Living the Life of Luxury

That's what people do in the small city of Bath. It's what they did 200 years ago and it's what they do today. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I don't know that anyone would try to convince you differently about the 200 years ago, but it applies for today as well. I mean, come on! It's a city known for it's amazingly hot and "healing" spas. How stressful can life really be? I know it sure calmed Brittany, Liahna and me down after our adventure through Wales on trains.

Our first full day in Bath we steered clear of any form of public transportation, be it buses or trains (Bath really isn't big enough to warrant a subway or other form of mass transit system). Instead we wandered around the city, stopping at the tourist information center and picking up about a hundred free brochures (yes I did feel like I was a little kid again just grabbing anything and everything). We also ate lunch by these big wire-like statues of rabbit and minotaur heads. 

By then it was 2 pm and time for our free tour of Bath. It was led by a sweet lady probably in her late 50s or early 60s. So it wasn't quite as entertaining as the tour of Edinburgh led by a 20-something guy. But then again, when in Rome...(or Roman baths). So I guess an exuberant, energizing tour of Bath would have been a little out of place. The day was really nice and Bath was a beautiful city, so of course I forgot my camera in the hostel. Because only I would. But we walked around the old city of Bath and learned about how the city planners got all the rich people of importance in British society to come there to cure their "ailments" while the poor and truly sick had to wait in line. Not that the spa waters probably would have done them any good in the first place, but shhh they don't like to tell that part of the story. We also learned all about John Nash. No not the slightly mental mathematician portrayed by Russell Crowe, but the Gregorian/Victorian British architect who practically designed most of historic Bath (aka the Royal Crescent and the Circus). These two lines of buildings are two of the most famous pieces of architecture in the whole of Britain, and since I didn't have my camera, I stole these pictures below from Google to show them to you:

The Royal Crescent

The Circus

Bath, as you may or may not know, was also at one point in time the home of one of my favorite authors: Jane Austen. So naturally some of her books took place, at least partially, in her city, the two chief ones being Northanger Abbey and Persuasion. Bath is mentioned in some of the others, but the city itself never plays a role. So when on the tour we went inside the Assembly Rooms, lets just say my heart skipped a beat or two. Or three. And I kind of hoped that Mr. Tilney would bump into me and then ask me to dance. So I could fall madly in love with him despite his horrible father and brother. And the fact that he's a pastor (nothing against the profession, but...). And if Mr. Tilney weren't around, Captain Wentworth would do just fine for me, thanks. But alas, no stunningly good looking, witty men appeared. Just the old ones with their wives on the tour. No thank you.

The next day we got up bright and early to visit Stonehenge. What a waste of 20 pounds. The bus ride there was cool and all, but we went the same way there and back, so we saw all the same stuff twice. And then it was cold and rainy, so we had  to get soaked to see the thing itself. Which, when all is said and done, is just a bunch of rocks. I don't care how they got there or that the stones had to have been transported hundreds of miles waaay before the invention of the steam engine (or the birth of Christ but whatever). No, I cared that my North Face was not waterproof and the wind was too strong for my umbrella to be of any use. And that I was now 20 pounds poorer and the coolest thing I got to see was some sheep up close. Ooh...

After the disappointment that was Stonehenge, we went back to Bath and chilled the rest of the day in a Starbucks reading, what else, Harry Potter. For a long while. And it was amazing. As opposed to getting wet and shilling out money to see stones standing up. Carhenge in Nebraska was at least aesthetically interesting. Stonehenge was just boring. Aliens or no.

Friday dawned bright and not so early for us, as we were catching a 10:40 train to Oxford. And it was raining again. We walked around the town and purchased some spiffy Oxford sweatshirts before actually looking at the colleges themselves. Well, first we went in the science museum, where I saw some equation Einstein had written when he was there. Big whoop. But the astronomy and technology stuff was kind of cool. So after the museum we trucked it to Christ Church, which is not a church at all but one of the colleges. See, Oxford, just like Cambridge, is not one university but a collection of colleges within the university. And Christ Church is one of them. But more importantly, it's mentioned in the History Boys, so really that's all that matters.

After seeing Christ Church we went to the local McDonald's where we got pushed and shoved around by crazy Britons. And then went back to Bath, where we visited the other local coffeehouse: Costa Coffee. It was supposed to have free WiFi, and indeed the previous post was written using it, but alas it wasn't working. So we paid for food and coffee in return for the means of downloading/watching and it all came to nothing. But my food and coffee was really good.

