There and Back Again

That’s all Folks!

During our last week abroad, everyone had to change their diet. We all attempted to carve down what we had left in the cupboards so that we didn’t have to throw away much food. Unfortunately, we had all overestimated how much we would eat in the last seven days, because we were left with a pile of food Saturday night.

            Pickles, Swedish Fish, eggs, pasta—everything that could was fried up in olive oil. What we created was a massive smorgasbord, a disgusting stomachache that had to be eaten. Unfortunately, by this time our numbers had been whittled down to 15. Some of us had to eat for two people (normally not a problem for me, but following two portions of potstickers with a double helping of chicken tikka masala was tough.) We cleaned all of the dishes for the last time since the building closed the following day and did a deep clean of the tables and stools. Everyone helping tried to put a positive spin on our impending departure, but it still felt like a shot to the gut. I am definitely ready to not have to worry about studying for the next three months, but as we took down all of the post-it notes from the fridge and laughed about the pictures we had put up, it was impossible not to feel some tinges of gloom.

            Kuni and I left around ten that night. As far a emotions go, we were able to hold it together for the most part (we can’t say the same for some of the other members of the group) and after hugging everyone multiple times we finally said goodbye to number 13 Manson Place. A fast-track train ride to Luton airport followed, where we then scouted out a place to sleep for the night.  

            I think that managers of airports must get together and hold conferences to see who can create the most uncomfortable airport. It is almost impossible to find anything to sleep on. Kuni and I finally found some (thinly) padded chairs at the far end of the airport and if you turned them to face each other with a small table in between the two chairs, it was like a cozy bed! Several others took notice and constructed their own beds--our own little Hooverville. This worked out well for us, until around 3 AM. Patience with the lack of sleeping spaces was evidently wearing thin, and a group of thugs soon started making rounds in our cozy corner of the airport. We were in the center of the slumbering community, so we were the last to be accosted. I was woken up by several angry voices:

            Thug 1: “Ay, you’ve ad dat chair for tree hours already. Time to give it up.”

            Foreign Man: “I’m sorry, but my gate opens in about an hour and  I need all the sleep I can get. You can have it when I am done though.”

            Thug 2: “So wut your sayin’ is dat your comfort is better dan 'is comfort? Now dat doesn’t seem very fair to me. I think it’s time to spread da wealth.”

            Person by person, cluster by cluster, my happy little Hooverville was slowly being infiltrated by Socialist thinking. By the time they reached us they had gathered a small army of wheelie chairs, much more than the four of them needed to get decent sleep. Unfortunately, the got Kuni’s chair but I pretended to be in a deep sleep (a VERY deep sleep since they kicked my chair for several minutes.) The glares my broken community sent over towards the rogue village seemed to have no effect and the rest of the night passed slowly.

Sound it out—LIZ-BEE-ON!

           

            Kuni and I arrived in Lisbon around 10 AM and caught a bus to the city center. Not having much of a plan for the day, we took our time getting to the hostel and didn’t check in until around noon. After finishing our finals, we were just ready for a moment of relaxation. Upon arrival, we were immediately greeted by the twentysomething woman at the front desk:

Woman: “You are checking in yes? Come quickly, you don’t have much more time. We must store your things.”           

Us: “Wait, wait, much time for what? We just got here.”

Woman: “Exactly, I see that you are only here for two and a half days. You don’t have much time. You want to see the city, no? Then you must hurry. Drop your bags there, I will draw up a quick map and a list of things to do.”

            Ten minutes after arriving, the woman practically threw us out onto the front porch. Not knowing what else to do, we followed the map to the nearby town of Belem.

            At the top of the list was the abandoned monastery for the (no extinct) monk of St. Jerome. The woman was right to hurry us out the door, the monastery (along with the Tower of Belem) was free until two. Kuni and I saw the tomb of explorer Vasco de Gama, several great murals depicting the exploration of the ocean and several very old looking courtyards. We then toodled on over to the Tower of Belem; a massive lookout point with famous Portuguese explorers carved into the side. Although it was packed to get in, Kuni and I bypassed the line by agreeing to walk up instead of take the elevator. 272 stairs later (I feel like Manson Place trained us specifically for this) we found ourselves looking out to sea. The sun had finally started to peek out from behind the clouds and it proved to be a great first look at Lisbon/the surrounding area.

            A quick lunch at a nearby café and we set off again to tour one of the castles that defended the city from sea attacks. As we checked out each room a man followed us and played “Can you Feel the Love Tonight” on his pipes of Pan. We continued to tell him that we didn’t have any money, so perhaps he just enjoyed our company, because we head that song several times before we finally left.

Not only is Belem known for their great castles/other architecturey stuff, but they are world class pastry chefs! Well, the monks of St. Jerome are anyway.  Pasties de Belem, the pride and joy of the region, were created in 1837 by the monks. They are a buttery, sugary delight that ALWAYS goes down smooth. Like whiskey, except not as expensive. We split a six pack, but very easily could have eaten twice as many.

Kuni and I were in heaven. The sun was shining, our bellies were full of sweets and all of our homework was left behind in London. Then someone started screaming that his wallet had been stolen.

We had just boarded the no. 15 tram back to the hostel and a middle aged man began yelling that he had been robbed. As the realization sank in, the accusations started to fly. He began accusing all onboard the tram of stealing. Ten minutes of intense paranoia proceeded. Thankfully I kept my hand in my pocket and I wasn’t robbed (unless you consider the pound-to-dollar conversion rate. Amiright Londoners amiright?) Pasta and chicken for dinner and then to bed around 10:30. Kuni and I were a little worried that the twentysomething Portuguese woman would still be there when we got back. God knows that we would have a hefty list of things to see if she was still at the front desk.

The next day we decided (or, our friend at the front desk decided) to take a day trip to Sintra, a town known for it’s beautiful city center. Although the city center was less than a mile from the train station, it took us more than three hours to get there. On the way to town hall, we noticed a trail that led up into a small garden. It looked pleasant, so we decided to explore. One trail led to another and soon we found ourselves halfway up a (mountainous) hill. We had no idea where it led, but we both agreeded that it had to end soon, so why not just see what was at the top? And find the top we did! A castle was at the top. A castle with a fifteen Euro entrance fee. We began the long walk back down the hill. Now, I don’t want to give off the impression that the walk wasn’t enjoyable, because it was probably the best part of the day. We saw some gorgeous little gardens, accidentally made our way onto a private luxury hotel and discovered a cave (where I rescued Kuni from a hole he had fallen into.)

