Category: UK + Ireland

Back at it again! As I grew closer to the one year anniversary of this trip, I figured it was high time I finish blogging it, before all the details slip away entirely.

To refresh your memories, this trip began in New York, continued through London, where I took day trips to visit Stonehenge and Oxford, and then made its way up to Edinburgh. I had been to Edinburgh once before, and I vowed to come back someday for a bus tour of the Scottish Highlands. This blog is about just such a tour!

While there were plenty of tours to choose from, it was actually really difficult to find accommodation in Edinburgh and in the overnight location for the tour because this was Easter weekend! Easter weekend isn’t a big travel weekend in the States, as far as I know, but in the UK, they get Friday and Monday off of work and school, so lots of people bounce around for the long weekend.

I started my Easter morning early in a crowded little cafe owned by the bus company. It turned out there were loads of different bus companies in Scotland, and each company provided loads of different tours, so this made for a couple sleepless nights shuffling between the options. When I approached the entrance to the cafe, I checked in, and a young Scottish girl said, “I’ll just make you a wee tag.” Why don’t we use the word “wee?!” Do we not realize it is literally the cutest word in the English language?! Come on, people!

As I sat in the crowded cafe and watched people ordering breakfast and running to the bathroom “one last time” before boarding our separate buses, I crossed my fingers for a good guide and planned my attack for getting on the bus first – to have my choice of seats.

Somehow, I am fully confident I ended up with the best guide the company had to offer. His name was Jim. He was a jolly, knowledgeable Scottish fellow, and he knew how to navigate those crazy one-lane roads through the countryside like he was born behind the wheel of a seventeen-seater minibus. I will admit that at times, he worried me a bit when he reached up and looked back to point at (and draw on!) the map hanging above his head. But no accidents occurred, and he kept us in high spirits, indeed.

This minibus was fancy, and I was first aboard. I took one of the solo seats on the left side of the bus with a big window, and I quickly made friends with the only other solo rider, sitting directly behind me, who I began calling “Dan the Military Man” in my head. He was a very kind American soldier in his forties, on tour in Germany, and he took to calling us “battle buddies.” Adorable. We shortly drove our way out of scenic Edinburgh, passing the castle on the way.

As we drove north through the country, we passed pasture after pasture, with rolling green hills. It was very soothing. We stopped at the little town of Pitlochry for some delicious ice cream (I think my flavor was raspberry and Devonshire cream), and as we ventured further from the Scottish capital, the scenery started looking less and less Scottish and more and more Icelandic. So many pretty colors of green and gold, with mountains looming in the background.

We passed a couple whiskey distilleries, and our first proper stop was Strathmathy Falls. We took a little hike through some lush moss-covered forests with a creek running through.

We continued to pass gorgeous hills and lochs, but the main event for the day was the most famous loch in all of Scotland – Loch Ness! Located along the Caledonian Canal, we got set free to roam the little area of Fort Augustus. I grabbed some yogurt (though I really just wanted a second ice cream cone), and then I watched the canal locks raising and lowering the boats so they could access the Loch.

There was a little celebration going on for Easter, and I got a picture with a one-toothed Nessie. Adorable. He gave me a kiss on the cheek and a chocolate egg!

Optionally, we could join a cruise of the Loch to search for Nessie! I lagged a bit getting into line, so the boat actually filled up. I wasn’t sure what would happen since I had already paid, but the thirty or so of us who remained got to board a smaller ship, where we got to stretch our legs! The other ship was standing room only. Ha. Sometimes procrastination has its perks.

The guide (who was an ADORABLE Scottish boy – goodness golly) pointed out a possible Nessie ramp between the Loch and the land. He also demonstrated the boat’s radar capabilities so that we could see what the bottom of the loch looked like. But mainly, he was just adorable. I could not get over that accent. I found myself sighing sorrowfully each time I remembered I had a boyfriend joining me later in this trip. (Love you, deer. Tehehe.)

Some fun facts about Loch Ness: a single glass of the loch’s water appears crystal clear, but larger quantities of water appear opaque because of the peat in the water, and there have been more people to space than to the bottom of Loch Ness!

I very much enjoyed the view as we cruised around the loch. I’m not much one for the blazing heat and cool, clear waters. That is beautiful, certainly, but my enjoyment is always undercut by my fear of severe sunburn! In this overcast, but temperate day on the murky Scottish waters, I was in my element.

AND I EVEN SAW NESSIE.

Amazing. (; I had a little more time to explore, and then it was back on the bus. We continued East, with mountains and lochs a-plenty to feast our eyes upon.