That last night in Bath we went on the Bizarre Bath tour. Unlike the first Bath tour this one was neither free nor historically based. Instead it cost a few pounds and took us around the city in a fun, intellectually numbing fashion. In fact really the only part of the tour about Bath or anyone associated with it was the guide's multiple references to John Nash (once again not Russell Crowe's John Nash) and his awesome architectural style. Other than that it was a combination of practical and sexual jokes for an hour and a half. There were younger people on the tour, but the inappropriate jokes all went straight over their heads. Which are the best kinds of inappropriate jokes anyways. The tour was recommended by Rick Steves, and although he mostly just talks about museums to see in his books, he was spot on in this case. Well worth the money.

And that was the end of Bath. We left early the next morning for London and our hostel-free experience there thanks to one of the members of Liahna's crew team back home. Chad - you rock. But all that will have to wait until I update my blog about London (the second time around) which will happen either tomorrow night or after my Irish gov paper is written. Can't decide yet. But tomorrow is our last day in the United Kingdom, which makes me sad and happy at the same time.

"My Ears get confused, and then Fran comes out"

Scotland is more interesting than England. And the English are boring. This is what we've decided after our time here. It's cool and all, I mean it is England, but way overrated. I'm soo happy I decided not to study here. But there has been one upside to coming here: Fountains Abbey.

But first I should probably explain my title. Brittany is sick, and her ears are clogged, and so apparently she has an excuse to talk like Fran Drescher, from The Nanny. I feel no pity for her since she made fun of me the entire month I was sick and coughing up my lungs, but it is kind of funny to hear some of the way she's saying certain things. 

But back to Fountains Abbey. It was a Cistercian monastery that was dissolved by Henry VIII during his rampage against the Catholic Church that wouldn't let him get divorced. And was also featured in the History Boys, which is actually why it's cool, let's be honest. We visited this amazingly gorgeous place on Monday and it's a good thing Liahna is a good sport, because I probably wouldn't have been able to put up with two other people oohing and ahing at rocks on the ground and stuff. Not to mention the long trip to get there. After three hours of sleep the night before because of crazy drunken Belgians next door the night before. Who were partying it up until 4:30 am when the night worker at the hostel finally came up and told them to shut it. But we had to get up at 5 am to catch a train to Leeds, to catch a bus to Ripen, to catch a bus to the Abbey. Let's just say that I slept most of the travel time.

But Fountains, as I've already stated, was amazing. We took a tour from this old dude who seemed enthralled by everything there, which made it interesting. Plus my High and Late Middle Ages history class last semester really came in handy. When all we did was talk about Cistercian monks, etc etc and the monastery was Cistercian. So thanks Dr. Dugan for your awesome class because it made everything our guide said that much more cool, since it made sense and all and wasn't pointless rambling. Plus, I kind of felt like I was on a tour with an older, less attractive version of Irwin (which will make sense to no one unless you've seen HB, and let's face it you probably haven't). So that made it fun as well.

It was kind of cold and windy, but in the sun it wasn't bad. We had stolen bread and jelly from our hostel and made PB&J, which we ate in the ruins of the infirmary sheltered from the wind by the remains of rock walls. It was pretty cool. Then we wandered around some more, until it was time to catch the very unfrequent bus back to Ripen, then catch another bus back to Leeds.

Here we ate fish and chips (which I did for the first time in Europe). It was really good, but really greasy, and since I hadn't eaten much else the rest of the day it did funky things to me. But nothing that a few pieces of good ol' free toast and tea at the hostel couldn't clear right up for me!

Oh side note, our bus back to Leeds was a double-decker (as was our one from Leeds for that matter) and we sat on the top deck right in front. Oohing and waving at people when we weren't asleep. Yes, we are in fact those people. And we're not embarrassed to admit it.

On Tuesday we wandered down to the Manchester Museum to see the Lindow Man, who was discovered near Manchester in 1984 preserved in a bog, probably buried there for about 2000 years. He was all leathery and weird. And missing most of his body between his upper torso and one of his legs. The rest was gone. The exhibit itself wasn't all that interesting, but the rest of the museum (which was free) was. We got to see this huge spider crab, which kind of freaked Brittany out, plus a whole bunch of stuffed animals, which we all found really interesting. Then we moved on to some live animals, then a little thing on how they re-create faces (like in Bones, which I find intriguing), and an exhibit on money, which I pretty much blindly walked through I was so hungry. So to curb my cravings, we walked back up to our hostel and ate more PB&J on stolen bread in Piccadilly Garden. Then we had some time to kill, so we thought we'd shop near our hostel. Except all of the stores were wholesale shops, so we couldn't go in. It was really disappointing because we'd really been wanting to go into one the whole time we were in Manchester. Stupid wholesale retailers. Who does that? So we wandered around Manchester not near our hostel, until 3 pm when we went to get our stuff and head to the train station.

