So, you see, I was up on the side of a hill for a week or so. Hills don't always have internet. And right now I'm drinking cider so I'll forget I'm leaving in the morning, which is impairing my typing a wee bit. So, uh, posting. There'll be some of that someday, depending on whether I can find internet cafes or get my computer fixed. I've been in Dublin, and Dublin is nice, and also in Donegal, which is so amazing and I'm not sure I'd be able to say so I guess it's just as well I have time to work on that. If you pop back every once in a while, that'd be cool. If you don't, well, you probably know me well enough to know that was going to happen.
Short version, in no particular order:
- I developed a love of cider
- I watched some Scrubs
- I got eaten by midges
- I found the most beautiful beach in the world
- I went to Mass
- I found prices for yer ma
Monday, June 2, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
(Originally written, uh, a week or so ago.)
I spent another day or two in Edinburgh - I don't quite remember when the last day I wrote anything was. I got myself to visit the University, although I didn't learn much save that campus is pretty grungy. I guess admissions isn't quite the art here that it is back home - every time I asked a question people would stare at me like they weren't quite sure what I was doing there at all. (Which certainly doesn't bode well for my getting a job ever. Only admissions offices ever hire me for anything.) Quite disheartening. I guess I'll apply anyway once things open up but...
Saturday I went walking - did not actually go up top Arthur's Seat, as at every turn the route going away from it looked more interesting. Saw it, though. Was gorsey. Went to the national museum something something Scotland whatever afters, and in theory learned something about Scotland. This is only somewhat true. Saw some poor decapitated kid's jawbones, though, and that's always good for a lark.
(Flashforward - I wish this bus would give some indication of whether or not it ever plans to go anywhere.)
Sunday I split for Fort William, or at least that was the theory. I'd heard the train was lovely, so when I found the ticket was only ten pounds more than the bus - not to mention easier to get - I went for it. Surely the train would be faster, right? Yeaaaaah. Turns out that on Sundays, there are still trains every half-hour to Glasgow, but there is only one to Fort Willy. And it doesn't leave 'til six. Since I was clever enough to get to Glasgow around half eleven in the morning, this left me with not much to do save worry, as I wasn't scheduled to get into An Gearasdan until half ten at night then and it was not clear if I'd be able to get into the hostel yadda yadda I am my father's daughter, paranoia and all. After an hour or so of searching, did find an internet cafe. Since a day pass costs less than two hours would've, I pretty much parked myself there the rest of the afternoon.
I did see some of Glasgow, though. It is much as you would expect. Everybody shaves their head and wears football colors all the time and would probably happily have beaten me up if I hadn't strategically been wearing gray. (Okay, they probably wouldn't have. But they did generally look like extras from a bar fight scene.) The bits I saw outside the people were a bit like London, really, only with more Greggs and discarded bottles of Irn-Bru littering the streets.
Anyway, I did get on the train and it was indeed beautiful. Water and mountains and villages you'd miss if you blinked had the train not stopped at every one of them. (A bit like upstate New York, actually, which I guess makes sense; they were probably close to eachother when Scotland was part of North America. Shut up, of course that makes sense, don't you go waving your actual geological facts at me now.) People would get on at one town and get off at the next; I imagine it's the easiest way to get around in some cases, especially as the Citylink takes a different route. And the rail screeches something fierce when it rounds a corner - except for once you get close to Fort William, where it starts to sound for all the world like a lone saxophonist warming up.
Nearly missed my stop, but thankfully everyone else was getting off there, too. (I had trouble believing it could be half ten already, and technically it was more like 10:15, because it was still so bright. Such is the norf, I suppose. [Is probably the nort' now, actually.]) Got to the hostel okay despite Google Maps being a compulsive liar.
(And that's enough for now. Fort William next time.)
I spent another day or two in Edinburgh - I don't quite remember when the last day I wrote anything was. I got myself to visit the University, although I didn't learn much save that campus is pretty grungy. I guess admissions isn't quite the art here that it is back home - every time I asked a question people would stare at me like they weren't quite sure what I was doing there at all. (Which certainly doesn't bode well for my getting a job ever. Only admissions offices ever hire me for anything.) Quite disheartening. I guess I'll apply anyway once things open up but...
Saturday I went walking - did not actually go up top Arthur's Seat, as at every turn the route going away from it looked more interesting. Saw it, though. Was gorsey. Went to the national museum something something Scotland whatever afters, and in theory learned something about Scotland. This is only somewhat true. Saw some poor decapitated kid's jawbones, though, and that's always good for a lark.
(Flashforward - I wish this bus would give some indication of whether or not it ever plans to go anywhere.)
Sunday I split for Fort William, or at least that was the theory. I'd heard the train was lovely, so when I found the ticket was only ten pounds more than the bus - not to mention easier to get - I went for it. Surely the train would be faster, right? Yeaaaaah. Turns out that on Sundays, there are still trains every half-hour to Glasgow, but there is only one to Fort Willy. And it doesn't leave 'til six. Since I was clever enough to get to Glasgow around half eleven in the morning, this left me with not much to do save worry, as I wasn't scheduled to get into An Gearasdan until half ten at night then and it was not clear if I'd be able to get into the hostel yadda yadda I am my father's daughter, paranoia and all. After an hour or so of searching, did find an internet cafe. Since a day pass costs less than two hours would've, I pretty much parked myself there the rest of the afternoon.
I did see some of Glasgow, though. It is much as you would expect. Everybody shaves their head and wears football colors all the time and would probably happily have beaten me up if I hadn't strategically been wearing gray. (Okay, they probably wouldn't have. But they did generally look like extras from a bar fight scene.) The bits I saw outside the people were a bit like London, really, only with more Greggs and discarded bottles of Irn-Bru littering the streets.