When we did make it into the city center, the shopkeepers greeted us with some Ginja (cherry liquor drank out of a chocolate cup.) Not exactly what either of us expected, but it definitely earned Sintra some “cool points.”

Since it was only 4 PM, we agreed that we had time for another town before we went back to Lisbon. We wanted to at least see one of Portugal’s beaches, and we saw online that there was one close to Sintra. Well, if “close” means a stomach churning bus ride through 40 miles of forest, then it was incredibly close. The buses in Portugal rival those in Cork in terms of swearvyness, although we met an extremely nice yoga instructor from Brighton, who left us with a very nice thing to think about. They sun had once again peeked its little head out from the clouds and yogaman gave us a knowing smile , saying “Ya know, every bit of blue is worth celebrating” before skipping away at the next stop.

 After arriving (and becoming very familiar with one of the trashcans on the side of the bus stop) we were ready to hit the beach! The clouds parted just enough for me to get a nice little sunburn and we visited a small inlet called the “Boca de Inferno.” We stayed until it became dark and feasted on spaghetti for dinner. Kuni had to work on a intern application, so I visited with our roommates in the bar downstairs (a very nice guy from England and two pleasant girls from Sweden.)

We checked out of our hostel the next morning and spent most of the day exploring downtown Lisbon. Something rather odd about Lisbon, is that they felt the need to copy Rio’s ginormous stone statue of Jesus. It’s actually quite cool, looking over the entire city, but when I asked a local he seemed to think that copying Rio wasn’t a very popular idea. Anywho…..we felt the need to visit giant stone Jesus. We had to cross the ocean to the other side of the city and took a bus to the base. We were running pretty low on funds by then so when we discovered that there was a 5 Euro entrance fee, we flipped a coin (heads=we go in/tails=back down the hill) to see how badly giantstoneJesus wanted us to see his insides. Heads won out and we journeyed up into the stone and concrete entrails.

Stepping out onto the highest platform was stupendous. All of Lisbon lay out before us, easily one of the prettiest views I had seen so far. My camera then decided to die (and stay dead for the rest of the trip.) so I am going to have to steal some pictures. We met up with our English/Swedish friends for dinner and, after discovering that the first restaurant we chose woul bankrupt us all, eventually found ourselves at a small hole-in-the-wall seafood joint. Not being a big seafood guy and not knowing a lick of Portuguese, I mostly just pointed when it was my turn to order.

Sardine pate with mackerel in a cold tomatoes and olive oil sauce. Something I probably would never have tried before, but hey, that’s what this trip is all about. We said our goodbyes and left for the airport to sleep.

Amsterdam, Sweet Lordy, Amsterdam

I’m not quite sure where to even begin with this strange place. The architecture in the city itself is amazing; canals and gorgeous, tightly packed houses everywhere. We checked into our hostel, The Flying Pig, and it soon became apparent that the Dutch as much more….relaxed than any other nation I have thus encountered.

We shared an uncomfortable moment with the hostess upon arriving.

Hostess: “Oh, you are in room 33. You both should like it. It’s quite cozy. Did you know that Amsterdam is one of the most accepting places in the world?” We said that we did not know that. She then handed us our keys/bed numbers and (after exchanging a confused look) walked up the narrow staircase to our room.

It was indeed cozy with two bunk beds and six dressers crammed into the space. Six dressers…hmm that’s weird. I wonder who gets two? We thought as we emptied our gear. Both of our room cards said the same bed number, but instead of going back downstairs to point out the awkward woman’s mistake, we just grabbed one of the other empty beds.

The people in Amsterdam are so incredibly nice! As far as navigating, it is an extremely complex city, but the inhabitants are more than happy to point you in the right direction. We made our way to the Anne Frank house and only had to wait about a half hour in line. During this time we got to know the people in front of us: an American couple (plus their daughter whom they were visiting) and as we entered the box office, the man surprised us by paying for our admission. Lets hear it for befriending strangers! The Dutch had completely modernized most of the building, but it was still nice to see some of the actual journal pages of Anne Frank.

We went grocery shopping and after a quick dinner of (what else do poor college students eat?) pasta, we journeyed off towards Melkweg, where we had tickets to see one of my favorite bands The Dandy Warhols.

            It was a very subdued concert. There was not much rocking out, mostly just smiling and nodding along with the music. Being in Amsterdam, I am pretty sure I know what the cause of this was, but I will just keep that to myself.

            We arrived back to The Flying Pig around eleven and after squeezing up the stairs, we greeted by an amusing sight: there was someone sleeping in Kuni’s bed. All of the other beds but mine were full and here lay this man. Not knowing what else to do, we marched back downstairs to the front desk to ask for advice regarding our predicament. We told the hostess (the same woman) and she didn’t seem to believe us.

Woman: “What is your bed number again?”

Me: “Well, we both had the number three, but we figured that one was meant to say 5 since it’s the bed right above three.”

Woman: “Oh, no they both are supposed to saw three. Is that a problem?”

            …….the realization slowly sank in. I would not be sleeping alone for the night. I didn’t know that hostels provided them, but apparently double beds are the thing to get in Amsterdam. That’s why the woman was so strange towards us earlier that day. She thought that we were a couple.

            After we created a small blockade of blankets, I actually slept pretty well.

            The next day we had to change hostels. We moved from The Flying Pig Downtown to the Flying Pig Uptown and, thankfully, I had booked us two SINGLE beds.

            The following day was probably the slowest of our journey. Being almost out of money, we chose to sightsee for most of the morning. Around dinner, we met up with Cheyenne who was visiting with three other CSB/SJU students. We walked through the canal zone and took a quick peek at the red light district. A fast visit to Chipsey King (I thought that they were only in Ireland) and it was back to the hostel for us.

            The highlight of our last full day (and probably the trip) for me was the three hour free walking tour. We covered almost the entire city. That’s one great thing about Amsterdam, it is just so compact that you can walk or bike (speaking of bikes, I am lucky to be writing this blog right now. The bikers there are a menace. Silent and incredibly deadly.) just about everywhere.

            Amsterdam is a city of such ontrast. A church right next to the Red Light district. A “coffee shop” that offers classes on how to quit drugs. After leaving, I was still on the fence regarding wethere or not I enjoyed my stay. It was probably the biggest culture shock I experienced while abroad. Ultimately though, I think that it was really good for me to see.  Before I leave off with Amsterdam, here is just a quick list of things I learned:

            There are 3 rules for living in Amsterdam. Anything is allowed as long as

                        1:It is good for business

                        2. It is discreet.

                        3. It doesn’t hurt anybody.

            Kuni and I climbed to Mt. Amsterdam. It is located in Chinatown and is a whopping 1.2 meters above sea level.