This is where my story gets interesting. We were supposed to have 4 hours of travel time between Manchester and Bath, first going to Newport South Wales, and then to Bath. Except our train lost it's driver at Crew (wherever that is) so we had to go to Shrewsbury instead. Then from Shrewsbury we had to go to Birmingham. Where the train we were supposed to catch to Bristol Temple was canceled. So we had to wait for another one. To get to Bristol, then to get to Bath. Two hours late. And we didn't know where our hostel was. So we arrived in Bath around 10 pm, slaphappy, exhausted, hopped up on horrible trains that get lost in train purgatory that is Wales. But we eventually made it, even if we did scare off most of the English people who unfortunately were around us. Sorry. 

Today, tomorrow and Friday we're in Bath, then we head to London. Tomorrow we plan on going to Stonehenge, then the next day we're daytripping it to Oxford to feel all prestigious or something. Or dumb. Whichever. But it should be cool. We're excited at least!

Welcome to Scotland, my lovelies!

That was what greeted Brittany, Liahna and me when we hopped on our tour bus for a fun-filled day adventuring the Scottish Highlands on Friday (our first full day in Scotland). But to start at the beginning:

We left Ireland on Thursday around 5:30 pm and arrived in Edinburgh (pronounced Edinburough for all of you non-Europeans out there) around 6:40, getting us to our hostel a little after 7. Our taxi driver was our typical older man. If your typical older man is an adorable Scottish one (and one who actually knows where Missouri is!). He was able to tell us a little about the city and the area where we were going to be staying, as well as how to get to the Old City, so all in all it was well worth the money to deliver us right at the front door(s) of our hostel. Which was an old church. Yes, you read it correctly - an old church. As cool as it sounds, it was actually kind of annoying. An experience I'm happy to have had, but you think it echoes loudly when you're in church? Try to actually sleep in there, not just doze during the sermon. When the loud Argentinians next door (if you can call it that since none of the rooms had ceilings, just walls) won't shut up at 3 am. Yeah. Not fun. And the showers were in the basement. It was an odd feeling walking back up with a towel wrapped around my wet hair, especially when the door back up is right by where the alter used to stand. Hello, God. How's it going today? Awkward...

But Edinburgh was gorgeous. The first night we found our handy-dandy McDonalds with free WiFi and planned out our stay there. We spur of the moment decided to take a day-long bus tour of the Highlands (including Loch Ness of course). Which is where the quote from above comes in. It was said by our hilarious, long lost Scottish cousin/tour guide who chauffered us around in his Mercedes (bus...but whatevs) for 12 hours. And boy was it totally worth it! The morning was really foggy, and we were kind of scared it wasn't going to clear up, but by our first stop in the small town of Pitlochry it was starting to lift (or 'burn off'' as Chris our tour guide said). Here we grabbed some coffee/hot chocolate at the Cafe Chocolate and then were on our way once more.

Our next stop was by some loch - don't remember which one - but of course it was amazing! The next stop, for lunch, was at Loch Ness, where I'm sorry to say nothing monsterish appeared to us. Except for the multiple 'replicas' they've built around the place. We picniced right on the waterfront and then took a nap along the canal lock system that feeds into the loch. It was sunny and pretty and totally made my day. And a little adorable fishing boat was working its way up the canal, so that was fun and interesting to watch!

After lunch we headed on our way back south, stopping in some small town for whiskey tasting, which we decided not to partake of, and then stopped once more at Glencoe, which is the site of Hagrid's cabin in HP 3/4 in the movies, as well as the inspiration for Mordor in Lord of the Rings. We had a nerd moment and took pictures with this amazing scenery as our backdrop. It really was jawdropping. I didn't think land like this existed anywhere. That was our last stop of the day, and we arrived back in the city center around 7:30 pm. Here are some quotes from Chris:

- 'You know the orcs from Lord of the Rings? *orc noise* That's what the Highland women were like. Can you imagine the men?'

- 'We don't hate the English - we hate the Beckhams.'