Anyway, I did get on the train and it was indeed beautiful. Water and mountains and villages you'd miss if you blinked had the train not stopped at every one of them. (A bit like upstate New York, actually, which I guess makes sense; they were probably close to eachother when Scotland was part of North America. Shut up, of course that makes sense, don't you go waving your actual geological facts at me now.) People would get on at one town and get off at the next; I imagine it's the easiest way to get around in some cases, especially as the Citylink takes a different route. And the rail screeches something fierce when it rounds a corner - except for once you get close to Fort William, where it starts to sound for all the world like a lone saxophonist warming up.
Nearly missed my stop, but thankfully everyone else was getting off there, too. (I had trouble believing it could be half ten already, and technically it was more like 10:15, because it was still so bright. Such is the norf, I suppose. [Is probably the nort' now, actually.]) Got to the hostel okay despite Google Maps being a compulsive liar.
(And that's enough for now. Fort William next time.)
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Okay, so, long story short, I'm in Dublin with many, many handwritten pages of journal. And since I'm currently keeping Liam's laptop away from him, I'll try to start entering them (and hopefully breaking them down into remotely readable chunks). There are some pictures, though! Which, uh, I should probably go caption and edit, once I remember what all these things are.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Friday, May 9, 2008
Okay, yeah, I've been pretty fail at writing in this.
This journeying abroad thing has become some weird balance of mundane and paralyzing, with the end result that there really isn't anything much to talk about. But yeah, day ... where are we, nine? Ten? I don't really know. Second day of Edinburgh.
Cities seem to make me shy, even shyer than usual, which is why I'm headed to Fort William soon. Edinburgh was a little less gorgeous once I got some sleep and came down off the Irn-Bru (I'm still going to have to take some of that with me, though; caffeinated stuff usually makes me feel like shit, but that was pretty fun), but it's still a fascinating place. Being on the Royal Mile can be pretty lame, as being surrounded by tourists being touristy makes me feel vaguely guilty by association. Don't get me started on the Americans in the hostel. And two-thirds of the shops are just selling the same lame souvenirs. (Although, God help me, it is very hard not to buy a cashmere scarf. I would never use a cashmere scarf in Cali. I do not care. It is so soft. So soft.)
Mainly what I did this day was bum around. Wandered around Princes St. and the gardens thereof. Ate a lot of pasties, too. I think I could happily live the rest of my life on pasties. Failed to buy comics (curse you, Monday bank holiday!), but saw an exhibit at the National Library about them. Highlight: the video of Grant Morrison rambling sarcastically, played on infinite loop. If you have to pick a Scot to talk about comics, he is definitely the right choice. In fact, if you have to pick someone to talk about anything, I would pick Grant Morrison, honestly. Also went to the National Galleries because they were there. Not the kind of thing I do normally, but I did see some interesting things, by which I mean John Duncan.
Chips for dinner (with probable chipper-made ketchup - much better than the chips, honestly), decided to forgo the hostel pub crawl. Stayed up late all the same. As you do.
This journeying abroad thing has become some weird balance of mundane and paralyzing, with the end result that there really isn't anything much to talk about. But yeah, day ... where are we, nine? Ten? I don't really know. Second day of Edinburgh.
Cities seem to make me shy, even shyer than usual, which is why I'm headed to Fort William soon. Edinburgh was a little less gorgeous once I got some sleep and came down off the Irn-Bru (I'm still going to have to take some of that with me, though; caffeinated stuff usually makes me feel like shit, but that was pretty fun), but it's still a fascinating place. Being on the Royal Mile can be pretty lame, as being surrounded by tourists being touristy makes me feel vaguely guilty by association. Don't get me started on the Americans in the hostel. And two-thirds of the shops are just selling the same lame souvenirs. (Although, God help me, it is very hard not to buy a cashmere scarf. I would never use a cashmere scarf in Cali. I do not care. It is so soft. So soft.)
Mainly what I did this day was bum around. Wandered around Princes St. and the gardens thereof. Ate a lot of pasties, too. I think I could happily live the rest of my life on pasties. Failed to buy comics (curse you, Monday bank holiday!), but saw an exhibit at the National Library about them. Highlight: the video of Grant Morrison rambling sarcastically, played on infinite loop. If you have to pick a Scot to talk about comics, he is definitely the right choice. In fact, if you have to pick someone to talk about anything, I would pick Grant Morrison, honestly. Also went to the National Galleries because they were there. Not the kind of thing I do normally, but I did see some interesting things, by which I mean John Duncan.
Chips for dinner (with probable chipper-made ketchup - much better than the chips, honestly), decided to forgo the hostel pub crawl. Stayed up late all the same. As you do.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Once upon a time, I had a boyfriend who told me he'd decided he was going to marry me the day he first saw me. (No, no, come back, this is all in service of an analogy. No worries.)
I, of course, thought he was full of crap. And, from the past tense of that sentence and the fact that I am yet unwed, I feel that time has borne me out on this one. But I think I know what he meant now, because yesterday I saw Edinburgh for the first time.
She is a beautiful city, dear readers. All at once young and vibrant, yet old and wise. She is multilayered and unmappable, but will always get you home eventually - and will show you new wonders every step of the way. (Plus the sun never sets on her, so it's okay if it takes a little while.) She will play games with you if you are in a car, but if you set your feet on her cobbles she will let you see her secrets.
(Okay, okay, I've only been wandering around the old town, I'm sure the new town is lame like all other cities, but holy crap, I don't care. The rest of the city could be Rockford and it would still be the most beautiful city I've ever been to.)
