5 Months

I've been putting off writing anything on here since the beginning of this semester. Not entirely sure why, but the more time that passed the more I figured it was too late. Because I've been to more places, and seen some amazing things - Barcelona, Stonehenge, Dublin, and Marrakech. I know that if I tried to write an entry for each location I would get maybe one or two done and then give up out of laziness. I was even bad about writing in my journal, so besides my photographs, there's not a lot else to help me remember my travels - and my memory will most definitely fail me sooner rather than later.

I've decided to stay in London, too. So I have 5 more months of living abroad ahead of me and how can I not write about everything I've seen and will see? So in an effort to get something done I've compose a list of highlights - to make sure I remember and to remind everyone else how MUCH is out there.

Barcelona - really spur of the moment decision I made as soon as I came back from Christmas break. It was January and freezing in London but about 60 degrees in Spain so I sat outside with coffees and my disposable camera and got a strong sense of deja vu that brought me back to last summer. I did a lot of walking around, a lot of sitting by the water. My all time favorite was all the Gaudi architecture. That man was insane, but as creepy as his church looks, his designs are beautiful and so interesting. I loved the church - I studied it about 4 years ago at the end of high school and have been waiting all that time to see it. I spent most of the day there and felt like I was meeting a famous person. If you do go to Barcelona though and have never been, Gaudi's park is way underrated. It wasn't even in my guide book and I only found out about it through this kiwi girl I met in the hostel. It's this really large park with statues of lizards made into mosaics plus Gaudi's old house, and some other buildings that are what I imagine to be Hansel and Gretel's house.
I also took a cooking class and met some fun people - two Americans and an Australian. We learned to make paella and sangria, two recipes I have yet to use but were delicious nonetheless.

Stonehenge - still didn't have my camera so I have no photos :-( Part of me feels this place is overrated. You can't walk among the stones, there was no information anywhere that helped you learn about what you were seeing, and it's much smaller in person. That being said, I went with my class so we had a tour guide and while Stonehenge the tourist destination was badly laid out, Stonehenge the historical landmark really is incredible. The stories behind how it was built and how old it is are inspiring and made me wonder about our modern technology - we can do so many things from fly to watch people on TV but thousands of years ago people, without cranes or trucks lugged tonnes of stone from Wales and France and building an effing sundial (if that's what it really is)! I mean, come on. Moral to the story: go to Stonehenge.

Dublin - Didn't get enough time there. Totally my fault, I didn't want to fly, so I took a bus, two trains, a ferry and another bus for a total of 10 hours traveling. I met the parental units and we saw the obligatory things like St Patrick's Cathedral, the Guinness factory, that big park in the middle of the city (forgot the name), etc etc. I definitely would have loved to see more of the city, but to be perfectly honest I thought it a little small. Not that small is bad, but I think I wanted to see IRELAND. Maybe it's a touristy view, but I wanted rolling green hills and leprechauns and redheads named Mary O'Malley. Though we did stay in a little guest house above a pub called O'Neils and had a full Irish breakfast every morning, which was lovely. On the last day the mother and I took a train a little way out of Dublin to Dalkey and Bray - not very exciting places but small towns with castles and such. We rode the train along the water which made me feel as if I'd gotten to see a little of the countryside. But the Irish! Man, they are the best bunch of people I have every met. Everyone from bus drivers to strangers on the street were polite and friendly and smiling away. Not that I could understand a word they were saying, but the Irish accent is very sexy.

