd and popping into shops and having some mulled wine. Finally the parade started. We three found ourselves at the end of the parade where there was a stand and microphone. We were treated to carols sung by the choirs of local churches and some comedy routine by the village funny man. All the townsfolk were dressed in typical Dickensian costume as they walked through the main street holding old school lanterns. We then made our way through the crowd and back to the bus where we boarded and headed back for home. Amazingly we didn't hit traffic and made it back to London about 8pm. And so ends another adventure. Stay tuned to hear about Scotland and Ireland!
We at last arrive in Rochester and are separated into groups for our tours around the small city. It came to be known later that my tour guide was quite good and told us many an interesting fact and anecdote whereas other tour guides left their groups with little more information than they came with. My group on the other hand learned that though Charles Dickens never actually lived in Rochester he often made the ancient city the setting for many of his novels. Also one of the boasting points of Rochester is that Dickens wished to be buried in the city, however our guide let us in on the fact that good ol' Chuck also asked to be buried in about half a dozen other cities. The matter was easily solved with the Queen said he would be buried in Poet's Corner in
Westminster Abbey. We also learned that Henry the VIII met one of his wives, Anne of Cleaves in the abbey of Rochester, she was lucky in that she was later only divorced rather than killed but was unlucky enough to be known as the ugliest wife he had. Last but not least of the interesting anecdotes was that the castle was only attacked once by the King of England himself (James that is, a most unloved king). But more on that later, if you really care to know the details.
Anyways, fter the quick tour around the city (quick because Rochester is really exceedingly small, at least the old city/interesting part) we were let loose to wander up and down the high street which took all of an hour and then we had to wait a little bit before the lantern parade started. Again I wound up hanging out with the Aussie fellow, he and I had a little cheap lunch at what looked like a soup kitchen but really was a Church trying to get a few pounds by providing hot lunches to the tourists. We were then joined by another girl who I'd seen before on Bunac trips but hadn't really talked with much. We had a good time fighting through the crowd and popping into shops and having some mulled wine. Finally the parade started. We three found ourselves at the end of the parade where there was a stand and microphone. We were treated to carols sung by the choirs of local churches and some comedy routine by the village funny man. All the townsfolk were dressed in typical Dickensian costume as they walked through the main street holding old school lanterns. We then made our way through the crowd and back to the bus where we boarded and headed back for home. Amazingly we didn't hit traffic and made it back to London about 8pm. And so ends another adventure. Stay tuned to hear about Scotland and Ireland!
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Monday, December 13, 2004
Happy Thanksgiving!! .... belatedly
Yeah, yeah I know... it's the second week of December and I'm just now getting around to writing about my English Thanksgiving. I get it.. I'm a little behind on the times but I'm making every effort (or almost) to catch up. So let's begin -
The Monday after Mary and I had our little shopping trip we went out to have a goodbye dinner thing for her. We found this cool pub that's on a moored ship on the Thames. They have pretty good food at not disastrous prices plus the cool atmosphere of the rocking ship. Mary then left on Wednesday to return home in time for the holidays. I spent the rest of the week working - no time off here for such crazy pilgrim holidays celebrating the successful migration away from the Motherland.
Anyways, the planned celebration of a few American ex-pats (aka my friends) was to take place on Saturday, beginning by playing American football in Regent's park then moving to where Ryan, Richard, Whitney and Autumn live (each pair share a flat in the same building) to have dinner. My only duty was to bring cranberry sauce, wine and possibly a dessert. So I take my time, enjoying a relaxing Saturday morning. Go to the upscale grocery store (which they seem to have a lot of here) and buy the sauce, a nice apple pastry tort/pie and two bottles of wine, a red and a white. I then make my way to the tube station where I board the train with my goods and proceed to meet up with everyone at the park. By this time I'm actually running a little late, having taken my own sweet time picking out my fare and am rushing. I have to transfer twice to get to where I need to be and along the way have the terrible misfortune of breaking the wine on the platform!! While attempting to readjust my grip on the bags I drop the bag that contained both bottles. They smashed together and starting spouting out of the bag! A kind British gentleman behind me felt inclined to inform of the wine pouring from the pores of the plastic sack, as if I hadn't seen, heard or felt the bottles breaking at my feet. After informing a tube attendant of the spillage I hopped on the first train, luckily it was not far off, and escaped the shame and anguish of wasting good wine. When I finally arrived at the park I got a text message that they had given up on football (that's how late I was) and was told to meet up at their place. So I get back on the tube and happen to get on the same carriage as they were on. We all make our way to their flats and beginning the painful process of heating up several dishes with only the aid of two Yorkshire terrier sized microwaves that produced less heat than if we tried rubbing two twigs together to create fire.. of course I exaggerate.. it produced about the same amount of heat as two twigs rubbed together. Finally the meal was cooked/warmed/at least brought to room temperature or thereabouts and we dig in (for more particulars on the feast and fun had see my picture gallery on ofoto.com). I had to leave early to go to an all night Lord of the Rings session at the Imax in the city.