Anyway. New pictures. They don't really describe it, but it's a start.
I, of course, thought he was full of crap. And, from the past tense of that sentence and the fact that I am yet unwed, I feel that time has borne me out on this one. But I think I know what he meant now, because yesterday I saw Edinburgh for the first time.
She is a beautiful city, dear readers. All at once young and vibrant, yet old and wise. She is multilayered and unmappable, but will always get you home eventually - and will show you new wonders every step of the way. (Plus the sun never sets on her, so it's okay if it takes a little while.) She will play games with you if you are in a car, but if you set your feet on her cobbles she will let you see her secrets.
(Okay, okay, I've only been wandering around the old town, I'm sure the new town is lame like all other cities, but holy crap, I don't care. The rest of the city could be Rockford and it would still be the most beautiful city I've ever been to.)
Anyway. New pictures. They don't really describe it, but it's a start.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Well, that didn't go quite as I hoped.
Long story short, I missed the bus. There's something about London that kills my ability to find my way around, and so despite giving myself an hour and a half lead time I got to the coach station just in time to see a bus that was most likely mine pulling away. And so I'm not going to lie to you, I stomped around and cried a bit. There's no getting that money back, and there's no other coach until late at night and - well, things keep going wrong in London, and so being there was not at all making me happy.
So I left. I got a reasonably cheap train ticket, for a train ticket - it was less than a hundred pounds, which is still far over budget, but okay. I'll make up for it one way or another. And you know what? It's okay. I've been talking to the lady next to me, and there's wifi on the train (which is where I am right now, in fact - we just pulled through of Durham, I think - I only saw the sign in passing - and it is beautiful), and I'm going to get there earlier than I would have on the coach, and it's okay. It's just money. I have enough, and when I get home I will make some more. It's okay. I'm far from being in the red, which is more than nearly everybody I know my age can say; I must be doing something right.
Anyway, all that happened yesterday was I went to the science and natural history museums. They were pretty good, but all that walking made my feet hurt. And I miss aquariums all the more for seeing all those models. But the science museum has a pretty Exploratorum-esque section full of hands-on stuff. (Also nudity. Whee!) Not a bad use of a day.
Bonus: sammmiches. Tesco may be pretty crap, but they are crap with cheap sammiches. (Although the light egg and cress tastes like nothing at all. I have a cheese and onion here, I will report later.) Cheddar and Branston pickle was nice too. This is one thing the US could stand to introduce, if you ask me. And tonight, I learn about Irn-Bru!
Long story short, I missed the bus. There's something about London that kills my ability to find my way around, and so despite giving myself an hour and a half lead time I got to the coach station just in time to see a bus that was most likely mine pulling away. And so I'm not going to lie to you, I stomped around and cried a bit. There's no getting that money back, and there's no other coach until late at night and - well, things keep going wrong in London, and so being there was not at all making me happy.
So I left. I got a reasonably cheap train ticket, for a train ticket - it was less than a hundred pounds, which is still far over budget, but okay. I'll make up for it one way or another. And you know what? It's okay. I've been talking to the lady next to me, and there's wifi on the train (which is where I am right now, in fact - we just pulled through of Durham, I think - I only saw the sign in passing - and it is beautiful), and I'm going to get there earlier than I would have on the coach, and it's okay. It's just money. I have enough, and when I get home I will make some more. It's okay. I'm far from being in the red, which is more than nearly everybody I know my age can say; I must be doing something right.
Anyway, all that happened yesterday was I went to the science and natural history museums. They were pretty good, but all that walking made my feet hurt. And I miss aquariums all the more for seeing all those models. But the science museum has a pretty Exploratorum-esque section full of hands-on stuff. (Also nudity. Whee!) Not a bad use of a day.
Bonus: sammmiches. Tesco may be pretty crap, but they are crap with cheap sammiches. (Although the light egg and cress tastes like nothing at all. I have a cheese and onion here, I will report later.) Cheddar and Branston pickle was nice too. This is one thing the US could stand to introduce, if you ask me. And tonight, I learn about Irn-Bru!
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
I would tell you all about day eight, but I'm hopefully* going to be getting on a bus to Edinburgh in a few hours, and I'm going to need something to do on the bus, you know? Something like compose an entry.
* "Hopefully" because I'm supposed to have a ticket and I can't find a printer, so I'm probably just going to end up waving my laptop around open to the page and trying to look innocent.
* "Hopefully" because I'm supposed to have a ticket and I can't find a printer, so I'm probably just going to end up waving my laptop around open to the page and trying to look innocent.
Monday, May 5, 2008
A few more backdated entries below. There wasn't a lot of internet in Wales and I was too busy to use it where it was available. I'm not going to promise any of this is interesting, mind. I'll be uploading relevant pictures to http://s279.photobucket.com/albums/kk149/wanderfish/ too.
Day seven.
I can't believe it's been a whole week since I left America. It doesn't quite weird me out to hear American accents yet, I got through an episode of Wait Wait just fine, but hearing Texans the other day at the hostel was a little odd. My own accent is of course shot to hell. I still sound like an American, mainly out of word choice and a tendency for the T to persist, but my vowels are a bit longer and sort of indeterminately British. Maybe. I could never judge my own voice too well. Of course, my word choice is drifting into some vaguely Irish zone thanks to Liam, so after a while I imagine I will just sound like "somewhere not quite here" wherever I go. Luckily nobody has really made fun of me for being such a horrible mess; I've noticed that people only notice the things that differ from their own speech, so nobody says "why are you so British?", only "you are more American than I am used to, you must be from the States". (Except for the London girl who wouldn't believe I wasn't Irish, I guess.) I can't wait to find out where people in the States think I'm from, though.