We even got to make a stop at a marvelous viewpoint, Mam Ratagan. Oh, and by this point, I was three or four days past my planned laundry day, so my accidental thrifting paid off, and I got to debut my new (5 dollar!) sweater dress.

Aren’t the colors of the landscape spectacular? All the golds and greens and blues…. I still can’t get over it.

Soon after, we reached the town of Glenelg and the Skye ferry. There are two ways to get to the Isle of Skye from the mainland – we could cross by a short ferry to Kylerhea, or we could have taken a detour back at Ratagan to venture up to a series of bridges. We voted for the ferry, though, and each pitched in two pounds for the crossing.

The ferry was very small. It only fit a couple of cars at a time, so our minibus had to wait for the next trip. A few of us boarded as walk-ons, though, to enjoy the fresh air.

It was so pleasant, as was the fifteen minute wait for the next round trip to retrieve our remaining party. I explored the shoreline a bit, and then took a seat on the cracked waterside rock.

The ferry ride was our last big event for the day, and then we were on the home stretch to our destination: the little town of Portree. Funnily enough, Portree is both the capital and largest town of the Isle of Skye, despite its wee size! As I mentioned earlier, it was nearly impossible to find accommodations, since I’d waited right up to the last minute, but I managed to find a somewhat off-the-books hostel right next to the town square!

Believe it or not, the interior of the hostel was painted just as garishly, haha. I was FINALLY able to do some laundry, so I popped down to the basement to start a load before running about the town to explore a bit and find a bite to eat.

I stepped into a couple different restaurants, but, as Jim had warned us, everything was fully booked! It was madness. This little town was fit to bursting. I settled with some to-go noodles and popped a squat on the water to enjoy the sunset and the marina.

Such a charming town. I was exhausted by the end of it, and I barely managed to fold all my laundry and make a sad attempt at blogging before getting some much needed shut-eye.

Bright and early in the morning, I made a stop into the Coop (love this British chain!) to stock up on fruit, smoothies, and lunch for the day, and then it was back on the bus. I pulled a bit of a cheeky move and stole Dan’s seat because it was up higher so that I could see over the tops of the seats in front of me and straight out the front window. I had originally chosen my seat in front of this one because it had an unobstructed window on my left, but my neck was sore from all the craning around the side! Luckily, Dan was a gentleman and had no issue with the switch. A few other exchanges occurred. Notably, the chatty, older Canadian couple from the front switched to the back so a couple whose male partner had a vision impairment could have a better view.

Our first stop in the morning was a viewpoint for the Black Cullins, a beautiful family of mountains. We were given some time to wander the creek bed and the area around the bridge. It was so delightfully sunny!

And you know, this actually reminds me of my many wardrobe malfunctions from the day before. At some point on Day 1, my sunglasses broke at the hinge, but it was so sunny that I tried to wear them with only one arm for a while. Dan kept laughing at me, understandably, because they were sitting cockeyed and wonky on my face! Then, at Loch Ness, I was wandering around, and right when I made eye contact with a man in the distance who might have been Dan, my purse suddenly broke free of my shoulder and collapsed to the ground. It had worn right through the fake-leather strap where it connected to the metal buckle on the purse! So that night, somewhere between laundry and blogging, I sat patiently and did my best to sew my purse back together. Thank goodness for the tiny sewing kit I got in some hotel!

Today, my purse held steady, but I was paying for those missing sunglasses. I even had a spare pair that I had simply forgotten in my hostel. Oops.

Sad to leave this beautiful creek side, we loaded back into the van and were off, past some more of the endless Skye scenery, to the Talisker Distillery.

We were each given a sampling of whiskey, and then we were allowed to roam the shop or the beach. The whiskey was strong! I added a couple drops of water, but it still burned going down. I’d explored the beach while we waited for the whiskey samples, so I backtracked the way we’d come to a park we had passed on our way in. And then I played on the swings and chatted up a cute little family. I guess I know my place… hahaha.

I was the last to board the van, since everybody else was just milling about the little shop the whole time. Jim asked what there was to see over there, and I responded, “There’s a park! I played on it…. With some kids!”

To this, Jim said to the rest of the bus, “That must be the whiskey talking.” Bahahaha.

A little drive later, we pulled over to admire some Scottish sheep. So cute. So fluffy.

 

Soon, we approached Dun Beag broch, which translates roughly to “small fort.” Estimated to be over 1500 years old, this broch (dry stone round-house), is one of the best preserved dwellings of its kind on the Isle of Skye. Built into the broch are some of the oldest preserved steps in the country.