            There is a small church where the Pilgrims said mass before departing for America. Pretty cool stuff to see.

            The symbol of Amsterdam is “Ms. Amsterdam”—a naked woman, smoking some marijuana with the word “Rembrandt” tattooed across her bosom.

            Each year over 12,000 bikes are reclaimed from the canals and then resold to the people living there.

            I left a day before Kuni. It was almost as if Amsterdam wanted me to leave, the weather proved to be miserable with strong winds and torrential rains. I had to wait several hours in the airport and was glad when it was finally time to board. I found myself sitting next to an older couple in their sixties and I soon struck up a conversation with them when I noticed that that the woman next to me was reading a book that took place in Minnesota. We had a great time talking the entire was back and the two hour flight seemed to fly by. It turned out that they were real estate moguls and were coming back from their winter home in Naples (They also have a mansion in Cyprus and one in S. Africa.) They lived just outside of London and at the end of the flight they invited me back to their spring home in the country to spend the rest of the weekend. I totally would have taken them up on it if I hadn’t needed to pick up my luggage the next day. Honestly, I was just touched that they were so nice. I will be honest, the vast majority of the encounters I had had with Londoners had been so impersonal, it was nice to have an in-depth conversation with someone. I guess that goes to show me how wrong it is to generalize like that.

            The plane landed and as I went to shake the older man’s hand he slipped an envelop into my bag. “Not a word” he said. “This is for giving us old people a stimulating conversation. Oh, and for being a registered Democrat.” Then he and his wife disappeared off the plane and out through customs. He had left me sixty pounds in cash. “Enjoy your last day here. Have a steak dinner on us.” was written on a small piece of paper. I could have cried. Like Jesus with the loaves and fish, he had multiplied the contents of my wallet considerably.

Strollin' Down Memory Lane 

            Thanks to mystery couple, I was king for a day! I did sleep in the airport, but I was able to upgrade to a train ticket into London. No more buses for this guy! I picked up my luggage from storage and dropped it at the hostel, then I set off exploring all of our old haunts. At times, it was really rough. Walking down past all of the museums and seeing the park where we had played so many games of football. Mansion Place was covered with scaffolding, it looks like the outside is being painted. I swung by Ben’s Cookies one last time and finally got to visit Monument (where I got a certificate for climbing all 311 steps!) I ended the day with a show at Shakespeare’s Globe. I had tried to ge to a show during the school year, but shows didn’t start until the 22^nd, the day after I left. I checked online the week before I left for Portugal and noticed that they had added one more show to the calendar. It was Richard III, the only thing was that it was in Mandarin.

            The Globe is doing 37 of Shakespeare’s plays in 37 different languages. Mandarin was assigned for my play and although I couldn’t understand 99 percent of it, I knew the basic story. But really, what a perfect way to end my stay. It seemed appropriate that since I was currently in one of the most multi-ethnic cities in the world, that I leave after seeing Shakespeare in a foreign language.

I followed mystery couples instructions and enjoyed a nice steak dinner along the Thames before heading back to the hostel. An ideal last day in London. 

So Long and Thanks for all the Fish! (and Chips)

            During our last lesson Chuck, our professor, told us, “if you leave this class and don’t remember a single thing about old man Darwin, then that’s OK. Just remember one thing: things change." Out of all of the places I have travelled, all of the people that I spoke with on this trip, out of all the lessons I learned in class, this one seemed to carry the most weight.

            During our orientation, we had it drilled into us that we would come back different, older, wiser. I didn’t totally buy into this. Of course I was sure that SOME people would experience culture shock and see things differently, but not me. I had already been to Europe for two whole weeks, I knew what it was all about. I felt confident living away from home and I didn’t plan on altering any views. However, after the 4 months, I know that along with the other 24 kids, I am coming home a different person.

            What I leaned while abroad could never have been replicated back home in MN or NE and I want to again thank my friends and family (but especially my parents) for making this trip a possibility. So what all did I learn? I’m sure that the list can’t even begin to encompass everything that I discovered, but I will add to it as needed.

Water fountains for dogs can easily double as a drinking fountain for humans. Throw a willing partner and a dirty T-shirt in the mix and you have a relaxing sponge bath. (Lisbon)

Sunrises are the prettiest on the beach. They continue to be pretty( but at slightly less of a degree) from the inside of a night bus or an airport.

The best things in life aren’t always free, but the free things sure do kick-ass!

            -Best free museum (British Museum- London)

            -Best free tour (Sandman Tour-Amsterdam)

            -Free student IMAXs at the Science Museum (London)

            -Best free housing- Cork (Thanks CSB ladies!)

            -Best free night-Flat 17 playing Hearts

Living out of a backpack for a week and a half is possible, but pack carefully.

Plan ahead for every week. Also, plan on planning incorrectly for every week.

Eggs don’t last long in heat. They last even less when they have been sitting in the pocket of your coat.

Don’t pour grease directly into the drain.

Always find directions to your hostel BEFORE you land in a strange city.

According to a Frenchman, the French really enjoy thin couples.

6 boys and 7 girls can live in a flat together, but it requires some patience, a sense of humor and scheduled bathroom time.

The tube is not for shouting.

Old people don’t exist in London.

Learning how to say ‘thank you’ in other languages is important.

Learning about other religions is just as important as learning about your own.

Don’t cheer for the ‘home’ team when seated in the ‘away’ section.

After not showering for a week, you don’t need hair gel--your body makes it’s own.

When you can, ditch the tube and walk.

There is no perfect city, so it would be pointless to get caught up on irritating quirks.

           

Again, thank you to everyone for helping me on this trip and for reading my blog. Although it isn’t nearly as polished/updated as I would have liked it to be, I really did enjoy writing it and I hope that you all enjoyed reading it! I may post some last minute pictures, but if not, this will be the end of my England blog.

Cheers!

My Weekend in Review

What a weekend! We had out large group trip to Stonehenge and Bath on Friday. Well, we really only spent time in Bath. The previous London group told us not to waste our money going to Stonehenge, so we just told our driver to slow down when we passed it on the road. It was wise to heed the advice of previous London groups. You paid twenty pounds and you only got to be about ten yards closer than we were in the bus. There wasn’t any visitors information/signs to read/etc. so we were all very pleased with taking pictures while on a slowly moving bus.