So at about 6pm, after only an hour of dining, I head off to watch all three Lord of the Rings films in a row on a gigantic Imax screen. Call me Ishmael, call me a dork, geek.. FREAK, alls I got to say is it was Good Times!! The Fellowship of the Ring started at 8pm, we had a half hour intermission between films and tea, coffee and concessions throughout the night. The amazing times ended at 7am.. yes, that's right 7am.. the next morning. I then hopped on the tube, the very first one of the morning and headed home where I proceeded to sleep through the day. Woke up about 4pm, made some dinner and putzed around until bedtime again and then went to work the next morning. All in all it was a wonderful weekend, not to be forgotten.
The Monday after Mary and I had our little shopping trip we went out to have a goodbye dinner thing for her. We found this cool pub that's on a moored ship on the Thames. They have pretty good food at not disastrous prices plus the cool atmosphere of the rocking ship. Mary then left on Wednesday to return home in time for the holidays. I spent the rest of the week working - no time off here for such crazy pilgrim holidays celebrating the successful migration away from the Motherland.
Anyways, the planned celebration of a few American ex-pats (aka my friends) was to take place on Saturday, beginning by playing American football in Regent's park then moving to where Ryan, Richard, Whitney and Autumn live (each pair share a flat in the same building) to have dinner. My only duty was to bring cranberry sauce, wine and possibly a dessert. So I take my time, enjoying a relaxing Saturday morning. Go to the upscale grocery store (which they seem to have a lot of here) and buy the sauce, a nice apple pastry tort/pie and two bottles of wine, a red and a white. I then make my way to the tube station where I board the train with my goods and proceed to meet up with everyone at the park. By this time I'm actually running a little late, having taken my own sweet time picking out my fare and am rushing. I have to transfer twice to get to where I need to be and along the way have the terrible misfortune of breaking the wine on the platform!! While attempting to readjust my grip on the bags I drop the bag that contained both bottles. They smashed together and starting spouting out of the bag! A kind British gentleman behind me felt inclined to inform of the wine pouring from the pores of the plastic sack, as if I hadn't seen, heard or felt the bottles breaking at my feet. After informing a tube attendant of the spillage I hopped on the first train, luckily it was not far off, and escaped the shame and anguish of wasting good wine. When I finally arrived at the park I got a text message that they had given up on football (that's how late I was) and was told to meet up at their place. So I get back on the tube and happen to get on the same carriage as they were on. We all make our way to their flats and beginning the painful process of heating up several dishes with only the aid of two Yorkshire terrier sized microwaves that produced less heat than if we tried rubbing two twigs together to create fire.. of course I exaggerate.. it produced about the same amount of heat as two twigs rubbed together. Finally the meal was cooked/warmed/at least brought to room temperature or thereabouts and we dig in (for more particulars on the feast and fun had see my picture gallery on ofoto.com). I had to leave early to go to an all night Lord of the Rings session at the Imax in the city.
So at about 6pm, after only an hour of dining, I head off to watch all three Lord of the Rings films in a row on a gigantic Imax screen. Call me Ishmael, call me a dork, geek.. FREAK, alls I got to say is it was Good Times!! The Fellowship of the Ring started at 8pm, we had a half hour intermission between films and tea, coffee and concessions throughout the night. The amazing times ended at 7am.. yes, that's right 7am.. the next morning. I then hopped on the tube, the very first one of the morning and headed home where I proceeded to sleep through the day. Woke up about 4pm, made some dinner and putzed around until bedtime again and then went to work the next morning. All in all it was a wonderful weekend, not to be forgotten.
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Goodbye to one friend
The weekend after Wales trip was spent with my friend Mary who was leaving the next week to head back to Nebraska for the holidays. Hopefully she'll return after the new year to finish her adventures in England. Friday night we went out to dinner at a pub in Leciester Square (pronounced "lester"). Well, really we went out for dessert but we also had dinner as well. Note: If ever you get to Leciester Square, The Brewmaster pub has the best homemade apple crumble I've ever tasted. Saturday morning we met up early (a little before noon) and went to the Borough Market - the biggest, most amazing market place I've seen so far. It has everything you could ever possibly wish for in terms of food items. From Mexican hot chocolate and salsa to every kind of cheese and chutney (a jam-sauce like item, very popular here) to freshly killed birds, rabbits, and dears.. oh my! (So fresh they were hanging upside down, still a bit bloodied with their heads, or rather where the head would be in plastic bags. All this right across from a wine kiosk, it was all very surreal indeed!)
After going all over the market, we had some amazing pizza in the courtyard of Southwark Cathedral, where Mary worked. Then we went about doing some last minute shopping for items she needed before she went home. She showed me a Lithuanian shop that I was happy to note had quite a few Russian items that I missed. Then we went to Covent Gardens and saw the giant Christmas tree they were putting up there and had some mulled wine and mince pies (the epitome of traditional English Christmas food.) We managed to get all the items Mary was needing, including a second carry-on bag for all the things she had bought and all this in a massive downpour. Let me tell you how not fun it is to try and walk around and shop in a torrential rainstorm. I have yet to buy an umbrella here (since I couldn't take the one given to me by the International Office at DU as it was too big to fit in the suitcase and too weapon-like to take on the plane.) We then went back to my place and watched Hitchcock's Rear Window and had Indian take away. We then went to bed thoroughly satisfied with the day and rearing to start again on the morrow.