My legs still hurt a lot from Snowdon and sitting, but I suppose I ought to do something today to make my peace with London. (Also I should probably find a place to stay tomorrow night. Moors? Somewhere north, I think I may as well make for Scotland but it's too far to go in one day.) First, though, I'm going to actually post some of this stuff.
Day seven.
I can't believe it's been a whole week since I left America. It doesn't quite weird me out to hear American accents yet, I got through an episode of Wait Wait just fine, but hearing Texans the other day at the hostel was a little odd. My own accent is of course shot to hell. I still sound like an American, mainly out of word choice and a tendency for the T to persist, but my vowels are a bit longer and sort of indeterminately British. Maybe. I could never judge my own voice too well. Of course, my word choice is drifting into some vaguely Irish zone thanks to Liam, so after a while I imagine I will just sound like "somewhere not quite here" wherever I go. Luckily nobody has really made fun of me for being such a horrible mess; I've noticed that people only notice the things that differ from their own speech, so nobody says "why are you so British?", only "you are more American than I am used to, you must be from the States". (Except for the London girl who wouldn't believe I wasn't Irish, I guess.) I can't wait to find out where people in the States think I'm from, though.
My legs still hurt a lot from Snowdon and sitting, but I suppose I ought to do something today to make my peace with London. (Also I should probably find a place to stay tomorrow night. Moors? Somewhere north, I think I may as well make for Scotland but it's too far to go in one day.) First, though, I'm going to actually post some of this stuff.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Day six.
Caught a coach to London, which takes about nine hours, so not much to say about this day. Fell asleep, so I didn't get to say goodbye to North Wales (although I saw enough to know I'm rather glad I went to Bangor instead of Conwy); I just woke up and suddenly everything was monolingual again. I kind of miss all the Welsh everywhere. Contrary to Ireland where signs are bilingual seemingly to impress the EU only, I heard many a first-language Welsh speaker. (Well ... at least I figured it was Welsh. Not like I can really tell, I suppose.) I didn't pick up very much, but ... I wonder if I could audit Welsh at Berkeley. I'm sure that would go about as well as trying to learn Irish did.
(Bonus fun fact: it is easier to get a veggie burger in Bangor than in Berkeley. I rather wish I had been hungry enough to try one, actually. The veggie sausages at the hostel were divine. And Welsh yogurt! Amazing! There's ice cream sold everywhere, too, which I also wish I had tried. Maybe I can go back through Wales before I return to Dublin, cost be damned.)
England is very very green and full of cows. This is the main thing I can say about the middle bits.
Got to London eventually. It is very large. The outside bits are nice with their old houses, but I can't say as I loved the bit around Victoria Station. Everything is so dirty and crowded and utterly confusing, and it didn't help that it was so cloudy I couldn't tell which way I was going. Mainly it made me want to hop back on a bus the other way, but I found the hostel eventually and maybe later I'll find more to like. There was cheap sketchy Indian food, at least; I suspect I will live out much of the rest of this vacation on cheap sketchy Indian food.
Got internet, showered, slept. Nothing to see here, move along.
Caught a coach to London, which takes about nine hours, so not much to say about this day. Fell asleep, so I didn't get to say goodbye to North Wales (although I saw enough to know I'm rather glad I went to Bangor instead of Conwy); I just woke up and suddenly everything was monolingual again. I kind of miss all the Welsh everywhere. Contrary to Ireland where signs are bilingual seemingly to impress the EU only, I heard many a first-language Welsh speaker. (Well ... at least I figured it was Welsh. Not like I can really tell, I suppose.) I didn't pick up very much, but ... I wonder if I could audit Welsh at Berkeley. I'm sure that would go about as well as trying to learn Irish did.
(Bonus fun fact: it is easier to get a veggie burger in Bangor than in Berkeley. I rather wish I had been hungry enough to try one, actually. The veggie sausages at the hostel were divine. And Welsh yogurt! Amazing! There's ice cream sold everywhere, too, which I also wish I had tried. Maybe I can go back through Wales before I return to Dublin, cost be damned.)
England is very very green and full of cows. This is the main thing I can say about the middle bits.
Got to London eventually. It is very large. The outside bits are nice with their old houses, but I can't say as I loved the bit around Victoria Station. Everything is so dirty and crowded and utterly confusing, and it didn't help that it was so cloudy I couldn't tell which way I was going. Mainly it made me want to hop back on a bus the other way, but I found the hostel eventually and maybe later I'll find more to like. There was cheap sketchy Indian food, at least; I suspect I will live out much of the rest of this vacation on cheap sketchy Indian food.
Got internet, showered, slept. Nothing to see here, move along.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Day five. Feels like forever.
Things to know about Wales:
- Wales isokay very pretty.
- Wales shuts down entirely by 5 PM.
- Wales is full of birds that get up at 4 AM and do not stop and they all sound like they are screaming.
Guess I'd best go do something, then.
* * *
Waaaaaales. It's so gorgeous. There are, in fact, sheep everywhere, but it becomes very soothing to see them. And it's so green, and there are little stone fences between the bits of green. I love it like I love Iowa, and I am well aware that few people share that love. But it adds sea and mountains to that, the two things I miss the most when I am there. Yes, I know, this is too early for me to shout my love from the hills; I only got to spend a day and a half here. Poor planning on my part, I suppose.