Marrakesh - There is too much to say. You have to go, there is nowhere else like it. Strongest memories:
1. My friend Sarah and I were like the pied piper of Moroccan children. As we walked down the narrow red streets we accumulated children from 3 years old to about 18. The children were beautiful, but so so poor and after awhile it was hard to get annoyed when they kept asking for money. They also shouted out swear words and paid us great compliments that at first made me incredibly uncomfortable but at the end of the trip it was (almost) funny. At one point Sarah and I had about 12 kids running after us on a deserted street. I'm not a good enough writer to give you the amazing site that is was so you'll just have to trust me.
2. Moroccan sunsets over the atlas mountains.
3. The call to prayer which echoed over the entire city from the infinite mosques among it.
4. Smoking hashish on the rooftop of our hostel with the amazing people we met there.
5. The souks - I have never been so tempted by jewelry in my life.
6. The souks at night - snake charmers, people with monkeys on their shoulders and about 50 stands selling exactly the same thing - orange juice and couscous - which was all amazingly delicious by the way.
7. Sarah and I were attacked by women with henna. Granted, we were warned, but they're persistent! But once Sarah and I got talking, we found this woman completely covered by her veil to be charming and friendly and brilliant. Totally worth the ridiculous amount of money they tried to charge us.
8. I was detained in customs. 'Nough said.

A Tale of Two Cities

I'm home now! I got in late Saturday night, but when the plane landed in Charlotte airport I cried like a little girl. Why!?!?! I guess I just realized I did not want to be here. Maybe it was a combination of too much flying and drugs and jet lag, but right then the last thing I wanted to hear was American accents. I didn't want to go back to a small town - or go back to not living on my own for that matter. I was really, really depressed and cranky and sad. It went away of course, because the second I drove through Old Greenwich and saw the Bagel Shop and Arcuri's Pizza and the Christmas lights they put up every year I felt very relaxed and happy to be here. Plus, I got such a great reaction from my little brothers it made me feel kind of loved ;-)
My best friend Thana (from Croatia trip) stayed over that night and we squeezed into my little twin bed for a sleepover like we were 12 years old. The next morning padded around in our slippers and made enough french toast to feed an army. Funnily enough, with all my brothers and parents and Thana's and my appetite - it disappeared within the hour. Then we stayed in our pj's and watched Harry Potter.
I loved being home and with my family and one of my closest friends. And to make it even more like home, it snowed! The weird thing was though, I felt like London had never happened. Home was so comfortable and so familiar it was like I had never been gone. I know that's a cliche, but that's because it's true. I miss the girls in my program desperately but for the first few days we were all back home we didn't really contact each other. And I'm almost positive the reason why was because it was like we had never met.
That sounds horrible and depressing, I know. But that's beause it is! However, I'm happy to be home, even more so because I didn't think I would be. I love everything about London and I thought it would be too much of a shock to come back here after making a life for myself across the world. Hearing so many American accents was a bit of a surprise, even though I did hang out with Americans in London. But here I'm not an outsider, which is midly comforting. Part of me though is not entirely sure that's a good thing.
I'm in New York now, helping my mom out with some work stuff, and coming into this city - well, I'm doing a lot of comparing. Plus, everyone here is now sick of me talking about London so I might as well write it down to spare them the pain of hearing me go on and on:
1. New York streets are wider. Good thing? After careful assessment I've decided yes. New York can seem big and daunting, but at least people can pass each other. I hate getting caught behind old ladies and couples making out and people with push carts. I mean, come on!
2. I love bagels. That is all.
3. I missed snow just a teeny bit because a) it's gorgeous and b) makes it feel more like winter. However, I didn't miss the cold at all. Or the ice.
4. I looked the "wrong" way when crossing the street on my first day and almost got hit by a car. Wouldn't it be funny if I got killed by a bus here, where I'm most familiar, and not in London where people drive like maniacs on the wrong side of the road? Haha. (That was meant to be read deadpan.)
5. New York smells. Not in a bad way (most of the time), but I didn't realize that London lacks the smells - hot dogs, coffee, Spanish food... urine, car exhaust, etc etc.
6. Points for London: no men (generally) who whistle obscenely on the street.
7. The subway system confuses me. I miss my Oyster card. Sometimes I take it out of its safe little cocoon in my purse and stare at it longingly; stroking its cover, wishing I could swipe it across that yellow circle... hmmmm. Well, maybe not. But still.

The End is Near!!!