It was beautiful and windy up on the hill, and I never wanted to leave!

I did some exploring, and then I just lay on the remains of a stone wall and admired the view. Several people asked to take pictures of me, and only in viewing the pictures afterward did I realize that my skirt had been flying up the whole time I was sitting there. Yikes.

We made a couple more stops for rests and viewpoints. Dunvegan Castle, one of the most famous castles on the island, was the star of our second stop, but we were so far away, and the sun was right behind it, so it was hard to get a good look.

We passed several remains of homes that were victims of the Highland Clearances. During the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, homes were burnt down and tenants forced out to make room for more sheep pastures. All that remains are the outer stone walls of the homes.

Our van made a brief stop at the Isle of Skye Brewing Company for some beer samples. I’m not a huge fan of beer, but I loved the gift shop, and I indulged in a cocoa-dusted “babyccino,” which turned out to just be steamed, frothy milk! Yum.

The highlight of Day 2, and, if I’ll be honest, the highlight of my whole trip, was Cuith-Raing. Just before we deboarded, Jim showed us a brochure photo of the landscape and scoffed, warning us not to expect anything close to what the brochure depicted.

Well, I don’t know what he was talking about, because THIS PLACE WAS OTHERWORLDLY.

Thank goodness for Dan and his camera skills. But also, would you just look at those colors?! Those shadows?! That everything?!

There really are no words to describe how mesmerized I was. I kept making awkward 360s like Maria in The Sound of Music, trying to soak everything in. I even had Dan hold my purse so I could do some cartwheels! My joy was impossible to contain!

 

The ground was covered in a strange, springy mix of moss and short-cropped grass. I imagine this was due to some mix of the high winds and plentiful sheep and goats to munch everything down to the bit. It really did make for a perfect frolicking and cartwheeling platform.

I wonder if one could ever truly get used to this beauty. Isle of Skye, how do you do it?!

Into the van again, reeling with smiles and adrenaline, we made our way to Creag An Fheilidh, or “Kilt Rock.” It was basically a precipitous cliff face!

Our last couple stops we made in search of a good angle on the Old Man of Stor, a particularly pointy rock amidst a grouping of other pointy rocks and cliff faces.

And here’s our completed map of the Island! Not too shabby.

 

We also had a highland cow spotting on our way back to town! Mooooooo…. I was so excited.

We arrived in Portree ahead of schedule thanks to the lovely weather, so I made my way around to explore. One of my favorite stops was The Lump, aptly named and topped with some nice stone lookouts. I got some lovely views of the marina from up here, and I ran into my buddy Dan!

 \

We set off together to explore the outskirts of town, including a weathered cemetery and a lovely woodland walk.

Yet again, all the restaurants were booked, with the exception of a 3-star Indian restaurant. Reviews said the food was decent, but service not so much. Well, I agree! I wanted to order a curry from the kids menu because I wasn’t very hungry. The waiter asked sarcastically, “Are you twelve?” I said, “No…” He responded, “Then you cannot order off the children’s menu. Here. I’ll do this. You can order off the children’s menu, but you pay double.”

Heck no, techno! I told him to shove it (in my head), and ordered only naan. Pffft. So rude! And he would have gotten more money out of me if I’d ordered my kid’s meal, anyway! Dingus.

A silly end to a lovely day, and I slept peacefully that night in my cozy hostel bed.

More Easter weekend adventures to come!

Until then….

Gach dùrachd/ best wishes,
Lizzy-wa

Okay. So, understandably, after two days of go-go-going right after three days of noisy, sweaty sleep and that long, jet-laggy flight, I was pretty exhausted come my fourth day in this British capital city. And the only thing I had planned was a show on the West End in the evening. So, I did what any sensible person would do, and I SLEPT IN.

I slept in real good. I think I got something like thirteen hours of sleep. I guess it takes three nights to acclimate to an uncomfortable sleeping environment and to become so tired that the environment just seems to matter a little less. I only barely woke up when the custodian came in to mop the floors and change the bedsheets of those tenants who had checked out at eleven. And then I fell back asleep again.

And even when I woke up enough to be on my phone, I still didn’t get out of bed. That didn’t happen until two in the afternoon.

The reason I finally pulled myself out of bed was because I was almost out of clean underwear and was entirely out of clean clothes, which meant I really needed to do laundry. So, I hauled myself out of bed, gathered my things, and ran down to the laundry room, hoping desperately the one washing machine would be empty for me.