Sunday, Mary joined me during my Russian language sessions (I've been taking private lessons with a cool guy named Igor from Kaliningrad.) After that we walked around St. Paul's Cathedral, got a bit lost, found our way back and then met up with my flatmate and saw The Incredibles. It was the first Pixar film I've seen, I think, and I quite enjoyed it. After that we said goodbye to Mary and Alastair and I headed home. Then it was back to the working week for he and I and the end of another blog for now.
P.S. For those of you whom I didn't get a chance to email, you can check out all the pictures I've taken so far by going to ofoto.com, you may have to join up as a member (entirely free) to view and/or purchase pictures. If that doesn't work let me know and I'll send you the ofoto invite to view my albums. Happy viewing!
After going all over the market, we had some amazing pizza in the courtyard of Southwark Cathedral, where Mary worked. Then we went about doing some last minute shopping for items she needed before she went home. She showed me a Lithuanian shop that I was happy to note had quite a few Russian items that I missed. Then we went to Covent Gardens and saw the giant Christmas tree they were putting up there and had some mulled wine and mince pies (the epitome of traditional English Christmas food.) We managed to get all the items Mary was needing, including a second carry-on bag for all the things she had bought and all this in a massive downpour. Let me tell you how not fun it is to try and walk around and shop in a torrential rainstorm. I have yet to buy an umbrella here (since I couldn't take the one given to me by the International Office at DU as it was too big to fit in the suitcase and too weapon-like to take on the plane.) We then went back to my place and watched Hitchcock's Rear Window and had Indian take away. We then went to bed thoroughly satisfied with the day and rearing to start again on the morrow.
Sunday, Mary joined me during my Russian language sessions (I've been taking private lessons with a cool guy named Igor from Kaliningrad.) After that we walked around St. Paul's Cathedral, got a bit lost, found our way back and then met up with my flatmate and saw The Incredibles. It was the first Pixar film I've seen, I think, and I quite enjoyed it. After that we said goodbye to Mary and Alastair and I headed home. Then it was back to the working week for he and I and the end of another blog for now.
P.S. For those of you whom I didn't get a chance to email, you can check out all the pictures I've taken so far by going to ofoto.com, you may have to join up as a member (entirely free) to view and/or purchase pictures. If that doesn't work let me know and I'll send you the ofoto invite to view my albums. Happy viewing!
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
Wales at last!
We left off on the night before the trip to Wales. Now imagine if you will yet another early wet English morning heading to the tube at which we will meet our coaches. At least this time I was not heading there alone. Thank goodness for that fact. I actually managed to make it to the meeting place on time, thanks to the added company. In fact we arrived a little early. So we went to find snacks and the ever-needed coffee fix. We did get the snacks, though no sign of caffeine was to be found at 7:45am in this part of town on a Saturday. We boarded the bus, found nice seats near the rear and met up with another fellow Bunacer, an Australian named Scott who is quite a chatty fellow! (No.. seriously he's chatty. He'd drive even the infamous "Chatty Kathy" to beyond the brink.) A very nice guy to be sure, just chatty. Finally, almost on time this week, we revved the engines and set off. Well we didn't rev them, the drive rather calmly pulled out and set us on our way through the north of London, on through to Oxford where we were to pick up a few more people before we headed out Cheapstowe Castle, the oldest stone castle in the UK.
It is an amazing example of architecture that stands the test of time. Mary and I were in awe as we made our way around all over the grounds, starting with the latest buildings and working back to the oldest portion, the great hall (built circe 1067, a year after William the Conqueror was crowned King). We then went and had lunch and boarded the bus to go on to the Wye Valley and the Forest of Dean. Coming to the ruins of an abbey claimed to be one of the most incredible ruins in the country, Tintem Abbey. Apparently I was in agreement with this statement as I took several, many, dozens of pictures from every angle conceivable of this abbey (seen now on Ofoto.com ;). We were told that this place served as inspiration for many artists and writers including Turner (famous English landscape painter) and Wordsworth (Romantic poet). I could definitely see why. It was breathtaking the way the light landed on the hills around the Abbey and cast shadow among the ruins. Mary and I walked around talking about how much the place reminded us of Colorado (she's a big fan of Colorado, and has visited there several times). Finally after contented ourselves with the beauty of the valley and discussing possibilities of settling down and raising families in a place like this (obviously first, we'd both need to find husbands but minor detail really), we made our way back to the group to head off to Hay-on-Wye, my new favorite Welsh town.