Bath was not what I expected. We all took a short 45-minute tour of the Roman Baths. I picked up a few gifts in the gift shop and then we had 3 hours of free time. Not having much money, we all split up to see who could find the cheapest place to eat. Rachel, Beth, Maria and I found a small eatery called ‘Tastee Bite’ about four blocks from the baths. It was down a small alleyway but it looked like a White Castle (only a little more run down) and after a quick scan of the prices we decided to give it a try.

They only sold burgers for lunch, but the pictures on the menu looked so good we didn’t care about the limited options. We placed our order and sat down on a bench by the door. There was only one (very greasy/hairy) man working and he left us to go cook in the back. As we were sitting on the bench planning the remainder of our trip, a woman poked her head in the door. Seeing that the cook was in the back of the restaurant she quietly whispered, “Get out! Get out of here! Dis is a BAD KITCHEN!” She then ran away down the alley. We were stunned. We had already paid for our food. Was she joking? No one paid more than 4 pounds for lunch, so we wouldn’t be losing much if we just left. At that moment the smiling (very greasy/hairy) man came back around the corner and handed us our food. After opening up each Styrofoam box that held our food, I knew we should have listened to the crazy woman.

The fries were covered in grease. The entire bottom of the Styrofoam box was layed in a thick film of some kind of oil/mayonnaise. Ya know those hamburgers that they used to serve for school lunches? These were like those, only worse. Much worse. Thin and gray colored, they were cold despite having just been on the grill. They were obviously processed and after two bites I had to stop. It was the first meal that I couldn’t finish while abroad.

We threw our meals in the nearest dumpster and explored the majesty that is Bath. It isn’t much. We looked at some ruins and the inside of Bath’s cathedral. We had tea at a small restaurant and then had to get back on the bus to go back home. I finished the day with JURASSIC PARK WHICH WAS ON TV!!!!! A great way to end the day.

Saturday—woke up at 5:45. Woke up Rachel, Lauren and Kuni (Kuni ended up going right back to sleep and missing out of the fun) and we all caught the first tube to Covent Garden. We were trying to get tickets to see Matilda: The Musical! And the box office hands out 8 tickets to the first 8 people to arrive at the box office when it opens…..at 10:00. We arrived at the Cambridge Theatre at 6:45 and saw that there were already people camping out by the front doors. Thankfully, there was a matinee show as well, so 16 tickets were available. We were number 10,11 and 12 so after 3 hours of sitting on a cold, hard cement step we got our tickets. The show was for 2:30 and lasted until 5:30. It was the greatest musical ever. The cast was almost entirely children and we got to see the last performance of one of the 4 Matildas. They had the ingenious idea to have Miss Trunchbull to be played by a man and I had to get the soundtrack after the show ended.

Sunday—the amazingness continues! 5 months ago, we all booked tickets to The Making of Harry Potter Experience. The tours had opened only two weeks previous and tickets have been sold out for months. We took a train to Watford and got to look at thousands of the props that they used for the movies. I saw some brooms, a horcrux or two, Dumbledore’s office and all the costumes used in the movies. We got to fly a broom on a green screen and I bought a new journal and a chocolate frog in the gift shop. We were one of the last groups to leave the studio even though we got there 4 hours before it closed. About 90% of us cried during some part of the tour. Rachel and I went to Cote by the Thames for a quick dinner since we don’t have any food in the kitchen. We are all trying to clean everything out before we leave, but then that makes eating meals difficult. I got the steak and she got the duck. It was a great way to end the weekend. Also, we found out that Rachel won the FIE wide photo contest and gets to have tea with Lord Allistor on Tuesday. Yipeee!

Monday was our Darwin and British Life and Cultures final. I think I did pretty well on them so several of us went out for sushi at a place a block away from out flat. Rachel and I then took a quick jaunt down the street to the Royal Albert Hall where we had tickets to go see Noah and the Whale.

The. Show. Rocked!

The opening bands (Rae Morris and The Bahamas) were relatively new to the music scene but I loved every minute of their sets. The hall was completely sold out. Rachel and I only got tickets because we happened to get there just after two sponsors traded in their tickets. We were in the front row in seats 93 and 94. Not a bad deal for only 20 pounds! Then Noah and the Whale came on and played for an hour and forty-five minutes. They received a standing ovation from all five balconies of the Royal Albert Hall. A really good last four days.

So now that leaves me with only 4 days left in London. Most of it will be spent in the basement studying for my Islam final but I hope to get out to explore the city just a littler more before Kuni and I leave for Portugal. I will attempt to post one last long blog post before I leave for post travel, and I hope to post a reallllllly long response before I leave for Nebraska. Thanks for reading!

Picture Post

So in trying to catch up with everything I have failed to write down, this blog post will be a little hurried. Starting with Holy Week—I went to Westminster for all of the masses, I meant to go to Saint Paul at least once, but time seemed to sneak up on me each time and I always had to settle for the 15 minute tube ride over the 30 minute one. Something funny about churches here, they always pray for the Queen during Petitions. For Holy Thursday they invited veterans from the Royal Chelsea Hospital to have their feet washed and the Archbishop said mass on Easter Sunday.

We invited Chuck and Suzanne to eat Easter Brunch with us in the flat and the kitchen never looked so clean. We feasted on ham, French toast casserole, cheesy potatoes and other Easter related foods. Ya know what? They say pictures are worth 1000 words. I haven’t put pictures up in several weeks. This will be a picture blog! YIPEEEEEEE!

All of the chefs! Minus me of course.
They matched by mistake.
Looks at these fine chefs!
We didn't ride any of those rides. Not at ten pounds a go anyway.
A sideshot of Brighton Beach, Ferris Wheel and all.
Rachel trying to keep warm on Brighton Pier.
The royal palace in Brighton.
And here we are on our day trip to Brighton! We went down many of these sidestreets. They were only about 5 feet wide.
We went to see The Passion in Trafalgar Square. It was absolutely packed.
A man buying an ice cream cone outside of Royal Albert Hall. Ain't no biggie.
The Victoria and Albert Memorial. We play football just around the corner.
And here is the backside of the Royal Albert Hall. Rachel and I are going to a show there on Monday.
Hello Natural History Museum. A photo from my block.
GOALLLL!!!!! Its a good thing we were in the visitor section.
Our seats for the Manchester City/Sunderland game. Mario Ballotelli in all of his glory.
Paella at the Ramsbottom chocolate festival!
We had a picnic before we left for London. Thankfully this bench didn't have too much pigeon poop on it.
Behold! The Eiffel Tower at night! We arrived just after the hour when the entire structure lights up and sparkles. I bought a crepe, it was delightful.
Looks delicious doesn't it? Duck liver with apple curry sauce and rooster knuckle soup. We didn't know that at the moment.
Sunset over Paris once we had left the Louvre.
Monks carrying a body to the crypt. Rachel found this piece in the Louvre slightly disturbing.
She didn't follow me across the street.
Why hello there!