I sunk in utter defeat when I saw an “OUT OF ORDER” sign posted to the washer.

Remember when I said I thought about doing laundry earlier in the week and regrettably decided to do it later? That decision was coming back to haunt me.

Out of options and in need of underwear, I asked the front desk when the machine might be fixed. They didn’t have a real answer to give, but suggested I go over to their other hostel a few blocks away. So I put a dress on, slipped on my shower flip flops, and headed out into the hot, sunny spring day with my laundry. At the other hostel, though, it was more expensive to use the machines, and there was no sign posted about how long the wash and dry cycles were. I also hadn’t eaten anything yet, so I was starving, and since I wasn’t a guest at this hostel, I would need to be buzzed into the laundry area every time I left and returned.

I hemmed and hawed for several minutes, trying to decide if this was really the way I wanted to spend my Thursday, and in the end, I decided it was not. I would wear a used shirt or two and do my laundry in Scotland the next day. Nothing wrong with that. I still had two pairs of clean underwear, after all.

So, I was back to square one at my hostel, in a dress I wore a few days ago, wearing already-used socks, and, as my sister likes to say, I was free-boobin’ it.

I was feeling pretty sunny.

My first order of business was breakfast/lunch/early dinner at an Indian restaurant I’d been eyeing near my hostel. It was already late enough that I had to order off the ‘early dinner special’ menu instead of the ‘lunch special’ menu. I ordered chicken tikka masala, chicken curry, and naan. All was delicious, including my book. Seriously. If you haven’t read Eleanor & Park, do it. I’ve waited six years to read it, and honestly, I’m happy I did, because it resonated with me in ways it wouldn’t have six, or even two, years ago. But still, you should read it. It was worth the wait.

After brulinner™, I remembered I’d never been to the Tate Modern, so that’s where I went! My college roomie spent a lot of time at the Tate when she did a mini art-focused study trip in London in 2015, so I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. I had the whole top deck of my double decker to myself on the way there. (I like to take the bus even when the underground is faster, as long as I’m not in a rush, just to get the views.)

The main photo for this post is from this bus ride. I don’t think you’d ever see me smile that wide on the Underground!

When we passed by an ambulance, I imagined it was being driven by the London ambulance driver from a book I read recently; his name was Ambulance Sam.

When I was dropped off on the other side of the Thames, I walked along the water for a little while, enjoying the sun and the views.

And then I made it to the Tate!

Housed in a very industrial building, this museum was big into accessibility. There was an entire exhibit focused on how to get the most out of your visit. It asked visitors to pay attention to colors, shapes, and feelings, and to take their time.

Personally, I was trying to embody the practice of ‘slow looking.’ If you’ve ever been to a museum with me, you know I do this already, but I’ve been trying to do so even more thoughtfully.

This kid was looking real slow at this piece:

He was straight up mesmerized. Hahaha.

And there were pretty views!

The Tate Modern is actually split up into two wings. I was in the side that had four floors, but the other side has ten floors with a viewing platform at the top. I never made it over to that side, but the views were just peachy looking out at the Thames.This was supposed to be my last exhibit:

But then I spotted a bronze cast of Little Dancer by Degas and I ended up in the contemporary exhibit for another ten minutes.

I even saw a different version of this exact painting just the day before in Oxford! That was fun:

And then I finally ran out. I was a bit rushed to get all the way across town.

Whyyyy? Because I had tickets to a show! Come From Away! I’ve been wanting to see this show for a while, but I haven’t gotten the chance. I did end up being a little bit late, unfortunately. I walked in right as the first song was about to start, but they made me wait until the song was over to go inside.

LOVED THE SHOW, though. I only knew a very little about it, so I actually thought it was about a plane crash. In reality, it was about the immediate aftermath of 9/11 and the grounding of planes resulting in 31 planes having a forced landing in Newfoundland, Canada. It was jarring, touching, horrifying, nostalgic, and emotional. I cried and laughed a lot.

Afterward, I was understandably tired, but I also hadn’t really spent any time in the nightlife of London, and I was right in my favorite night spot: the West End, Chinatown, and the Piccadilly Circus. It’s just a fun, lively area to walk around, so I did just that.

And then I slept.I had an early morning, though! I recommend taking the train to Edinburgh from London if you can, but they were too expensive by the time I was looking, so I decided to fly. I had to catch a bus at six in the morning to take me to the airport, and it frustratingly sat for twenty minutes at its second stop before continuing on. But whatevs.