Now, the thing that the Isles have up on the places I've spent most of my life is the presence of mountains. (Technically there's Mt. Diablo, which I haven't even tried since I was a youngun [and knowing me I may have dreamed the whole thing anyway], but it's a pain to get to.) Therefore, I figured while I was near Snowdonia I might as well climb one. And the easiest one to get to, and the one with the most options, is the crown jewel, Snowdon, Yr Wyddfa herself. So I figured since I woke up at 4 determined to climb a mountain, I'd best go for that one. Turns out Snowdon is taller than anything else in Wales, England, or Ireland ... but that just makes it more interesting.
On the way to y cloc to catch a bus to Llanberis, where the safest path up starts ('cos I know I'm not prepared for any remotely treacherous climbs, not to mention it was the one with a direct bus) I stopped by the internet cafe to grab something for breakfast. I appear to have stopped really getting hungry ever since I got on that plane, but there's no sense in climbing a mountain on an empty stomach, so I grabbed a raspberry and meringue confabulation. Kids, if you are ever in Bangor for any reason, go to the Orient Expresso. 364 High Street. Tell the lady with the patchwork hair that the girl from California sent you, and get a sandwich while you're at it. Fantastic, and I had her fooled for a U of Wales student so I'm kind of fond of her for that.
Rode the bus to Llanberis down roads not built for more than one car at a time past sheep and grass and ruined stone cottages. There was a convoy of miscellaneous east Asian students being chaperoned by two Welsh farmkids, the girl with her perfect blond plaits explaining her love of God. (At least some of the kids were definitely Japanese, as they were speaking it, but I'm pretty sure I heard some languages I didn't recognize so we'll go with "east Asian". Somewhat unexpected for the middle of nowhere, Wales; maybe they were from the University.) They ended up heading for the train, but I promised the Sligo woman in my cabin that I would walk up Snowdon or not at all, so I headed for the footpath.
The photos I took tell the story from here better than I can. The path from Llanberis is pretty easy most of the way and more tiring than treacherous the rest. Lots of shale to walk on, lots of sheep baaing in the distance, lots of sun, lots of wind. I thought I would get blown off the top once I got there, and it does happen, but not even my immense clumsiness could get me into too much trouble with so many people around. Lest you think I charged up a mountain with nothing but raspberry and meringue in my stomach, I did get a cup of tea at the cafe halfway up. Because who can say no to a cup of tea 570m up a mountain? At the very top is a marker, but everybody crowds around it and parks themselves there and makes it quite difficult to get to, so I didn't stay long. And the battery on my camera ran out, so I have no good pictures of that bit, but I think it's enough to show I did it. (I didn't see Ireland, though; supposedly you can, but it was too misty for it that day, at least.) Going down was the worst, really. I thought my knees were going to mutiny. Let's just say I was very happy to get back on that bus to sit for an hour.
Stopped by the cafe on my way back, since the woman waved at me through the window. I never did get down to the pier on time to get one of their famous scones, since they're only open 10-4 on weekends; if you go, get one for me, would you? Spent the rest of the evening in with a pint of local honey bitter and a Portsmouth woman who mostly said "um, yes" but was fairly likable once you got past all that. Good day, good day.
Things to know about Wales:
- Wales is
- Wales shuts down entirely by 5 PM.
- Wales is full of birds that get up at 4 AM and do not stop and they all sound like they are screaming.
Guess I'd best go do something, then.
* * *
Waaaaaales. It's so gorgeous. There are, in fact, sheep everywhere, but it becomes very soothing to see them. And it's so green, and there are little stone fences between the bits of green. I love it like I love Iowa, and I am well aware that few people share that love. But it adds sea and mountains to that, the two things I miss the most when I am there. Yes, I know, this is too early for me to shout my love from the hills; I only got to spend a day and a half here. Poor planning on my part, I suppose.
Now, the thing that the Isles have up on the places I've spent most of my life is the presence of mountains. (Technically there's Mt. Diablo, which I haven't even tried since I was a youngun [and knowing me I may have dreamed the whole thing anyway], but it's a pain to get to.) Therefore, I figured while I was near Snowdonia I might as well climb one. And the easiest one to get to, and the one with the most options, is the crown jewel, Snowdon, Yr Wyddfa herself. So I figured since I woke up at 4 determined to climb a mountain, I'd best go for that one. Turns out Snowdon is taller than anything else in Wales, England, or Ireland ... but that just makes it more interesting.
On the way to y cloc to catch a bus to Llanberis, where the safest path up starts ('cos I know I'm not prepared for any remotely treacherous climbs, not to mention it was the one with a direct bus) I stopped by the internet cafe to grab something for breakfast. I appear to have stopped really getting hungry ever since I got on that plane, but there's no sense in climbing a mountain on an empty stomach, so I grabbed a raspberry and meringue confabulation. Kids, if you are ever in Bangor for any reason, go to the Orient Expresso. 364 High Street. Tell the lady with the patchwork hair that the girl from California sent you, and get a sandwich while you're at it. Fantastic, and I had her fooled for a U of Wales student so I'm kind of fond of her for that.
Rode the bus to Llanberis down roads not built for more than one car at a time past sheep and grass and ruined stone cottages. There was a convoy of miscellaneous east Asian students being chaperoned by two Welsh farmkids, the girl with her perfect blond plaits explaining her love of God. (At least some of the kids were definitely Japanese, as they were speaking it, but I'm pretty sure I heard some languages I didn't recognize so we'll go with "east Asian". Somewhat unexpected for the middle of nowhere, Wales; maybe they were from the University.) They ended up heading for the train, but I promised the Sligo woman in my cabin that I would walk up Snowdon or not at all, so I headed for the footpath.