I only have two weeks left in the semester! Where the hell did the time go? Seriously, I feel like I just got here yesterday. There has never been a better example of time flying when you're having fun.
I will be right back here on the 2nd of January '08, but if this semester flew by, there is no doubt in my mind that next semester will fly just as fast. Also, I've made some really good friends here and they have been a huge part of my experience. I love meeting new people but I really don't feel like going through the whole orientation/asking people their major/organizing my life again. And I know this is silly, but since my friends here have helped shape my life here, I'm scared maybe next semester wont be as fun. But again, I know I did all this on my own, etc etc, so I'm sure I'll be fine.
The thing with this program coming to an end is that I'm feeling like I got nothing done. I still haven't been to Westminster Abbey! I wanted to go for a run in Hyde Park, see the changing of the guards, go to Bath and Oxford and Cambridge... I'm looking back on the past 3 months and I think I just sat on my butt the whole time! So since classes are coming to a close and I've not a lot left to do I'm trying to cram in as much as possible into the next two weeks.
Last weekend my friend Marina from Davidson was here visiting from her study abroad program in Spain. She stayed with Suzanne, who also goes to Davidson, and the three of us hung out and cooked because that Saturday we had our own little Thanksgiving.
The real Thanksgiving came and went. I did some cool things with Marina and Suzanne --- we climbed to the top of St. Paul's cathedral and looked at the beyond amazing view, which thank God, was worth it as there were almost 500 stairs to climb to get there. One of the coolest things was the Whispering Gallery, where we pressed our faces up to the wall and whispered to each other and could hear each other perfectly even though we were over 30 meters away from each other. We also had high tea at a tea shop called, um... Tea (creative), eating cake and scones with clotted cream and jam, and then Marina and I took a ride on the London Eye! That was one touristy thing I hadn't done here yet and wasn't expecting to do because of the price. But it turns out that we got a huge discount with my student Oyster card and the line was miraculously short, so the end of my Thanksgiving was spent "flying" (as they call it - British Airways sponsors it) over London at night. We had two different panoramic views that day, one in the daylight at St. Paul's and one late at night on the London Eye.
Then we proceeded to cook. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday ever so I was really bummed I wasn't home, so I tried to make up for it by going all out. We spent three days cooking - Marina made amazing cranberry bread, I made three pies and we bought everything from turkey to stuffing to mashed potatoes and made cranberry sauce and candied yams. It was pretty delicious, actually. So we all piled in to Suzanne's flat, I had a few friends from my program come, Suzanne had some people from hers. I was with some of my closest friends and even though I couldn't be home this really was the next best thing. And mom, you're really going to love this - I made them all say what they were thankful for before we were allowed to eat ;-) (It's funny how true it is that we all grow up to be our mothers)
This past week I've had classes, and while they're not a joke, they definitely don't ask to be taken seriously. My favorite class, history, was spent at the Imperial War Museum where I stupidly went into the Holocaust Exhibit and making an idiot of my self by sniffling my entire way through. On Wednesday, my architecture teacher took us all our for a pint at the oldest pub in London. I really don't understand the drinking age in America, it is way too cool to have beers with your teacher to have our entire country pass it up...!
And in my quest to be getting out of my room and onto the streets of London before it's too late, my friend Aly and I went to go see Phantom of the Opera on Thursday night. We got super cheap tickets, and even though the seats were super close together and some lady behind us was fondling Aly's new Primark coat and there was a rail/multiple craning necks in front of us, the show really surprised me in being pretty fantastic. I've never heard the music or seen Phantom so the last 30 minutes of the show I actually was at the end of my seat (now I know why that's such a cliche), my hand pressed to my mouth, completely and totally involved in the show. Plus, I now have a huge crush on the Phantom and Aly and I couldn't stop humming on our way back home. That was until she got on the tube right as the doors were closing and I got left behind. Not a big deal since I know my way around but it was so funny to see her face that I couldn't stop laughing and since the theater had just gotten out, the tube was crowded and they pretty much thought I was a crazy person, smiling and laughing to myself.
Plans for the next two weeks? Class, finishing up my final papers, saying goodbye...
We take the Piccadilly line to school every day and since were stupid Americans that act like 10-year-old boys we think it's hilarious when the tube lady's voice says, "This is a Piccadilly line service to.... Cockfosters". Hahahaha! Get's me every time! It must be here calm British voice that cracks me up (I hope they really didn't fire here, that would be a tragedy). Anyway, our last weekend in Lodon we plan on riding the tube all the way to Cockfosters in zone 5, dressed in our Sunday best. Explanation: we were told to bring one fancy thing to London just in case - shows, events, whatever... most of us haven't worn our suit/tux/dress/ensemble so we will have one last big dinner together where we cook and sit in someones kitchen for hours, get all gussied up, and take our final tube ride to honor the infamous Cockfosters. Should be fun, can't wait! But it also means I leave the next day... Let's see if I can hold out on the waterworks until then ;-)