You may wonder why a small Welsh town called Hey-on-Wye is my favorite place so far in all of Great Britain. Needless to say the name itself is quite a draw, and fun to say. But the real reason for my adoration of such a place is the fact that there are 39 (you heard it 39) second-hand bookstores all in about a two mile strip. Unfortunately due to our late leaving and other delaying events throughout the day, we only reached this great little town at about 5:00pm. Just about the time everyone was closing up shop. Therefore, we weren’t able to explore around as much as we would’ve liked but I hope to get back there another day so I can go in to every store. But for the time being we Mary, Scott the Aussie and I, ran into the few shops that were still open and searched for second hard British versions of Harry Potter. Then we had to leave this quaint town for the hostel. After getting lost in the dark, we managed to find our hostel for the night. A nice big manor house called Baskerville Hall. Apparently it was once the set of a film version of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s famous novel. It was a lovely place though the food service was quite a bit slow. They did have a pool, sauna, club, restaurant and bar (separate). The club services a lot of Welsh towns nearby, so there were some good times to be had hanging out with the locals. (Sidenote: The English are not great fans of the Welsh and I was warned off by my flatmate that they are basically the British version of rednecks known here as, pardon my British, “sheep-shaggers”.) Needless to say I didn’t enjoy the clubbing times as I was exhausted and went to bed early, which amazingly quite a few other people did too. The one seeming draw-back of the hostel was that for a 16-bed dorm filled with girls, they had one shower. Luckily it worked out better than I imagined. Only about half of us decided to even shower at all considering the next day would be spent on horses which would make us stinky again anyways. And those few who did shower used the one available in our room and another that was just outside the dorm room, down the hall a bit. After a night spent in relative warmth and comfort we awoke the next morning, hopped on the bus again for the drive to Breacon Beacons where the little ponies awaited us.
Now, remember from a while back I mentioned buying boots especially for this trip. Remember that the boots weren’t exactly hiking boots, but had a more stiletto like heel to them? Well here’s where they come into play. For those of us who didn’t have the proper footwear and weren’t able to procure it before we left our leader, Karen, was kind enough to purchase multiple sets of Wellington boots so that everyone could ride in safety. Assuming my boots fit the bill I told her I didn’t need any “Wellies”. Arriving at the riding ground, we all started to put on our boots. Karen noticed my boots and was very distraught – of course these couldn’t be used to ride the horses! I had to either find real boots with proper heels now or not ride. My heart sank… and my embarrassment soared! I was the jerk holding everyone else up because of my stupid, fashionable, pointy-toed, high-heeled, suede boots. Luckily another girl who had Wellingtons that were my size was kind enough to switch with me and wear her normal shoes. So finally things were settled, though I still couldn’t look any of my companions in the eyes for much of the journey home. After suiting up, including boots, helmet and breast plate, we had a bit of a training session on how to ride the horses, English style, then took them out for about a 2 hour run of it. Then we went to lunch at a local pub with good atmosphere and good food. The most fun of that was watching everyone attempt to sit down. We then ventured back for another 45 minute ride on another trial.
Having said that let me now say that it was the most gorgeous, awe-inspiring part of my stay here altogether. Unfortunately I have no pictures to back my claim that this was some of the more stunning countryside, as we weren’t allowed to bring anything but ourselves on the ride. But imagine if you will, rolling hills of green with trees just turning to yellow and orange. Sheep were everywhere – hence the not so polite epithet. Over the hills we went, under the trees, crossing a little waterfall – no, not to grandmother’s house we go – through the picturesque Welsh country. It is beyond my sad attempts to describe how beautiful the scene was. It simply filled me with awe and contentment.
After our horse-riding, we all got back on the bus and headed for London. We finished watching the rest of Matrix 2 and 3 (which I rather enjoyed to my surprise) on the way back. Returning once again to ISH (Int’l Student House) everyone scattered to the winds trying to get back to their respective homes. Let’s just say though the beauty and wonder of Wales will stay with me for a long time, it took a good three days before I could move and sit normally again. So there is the tale of Wales.
Next to come: Borough Market shopping spree, Mary leaves, Thanksgiving abroad and LOTR all the way!
It is an amazing example of architecture that stands the test of time. Mary and I were in awe as we made our way around all over the grounds, starting with the latest buildings and working back to the oldest portion, the great hall (built circe 1067, a year after William the Conqueror was crowned King). We then went and had lunch and boarded the bus to go on to the Wye Valley and the Forest of Dean. Coming to the ruins of an abbey claimed to be one of the most incredible ruins in the country, Tintem Abbey. Apparently I was in agreement with this statement as I took several, many, dozens of pictures from every angle conceivable of this abbey (seen now on Ofoto.com ;). We were told that this place served as inspiration for many artists and writers including Turner (famous English landscape painter) and Wordsworth (Romantic poet). I could definitely see why. It was breathtaking the way the light landed on the hills around the Abbey and cast shadow among the ruins. Mary and I walked around talking about how much the place reminded us of Colorado (she's a big fan of Colorado, and has visited there several times). Finally after contented ourselves with the beauty of the valley and discussing possibilities of settling down and raising families in a place like this (obviously first, we'd both need to find husbands but minor detail really), we made our way back to the group to head off to Hay-on-Wye, my new favorite Welsh town.