The photos I took tell the story from here better than I can. The path from Llanberis is pretty easy most of the way and more tiring than treacherous the rest. Lots of shale to walk on, lots of sheep baaing in the distance, lots of sun, lots of wind. I thought I would get blown off the top once I got there, and it does happen, but not even my immense clumsiness could get me into too much trouble with so many people around. Lest you think I charged up a mountain with nothing but raspberry and meringue in my stomach, I did get a cup of tea at the cafe halfway up. Because who can say no to a cup of tea 570m up a mountain? At the very top is a marker, but everybody crowds around it and parks themselves there and makes it quite difficult to get to, so I didn't stay long. And the battery on my camera ran out, so I have no good pictures of that bit, but I think it's enough to show I did it. (I didn't see Ireland, though; supposedly you can, but it was too misty for it that day, at least.) Going down was the worst, really. I thought my knees were going to mutiny. Let's just say I was very happy to get back on that bus to sit for an hour.
Stopped by the cafe on my way back, since the woman waved at me through the window. I never did get down to the pier on time to get one of their famous scones, since they're only open 10-4 on weekends; if you go, get one for me, would you? Spent the rest of the evening in with a pint of local honey bitter and a Portsmouth woman who mostly said "um, yes" but was fairly likable once you got past all that. Good day, good day.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Fourth day. Mainly travel.
Got going late, which was just as well as Liam's uncle (who had been roped into giing me a ride to the port rather without my request, but I figured by then it was too late to protest) turned up late as well. Also, without any clear idea of where we were going. All in all he reminds me rather of myself, only more charming and more Russian. I quite like him, but he's leaving nearly immediately, alas.) At least I got to try Oatibix. Oatibix is delicious.
Now I'm on the ferry, after saying a hasty goodbye because otherwise we'd be there still. am hoping we get to Holyhead soon, as seasickness is starting to creep in. And this is even considering that I'm about the only person on board between the ages of sixteen and sixty who is completely sober. (In fact, I still have yet to drink anything. Maybe I should get something Welsh tonight.)
It still hasn't really occurred to me that I'm in another country. Another continent, even. I suppose I haven't had time yet, as most of my waking hours have been spent trying to make relatives not hate me (and there are always more relatives). I can see Wales now out the window, and it still hasn't sunk in. Hopefully someone will at least stamp my passport; security was pretty lax getting onto the ferry, but I might be flying out of here and that might look awkward, I guess. I suppose I should be taking pictures, but I doubt they'd come out well through glass.
* * *
Got through fine.
I can see why the Welsh settled in Iowa, although I rather wish they'd brought implemented the stone fence thing there. Everything is so green! and small! and smelling of animal poop! (As the product of a long line of farmers, this is strangely comforting to me even though I was born in a city on the West Coast.)
Holyhead is a cute little place, although I suspect I only saw the bits meant for tourists coming off the ferry. Still, a 4th century Roman fort is none too shabby, and I even managed not to walk on the graves of any 19th century children, probably. Near everything was closed by the time I got there, though, so I can't say a whole lot about it.
Bangor was mainly closed, too, but as a university town there were a few places guaranteed to be open. (Namely the liquor store and a sketchy kebab shop.) Found the hostel, even, thanks to a combination of a blurry map with exactly one legible street name and some rudimentary ability to navigate by the sun. Didn't have time to do much save wander into town for a dodgy samosa, spot a fox (probably) on the way back, and meet the other girls in the room. Mainly some former students (a friendly Welsh girl who said "gorgeous" a lot, a quiet girl I know nothing of save that she climbed, and a Londoner who took me for Irish) and an Irishwoman from Sligo who will be quite disappointed if I don't climb Snowdon tomorrow. Turned in 'round eleven without particular event.
Got going late, which was just as well as Liam's uncle (who had been roped into giing me a ride to the port rather without my request, but I figured by then it was too late to protest) turned up late as well. Also, without any clear idea of where we were going. All in all he reminds me rather of myself, only more charming and more Russian. I quite like him, but he's leaving nearly immediately, alas.) At least I got to try Oatibix. Oatibix is delicious.
Now I'm on the ferry, after saying a hasty goodbye because otherwise we'd be there still. am hoping we get to Holyhead soon, as seasickness is starting to creep in. And this is even considering that I'm about the only person on board between the ages of sixteen and sixty who is completely sober. (In fact, I still have yet to drink anything. Maybe I should get something Welsh tonight.)
It still hasn't really occurred to me that I'm in another country. Another continent, even. I suppose I haven't had time yet, as most of my waking hours have been spent trying to make relatives not hate me (and there are always more relatives). I can see Wales now out the window, and it still hasn't sunk in. Hopefully someone will at least stamp my passport; security was pretty lax getting onto the ferry, but I might be flying out of here and that might look awkward, I guess. I suppose I should be taking pictures, but I doubt they'd come out well through glass.
* * *
Got through fine.
I can see why the Welsh settled in Iowa, although I rather wish they'd brought implemented the stone fence thing there. Everything is so green! and small! and smelling of animal poop! (As the product of a long line of farmers, this is strangely comforting to me even though I was born in a city on the West Coast.)
Holyhead is a cute little place, although I suspect I only saw the bits meant for tourists coming off the ferry. Still, a 4th century Roman fort is none too shabby, and I even managed not to walk on the graves of any 19th century children, probably. Near everything was closed by the time I got there, though, so I can't say a whole lot about it.