My girly weekend in Paris :-)

Since the beginning of the semester, my friends from Davidson and I had planned meeting up at some point during our time in Europe. Five of my closest friends from school are all in "the area". So, months ago my friends Alea, Kelsey, Suzanne and I planned a girly weekend in Paris. I know even as we age, women meet to talk inappropriately, eat cookies and paint each others nails (well, maybe not). At Davidson we make sure to get together as often as possible, and sometimes plan little get together we call lingerie parties (you can do what you want with that). Being abroad though means we haven't been in close contact for months and we desperately needed a reunion. But in PARIS? It doesn't really get much better then that!
This past Friday, the 16th of November, was they day and I took a day off work and left for Paris at 6 in the morning. I've found that leaving super early is a good idea because it's become a habit of mine to get lost and confused when I travel. But I swear this time it wasn't my fault! There was a transportation strikes in Paris so when I got to the airport, it was impossible for me to actually get anywhere. The plan was to stay at an apartment my two aunts rent out, which is in a really lovely part of the city. But I had no way of getting there! I was told there was a bus service working but since that was the only transportation available, the line was complete madness. I stood there about 15 minutes, not having moved an inch, when I realized I was wasting my day (despite leaving early - best laid plans and all that). The woman behind was English so I asked if she wanted to share a cab and thank God she said yes because it turns out I would have been at the airport for hours before ever meeting up with my friends. I accompanied her to the Arc de Triumph where I figured I could find my way to the apartment from there. Why did I think that was a good idea? I know I get lost easily and I had already spent 20 euro getting to the city center and the extra 10 would have been worth it because as I walked I got further and further away from where I needed to be.
It was FREEZING. I mean, the weather isn't all lovely and sunny in London, but the cold in Paris was much, much different. And it was windy. And I left my gloves on the plane. I wandered around aimlessly (and probably in circles) for a while until I found a metro. I was really happy at this point, thinking I did a damn good job of getting there. But sadly, I counted my chickens too early because the line I needed? Closed. And of course I found this out after sitting in the damp and smelly metro station for an hour listening to that stupid song they play in their stations over and over again (if you've been to Paris you know that annoying noise they play before some French person talks over the loudspeaker). Then I tried to walk above ground, figuring it would be a long walk but that it didn't matter. But I hadn't brought a map with me and in the end took a cab to the apartment for far more than I would have paid otherwise, and then gave the driver a ridiculous tip because I was so thankful I was finally there and out of the cold (phew!). The apartment was perfect! I've never been though my aunts have owned it for years. It's small and cozy and quiet. So while I waited for Alea (who is studying in Paris) and Kelsey (Florence) I snuggled up on the couch with some tea and a trashy magazine. And as soon as they arrived we screamed and hugged and just talked and talked and talked. It was so amazing to see them, and being in Paris on top of all that was kind of unreal.
The three of us went to dinner that night at this adorable hole-in-the-wall restaurant that Kelsey knows from having lived here. It's one of the few surviving family run restaurants in all of Paris, cozy with homemade food and waiters who actually wanted to be there! A woman played Spanish guitar and sang in this beautiful, guttural voice serenaded us all night. The girls at the table kept making fun of me because I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I think by the end of the night though we all had crushes on her. She wasn't beautiful - she was missing some teeth, actually - but she sang with such emotion and passion it was hard not to get wrapped up in it.
And speaking of crushes - our waiter was AMAZING. Not only did he give us free wine and serve us the most delicious food, but he called us "darlings" and "beautifuls". My personal favorite though, was when he asked what the exact color of my coat was. "Lavender", I said. "Oh! Lavahnder! You are mah leeeteel lavander lay-deee!" I think that's probably the greatest term of endearment of all time? From now on, please call me Little Lavender Lady, thank you.
Then came dessert... Now, I don't want to get graphic, and it's probably only funny to the people who were there that night... but the cobbler, oh, man. We were eating with two friends of Kelsey's from Florence, and one of the girls (I wont mention her name to protect the innocent) had gotten apple and berry cobbler. I wont write out her whole quote (because it was so funny at the time I wrote it on my napkin and I do in fact have it), but it started like this, "Oh my God, I don't think I've ever been turned on by something that's not a person before!" Classic.