- 'I'll tell you about Uncle Mel later...'
and then:
- 'No, William Wallace was not some 2' 5" Australian-American. He was huuge!'
and then passing a midget horse:
- 'Look! See that horse! That was Mel's horse. They had to choose a little one to make him look big!'
- Then anything mean about the English, pretty much voiding his statement about the Beckhams. This was one nationalistic Scottish man, my friends. But hilarious just the same, probably because of it actually.

The next day we woke up early and visited our first Starbuck's on the British Isles. Where I read my first newspaper since January and leaving the US. I felt at home, that's for sure. At 11 am we hopped on the free walking tour of Edinburgh with our guide Andrew, who was not quite as entertaining as Chris had been, but he did the job well. The day was cold and windy, and threatened to rain most of the morning until it actually did mid-afternoon. But the tour was really cool and took us to places we would have seen but known nothing about otherwise. For instance, we learned about two Irish men who loved to kill people and then sell their bodies to the University for money to go and get hammered with. Of course they would. Because that's what the Irish do. And only now can I fully appreciate this story and find it not only funny but believeable as well.

In the afternoon all three of us bought various books pertaining to Harry Potter, because we're in his birthplace after all. Respect, people, respect. And then went to the Elephant Cafe, where he really was born. As much as a fictional character can be at least. And then, like the nerds we are, we took a picture of us reading our newly purchased books in the cafe before quickly fleeing the scene.

And that brought us to the close of Edinburgh. This morning we hopped on a bus to Manchester, making a pit stop in Glasgow for half an hour, and arrived here a little before 4 pm. We checked in, meeting one of our multiple Aussie roommates along the way (only to meet others later...what's with the Australians? The Irish loove their soaps, and apparently the Aussies love the UK...). Then we planned out our stay in Manchester and went to eat dinner. Not at McDonalds surprisingly but at a real restaurant with nice silverware and plates that get washed instead of thrown away after use. Odd for us. And really refreshing.

Then we hit up the local Tesco (which brought on waves of comfort just like any time I see a Spar store) for PB and apples to eat tomorrow for lunch on our planned picnic at an old, run down abbey out in the middle of nowhere. It's a History Boys thing, so...yeah. We plan on stealing some slices of bread from the hostel, since toast and tea are free 24/7. Really, it's not stealing since if we were here we'd probably eat that many slices of bread anyways. In my mind at least.

And that's really it. It's a lot like Ireland, but a lot different too. The Manchester accent is really hard to understand, even harder than James' Sligo accent I think (!!), especially in a crowded restaurant. But the Scottish one was heavenly! And made me realize that the only accent I don't think I could ever fake is the Irish one. What makes it so hard to replicate I don't know, but there's something about it. Whenever I try it just sounds like I'm immitating Bob Marley or something. Not normally what I'm going for...

We're here in Manchester until Tuesday night when we board our first UK train (yay for trains instead of buses! Brings back good memories of most of Germany oddly enough...) to Bath. We're in Bath for three days and four nights, during which time we plan on going to Stonehenge and Wales. The rest is yet to be decided. From there it's off to London for two nights and then back to Ireland and UL and classes. Yay...? I'll try to update this again between now and then! And then put up pictures of our UKing adventures eventually.

Paris holds the key to your heart

One day after traveling to London with my parents I found myself on another Ryanair flight, this time carrying me off to France - more specifically Paris. Our flight left early in the morning, so we (Lauren, Katie, Brittany and I) convinced my dad into taking us since he and my mom were still here with their rented car. It totally beat paying €40 for a Taxi to the airport.

Once we landed in France, it was like we'd entered an alternate universe. Where people spoke French and the sky was blue constantly and the temperature went above 45 F. It was amazing. A little intimidating since it was the first time I was in a country where I could honestly say I didn't speak the language (I can communicate grandly with 5-year-old German children for the record). I'm going to go ahead and say that my grasp of the French language due to 15 years of ballet doesn't count as speaking the language. Drat. So my French consisted of "merci" for five days. That's pretty much it. And even sometimes I forgot to say that. But may I just say that my pointing skills are impressive. You really shouldn't be too intimidated. Not everyone can communicate as well as I can with a wave of the hand. Because if I'd opened up my mouth I can guarantee I would not have gotten what I wanted.

Our first day in Paris consisted of checking into our hostel, Hotel Montmartre Clignancourt, and then wandering around the neighborhood in which we were staying (Montmartre for those who couldn't piece it together). About two blocks north from our hostel was the Sacre Coeur, which is an amazing looking cathedral up on a hill with an great view of the city. It's also in a neighborhood consisting mainly of little boutique shops. With a direct line to the money in my purse. Not that I'm complaining. I bought some really cute stuff. And shopping/buying things makes me happy. Especially when I'm in Paris!!