You may wonder why a small Welsh town called Hey-on-Wye is my favorite place so far in all of Great Britain. Needless to say the name itself is quite a draw, and fun to say. But the real reason for my adoration of such a place is the fact that there are 39 (you heard it 39) second-hand bookstores all in about a two mile strip. Unfortunately due to our late leaving and other delaying events throughout the day, we only reached this great little town at about 5:00pm. Just about the time everyone was closing up shop. Therefore, we weren’t able to explore around as much as we would’ve liked but I hope to get back there another day so I can go in to every store. But for the time being we Mary, Scott the Aussie and I, ran into the few shops that were still open and searched for second hard British versions of Harry Potter. Then we had to leave this quaint town for the hostel. After getting lost in the dark, we managed to find our hostel for the night. A nice big manor house called Baskerville Hall. Apparently it was once the set of a film version of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s famous novel. It was a lovely place though the food service was quite a bit slow. They did have a pool, sauna, club, restaurant and bar (separate). The club services a lot of Welsh towns nearby, so there were some good times to be had hanging out with the locals. (Sidenote: The English are not great fans of the Welsh and I was warned off by my flatmate that they are basically the British version of rednecks known here as, pardon my British, “sheep-shaggers”.) Needless to say I didn’t enjoy the clubbing times as I was exhausted and went to bed early, which amazingly quite a few other people did too. The one seeming draw-back of the hostel was that for a 16-bed dorm filled with girls, they had one shower. Luckily it worked out better than I imagined. Only about half of us decided to even shower at all considering the next day would be spent on horses which would make us stinky again anyways. And those few who did shower used the one available in our room and another that was just outside the dorm room, down the hall a bit. After a night spent in relative warmth and comfort we awoke the next morning, hopped on the bus again for the drive to Breacon Beacons where the little ponies awaited us.
Now, remember from a while back I mentioned buying boots especially for this trip. Remember that the boots weren’t exactly hiking boots, but had a more stiletto like heel to them? Well here’s where they come into play. For those of us who didn’t have the proper footwear and weren’t able to procure it before we left our leader, Karen, was kind enough to purchase multiple sets of Wellington boots so that everyone could ride in safety. Assuming my boots fit the bill I told her I didn’t need any “Wellies”. Arriving at the riding ground, we all started to put on our boots. Karen noticed my boots and was very distraught – of course these couldn’t be used to ride the horses! I had to either find real boots with proper heels now or not ride. My heart sank… and my embarrassment soared! I was the jerk holding everyone else up because of my stupid, fashionable, pointy-toed, high-heeled, suede boots. Luckily another girl who had Wellingtons that were my size was kind enough to switch with me and wear her normal shoes. So finally things were settled, though I still couldn’t look any of my companions in the eyes for much of the journey home. After suiting up, including boots, helmet and breast plate, we had a bit of a training session on how to ride the horses, English style, then took them out for about a 2 hour run of it. Then we went to lunch at a local pub with good atmosphere and good food. The most fun of that was watching everyone attempt to sit down. We then ventured back for another 45 minute ride on another trial.
Having said that let me now say that it was the most gorgeous, awe-inspiring part of my stay here altogether. Unfortunately I have no pictures to back my claim that this was some of the more stunning countryside, as we weren’t allowed to bring anything but ourselves on the ride. But imagine if you will, rolling hills of green with trees just turning to yellow and orange. Sheep were everywhere – hence the not so polite epithet. Over the hills we went, under the trees, crossing a little waterfall – no, not to grandmother’s house we go – through the picturesque Welsh country. It is beyond my sad attempts to describe how beautiful the scene was. It simply filled me with awe and contentment.
After our horse-riding, we all got back on the bus and headed for London. We finished watching the rest of Matrix 2 and 3 (which I rather enjoyed to my surprise) on the way back. Returning once again to ISH (Int’l Student House) everyone scattered to the winds trying to get back to their respective homes. Let’s just say though the beauty and wonder of Wales will stay with me for a long time, it took a good three days before I could move and sit normally again. So there is the tale of Wales.
Next to come: Borough Market shopping spree, Mary leaves, Thanksgiving abroad and LOTR all the way!
Friday, November 19, 2004
Bonfire night
Moving right along, the Thursday before we went to Wales I had to go buy a new coat, one that would actually protect me form the Welsh country cold. So I went to one of the little shops down the street from my flat. I walked into one that I'd been in before, just to look around and I ended up getting a coat, a sweater and a pair of boots. I love the new coat and sweater, the boots will be important to the Wales trip story later. The boots are a nice pair of brown suede knee-high stiletto heels. Earlier I received a message from Bunac saying that everyone needed a pair of heeled shoes so that they can ride the horses. So having prepared myself in the shopping department I went on to the last day of the work week and the British version of Halloween, November 5th. Known as Bonfire Night or Guy Fawkes night or the Gun Powder Plot night. Basically a celebration of when Guy Fawkes tried to blow up the Parliament with gun powder. Obviously he didn't succeed, he was actually rated out by a co-conspirator and later killed for treason. Now however they mark the anniversary of the day by setting off fireworks all over the country and set up bon fires (though I didn't see any of those in my adventures around southern London).