After dinner, Alea, Kelsey and I went back to the apartment to meet Suzanne (she's also studying in London), who was the last to arrive. She was waiting in the foyer and the look on her face when we came in was priceless. We all got kind of choked up, hugging and crying and kissing each other because we were finally here! We'd been planning this trip for so long it was amazing that it had all worked out. And basically, the rest of the night was just us. You can't understand unless a) you're a girl and b) you've had incredibly close girlfriends - but it was just such a comforting feeling to be together and cuddling on the couch and catching each other up on the past few months of our lives.
A brief word on my friends: I'm not really a fan of "girls". Yeah, I study gender and I love being a woman, but I've had too many experiences of snooty girls who are confusing and gossipy and bitchy. I've had a few close girlfriends in my life (who are still my best friends today), but I've never had a group of them before. This semester we all got tested in our personal lives and we were all there to pick each other up and be there for each other. You know who your real friends are when you're a mess on the floor and can talk about the same things over and over again and are absolutely no fun to be around but they still come over to laugh with you. So nowyou can understand my excitement at seeing them together again...
Okay, on with the story: we spooned. Yup, it was a chain of spooning in a queen size bed and we all slept like babies. It was pretty great ;-) Refreshed the next morning we walked around Paris in the unbelievable weather. We started off at the Rodin Museum where I got to see my favorite statue of all time (and they let me stand there for 15 minutes while I stared like a kid in a candy store). And then we were off to the Eiffel Tower! This will be the third time in three months I've seen it and it still just gets me every time. We took lots of funny pictures in front of the tower (which I can put up once Suzanne gives me her photos) then went to a cozy little French cafe where we talked some more and took more funny photos. We stopped by a market to buy lychee nuts. We walked across the Seine. We took more funny photos, walked past the Arc de Triumph, went into Louis Vuitton to laugh at prices we will never be able to afford. And we bought macaroons, which were the most amazing things (next to the cobbler, of course) ever (I realize now that's less impressive to say because I've been saying that a lot, but this time it's true!) I mean, come on, I had a rose flavored macaroon in a fancy French restaurant. Kelsey showed us all her favorite haunts (the macaroon place being her all time favorite) from when she was here over the summer, and Alea, who's been here now for two months, showed us hers. Paris is amazing, but to be perfectly honest it really took a backseat to the weekend itself. We ended the day cooking dinner and snuggling (again) on the couch and watching a movie, but not really paying attention.
Sadly, Kelsey left early the next morning and Suzanne and I had to catch our flight back to London in the evening. We walked around some more went into Notre Dame, walked past the Louvre, and ate delicious crepes from a stand on the street. We worried about getting back to the airport though, because the strike was still in full swing. Our endevour to the airport was really awful. At the time it wasn't, but I promised I would tell this story with some form of lightheartedness to take some of the sting away...
Okay. Suzanne and I decided to take a working metro line as far north as we could, to the station Gare de Nord then take a taxi from there so it would be less expensive. But we didn't realize that not only would everyone be having the same idea but people would be arriving by train and needing transportation to other places in Paris as well! We were running late and there was nothing we could do so we waited in a disgustingly long line in the cold for an hour to get a cab. Let me tell you, French cab drivers are insane, it's like they don't want the business! We tried waving them down and knocking on windows, and even when we got in line one only came along about every three minutes. You'd think they'd be taking advantage of the strike, but noooo! They just sat there eating their sandwiches, driving aimlessly and being oh-so-French. And as we waited Alea went to every person in line (as our flight was leaving in an hour and a half), asking in French where they were going (to see if we could share a car, and maybe jump the line?!). We couldn't find anyone for awhile, but at the last second a hugely tall German bloke asked if he could tag along as his plane was taking off in an hour. So he got in alongside Suzanne with his huge legs pressed awkwardly up against the passenger seat, sitting very quietly and politely. He was lovely, and I think even more lovely because he was so nervous about catching his flight he practically paid for the whole cab ride. Yeah for Germans!
So that's that. We were in such a rush I didn't get my tearful goodbye with Alea, but it's probably for the best because the weekend was so wonderful it had me thinking twice about staying in London. Luckily, Suzanne is right around the corner and her roommate from Davidson (and my nose piercing partner), Marina, is coming to visit tomorrow for Thanksgiving. We'll be doing it on Saturday because we actually have classes and work to go to, imagine that, but we'll be doing it right - lots of people and food and fun!
So Happy Thanksgiving! I am insanely jealous...