The Sacre Coeur

Friday was possibly the busiest day my life has ever seen. We started off the day by walking up the Champes Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe, which we then went up to the top of. Providing another gorgeous view of the city. We then walked back down the Champs Elysees where we ate lunch.

Mr. Eiffel and myself from atop the Arc de Triomphe

After our refreshments, Parisian-style, we continued walking towards the Louvre, and the million acres of gardens surrounding it. But the city was so beautiful, as was the weather, that none of us could really complain. After seeing the outside of the Louvre, we continued by the Seine to Notre Dam. Nothing can describe the inside of it, or the Sacre Coeur for that matter, and my camera seems to agree. So I don't have any pictures of the inside, but believe me, it was gorgeous.

The Louvre and the Pyramid - which I love. I don't care what other people think.

After we finished getting in touch with our Catholic side, we wandered around looking for more cute boutiques, but nothing compared to Montmartre. But we did get to meet up with Brittany's old roommate, Aurelia, who lives in Paris. And speaks French fluently, since she's French and all. We went to a restaurant and were able to understand the menu and waiter, since we had her to translate.

Once we finished eating, we hightailed it back over to the Louvre, which is free on Friday nights after 6 pm for students!! So we got through the line in much less time than expected - seriously Worlds of Fun peeps should figure out their secret to getting people through long admisison lines because it was amazing. Our first stop was the Mona Lisa, because we were at the Louvre and how can you not go see that creepy woman? Yes, it was disappointingly small. And yes, there was a massive crowd around it. And yes, it is protected behind a huge plate of glass. But it's Mona. And she and I bonded. Once we saw her, it was pretty much just the four of us roaming around this huge freaking building, going, "Yeah that looks cool. Let me take a picture." This eventually downgraded to, "Hey, that statue is in an odd position. Let's reenact it!" which I'm sure the other people who actually paid to get in really appreciated.

The plan after the Louvre was to go to the Eiffel Tower at night. Which we did. With a detour. See, we were looking for a metro station, and instead of turning right outside the Louvre we turned left. And then walked around the entire building because the metro station was 50 feet the other way. So, in case people want to know, briskly walking it takes 30 minutes to walk around the outside of the Louvre. But we eventually made it to the Eiffel Tower, which is really cool looking at night. We only went to the second level because the top was closed until the following day for maitenence. Boo. But the second level was plenty high for me.

The Eiffel Tower all lit up!

Saturday we started out visiting Napoleon's Tomb for Lauren's sake. But I'm really happy we went. But I must say that it is one large tomb for a very small guy. After that we met Aurelia again at the Eiffel Tower during the day, which looks completely different during the day. I thought it was going to be ugly, but I kind of liked it. And then we went to Saint Michel (another neighborhood just south of Notre Dam) and ate lunch. Then we walked to Jardin de Luxembourg, which is a really big garden in the middle of Paris.

Napoleon's Tomb

The Jardin de Luxembourg

Sunday morning we got up early to go to Versailles. And found out that there isn't always perfect weather in Paris. So we got our piece of Ireland in France after all. Versailles was amazing, but after a while it all kind of looked the same. One ornate room after another kind of blurs together. Which is sad because it really was a really cool building. But I liked the other buildings on the property waaay more. They too were ornate, but felt more like places you could actually live and not a stiff museum. We didn't really walk around the grounds much because of the weather, but we paid €6 for a trolly ride to Marie Antoinette's house and the surrounding area. Which was worth it because, as I said, I liked these places much, much more.

The Petite Trianon - Marie Antoinette's residence

The entrance to the Versailles palace

Sunday night was a night of complete and total bliss for me and Brittany. We had tickets to see one of our favorite musicians, Joshua Radin, in Paris and we jumped on it. The theater maybe held 200 people, and Josh proclaimed that it was the smallest concert he'd ever had. And it was the first time he'd played in Paris with a microphone - which oddly enough he didn't really need since the venue was so small. But whatever. After the up close and personal concert he stuck around to sign stuff and take pictures. If Brittany had put up her pictures on Facebook I could steal some and put them up, but alas she's been doing things like homework...

Monday we bid au revoir to Paris and France fairly early in the day since Katie and I had to be back in Limerick for our 4 pm class. Which was kind of a let down after Paris, but oh well. It was still nice to be home. And yes, I do consider Ireland home now. So coming back to the US this summer should be interesting...