Bangor was mainly closed, too, but as a university town there were a few places guaranteed to be open. (Namely the liquor store and a sketchy kebab shop.) Found the hostel, even, thanks to a combination of a blurry map with exactly one legible street name and some rudimentary ability to navigate by the sun. Didn't have time to do much save wander into town for a dodgy samosa, spot a fox (probably) on the way back, and meet the other girls in the room. Mainly some former students (a friendly Welsh girl who said "gorgeous" a lot, a quiet girl I know nothing of save that she climbed, and a Londoner who took me for Irish) and an Irishwoman from Sligo who will be quite disappointed if I don't climb Snowdon tomorrow. Turned in 'round eleven without particular event.
(Written 5/2, posted much later once I had internet access again.)
Third day, and my last real day in Dublin for a while.
Thursday is new comics day, at least in Europe, and so it made the most sense for us to go into town on a Thursday. I'd initially thought we could just walk there, and I still imagine we could given a map and a lot of lead time, but distance on the map doesn't have much meaning in a maze of twisty little passages all alike. So we took the bus; on the top level, of course. (Someday the novelty of that will wear off, but this it not nearly that day.) The bus runs down roads much smaller and twistier than we would put one back home, but an exaggerated response to danger is a rather American thing, I suppose.
Everything is smaller (and older, of course) here; growing up as I did in a San Francisco pointing glass and metal fingers at the sky, it was hard to quite internalize it as a proper city despite everything. Too many bricks and statues, too few franchises. (Spar excepted, of course.)
Saw the Spire, and thought up ways to make it useful, e.g. lance for a giant robot or long-term car storage. Went to Temple Bar, too, and found comics and record shops. Also found that I have a knack for finding Paddy Casey albums before I remember to look for them, gen'rally within thirty seconds of arriving in the shop. Just as well, since I could never manage to track down anything once I was looking for it.)
Walked through Moore Street and got some plums from a grumpy old lady who seemed quite displeased at my handling her merchandise (hem, hem) and got some Polish apple-mint juice. The mannequins were unsettling and goateed but apparently you aren't allowed to take pictures in the mall, so you'll have to take my word for it. Then some old man on a streetcorner decided to inform Liam at length that he was a cunt and a gobshite, so we had to book it in a fairly undignified fashion.
This, too, was the day I remembered that being incredibly shy is not good preparation for being a world traveller. Every grumpy old lady or failure to look the relevant way at a street crossing made me even more embarrassed, and there's nothing that gets to me more than being embarrassed. Liam, at least, understood, but I worry a little at what the rest of the trip will be like without him.
Anyway, there was dinner at Captain Americas, where the walls are covered in rock'n'roll memorabilia and Nazis getting punched. I very nearly got a drink called a Red Skull, but ended up deciding I wasn't sufficiently fond of grenadine to pay full price. (Now, if we make it back for 3-euro drink night, on the other hand...) Not to mention that portions here gen'rally prove to be huge. I am not at all used to being the one at the table eating the least, even though I do seem to have picked up Liam's habit of eating once a day.
There was a pack and some mysterious waterfowl, and a statue henceforth referred to as "the clitoris". And managed to get back to the bus to sleep relatively early (by which I mean 1 AM) so I could get on a ferry in the early afternoon. That's all for Ireland for now, I'm afraid.
Third day, and my last real day in Dublin for a while.
Thursday is new comics day, at least in Europe, and so it made the most sense for us to go into town on a Thursday. I'd initially thought we could just walk there, and I still imagine we could given a map and a lot of lead time, but distance on the map doesn't have much meaning in a maze of twisty little passages all alike. So we took the bus; on the top level, of course. (Someday the novelty of that will wear off, but this it not nearly that day.) The bus runs down roads much smaller and twistier than we would put one back home, but an exaggerated response to danger is a rather American thing, I suppose.
Everything is smaller (and older, of course) here; growing up as I did in a San Francisco pointing glass and metal fingers at the sky, it was hard to quite internalize it as a proper city despite everything. Too many bricks and statues, too few franchises. (Spar excepted, of course.)
Saw the Spire, and thought up ways to make it useful, e.g. lance for a giant robot or long-term car storage. Went to Temple Bar, too, and found comics and record shops. Also found that I have a knack for finding Paddy Casey albums before I remember to look for them, gen'rally within thirty seconds of arriving in the shop. Just as well, since I could never manage to track down anything once I was looking for it.)
Walked through Moore Street and got some plums from a grumpy old lady who seemed quite displeased at my handling her merchandise (hem, hem) and got some Polish apple-mint juice. The mannequins were unsettling and goateed but apparently you aren't allowed to take pictures in the mall, so you'll have to take my word for it. Then some old man on a streetcorner decided to inform Liam at length that he was a cunt and a gobshite, so we had to book it in a fairly undignified fashion.
This, too, was the day I remembered that being incredibly shy is not good preparation for being a world traveller. Every grumpy old lady or failure to look the relevant way at a street crossing made me even more embarrassed, and there's nothing that gets to me more than being embarrassed. Liam, at least, understood, but I worry a little at what the rest of the trip will be like without him.
Anyway, there was dinner at Captain Americas, where the walls are covered in rock'n'roll memorabilia and Nazis getting punched. I very nearly got a drink called a Red Skull, but ended up deciding I wasn't sufficiently fond of grenadine to pay full price. (Now, if we make it back for 3-euro drink night, on the other hand...) Not to mention that portions here gen'rally prove to be huge. I am not at all used to being the one at the table eating the least, even though I do seem to have picked up Liam's habit of eating once a day.
There was a pack and some mysterious waterfowl, and a statue henceforth referred to as "the clitoris". And managed to get back to the bus to sleep relatively early (by which I mean 1 AM) so I could get on a ferry in the early afternoon. That's all for Ireland for now, I'm afraid.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Second day.