A night of someone who lives here

I had forgotten I was here.
I came up the steps and walked out of Westminster tube station on the way to see a friend and was greeted with a spectacular view of Big Ben and Parliament lit up in all their glory. I've seen these two quintessential London landmarks many times now. I can see the tips of Parliament from where I work, the London Eye from the top floor of my building. I have been a tourist here more than once. This evening, as I have before, I walked past these monuments trying not to look up so as not to be mistaken for a tourist. And as I walked towards my friend's office I turned my back on Parliament (this can be a deep metaphor or not - I really did turn by back because that's where my friend works).
I stopped by the ATM, picked up my friend and her coworkers, and went out to a pub nearby. Basically, it was an average, low key Friday night. Not the kind of night a tourist has, but the night of someone who lives here: getting out of work, winding down with a pint in a crowded pub filled with Londoners in suits with their ties loosened and their briefcases forgotten. But as I walked back home later on and once again face Big Ben I allowed myself a brief glance up. It's a pretty amazing site - glowing gold against the black sky, framing the rushing Thames, and the London Eye moving every so slowly in the background.
I ended up standing there for a while; head up like your stereotypical tourist and right up close to this postcard view with all of London continuing to go on around me. And that's where it hit me that I'm here! Since I was a kid I imagined living an exotic life in foreign cities and those fantasies always included me strolling past the Eiffel Tower, the Colosseum, Big Ben. And there I was doing exactly that! But I'm not a tourist here (thank God). I get on the packed tube every morning to go to work or school. I travel to places like Oslo and Paris on the weekends. I do stroll past Big Ben on my way home after drinks (and I have those drinks with real live British people!). I'm not saying I don't stop to smell the roses but the fascination does eventually wear off. London has changed from a strange city across the Atlantic to my city across the Atlantic. My home, actually.
I had forgotten I was in London. I'm not sure if that makes any sense, but red phone booths and double-decker buses are not tourist attractions for me anymore.They are where I can call the States or how I get home. I don't look down at the pavement anymore to check which way to look when crossing the streets (or think those cars are driving themselves when I don't see anyone in the "drivers" seat). I say things like "rubbish" and "brilliant" (completely unconsciously because I know my family will make fun of me when I go back to the US).
I am in love with London. It is fully and completely my home, more than any place has ever been. But sometimes it's nice to remember my childhood fantasies, to crane my neck like an idiot tourist so I can enjoy this other side of London in order to remember how far I've come.