I thought I'd include some of my musings from France to wrap things up after my detailed (and probably boring) recap of Paris:

1.) Crepes should be a requirement at every meal. Especially ones made with Nutella and bananas. A++ French people for that. And the Tunisian men who ran the stand we frequented every evening for our bit of chocolate pancakeish delight.

2.) My mind is officially confused by driving. I literally had a dream where I got in my car to drive and the steering wheel was on the other side. But as soon as I got in on that side, the wheel had moved to the other side. My subconscious is confused beyond a shadow of a doubt. Why do Irish/British people have to drive on the left when the French/Germans/Americans drive on the right? Can't we all just be friends?

3.) Whoever says French people treat Americans like dirt when we don't use French obviously wasn't at tourist locations or in stores. Because at these places, all they wanted to do was communicate with us. To take our money, but still. I never got looked at rudely by anyone. Which was nice. I got confused looks a few times when I tried to read things in French, but nothing even closely bordering on hostility.

4.) Standing on streetcorners must not necessarily mean the same thing in Paris. Because our first morning we got yelled at for standing in this guy's spot. Apparently this man sits on this corner every morning to smoke his cigarette. OK...

5.) It's kind of quaint that the proprietor of a store stands in the doorway to smoke his/her cigarette. I mean, it does very little in the way of sheltering the customers from the smoke, but something about it screams "I am French" that I kind of liked. A lot. Which is odd since smoking might be my least favorite habbit anyone could ever pic up.

Traveling with my parents

So this past week has been quite the adventure. So much so that it's being split up into two posts: one of my time with my parents in Ireland and London, and one of me in Paris. This first one, obviously, will encompass the first of those.

My parents came to visit me last Sunday. Yay! Their flight got in 40 minutes early, which is normally exciting, except when the flight is originally scheduled to land at 5:45 am, which theirs was. So when I got up at 4:20 am to meet them, their flight was almost to Shannon, a 30 minute drive from Limerick. So I had to quickly get dressed in order to meet them at the airport. Which I did. Right as they walked out of the gate. What timing. After waiting in line forever to get their rental car, my dad had his first experience attempting to drive on the left side of the road. It was interesting. But aside from a few curb checks, he did ok. With me yelling "LEFT!!" at every intersection, but whatever.

Once we got to Limerick, my parents checked into their hotel, where we ate breakfast, and then we walked to campus. It was a really pretty morning, so we walked around and visited Brittany in Cappavilla before coming over to Kilmurry where they met my American housemates (it being the weekend so no Irish people around). Then my parents, Brittany, Katie and I went on the river walk along the Shannon River that runs right through campus, which was gorgeous!

In the afternoon, my parents and I went to Adare, which is this really small little town about 20 minutes south of Limerick. Here we walked around a little bit, shopped and ate lunch. We didn't spend much time there, but it was nice for me to actually get to stop in one of these small Irish towns instead of just driving on through it on a tour bus or in James' car. By the time we left it was almost 3 pm and my parents needed a rest. Understandable. So I went home and they went back to their hotel.

Monday was a busy day for us as we went to the Rock of Cashel and the castle at Cahir, all before 2 pm, since I had to be back for class at 4 pm. Both of them were absolutely amazingly beautiful, especially Cashel. It was more of a run down abbey than a castle, but it was originally built as one. It's high up on this hill, built there for it's strong defensive position originally I suppose. It was pretty windy up there, so it was kind of chilly, but the view from there was amazing. It would have been nicer had there not been an American high school band group there as well. Stupid Americans. And worse, high school band members. I know lots of my friends were in band in high school, and I respect them for that, but when traveling in packs, they're just annoying. Especially when you're trying to take in the peaceful scenery.

The view from here was amazing

The Rock of Cashel

Cahir was the stereotypical castle. And I loved it. There were turretts and walls to climb on, and a really cool view of the city and surrounding area (including the neighboring golf course). I can only imagine how many daydreams this visit would have inspired in me if I were 10 years younger when I'd visited. I had some anyways!

The castle at Cahir

The castle again

Tuesday was an even bigger day, in Ireland and London. It was St. Patrick's Day, but weird person I am, I went to London with my parents. It was worth it, since all people did in Eire was get drunk all day. I cultured myself instead. We flew out of Shannon at 6:30 am, so we had a pretty early jump on things. The airport into which we flew was 45 minutes away by train, so I managed to take multiple naps before actually entering the city. Where we had to figure out the complicated Underground system. Paris has it much better (but that will be covered in my next post!)