Sweet Pareee Moon Cherry!

France! Ok, so I am about two weeks behind on my posting. These aren’t going to be pretty but they will get the job done. So Rachel and I flew into Paris two Friday nights ago, landing around 9 PM in a nearly empty airport. Unfortunately, we had forgotten the name of the hostel as well as where it was located. So we had to spend some time waiting in line to talk with a woman at the information desk. Thankfully she was very nice and let us use her smartphone to figure out where the heck we wanted to be. A short hour and a half tube ride later, we found ourselves at Liberte stop, a short walk away from the hostel. The bed wasn’t too small, which was nice and there weren’t any overly smelly guys this time. Before we checked in for the night, we tried to find a place to eat (since we hadn’t eaten since noon) but unless you are in the center of the city, Paris shuts down around 11. We settled for the tomato and mozzarella sandwich at the hostel.

We woke up early the next morning and headed down to the metro station. We bought a one way pass intending to go see the Eiffel tower but changed out route halfway. We noticed that Versailles was only a half hour ride away on the same metro line, and since it was so early it might not be busy. So we went to Versailles. It was busy. It was also very hot. BUT we saw a little woman bring a karaoke cart onto the metro to sing us a song. It was very quaint. Then she harassed us for money and it stopped being quaint. That’s one thing about Paris, everyone is out to make a buck.

Grabbed a sandwich on the way to the palace. Rachel and I both chose the Le Dandy (Chicken, bacon, lettuce, cheese) and by the time we reached our destination I was several layers of clothes lighter. We toured the gardens (which were free) and got into the palace (which was NOT free unless you were a French or British full time student. Rachel and I put on our best British accents and apparently they were passable because we saved 15 euro.) Saw the Hall of Mirrors and made large paintings.

Back on the metro we go! Off to see the Eiffel tower. Since we had both been to the top, we chose to save some money and admire it from the bottom. One pistachio ice cream cone and lemon popsicle for energy and we walked the full 3 miles to the Louvre. A quick flash of our International Student ISIC card and we were past the ticket both and under the great glass pyramid. The Louvre is open until 9 on Fridays and it was blessedly quiet so we stayed there until 7:30. We toured the new exhibits, saw most of the main attractions (we skipped over the Mona Lisa. We had both seen it before and didn’t want to do many repeats.) We weren’t too far away from the Latin Quarters so we began walking in hopes of finding a cheap place to eat.

The thing about Parisian streets is that they don’t follow the grid system. Come to think of it, most of Europe doesn’t follow the grid system, so Rachel and I became understandably lost. A short 30 minute walk turned into a 90 minute trek. Yes, we did get to see some hidden gems of the inner city, but our stomachs were growling so loudly I think a woman heard it while we waited at a traffic light. A kind local finally directed us towards the restaurant of choice and we grabbed the last spot outdoors.

We were overly dehydrated and decided that water would be a better decision over wine (to the great displeasure of the waitress) and Rachel soon put in our order. The menu was in French so I let her do all of the talking. Also, she was fairly sure she knew what she was ordering. We thought it best to split an appetizer and a meal since it was a little pricey and our food came out within the half hour (apparently quick for French standards.) Turns out Rachel didn’t know exactly what she was ordering….and now that I know what we ate, it is probably a good thing that I was in the dark at the time. We did indeed eat duck, but it was duck liver made into a sort of pâté. The chicken soup turned out to be rooster soup with beef knuckles and some unknown vegetable. It really didn’t taste bad at all, but I probably would not have ordered it had I known what I was getting into. Lets hear it for culinary adventures!

Metro ride to the Eiffel tower and we basked in its illuminated glory. I got a massive crepe to eat on the way back (duck liver and rooster soup just doesn’t fill me up) and I was soon asleep in my relatively quiet room.

Woke up and checked out of the hostel. Rachel and I met up and toodled on over to Porte de Paris. Its one of the largest flea markets in the world. A little bit of haggling with the natives and I had three more presents for family back home.

We were entirely out of cash by now and found out that the metro did not take credit cards, so we had a little bit of trouble getting to the airport…..but we got there eventually! Someone got sick on the plane, we landed an hour late, but I was very happy to be back home. A very nice two day trip. Paris, you’re ok by me.

Onwards to Manchester! All aboard the night bus. Erin, Kuni, Mark, Rachel and I had bought tickets to Manchester several months previous, and we found ourselves pulling up into the city center at 5:45 am. Funny, you would think that everything would be open that early, but alas, Manchester is not the cultural hub we thought it would be.

Lets all sleep in the bus stop! Why not? I mean its heated, there are comfortable metal chairs, there are bathroom that only cost 30 p and its almost empty…well, apart from the security guards. Who soon told us to leave. So out into the cold we went, across the street to Burger King which thankfully was open 24 hours. We waited there until Starbucks opened and slept on the couches above the shop. Finally, the Manchester Tourism center opened its doors and we collected several maps and spoke to the nicemannamedBlake who told us that Ramsbottom (that was the actual name) was having its annual chocolate festival. We purchased tickets for the train and it only took about 40 minutes to reach our destination.

Ramsbottom!

We encountered a rapping dog, several protestants encouraging us to join SOS (Save Our Spire) and ate all the free samples available. The new thing now is to put chili powder in chocolate. Its not too bad. Back down to Manchester city center. Manchester City was playing Sunderland that day so we tried our luck with the scalpers. After an hour of walking around, we finally found someone who was willing to sell to us. We had to split up (Kuni and Erin got into the VIP ManCity section while we were in the fifth row of the Sunderland section) but it was an amazing game. A 3-3 thriller! I bought a scarf for a friend and we ate at the nearby Yates (50 wings for 10 pounds.)

It was getting dark and the tourism office was closed. So what else do you do when you are in a strange, dark city? You see a movie! 21 Jump Street! It was great and cheap. The movie ended at 11 and we walked back to the bus stop to catch our midnight bus back to London. I am leaving out many minor details, but at least I am caught up with the main events. Be back in a few weeks!