I was pretty nasty in another second-day outfit and my hair was doing some cray cray business, but I got the window seat in a row all to myself, so I was happy on the inside!

The cherry blossoms were blooming here, too, but all the ones I could see in Edinburgh were a beautiful, rich rosy pink, as opposed to the very light baby pink of the cherry blossoms in New York or the nearly white blossoms in Seattle. I think I like this rich pink color the best.

We drove past some fancy high schools on the way into town.

I dropped by my hostel to drop my stuff off, but check-in wasn’t allowed until two, and it was only eleven, so I couldn’t settle in at all. I plopped down on a couch in the lobby to determine my plan of attack on my only real day in the city when an Indian girl walked up and asked if I wanted to join her and some others for brunch. Honestly, I had just finished forming my plan for the day, and it had not included brunch with a bunch of strangers, but that’s just what happens when you’re travelling sometimes! So, off we went. It’s killing me that I can’t remember her name exactly because I only heard her say it twice, but I *believe* it was Shrivanka. I really hope I’m not completely off. Maybe I will call her “S” so that I do not risk calling her the wrong name for an entire blog post.

S grew up in the States and was working in the UK. She was just in Edinburgh for the Easter weekend. She went on to explain that our brunch was part of a Couchsurfing meet-up. Couchsurfing is an online community of travelers looking to connect with locals and other travelers while they go around a city or an area. One main function of the site is to connect travelers with locals who are willing to host people for free, in whatever accommodations they have, which may sometimes mean that what is offered is an air mattress or a couch. Hence the name. What I didn’t know is that the site also offers a platform for people to meet up for hang-outs, day trips, and full on adventures with other lonely nomads looking to make some friends along the way. We met up with a boy from South Africa living in the UK and a boy from India who was just visiting Scotland.

I ate French toast with bananas and whipped cream, and I shared a pot of tea with the South African boy. All yummy, and we had some good chit chat about crazy travel stories from our past.

After brunch, I was planning on resuming my original day’s plan, but the group was up for adventuring, minus the South African boy who had to meet up with his sister, so off we went in search of a museum!

For some reason, a meal delivery service was giving out free Burger King, so we celebrated the weather with some free fries.

The weather was so gorgeous that we couldn’t stay away from the wide city park sitting under the impressive shadow of Edinburgh Castle. It seemed the whole town was in that park just soaking up the rays.

Can’t blame them! I was both mesmerized and puzzled by this sad elephant sculpture. He was just so sad…

This cute little house was called Aunt Lizzie’s, and S made me take a picture in front of the welcome sign. I didn’t get a copy from her though! Drat.

Then up to the Scottish National Gallery!

This quaint little museum only has a few wide open rooms, but I think that makes it easier to enjoy looking at the whole collection without feeling rushed or pressured. We wandered slowly and were able to see the whole thing in a little over an hour. If you just walked normal speed through the rooms, you could probably do the stroll in under ten minutes. That is not true of the Louvre, that’s for sure!

^This is a painting of Edinburgh from back in the day.

The bottom floor contained a lot of landscapes and some portraits.

I really like picking out places I recognize, and Venice is always one of the easiest to spot (and one of the most popular to paint)!

I loved the colorful walls.The second floor was even smaller than the first, and it contained a few fun Impressionist works, so I liked it up there.

Van Gogh, Gauguin, Degas, you name it!

Here are a couple other works and scenes I really enjoyed:

After this cultural excursion, I wanted to go to the botanical gardens, but S needed to charge her phone and drop some things back at the hostel, so we said our goodbyes to our other Couchsurfing buddy and weaved our way back to the hostel.

On our way back, we walked by so many wedding parties posing for pictures!

I didn’t need to charge my phone, so I went on an extra trip to St. Mary’s Cathedral which was just down the street from our hostel. It was nice to have such a tall beacon to help me find my way back to my hostel during my stay.

When I got back to my hostel to check in, I was amused to see that the rooms had the infamous triple stack bunk beds.

Sometimes, hostels will build these into the wall, and those are usually both sturdier and roomier, but these were like little IKEA triple bunks, and there wasn’t even room for me to sit up if I chose either the bottom or middle! Unfortunately, I wasn’t thinking straight when I picked my bunk, so I chose the middle spot…. Seriously, what was I thinking? I think my idea was that I didn’t want to wake the people beneath me by climbing out of the top bunk in the early morning, but I really flubbed there. If you ever find yourself faced with this choice, take the top bunk so you can sit up and breathe! Luckily, the beds were surprisingly comfy for sleeping.

