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.