Football Schmootball

Are you ready for some football? In the past week I have seen three football games, 13 goals and six English Premier teams play.

Starting with Saturday: I lucked out in picking up a Fulham vs Swansea ticket at Foundation house for 25 so Kuni, Seyi and I tubed our way down to Craven Cottage to see the action. It was also Ireland vs England in rugby along with being St. Patrick’s day, so it took longer to navigate through the swerving groups of Englishfolk who were hanging outside of the stadium. Although Fulham lost, I got to see American star Clint Dempsey as well as some great passing from the Welsh side Swansea. End result: 0-3 Swansea Swans.

The very next day, nine of us went out to see Chelsea play in the FA cup against championship side Leicester City. They advertised seats in the Daily Reader and we got a great deal—mid level seats for only 30. Highlights: Seeing Spanish star Fernando Torres score 2. He hadn’t scored in the last 25 hours of field time. Hearing the Chelsea fans and Leicester City fans go at each other with cheers. I will not repeat the cheers I heard. Getting a game scarf for only 5 after the game. It helps to know how to haggle. Seeing one of the greatest stadiums in Europe—Stamford Bridge. End result: 5-2 Chelsea.

Wednesday: Mark and I had gone by the Queen’s Park Rangers box office two weeks before to see if we could get tickets to see QPR play our favorite team—Liverpool. The very grumpy assistant told us that it would be impossible for us to get tickets. I had heard that it was occasionally possible to get tickets from scalpers outside of the stadium so an hour and a half before the match began, Mark and I went to QPR’s stadium--Loftus Road. It was absolutely packed with people. The stadium is right next to the BBC headquarters and there isn’t much room for fit 30,000+ people in the streets. Also, we had no idea about how to go about getting tickets. Since selling tickets to non-members is….frowned upon, those who have extra tickets don’t make a big deal out of it. We spent about twenty minutes walking up and down the mainstreet, looking for shifty characters who looked like they wanted to sell us something. Soon enough, a scruffy looking man wearing a worn army jacket came up next to us:

“You boys looking for some tickets?”

“Yeah, we are, but we don’t have much.”

“Well, Ive got two, how much you got?”

“35.”

“P*ss off!”

and then he scurried back into the crowd. As fans started filing into the stadium, we were approached by more of the same type, offering tickets ranging from 80-150. A man from Nevada said that he didn’t have two game tickets, but he could get us airplane tickets real cheap. We didn’t take him up on his offer. Eventually, the game began and Mark and I were left in a fairly empty street filled with trash, spilled beer and unhappy looking scalpers. One of them motioned to us to come behind a nearby chips stand. It was Mr. P*ss Off.

“You boys still need tickets?”

“Well, we are still outside of the stadium aren’t we?”

“Yeah, I see that. How much you got?”

“Still 35.”

“……..Fine. Follow me.”

We were wise enough not to give him the tickets until we had entered the stadium. 35 pounds for 50 pound face value tickets that were going for twice as much online sounded like a great deal to us. Mr. PO said that we were sitting in the main fan section and directed us towards our seats. Only 10 minutes of the actual game had gone by and we quickly found our seats. Two of the only open seats in the packed stadium. They were right behind the QPR goal and had a great view of the entire stadium. The only problem was that we were smack dab in the center of the hardcore QPR fan group. They were signing and swearing and throwing things at each other. They screamed at the Liverpool fans and made fun of the players. They even booed their own captain off of the field. These guys were scary. Liverpool scored first. I did well to not say anything as the entire QPR side erupted in anger towards the Liverpool side. Another Liverpool goal was soon added to the tally and it looked like a sure victory for the Reds. I let out a small cheer without thinking when the second goal was scored and quite a few QPR supporters turned around to stare at me.

QPR got a consolation goal with 15 minutes left and the home fans erupted. An old man told me to cheer more when he saw me standing there. I did cheer more and received a hug for my enthusiasm. 2-1 was still a win for Liverpool, I could put up with some fake cheering. Two minutes from time and a second QPR goal was scored. If the stadium wasn’t made of metal and concrete it would have collapsed, the noise was incredible. Fans were spilling out onto the field and screaming their heads off. QPR is a very small local team, nothing like Liverpool. For them to come back with only 15 minutes left was amazing. I tried to look on the bright side, at least I saw two Liverpool goals. A draw was better than a loss. Then Liverpool lost. With one minutes left, QPR dribbled through the entire defense and slotted a shot into the bottom corner, right in front of the home fans. The ref blew the whistle and the game was over. The QPR fans screamed, they cried, they hugged those around them. I joined them in these activities, but I was on a totally different side of the emotional scale. Thankfully, everyone looks the same in that state. End Result: QPR win 3-2. I did not buy a match scarf.

I will write about my trip to Paris later this week. Thanks for reading!

Aaron Go Braghless

Where Mark and I slept.
We thought that the fern garden looked like Jurassic Park.
Kiss dat stone.
In the main part of the dungeon.
In front of Blarney Castle.
Exploring the fort in Kinsale
Staring out to sea.
Up through the Hobbit hole.
Cow in a tree? Are the French in Ireland?
The Irish campus. Much more green than ours.

I have quite a bit of catching up to do. First of all I will briefly explain what I did in Cork.

After a five minute sprint to reach the 4:45 AM bus out of London, Mark, Rachel and I arrived at Stansted airport in time to take the 7:05 plane to Cork. All three of us slept on the plane, so the trip went smoothly. A quick taxi ride to the downtown area was where Julia’s apartment was. We unpacked our gear and Julia gave us a tour of the college campus and downtown Cork. We visited the English Market where I bought some soda bread and then stopped at Tesco for groceries. The rest of the day was spent relaxing, playing cards and cooking dinner (pasta.) We went to an Irish pub later that night so that we could truly experience Guinness. Not too bad, although very heavy. We ate a Chipsy King before we went home. Chipsy King is an abomination. It is a little hut squashed in-between two larger shops and sells ridiculous amounts of chips/fries covered in mayonnaise. I got a large funnel of chips coverd in beef chili and taco mayo for 3 euro. My stomach was up all night.

Saturday was spent in the seaside village of Kinsale. A 45 minute (and VERY swervy, sickening) bus ride was all it took to reach Kinsale. We spent the morning/afternoon exploring the various forts/shops/Trapist monasteries. A very late lunch was had at Sals (Shepards Pie for all three of us) and we wrapped up the trip by stopping by the local sweet shop. Fudge in Ireland is not the same as fudge from home. It has much less sugar. The three of us made dinner (chicken potato casserole) and we cleaned the living room a bit. Julia invited several of the other Ireland students up to her apartment and we spent the night talking about our traveling adventures.