I honestly can't remember everything we did, we did sooo much. I know we started out with a view of the city from the London Eye ride (which was cool but totally overpriced). From there we walked past Big Ben and Parliament to Westminster Abbey. Then we walked somewhere else, I don't remember...Is that bad? I know we saw Buckingham Palace, Hyde Park, St. James Park, Trafalgar Square, Covent Garden, and the Tower of London before heading back to the airport for our late flight home. The weather was amazing up until the sun went down when the wind no
longer felt good.

Big Ben and Parliament

Hyde Park

Buckingham Palace and the Victoria Memorial

City Hall? I think. This is from the Tower of London Bridge at sunset.

But that's all for this post. I'll update my one on Paris hopefully soon. I kind of have lots of other more important things, like writing papers, that I should probably do this week. Since they're due this week and all....

It's been a while

So I'm sitting here, trying to figure out ways to not write these two papers that are due in two weeks (one on the way leisure culture changed social order in Europe in the '60s - not boring, but still a paper - and the other on how Irish music made in America is as much about America as it is Ireland - once again, could be worse but still a paper) and since no one interesting is on Facebook to distract me, ditto with Skype, and my Irish housemates are off being productive future teachers of Ireland, I thought I'd update my blog! That may be the longest sentence I've ever written.

It's been so long I don't even really know where to start. I guess with last weekend, well the weekend before last weekend. On Saturday, Feb. 28 I went with the UL International Office to Lahinch, as well as the Burren (including the Ailwee Caves). Lahinch is a little coastal town where lots of people go to surf, and don't really care if it's February in Ireland. I couldn't imagine soaking my body in cold Atlantic water, but apparently the threat of frostbite didn't phase the surfers at all.

The beach at Lahinch.

More beach at Lahinch.

Still more beach. Cool sidenote, see those really big cliffs in the background? Those link up to the Cliffs of Moher. See last post for more info.

The Burren is not a place so much as an area. Apparently, before the last Ice Age this part of Ireland was somewhere else? I don't know I didn't listen all that closely to our tour guide. If you want to know more, I'm sure Wikipedia has a very thorough explanation (even if it doesn't have "collegite-level reliability").

I do know that after the last Ice Age, plants and stuff from the Mediterannean ended up in this part of Ireland, making the ground pretty much a sheet of limestone. Rich in calcium but also makes for shallow soil. So the cattle that are graized here are worth a ton, but most of the land is rock. I do also know that the Pope is the bishop of one of the towns because when choosing bishops this town got forgotten and rather than going through the process again the pope said he'd do it. How kind. I also know that the actor Brendan Gleeson has a home in one of the towns we went through and when he and Colin Farrell were rehearsing for "In Bruges" they went there. I also know that the way to tell where the center of town is in a small town is to look for the local pub. Our tour guides's town had more than one, so she felt oblidged to make fun of the towns that only had one. I think her town had just over 100 people. The number was about to jum two since some woman is pregnant with twins. Oh small towns...

A horse, just chilling all by its lonesome. Next to the ocean. FYI, my little pony, next landmass isn't for a mile or two.

The Burren. Not joking about all the limesone. And also the Atlantic is back there. You know, that big oceany thing.

The Ailwee Caves are, well, caves. That once again have to do with evolution and land masses moving around. Whatevs. They found the skeletal remains of bears. Bears that have been extinct in Ireland for thousands (or millions? Once again, I didn't listen that closely to the science chatter - Wikipedia it) of years.

A stalagmite and a column.

Praying hands or an overflowing pint of Guinness? A question for the ages.

A bear bed for the bear that's been dead a looong time.

Sunday night we weren't going to do anything because none of us felt like it, but it was Kieran's birthday, so how do you not? And since my parents read this blog, that's all the information I'm going to include. See me for details.

Last week was pretty much normal. We went bowling Tuesday night with James. I scored over 100 for the first time ever, and would have won if James hadn't been a bad sport and ruined my last roll. But whatever, I still did amazingly well for me. The next game I bowled a 53, which is more my style. Then we got ice cream. Because it was snowing, so why not? We tried to have a snowball fight with Kieran, but the loser wasn't home. So James started throwing his snowballs at random drunk girls trying to get into taxis. That didn't fly with Katie, Lauren and me, so we turned and threw our balls (originally meant for the ambush of Kieran when he was supposed to open his front door) at James. And then ran screaming the 100 yards from House 31 to House 82. And locked the door, with James on the other side. Other than that, a pretty quiet week. They just seem to fly by!

