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.
Monday, April 25, 2005
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.
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