My friend Mary (from York and Stonehenge) and I decided to try and find some fireworks display way down south of the river, close to where she lives. So we met up there, the tube was an absolute mess! By the time we met up, we had missed the fireworks altogether. So we walked all up and down the football pitch and ate chips, candy floss and a toffee apple*. Then we walked all over Clapham Common, the area of London we were in, looking for a tube station for about a half hour before asking some rare 'locals' where we could find said transportation only to discover that the few tube stations around were all in three different directions, each about a 20 minutes walk away. We finally decided to return back to the one we had met at. Basically we had walked for over an hour for no particular reason, but we did have a nice chat, some exercise and visited a part of London neither of us had seen. She came to stay over at my house since we had to get up early to meet everyone at the tube station before heading off to Wales.
That's all I can muster for one night, it's been a long hellish week and I have to met Mary early tomorrow morning for a bit of a shopping spree. So I'll end with an English language session and then sign off for the night.
*English lesson:
British - American
football - soccer
candy floss - cotton candy
toffee apple - caramel apple
chip - fries
crisps - chips
My friend Mary (from York and Stonehenge) and I decided to try and find some fireworks display way down south of the river, close to where she lives. So we met up there, the tube was an absolute mess! By the time we met up, we had missed the fireworks altogether. So we walked all up and down the football pitch and ate chips, candy floss and a toffee apple*. Then we walked all over Clapham Common, the area of London we were in, looking for a tube station for about a half hour before asking some rare 'locals' where we could find said transportation only to discover that the few tube stations around were all in three different directions, each about a 20 minutes walk away. We finally decided to return back to the one we had met at. Basically we had walked for over an hour for no particular reason, but we did have a nice chat, some exercise and visited a part of London neither of us had seen. She came to stay over at my house since we had to get up early to meet everyone at the tube station before heading off to Wales.
That's all I can muster for one night, it's been a long hellish week and I have to met Mary early tomorrow morning for a bit of a shopping spree. So I'll end with an English language session and then sign off for the night.
*English lesson:
British - American
football - soccer
candy floss - cotton candy
toffee apple - caramel apple
chip - fries
crisps - chips
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
The British Museum
I apologize in advance for the blandness of this blog... it's been a long, busy day and I'm barely able to cook my sad little dinner let alone attempt to think of witty things to say about Britain. But let us try anyway... catching up on things, we left off with the trip to Stonehenge and Bath. After that, I worked the whole week, nothing spectacular happened during that time. Then the weekend came and I spent Saturday putzing around and meet up with my friend, Mary (from the Stonehenge picture) on Sunday and went to the British Museum then we went to the London Film Festival and saw a Slovenian film, beneath Her Window. It was quite a treat and a great film. The day after that I went to see a Palestinian film, Thirst, which was also quite cool. That basically catches us up until last weekend during which I went to Wales (which will be another post yet to come).
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
Thursday, November 04, 2004
Would you like a little Bath with your showers?
Flash forward a week. . . . . . ok, ok, if you really want to know what's happening here I'll tell you all. I worked. That about sums it up. I worked everyday, got home and had no energy to blog or anything even mildly strenuous. There, Now flash forward a week. . .
Picture it: A lovely English morning, with just a bit of dew left over from the previous night. The sun is shining upon the birds, singing their morning song perched on the tree branches just outside my window. A beautiful day to relax, to take your time and enjoy the unfolding of the day. Is that what I do, you ask? Yes, and No. I do take my time, until I realize that I will be late for the bus going to Stonehenge. So then I kick it into high gear, run to the tube, and just make it to ISH in time to hope the bus and head out of London. We leave fifteen minutes late thanks to people like me. One hundred young people on three coaches… needless to say it took time to get everyone collected and organized. We finally take off, spend three hours on the bus to arrive at Stonehenge in a veritable downpour. It seems as though one cannot see Stonehenge, unless they see it through a sheet of rain. (For verification of this see next picture post.) We then load the buses again and drive bit more before we reach Bath, where the rain seems to have increased in ferocity. I walk around Bath with a new friend made during the previous Bunac trip to York. We have lunch in a pub that Charles Dickens stayed in while he was writing the Pickwick Papers. We then attempt to visit Bath Abbey and the Roman Baths. Being as rainy and cold as it was we managed to get through the Abbey, but we decided to skip the Baths, due to lack of funds, time and warmth and suffice ourselves with pictures of the outside. Having already seen the Baths myself, I was not terribly disappointed. So once again we load up and head out back to London. My bus was unfortunate enough to get stuck in a massive traffic jam, caused by a double decker bus that broke down. I didn't arrive home until well past 10pm, I went to sleep as soon as I could since I had to work early in the morning. It was a fun filled day of rain and sightseeing, more so of the former. However despite the weather I had a wonderful time.