This weekend I did absolutely nothing exciting. I checked books out of the library for the first time, which probably makes my mother happy but no one else really cares. It took me a few minutes to figure out how to do the self check-out. They should really have better directions for stupid people like me. Especially if the darn computer is going to beep loudly at me every time I do something incorrectly. So that everyone in the quiet library knows the blond at the self check-out is clueless. I can broadcast that all by myself. I don't need extra sound effects ok?

And now it's Monday night and I have managed to procrastinate from the time I got out of class at 4:45 pm to now. I'm pretty proud of myself actually. It takes hard work to go 6 hours without doing anything, including sleep. I think I'm finally getting the hang of it. Too bad most people pick it up in high school. I'm a little slow I guess. But now I really should do stuff. Or go bug Katie and Lauren since James and Brian are still being studious at the library. Shouldn't have let them leave. First mistake.

Oh, what a week

Weeks like this don't happen in America. At least not to me, and I'm pretty sure they're hard to come by for anyone else too. It started off with some good old fashioned pranking, which turned on me - the non-participant - and ended with a gorgeous view of the ocean unlike anything I've ever seen. And I've seen the Atlantic before in multiple places.

But before I get to the amazing view part of this week, let me tell you about the happenings of House 82. Two of my Irish housemates, James and Brian along with their oh-so-funny friends, have quite the senses of humor. They tease us for things we say and we tease right back. Unfortunately, most of the teasing revolves around phrases my mom doesn't think I know so they won't be repeated here. Sorry. But recently the teasing has morphed into practical jokes, mostly centered on either James or Katie. We focus on James, he focuses on Katie. And I use the term "we" here very loosely because up until early this week I had kept out of all the shenanigans. You would too if James still had a key to your room and had threatened to use it.

Well, Monday night James got revenge for what up until this point had been a pretty one-sided barrage of pranks. And got me all wet in the process. See he, Brian Fox (who lived here last semester) and Kieran (who never lived here as far as I know) decided to tie my doorknob to Katie's doorknob, both of which open inwards thus trapping us in our rooms. Katie apparently tried to climb out her window but James was outside pushing her back in. Once Lauren finally let us out (which she didn't do automatically and will never be forgiven for) Katie and I tried to mess up James' room, but couldn't manage to get the door shut and locked. It was two girls against like three guys. We never had a chance. After this, Brian Fox and Kieran redeemed themselves slightly by stealing the other Brian's mattress. They literally dumped his sheets and walked out the front door with it.

Eventually the pranking stopped - or at least I thought it had. I don't know why, after being trapped in my room, I thought it was safe to close my door, but I will never make the same mistake again. See, there's this prank that involves filling a bucket (or any large container really) up with water, then leaning it against someone's door, knocking, and then running away. When the door is opened, the bucket tips over leaving the victim all wet, along with the floor. James was the first victim in our house. Lauren was the second. And yours truely was the third and final. As of Friday morning my carpet was still slightly damp. No joke.

After that night, the pranking died down. Mostly because James, Katie, Lauren, and I all began locking our doors at all times. Going to the bathroom literally five steps away from my room? Better not forget my room key. This made it hard to do much of anything, and Thursday night a truce was called. Rooms are now officially off limits in House 82. Because let's face it, locking your door when you aren't leaving the house is über annoying. (I should probaby mention that this truce happened one day after Brian put a 24-hour moratorium on any badmouthing of each other from James or Katie. It was getting nasty). Apparently the whole "rooms are off limits" thing didn't apply Thursday night/Friday morning for Katie's room, but that's too long of a story to repeat here. Suffice to say, Katie spent most of Friday afternoon cleaing her room.

But we must not have made James all that mad, because he still agreed to take us to the Cliffs of Moher on Saturday afternoon. Maybe his getting lost was just payback for picking on him. Or it was just him being a boy and refusing to look up directions beforehand. But either way, I think the pictures speak for themselves:

Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Missouri anymore.

Apparently, the Cliffs are also a nice place to kill yourself. I don't know that it's the way I'd want to go. A 600-foot drop into ice cold water and flesh-piercing rocks seems a little painful to me, but then again I'm not suicidal, so...And yes, we did go past the sign in the background that says not to pass this point.

This isn't actually the Cliffs (duh) but if you turn around this is what you see. There were people surfing. In February. In Ireland. Yes, I think they were crazy too.

Absolutely amazing. Probably one of the prettiest things I've ever seen in my life. And talk about making you feel small and insignificant!