Sunday was probably my favorite day in Ireland. Mark, Rachel and I went to Blarney Castle to see the Blarney Stone. I had just pictured a small castle in the middle of nowhere with a line to kiss a big stone, but there was quite a bit more. We explored the dungeons, at times almost crawling on our hands and knees to get through the tunnels. At first we were worried that we were going into a forbidden part of the dungeon, since it was suck a difficult trek, but we saw names carved along the wall so we couldn’t have been the first people to go that far. We climbed all the way to the top of the castle to lean over the edge and kiss the Blarney Stone. We toured the ‘poison garden’ that was outside of the castle (God knows why a main attraction at Blarney Castle would be a garden full of deadly plants) and visited the fern garden. Overall, it was a great trip and we got to see just how green Ireland really is. We took the bus back (only about a 15 minute drive) and went shopping for presents at the Ireland gift shop. I won’t say what I bought just so people reading this aren’t clued in too early regarding their gifts.

We called up a taxi to pick us up and take us to the airport at 5:20 Monday morning. One quick plane ride, bus ride, tube ride later and we walked into our 11:00 class with one minute to spare. Very nicely timed.

This week has been highlight filled.

Tuesday we went to see “Pitchfork Disney” for our theatre class. It was an off West End drug induced, dark humor play about two siblings trapped in a house. I thought I was going to absolutely hate it but it was the best show I have seen here so far.

Wednesday I went with ten of my other London peeps to see the Hunger Games European red carpet premier. I didn’t really have much interest in seeing the celebrities, I just wanted autographs to give out as gifts. Turns out that we picked one of the best spots in the house. I got Elizabeth Banks, Chris Hemsworth, Liam Hemsworth, Jennifer Lawrence, and Toby Jones. I also got some signatures from British Reality TV stars, but nobody cares about them much anyway. We stood next to a 16 year old girl who smoked like a chimney and had skipped grammar school to attend the show. We were interviewed for OK Magazine online and she freaked out because her teachers watched the online videos and they would probably see her. Oops.

Thursday we had our first cancelled class. We were left with three hours of unplanned time for eight of us went to Hyde park to play some soccer. While we were playing a helicopter kept flying over our head. Then the police showed up in mass force and began walking through the park .Was there a killer loose? Was there a bomb threat? No, the Queen was coming to Kensington Palace (we play soccer in the front yard of Kensington Palace) and they were getting ready for her arrival. Sure enough, a motorcade drove down the main lane and through the palace gates. I saw the Queen’s cuetip head as she got out of the car and walked into the palace. Check that one off of the list.

Half of the group is going to Scotland this weekend, but the other half bought tickets to go see Chelsea play on Sunday. I also lucked out and was offered a ticket to see Fulham play Swansea on Saturday, so this will be a football packed weekend! That’s it for me. Pictures will hopefully be put up (in some semblance of order) and I will update again soon.

Post #3--Nerja y Gibraltar

Who is this? Oh just our friend Harry Hinde.
Rachel with Africa in the background.
Lighthouse with storm clouds approaching.
Mosque with storm clouds approaching quickly.
Shrine with STORM CLOUDS ON TOP OF US!
Feeding some monkeys on Gibraltar.
La Linea=The worst place EVER!
The caves in Nerja
A Quaint town near Nerja. (Betcha can't say 'Near Nerja' ten times fast.)
Up the steep hill in the rickety old train.

Thursday: Lets go to NERJA! Nerja, Spain—On the sunny, breezy coast resides Nerja, where we went on Thursday. It is only 45 minutes by bus so we all woke up early to walk to the bus station. Well, I woke up later than everyone else. My iPod was still set to London time so instead of waking up at 8 I woke up at 9. Nobody felt the need to wake me up. Darn.

The bus trip was uneventful, except for the fact that someone put a dog in the undercarriage of the bus. It barked for the first 25 miles.

We arrived around noon and immediately found a gelato stand. Since man can’t live on gelato alone, we stopped at a local tapas stand (6 tapas for 5 euro)

The following is what I ate: Iberian Ham, Chicken Chutney, Smells cheese covered in sesame seeds, Spanish omelet, more smelly cheese (but this cheese wasn’t soft) slice of beef.

Now that we had all of these pleasant foods mixing around in our stomachs, we set off to tour the hillside city of Fideldergo, or Figerdelga, or Figerillo….it was something like that. We took a bus up into the mountains (it was only ten minutes away) and since we only had an hour to tour, we were convinced to experience The Famous Tram Ride! Picture one of the trains you see at state fairs or the zoo. Now take away the seatbelts, comfortable seats, and functioning breaks and you have our tram. The conductor was nice enough and promised that the tour would be in tres languages. So, we paid our four euros and set off up the nearest hill.

The conductor had a headset microphone that would only pickup half of what he said. From that half only a fourth was in English. From that fourth, an eighth of it was curse words and disgruntled mumbles each time the engine backfired. That left us with a very small fraction that was about and man was it informative. Apparently it was Europe largest paper (sneaker or plaster, the conductors accent was very thick) mill at one time. Also, the hills are populated by mountain ghosts. You can find their horns on the road occasionally. At one point, we had to wait for an old man to cross the street. Halfway across, he must have recognized the conductor, because he started waving his cane and yelling until the conductor let him ride shotgun.

After the tour, we explored the hills on our own until the bus took us back to Nerja. Maria, Rachel and I really wanted to see the caves that Nerja is famous for, but unfortunately we had missed the last bus that took visitors to the site. A local woman said that it was only 2 km and we could easily walk there. Turns out that 2km=5km in Nerja, because it took us 45 minutes to power walk there. We arrived with 45 minutes before the cave closed, but dang it if we weren’t going in! It was privately owned, so the prices were a little steep, but we saw the largest stalactite in the world as well as several large underground formations.

We managed to catch a city bus back and did some more walking before meeting up with the other half of the group for dinner. We lucked out on restaurants and we were able to get a three-course meal for 10 euro. A man with a guitar serenaded us for a bit before he realized that we had no money and he then left the restaurant. It took a little over two hours for our meal to finish so we ran to the city center to catch our bus back. A loverly day in Nerja.

Friday: LET’S GO TO GIBRALTAR!