Scotland: Part II

The weather for our third day in Scotland was even worse than the day before. The weather report warned us of gale winds which blew the rain sideways into our faces and under our tightly bundled scarves. I felt bad for the tortured trees which were practically horizontal to the ground. Fergus didn't think this would affect our plans at all, but saw the horror on our faces when he told us we were going to be walking around anyway. Because he's amazing at his job, he took on the responsibility of waking us up by blasting an annoyingly cheery song as soon as we stepped on the bus, at what I think is a disturbingly early time. He even flickered the lights and used the brakes to bounce the bus around so it was like our own mini club. It was pretty effective though because we did file off the bus when he told us he was going to tell us a story... outside on a bridge, over a raging river.
And we listened to his story! He's an amazing storyteller and we stood outside with our hands in our pockets while he told us about two warring clans who tried to make peace by arranging a marriage between them. But on the day of the wedding the beautiful bride falls off her horse, smashing her face on a rock (at this point Fergus acted out the scene busting out a plastic eyeball for added effect). She continues on with the wedding though, but when she reaches her husband to be he takes on look at her mutilated face and thinks the other clan is trying to trick him. So in a fit of rage he flings the woman into the river, supposedly never to be seen again. However, she emerges from the water, her face perfect again (and eyeball back in place). As Fergus concludes his tale this is when he tells us that the river has magical healing powers and if we put our faces in it we wont age for 10 years. We laugh, knowing he's kidding as the rain falls even harder. But no, he says, "I'm not opening the bus until every one of you sticks your face in the river for at least 10 seconds." And to our horror, he pulls of his cap, walks down to the muddy and treacherous bank of the river and proceeds to get on all fours, putting his face right into the rushing water! All the while, we're gasping in amazement while simultaneously trying to figure out a way of of doing it ourselves.In the end he didn't force us but I felt like doing something stupid that I would never normally do, so I did in fact put my face in the freezing water for 10 whole (long, everlasting, never-ending) seconds while trying not to slip on the rocks.
While a funny story and a good memory, my scarf got soaking wet and we all smelled like wet dogs for the rest of the afternoon. And Fergus continued to spice up our trip, taking us to a little town with a charity shop so we could buy costumes for a spontaneous Halloween party. The shop was in a very small, wee, Scottish town where the villages spoke both English and Galick, which was so much fun to listen to. The shop was wee too and we had a few choices ranging from long old lady skirts to ugly old lady hats. But the costumes that people came up with were incredible. I went with a too long soccer shirt which was pretty uncreative, but at the party that night a friend of mine used an ugly old lady hat to the be the Queen. Another bought some black shirts which she cut up to be a black cat. There was also a girl dressed as a lamp, an apple tree (or Eden, depending how you looked at it), a tacky tourist, a child, and lots of guys who bought skirts and came up with some pretty cool variations on the traditional Scottish costume. Typical Fergus though was the most creative of all, wearing an ugly old lady dress and wig along with some sort of knight's mask and called himself the Iron Maiden (get it? hahaha, funny)!
The hostel that we stayed in that night was on the banks of Loch Ness. Before we settled in Fergus turns the bus toward the lake saying, "There's a dance that my father taught me that was taught to him by my grandfather, and so on. I'm going to teach you this ancient traditional dance that's been passed on for generations. It will drive Nessie right out of the water." So we pulled up to the lake thinking we were going to learn something really old school, when Fergus emerges from the bus with a goofy green felt Loch Ness Monster hat. He proceeds to make us stand in line and make lassoing motions while saying "Monster. Monster. Monster. Come to me, come to me, come to me." We couldn't stop laughing and later that night at our Halloween party we taught all the other kids who weren't blessed with Fergus as their tour guide our "ancient dance" - but they didn't seem to get it and weren't too keen to learn anyways and basically walked away shaking their heads. But that's okay, they'll be jealous when Nessie comes out of the water just for us...