In the end, S decided to go shopping instead of joining me in the gardens, but that was fine. We wished each other well and set off on our own!

On my way to the gardens, though, I ended up on a street lined with secondhand clothing shops, and I couldn’t resist nipping into them! But all is well. I ended up only buying one really cozy striped sweater dress for a whopping FOUR POUNDS, which is like buying a $5 dress plus tax! Uh… Score! (This would come to seem an even better purchase by the next day. You’ll see why later.)

I had a little trouble finding the gardens because I was working off a paper map, and the streets were winding and hilly, but eventually, I made it!

Free entry, and they let me in without question even though it was 45 minutes to close. That’s two points to Edinburgh, zero to Oxford.

Everything was so pretty! These gardens were huge and sprawling, so I certainly did not have time to see the whole thing. I decided to head over to a fun looking area with lots of little paths and water features, and I did not regret this decision. There was even another wedding!

I really wanted to sneak into the wedding. Everyone was beautifully dressed to the nines, and some of the ladies were even wearing fancy hats and fascinators! Gah! They shocked me about ten minutes later by parading out of the gardens, led by a blaring bagpipe. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such a grand exit with my own eyes. There was one moment where one of the ladies kept yelling, “YAAAAASSS QUEEEEN!” But besides that, it was all class.

I was pretty sure we would be kicked out soon, so I decided to just dawdle around this pretty area.

I mean, really. You can’t get much better than this! After another little while, just as I’d predicted, the “you’re kicked out” routine started up. At the Huntington Gardens in LA, the groundskeeper quietly drives around on his golf cart and tells people to pack up or hop on. In Florence, a blaring, automated, no-nonsense woman announces repeatedly that THE GARDENS ARE NOW CLOSED; PLEASE PROCEED TO THE NEAREST EXIT. Here, though, a man with the lungs of a horn player just walked around on foot yelling, “GAAARDEEENSSSSS CLOOOOOOSED,” at the top of his voice, with no aid of loudspeaker or microphone. After a few minutes, another woman started to ring what sounded like a dinner bell to help him out. It was all pretty adorable.

Before I’d left the downtown area, I had stopped at the grocery store for some picnic dinner supplies. Since I didn’t have time to eat at the gardens, I walked along a little creek that led back to town and found a spot on a log to eat my dinner snack.

I also worked on a New York blog while I was sitting there with the calm trickling of the water next to me. Ha! Gosh it’s so easy to get behind on these things. Did you know it takes me about 4-8 hours to do a blog? Never less than four, but often more than eight if I’m having technical difficulties with picture uploads. It really is a time suck, so that’s why I get behind sometimes. Although, I must say, it would be actually impossible to blog about a place while simultaneously experiencing that place. Sometimes I get so proud about posting a blog the day after I leave a city, and then my mom will complain that I’m behind! Does she think I’m Hermione or something??? Hard to say.

I had a very pleasant walk back though town again, but once the sun went down, it cooled off really quickly, so I was all wrapped up on my over shirt.

Yes yes. A lovely day indeed, even if it didn’t go quite as planned. It’s hard not to go with the flow when the weather is so nice. Back at the hostel, my mission was to do some laundry, and then…. Guess what?! The hostel had two washing machines, and one was out of order, so they couldn’t let guests do laundry or they wouldn’t be able to wash all the linens and things that are necessary for turning the beds around!!! This meant I was finally out of clean undies, but it also meant I was grateful that I at least had a brand new, clean outfit to wear the next day. Just to be sure though, I researched to be absolutely, one hundred percent positive that I could do my laundry the next evening. It was either that or another shopping trip. So thank goodness for my next hostel. More to come on that later, though.

Slàinte mhath/ best wishes,

-Lizzy-wa

PS – You’ll never guess how to pronounce that first word in my Scottish well-wishing. There’s a story to come for that!

Alrighty! London Round Eight! I think! I’ve honestly lost track a bit at this point. It’s funny because after my very first visit to London, I decided I didn’t like the city enough to desire going back anytime soon. But I just keep ending up back here because it’s one of the easiest ways to get to Europe from Seattle and because there’s so much to do in the area. So, here I am, once again, and certainly not for the last time.

I was tired upon landing from my red-eye. Seven hour flight plus a five hour time difference meant that I left New York at 11pm and landed in London at 11am. Well, that’s how the flight was scheduled, anyway. In actuality, my plane was late to arrive at JFK, and we therefore were also late to board. Then, some forty minutes after original departure time, we pushed back from the gate, only to hear our captain announce that only one runway was in operation for both takeoff and landing, and there were thirty planes ahead of us in line. There was another JFK to Gatwick flight just one hour ahead of us that also left late, so that also made for a long customs line once we got to the UK. I was standing behind a family with NINE KIDS. They looked like they ranged between two and sixteen years old. Amazingly, all of them were perfectly behaved, mini adults. I’m sure the parents were pleased, since two other kids in line were screaming their heads off.