Let me set the scene. I wake up to the sound of thunder. Rain is hitting the glass window that serves as my door and rain water is splashing through the cracks. I navigate the dark room, occasionally lit by flashes of lightning, to quickly dress and then wake up Rachel. It is 5:35. Time to go to Gibraltar.

We decide to catch the bus to the city center since it is pouring rain. There are a few students who are finally getting home from a club but other than that the hostel is silent. We run out into the street and wait under the dark, chilly bus station stall until the no 11 bus toodles on by. Unfortunately, there isn’t a bus that goes directly to the international bus station, so we had to run the 3/4^th mile to shelter. We arrived soaked and freezing, but made the bus before it left. We sat in the front row and the next three hours were spent drifting in and out of consciousness. We made multiple stops between Malaga and Gibraltar so that the driver could pick up more passengers and so that the ticket assistant could take smoke breaks. Each time we stopped, the driver would leave the door open so that the cold air and the rain would blow directly into my face. I am going to avoid taking long bus trips from now on.

The bus pulled up to the station and everyone unloaded.

“Is this it? Is this Gibraltar?” I didn’t know what to expect, but what I saw wasn’t very pleasing. A run down bus station next to an ancient looking McDonalds ate up the scenery and you had to be careful to keep your footing on the broken coble street. Rachel and I wound our way to the La Linea (that’s where it turned out we were. Not the same as Gibraltar) tourist office. It was one of the nicer buildings in the city but we had to be careful going in the front door. The glass in the door was spiderwebbed from bullets being shot into it…or it could have been rocks thrown into the door. Lets go with rocks for now.

We spoke to the woman in charge and she seemed genuinely confused as to why we were there. Apparently nobody ever visits La Linea. I wonder why there was a tourist office? It turns out that Gibraltar was only about a quarter mile away, we had actually walked past in on the way to the tourist office. It looks like one giant military base. It actually is one giant military base. Surrounded by barbed wire and men with guns, this was our destination. Anything to get out of the big ball o’ joy that was La Linea.

We ate a quick breakfast/lunch of chocolate doughnuts, French fries and chicken before setting off to cross the boarder between Spain and the last little chunk of England. We went through customs where the man said “hello” in English and I knew that I was home.

A pidgin then decided to shit on my clothes.

After spending fifteen minutes in the Gibraltar welcome center bathroom, we headed out to see what there was to see. We really only had two things on our “to do” list: monkeys and Africa. There was a quaint little city center where we stepped in to see a glass blowing demonstration and then we worked our way over towards the water to catch a cable car up to the Gibraltar Rock. Turns out that the cable cars were closed due to high winds. We decided to walk.

We headed towards the botanical gardens to look at the native flora. The woman in the gift shop was mean so we didn’t stay long. There was a wildlife preserve that was under construction right up the hill from where the gardens were. We could see that it was filled with monkey. We like monkeys. We had to get in. I asked one of the workers if we could step in to look at the monkeys. He said “sure, no problem.” ( I don’t think he cared much for his job) He was busy chopping up a huge amount of fruit. I assumed it was for the animals so I asked, “Hey, is there anyplace nearby where we could buy some food to feed the animals?” He took the bait and tossed me a huge bag of white grapes “on the house.” We spent the next half hour feeding the monkeys and chatting with the construction workers and tourists watched from the outside.

Out the wildlife preserve and further up the hill, we hit a brief clearing where we could look out to see. What ho? What be that land across the sea? Africa! We have seen Africa! Our “to do” list now complete, we sat down and took a 5 minutes breather, not knowing what to do next. We heard that there was a great lighthouse nearby so we kept trekking up the hill. Around the rock we walked, seeing a gorgeous European shrine, a mosque and finally the lighthouse. By then the sky was looking pretty darn cloudy and it began to rain. We took shelter in a bus station by the lighthouse and waited. While we were waiting and snacking on mixed nuts that had been in my pocket for several days, a little balding man wearing all black, darted out from the nearby mosque and joined us under the stop shelter.

He began to make small talk with us and long story short—he is a “published” named Harry Hinde. He had recently finished a book called 666: The Divine Harmony and he was very interested in our travels. Not having much of a choice (pouring rain with the nearest shop being several miles away vs staying dry but in the presence of a true nutter) we decided to cut our losses and put up with his constant chatter. During the 30 minutes it took for the bus to arrive, Rachel and I learned all about “lay lines” the mapping of the cosmos, the interrelation between hell and the subconscious (?) world and several other incredibly confusing topics. FINALLY the bus pulled up. But wait, who is this now? Another figure, sprinting through the rain, wrenching open the bus doors as it pulls up. Its another bus driver, completely soaked to the bone and he is screaming at the current bus driver. The screaming was in Spanish so we didn’t know what exactly was going on, something about the current bus driver taking the best driving shifts. Fifteen minutes passed and we were finally let on, with the wet bus driver sulking in the back. The entire way back Harry kept talking. We were invited out for drinks, (we politely declined) he offered to walk us to the bus station (we politely declined) we even tried getting off the bus several stops early, but he insisted on showing us a shortcut to the bus station. Thankfully we were surrounded by people. So, Harry led the way, a bizarre mix between Mary Poppins and Willy Wonka with his large black umbrella and maniacal grin. I managed to snap a quick picture before we made our escape. We hid in a nearby candy shop to make sure that Harry wasn’t following us, then we made our way back to the bus stop.

Our bus was not supposed to arrive for another 30 minutes (We thought it was better to wait in La Linea. Maybe Harry wasn’t allowed there.) but there was one bus that was sitting, idling in the deserted bus station. The driver saw us and ran out to greet us.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Malaga, but our bus won’t be here for 30 minutes.”

“Ah, Malaga! I will take you now.”

Looking back, it was probably a poor decision to follow a strange man onto a strange bus in a strange country, but upon entering we met another American named Adam who was in the same situation. We both double checked with the driver that yes, he was going to Malaga. He just kept nodding his head as he shut the doors and sped off into the night. That was the end of that.

Turns out, the bus driver was true to his word. Not only did we arrive safely in Malaga, but we got there an hour and a half before schedule. Very nice! It was Friday and so a Stations of the Cross procession led towards the nearby church. Rachel and I followed for a bit before heading back to the hostel to pass out on the beds. It was definitely a trip of highs and lows.

Saturday: We were kicked out of our hostel at 11:30. Thankfully we were a block from the beach. We stayed there until 4, then got ice cream and headed to the airport. We arrived safely back. Yeah!

Well, that’s the end of that. Finally! Now off to Cork, Ireland tomorrow. More adventures to come. Thanks for reading!