(Which I forgot to blog on, so I'll have to reconstruct it now.)
The thing I do most when I'm traveling is gen'rally do what I would do at home. This is not quite so dull as it might sound, at least not to me. I suppose it's mainly in order to feel comfortable there while still learning about the place, or maybe just that I've never had much of a taste for the tourist attractions where I live so why go see someone else's?
So this day was mainly spent doing things with Liam. Slept entirely too long, wandered around and saw some graffiti, went to meet his granny (and assorted relatives and dog who were hanging around), were fed lots of ice cream. We played with a smallish child and mostly managed to outsmart him, and I got told about how Journey is making a massive comeback, just you wait and see. Also I got quizzed about whether my intentions were honorable, but answering that one too honestly would be tipping my hand.
After that we played some board games and Apples to Apples; I lost miserably at the former and did okay at the latter mainly for my ability to read the minds of geeks. Wandered home in the dark, something I would never be able to do by myself, I'm sure. The Romans should have come over here, I'm telling you.
Really, not a day about which there's much to post, but a very nice day all the same.
(Which I forgot to blog on, so I'll have to reconstruct it now.)
The thing I do most when I'm traveling is gen'rally do what I would do at home. This is not quite so dull as it might sound, at least not to me. I suppose it's mainly in order to feel comfortable there while still learning about the place, or maybe just that I've never had much of a taste for the tourist attractions where I live so why go see someone else's?
So this day was mainly spent doing things with Liam. Slept entirely too long, wandered around and saw some graffiti, went to meet his granny (and assorted relatives and dog who were hanging around), were fed lots of ice cream. We played with a smallish child and mostly managed to outsmart him, and I got told about how Journey is making a massive comeback, just you wait and see. Also I got quizzed about whether my intentions were honorable, but answering that one too honestly would be tipping my hand.
After that we played some board games and Apples to Apples; I lost miserably at the former and did okay at the latter mainly for my ability to read the minds of geeks. Wandered home in the dark, something I would never be able to do by myself, I'm sure. The Romans should have come over here, I'm telling you.
Really, not a day about which there's much to post, but a very nice day all the same.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
First day.
The west wind been calling, my heart is falling
In love with my shoes, walk off these blues
World I have not seen, places I’ve not been
So I made it to Dublin with no particular trouble, except perhaps for the bit where the light unexpectedly changed on me mid-street crossing and I nearly got run over. That was in Walnut Creek, though.
I didn't manage to sleep much on the plane, so much of what was effectively today (which is actually a combination of Monday and Tuesday, I guess) was fairly dull. Watched out the window, trying to figure out where I was, but apparently the whole of the flight was over either snowy mountains or small indeterminate lakes separated by snaking bits of land, so it was tricky to narrow things down. Ireland is quite neat-looking from above, though. All wiggly bits of road separating green from green, not the squares-within-squares postage-stamp collection that is the American Midwest, Also, all the houses look exactly the same and none of the roads in town are straight either.
Liam's parents have been good enough to let me stay with them a while, so my home base 'til Friday morn is Santry, Dublin. Mostly today I've been getting acclimated, which mainly means wandering the streets and watching TV to find out that everything is pretty much exactly the same as I'm used to only the streets are smaller and inverted, there are butchers in the mall, and some but not all of the people on TV have accents I'm not entirely accustomed to. And the chocolate is different, as I suspect I'm going to be encouraged to try more of tomorrow. (I bought the chocolate-coated Turkish Delight, but I haven't been feeling up to actually eating it yet. Liam bought me mint Aero, though, which excites me greatly.) The country music collection infomercials are pretty much the same, though.
Status so far:
- Not yet lost.
- Still mostly talking the same way I did yesterday.
- Still have my liver (mainly because I was feeling a bit too residual-plane-ooky to actually take any of the beer I was offered).
Not half bad, then. Will try to actually take pictures tomorrow.
The west wind been calling, my heart is falling
In love with my shoes, walk off these blues
World I have not seen, places I’ve not been
So I made it to Dublin with no particular trouble, except perhaps for the bit where the light unexpectedly changed on me mid-street crossing and I nearly got run over. That was in Walnut Creek, though.
I didn't manage to sleep much on the plane, so much of what was effectively today (which is actually a combination of Monday and Tuesday, I guess) was fairly dull. Watched out the window, trying to figure out where I was, but apparently the whole of the flight was over either snowy mountains or small indeterminate lakes separated by snaking bits of land, so it was tricky to narrow things down. Ireland is quite neat-looking from above, though. All wiggly bits of road separating green from green, not the squares-within-squares postage-stamp collection that is the American Midwest, Also, all the houses look exactly the same and none of the roads in town are straight either.
Liam's parents have been good enough to let me stay with them a while, so my home base 'til Friday morn is Santry, Dublin. Mostly today I've been getting acclimated, which mainly means wandering the streets and watching TV to find out that everything is pretty much exactly the same as I'm used to only the streets are smaller and inverted, there are butchers in the mall, and some but not all of the people on TV have accents I'm not entirely accustomed to. And the chocolate is different, as I suspect I'm going to be encouraged to try more of tomorrow. (I bought the chocolate-coated Turkish Delight, but I haven't been feeling up to actually eating it yet. Liam bought me mint Aero, though, which excites me greatly.) The country music collection infomercials are pretty much the same, though.
Status so far:
- Not yet lost.
- Still mostly talking the same way I did yesterday.
- Still have my liver (mainly because I was feeling a bit too residual-plane-ooky to actually take any of the beer I was offered).
Not half bad, then. Will try to actually take pictures tomorrow.
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