With all of these delays, I didn’t get into London proper until about three in the afternoon. Yeesh! I admired the British Library, Kings Cross, and St. Pancras for a bit before checking into my hostel and dropping off my bags.

Most attractions and museums close at five, so I had just over an hour to explore the National Portrait Gallery.

It was a very interesting gallery, especially since I’ve never been to a portrait gallery before. It was laid out based on subject rather than artist, like most museums, and in fact, many of the portraits had anonymous or unknown artists. There were some very famous portraits here, though – portraits I recognized from Google and history textbooks. See how many English monarchs you can recognize:

This one below was pretty funny. I couldn’t figure out why it was all stretched out until I read the description plaque: it was painted so that when viewed through a tiny hole in the side of the frame, it looked as though the subject’s head was popping out of the background in 3D.

Quite silly. I also enjoyed the few unfinished paintings on display.

Another exhibit focused on famous friendships and was mostly comprised of photographs. I thought these were pretty sweet.

And then, of course, there were some more modern-style portraits. These were my favorite, and lots of them were self portraits.

There were also some (kind of strange) shadow-y portraits. Not sure how to feel about these ones.

The building was very cool, too.

And here are some last favorites:

In the end, I was kicked out with the rest of the stragglers. I wish this didn’t happen to me so much. (And I also wish museums wouldn’t kick people out fifteen minutes before their posted closing time!!!) I managed to snap a few cool ones on the way out, and I do think I managed to see most of the museum. Yippee!

Next, I slipped into a church for a bit and listened to some street performers in Trafalgar Square. ‘Twas very pretty, despite the clouds.

I also found a rare and used bookstore that was BEGGING to be ransacked, but I just didn’t have the bag space.

Then another underground back to the hostel. I can’t remember what I did for dinner… Must have just snacked on a meal deal and called it good. I thought about doing laundry but decided against it since I still had two clean shirts to go. I would come regret this decision in the near future.

My room in the hostel was kind of meh. The air circulation is always awful in London hostels for some reason, so the room was suffocatingly warm and smelled like feet. Unfortunately, we only had one set of windows that cracked a couple inches open right onto the busy street in front of Kings Cross, so every night, we had to decide between hot and smelly or motorcycle sounds and sirens blaring right below our heads. This night, I chose hot and smelly, but an hour later, someone else decided the windows should be open, so I did not sleep very well. It was seriously so loud.

My Wednesday was dedicated to a bus tour to Stonehenge. Amazingly, with all the transportation and entrance fees required to get to Stonehenge from London, it would have cost me about $70-80 just for the visit if I’d gone on my own. Instead, I booked a $120 day trip that included a visit to Stonehenge, Windsor Castle, Salisbury Cathedral, and Bath.

Our first stop was Windsor, and the Queen was home! (No sightings, though.) We arrived about forty minutes before the castle opened so to minimize our unpredictable time in line, so we didn’t get into the castle grounds until about 10:00. We only had an hour here, so it was a bit rushed, but it was still enjoyable.

Saw some Royal guards on their way out of the castle…

And there were some pretty views of the town below.

Unfortunately, there were no photos allowed inside due to the security risk, seeing as this is an official residence of the queen. I did manage to snap a couple photos of the beautiful ceilings, though. Pretty sure there’s no security risk there.

You know how Princess Eugenie had a gargantuan royal wedding the likes of which rivaled Prince Harry and Meghan Markle’s earlier in the year? The princess’s wedding dress, reception dress, and tiara were on temporary exhibition in the castle. That was quite cool.

On the far side of one tiny, octagonal room, a suit of armor stood against the wall. I remarked to myself that it was clearly made for quite a large man (the suit had a nice round tummy), and on further inspection, I learned this was one of King Henry VIII’s suits! From his larger, later years, obviously.

I was relieved to be able to take (non-covert) pictures again once I was outside, but I was also surprised to see that I still had time to spare! I’d been so rushed because of our strict time limit that I had marvelously ended up over-rushing. I took this opportunity to stroll around the castle grounds a bit and admire the gardens a bit.