Picture it: A lovely English morning, with just a bit of dew left over from the previous night. The sun is shining upon the birds, singing their morning song perched on the tree branches just outside my window. A beautiful day to relax, to take your time and enjoy the unfolding of the day. Is that what I do, you ask? Yes, and No. I do take my time, until I realize that I will be late for the bus going to Stonehenge. So then I kick it into high gear, run to the tube, and just make it to ISH in time to hope the bus and head out of London. We leave fifteen minutes late thanks to people like me. One hundred young people on three coaches… needless to say it took time to get everyone collected and organized. We finally take off, spend three hours on the bus to arrive at Stonehenge in a veritable downpour. It seems as though one cannot see Stonehenge, unless they see it through a sheet of rain. (For verification of this see next picture post.) We then load the buses again and drive bit more before we reach Bath, where the rain seems to have increased in ferocity. I walk around Bath with a new friend made during the previous Bunac trip to York. We have lunch in a pub that Charles Dickens stayed in while he was writing the Pickwick Papers. We then attempt to visit Bath Abbey and the Roman Baths. Being as rainy and cold as it was we managed to get through the Abbey, but we decided to skip the Baths, due to lack of funds, time and warmth and suffice ourselves with pictures of the outside. Having already seen the Baths myself, I was not terribly disappointed. So once again we load up and head out back to London. My bus was unfortunate enough to get stuck in a massive traffic jam, caused by a double decker bus that broke down. I didn't arrive home until well past 10pm, I went to sleep as soon as I could since I had to work early in the morning. It was a fun filled day of rain and sightseeing, more so of the former. However despite the weather I had a wonderful time.
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
Mary Queen of Scots
The tour took us to a well, where a young girl is said to have met her fate and continues to lurk around looking for her mother. Then we went to the requisite dungeon and were told tales of bones left to rot on the shackles attached to walls. Lastly, we were taken to the very bedroom where my friends and I were to sleep for the night and there we learned that not only had Mary Queen of Scots stayed there while she was exiled in England, but that the last servant of the house had in fact killed himself there. Immediately after hearing this, everyone bid us goodnight and the six crazies got into our sleeping bags and tried to go get some peaceful sleep. For the most part we did. Only one of our party actually thought she saw a ghost in the night. I was so tired and cold that even if I had seen one, I probably would’ve yelled at it that I was sleeping and gone back to my dreams. In the morning we had a nice breakfast, courtesy of our Lord and Lady and then we packed our bags, returned the sleeping bags and air mattresses and headed off for Robin Hood’s home, Sherwood Forest.
Another few hours ride later and we arrive in the forest of the famed hero… only, it’s not really a forest nowadays. It is more so a large swath of open space. In fact the word “forest” literally means only “King’s hunting land” and it is only through the eventual evolution of language that we now associate the word with the current day idea of tree-lined areas. There we have an archery contest. Six rounds of three arrows each. I managed somehow to win the first place, having shot 116 out of 180, where the average score was about 70 points. I really enjoy archery, I believe I might find a club here and continue to improve upon whatever skills I might possess in that sport. Finally we leave Sherwood and head back into London, concluding the weekend. Returning back into the city we are dropped off at the International Student House (ISH) and I get onto my tube line and go home. Thus ends the journey to York. And my blog for the night. Stay tuned for next time when our heroine (me, in case you were confused) goes off in search of adventure to the Roman city of Bath and the ancient mysterious site of Stonehenge.
Another few hours ride later and we arrive in the forest of the famed hero… only, it’s not really a forest nowadays. It is more so a large swath of open space. In fact the word “forest” literally means only “King’s hunting land” and it is only through the eventual evolution of language that we now associate the word with the current day idea of tree-lined areas. There we have an archery contest. Six rounds of three arrows each. I managed somehow to win the first place, having shot 116 out of 180, where the average score was about 70 points. I really enjoy archery, I believe I might find a club here and continue to improve upon whatever skills I might possess in that sport. Finally we leave Sherwood and head back into London, concluding the weekend. Returning back into the city we are dropped off at the International Student House (ISH) and I get onto my tube line and go home. Thus ends the journey to York. And my blog for the night. Stay tuned for next time when our heroine (me, in case you were confused) goes off in search of adventure to the Roman city of Bath and the ancient mysterious site of Stonehenge.
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
York, Bath and Beyond
It's been quite a while since my last blog. I apologize profusely for that. I could say that I was busy, but that wouldn't be entirely true. I was in part busy, with work, traveling, etc., but I also had many a time when I could've sat down on my comfortable couch and written about the past few weeks. Now I intend to make up for the recent communication blackout. . .
. . .we begin on a fine fall evening, a little overcast, promising rain, however holding at the moment the right balance between breeze, moisture and cloud. I leave work, heading towards the meeting place - the International Youth Hostel. We meet there and just as we (the 30 or so Bunacers on the tour) are loading up the vans to embark, the rain comes. A nice ride (as far as group van rides go) for four hours finally brings us to our destination - the ancient city of York. We check in to our hostel. A backpacker friendly, clean, and well situated place. My five Bunac friends (Richard, Ryan, Whitney, Autumn and Camille) go downstairs to the in house pub for a drink or two and after wandering the streets of York a little, scavenging for food, we all go to sleep. Bright and early the next morning, well early at least, we get up, dressed and ready to head out to take a walking tour of the city. We walk along the ancient city walls, first built by the Romans as part of their northern outpost, then maintained by the Victorians as a piece of national history. Along the way we see an Abbey, or ruins of it; an ancient Roman tower; the Minster (cathedral); medieval housing; modern shopping centres (Starbucks included) and an early British tower. The afternoon is spent walking around the old city and in book shopping. (I bought James Joyce's Dubliners for only 99 pence!)