Nessie did not emerge for us. We stared at the water until all we could see were tiny ripples and white spots. However, Fergus told us some really interesting stories about what people have claimed to see in the mysterious waters of Loch Ness. Turns out there probably are sea creatures in the lake. It's incredibly deep and over 20 miles long. The legends most likely started over sighs of large animals seen nowhere else coming up from the depths. At risk of sounding all academic for a second, I think it's fascinating that our society knows more about outer space than what's underwater on our own planet.
The lake was beautiful on top of having so much history and speculation behind it, and looking back on my photos the scenery doesn't even look real. I was so impressed with my photos, thinking I was such a great photographer because they came out so good... but everyone's look that beautiful because Scotland was that amazing and no one could really ever go wrong.

Scotland: Part I

--- 26 October 2007 ---
Scotland so far has been absolutely wonderful. We spent the first day in Edinburgh which was lovely. I branched out and went with three girls who I had never spent a huge amount of time with before and they all ended up being really nice and a lot of fun. We went to the Whiskey Tour building for a delicious and surprisingly cheap lunch and then booed a tour. While we waited we walked up to Edinburgh Castle and it felt so familiar. I'd been before but it was so long ago I was surprised by my deja vu. Sadly, there were cranes everywhere and we didn't have the time or the money to go inside. But it is a beautiful and impressive castle, perched right up to the edge of a craggy cliff, looking over the rest of the city. Looking was all we had time for before our tour but that was okay because the tour was so much fun! Really interesting, plus, we got some free whiskey and a special glass that felt really smart.
After a little shopping in the "gift" shop I took off on my own for a little Marian Time. It's been nice having company but I've really come to enjoy the pleasure of my own company. Plus, it's hard to coordinate what everyone wants to do. So I really just walked around for an hour - god lost as usual but also sat outside a nice cathedral while listening to a guy on the streets play the bagpipes. I LOVE the bagpipes, they remind me of my dad. I normally don't give money to street performers mostly because I'm just as broke, but his playing made me feel like I was really in Scotland so I gave him as much as I could. He was also beautiful in his full Scottish costume, something about a man in a skirt just emphasizes the masculinity - makes them look so strong and regal. So that helped ;-)
The rest of the evening was nice and relaxing. The whole group had dinner together and then I just went back to the hostel to read and write a little and got to bed earlier than I have in months.
The next day was beyond incredible as we left the capital for the highlands. The day was raging and gray, and while that might be depressing in the city, on the miles of Scottish moors it was wild and romantic. So far, our tour guide Fergus has been hilarious. We were on and off the buss all day but I never fell asleep because he had so many interesting stories. And when he wasn't talking he was playing us Scottish music; from current pop stars to traditional bagpipes and flute which made the expanse of mountains and lochs that much more special. The best though was when he took us to the castle where Monty Python on the Holy Grail was filmed after playing us a clip from that specific scene. He also took us to the Braveheart site while playing us a Euro pop version of the theme song. This guy is just so clever! Everything a tour guide should be.
We saw so many gorgeous things today and learned so much about Scottish history - more than I could ever learn in a classroom. We saw a mountain called The Giant's Fist (because that's exactly what it looked like) and a loch that's shaped exactly like Scotland. We stopped a lot to look at the scenery - leaves turning and orange moors and "weeping mountains" and raging waterfalls. It was all beautiful even in the cold and miserable downpour, but at around 4:30 a small patch of blue sky lit up the mountains that had just before been haunted with mist. And then, right before we reached our final destination, we stopped the bus to watch the brilliant sun set over the Isle of Skye. The thing that really got me though, was the fleeting but deafening silence of 20 college students on holiday standing perfectly still, watching the most perfect thing we had ever seen.