Another two hour bus ride later we find ourselves in Wensedale Vale, a valley known for fantastic cheese and superb waterfalls. We go to the creamery and sample a few choice cheeses before heading off to the waterfalls featured in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (where Kevin Costner's character fought Little John and later bathed naked). Two of my friends, Whitney and Autumn, take the tour guide's bait and dive into the little pool at the bottom of the falls (video recording included). We then warm up a bit in the nearby pub/hotel and pile back into the vans. Finally we arrive at Bolton Castle. A half-ruined 13th century castle, turned tourist trap by the current Lord Bolton (not related to Micheal, as far as I know) who spends his weekends cooking up meals and ghost stories for young American tourists. We are escorted into a hall and told to don the "medieval clothing" provided for the banquet. (See previous picture post of us looking silly.) We are then shown into the lesser great hall, the larger hall having been destroyed over the years and various wars, where a feast of sorts awaits the famished travelers. There is wine and beer in jugs and the requisite bottled water. Two kinds of soup, stew and rice-based; a few different kinds of meat including chicken and roast beef; bread; cheese and wonderful apple pie.
After the dinner, we have an medieval scavenger hunt around the ruined castle. My team comes in 3rd and have a wonderful time running around the castle with only one lantern for five people. To top off the games portion of the evening we go out to the garden maze, where one person from each team is placed in the center, then another team member is supposed to work their way to the center and lead them both out of the maze. The best part about the maze game is that the member placed in the center has a pitcher of beer, and once both members make it safely out of the maze, the entire team has to chug the pitcher and the team who manages this feat first (not a terrible challenge among college students) wins the game. After this the six of us (my five friends and I) decide that rather than staying in the lesser hall with the rest of the group, we would go to the upper floor and stay in the one remaining bedroom. After setting up our air mattresses, sleeping bags, etc., we six go back to the main room and head out on a ghost tour of the castle.
. . .we begin on a fine fall evening, a little overcast, promising rain, however holding at the moment the right balance between breeze, moisture and cloud. I leave work, heading towards the meeting place - the International Youth Hostel. We meet there and just as we (the 30 or so Bunacers on the tour) are loading up the vans to embark, the rain comes. A nice ride (as far as group van rides go) for four hours finally brings us to our destination - the ancient city of York. We check in to our hostel. A backpacker friendly, clean, and well situated place. My five Bunac friends (Richard, Ryan, Whitney, Autumn and Camille) go downstairs to the in house pub for a drink or two and after wandering the streets of York a little, scavenging for food, we all go to sleep. Bright and early the next morning, well early at least, we get up, dressed and ready to head out to take a walking tour of the city. We walk along the ancient city walls, first built by the Romans as part of their northern outpost, then maintained by the Victorians as a piece of national history. Along the way we see an Abbey, or ruins of it; an ancient Roman tower; the Minster (cathedral); medieval housing; modern shopping centres (Starbucks included) and an early British tower. The afternoon is spent walking around the old city and in book shopping. (I bought James Joyce's Dubliners for only 99 pence!)
Another two hour bus ride later we find ourselves in Wensedale Vale, a valley known for fantastic cheese and superb waterfalls. We go to the creamery and sample a few choice cheeses before heading off to the waterfalls featured in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (where Kevin Costner's character fought Little John and later bathed naked). Two of my friends, Whitney and Autumn, take the tour guide's bait and dive into the little pool at the bottom of the falls (video recording included). We then warm up a bit in the nearby pub/hotel and pile back into the vans. Finally we arrive at Bolton Castle. A half-ruined 13th century castle, turned tourist trap by the current Lord Bolton (not related to Micheal, as far as I know) who spends his weekends cooking up meals and ghost stories for young American tourists. We are escorted into a hall and told to don the "medieval clothing" provided for the banquet. (See previous picture post of us looking silly.) We are then shown into the lesser great hall, the larger hall having been destroyed over the years and various wars, where a feast of sorts awaits the famished travelers. There is wine and beer in jugs and the requisite bottled water. Two kinds of soup, stew and rice-based; a few different kinds of meat including chicken and roast beef; bread; cheese and wonderful apple pie.
After the dinner, we have an medieval scavenger hunt around the ruined castle. My team comes in 3rd and have a wonderful time running around the castle with only one lantern for five people. To top off the games portion of the evening we go out to the garden maze, where one person from each team is placed in the center, then another team member is supposed to work their way to the center and lead them both out of the maze. The best part about the maze game is that the member placed in the center has a pitcher of beer, and once both members make it safely out of the maze, the entire team has to chug the pitcher and the team who manages this feat first (not a terrible challenge among college students) wins the game. After this the six of us (my five friends and I) decide that rather than staying in the lesser hall with the rest of the group, we would go to the upper floor and stay in the one remaining bedroom. After setting up our air mattresses, sleeping bags, etc., we six go back to the main room and head out on a ghost tour of the castle.
-- As it is now almost midnight in London and the polls are just beginning to be called in the US, I’m afraid I must close for the night. I’m sure more of you will be far more interested in the election than my trip to York, as in truth so am I. So good night, good luck to all parties, though I will be praying that Kerry wins. More on castles and ghosts later. . .
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