And then I found some ice cream! I’m really not crazy on ice cream at home, but put me in Europe on a sunny day, and I can hardly resist. I went for the Blackcurrants in Clotted Cream. I was recently discussing with a friend the fact that currants are all over European (and apparently also Asian) cuisine, but they are almost nonexistent in American cuisine. It’s just not one of the common fruits. My theory is that currants aren’t very pretty, and America is obsessed with marketing. Strawberries and bananas and oranges make for pretty labels, but the little black circles that are currants don’t really make the mouth water. Even though they’re so good! So I’ve made it my mission to eat currant-flavored things whenever I get the chance.

It was delicious, but the line moved so slow that by the time I got my cone handed to me, I had about two minutes before the scheduled bus departure time. Aaaaand ice cream was one of the only two things we were asked not to bring on the bus. Ice cream and hot food.

So this meant I had to speed walk and speed eat all the way to the bus. It surely would have been a bit more enjoyable without the stress, but I was still happy in the end. So creamy. So curranty.

I was surprised to be handed a little lunch box when I boarded the bus, stuffed with a water bottle, a cheese sandwich, chips, a cookie, and a packet of raisins.

As we continued along, we passed field after field of rapeseed, these bountiful yellow-flowered plants that produce lots of oil and are apparently super easy and rewarding to grow in the UK.

After another hour or so, we pulled into Salisbury, the town you have to train into to see Stonehenge via public transportation.

We weren’t there to see the town, though. We were there to see the cathedral.

So pretty! Famous for housing one of the four original copies of the Magna Carta, this cathedral was quite grand, indeed.

There was a choir practicing for their Good Friday concert during our visit, so that was pretty neat, and the arches on the ceiling reminded me of the arcades in Bologna, so that brought about a bit of happiness for me.

There was also a beautiful fountain in the center of the floor. I stared at it for several minutes because the solidness of the black, still surface and the reflection of the stained glass windows were so mesmerizing.

And some pretty painted ceilings.

I made it over to see the Magna Carta at one point, and I just stared at the tiny tiny letters hand-printed on the parchment. One older American man even told me to study hard because there would be a quiz at the exit.

The document was housed inside a tiny little black-curtained tent in the center of the room, and it was encased in two layers of glass. No photographs were allowed, in order to preserve the document from flash and light. Outside the tent, though, they had displayed an older version of the glass casing that had been attacked by a man with a hammer some years ago. Thankfully, the glass did its job, and the man was not able to harm the document. Scary!

A little more playing outside…

And then back on the bus! To Stonehenge!

We were dropped off at the visitor center and museum, and from there, little shuttle buses took us up in groups to the famous stones. The last step was to take a little walk up the path, and ta-da!!!!

I was pretty excited. I’ve been wanting to visit Stonehenge for so long, and I’ve just never been able to fit it into my schedule. It was crazy to finally be standing only a stone’s throw away from this relic of the past. (Tehehehehe.)

The entire time I was there, the Stonehenge song by Ylvis was stuck in my head, and it is even playing back there as I type. It will probably be stuck in my head all day, now. If you’ve never heard it, go have a listen. But beware that I warned you of its catchiness.

The most interesting thing I learned about Stonehenge on this visit is that there were likely many monuments like these spread out in the area, and this is just the only one that has survived. It is a ruin in its current state, with entire 40-ton stones missing completely from the arrangement. Another thing I thought was interesting was that back in the 1800s, people were allowed to chisel off pieces of the stones to take home as souvenirs! This has since been outlawed, and now, visitors have to remain behind a short rope surrounding the stone circle. (This makes for great, people-free pictures, though. Give and take!)

So…. I took a lot of pictures. It was just super exciting.

Back by the visitor center, there were also little Neolithic houses and tool/material demonstrations.

We had a bit of a mishap when one of the ladies from the back of the bus decided to return fifteen minutes late, despite calls from her groupmates. This was bad news bears and had the guide and the ladies in front of me in a pretty bad mood. Oh. That reminds me. The guide was kind of meh. Very much seemed like the type of tired, cranky old Englishman that would come with an expensive, fifty-seat bus tour. He was funny in a very dry way, and while we stood in line at Windsor, I could tell he was a bit distressed by the fact that those of us in the front of the group were paying less attention to him and more attention to the young, enthusiastic tour guide for the group in front of us. Oh well! He got the job done, I suppose.

Our last stop was the town of Bath, famous for its Roman baths, believe it or not. We only had just shy of an hour here, and this was when I realized I had been somewhat silly to book such a packed tour. I certainly believe we had long enough at Stonehenge, but I think that was because this was the main attraction of the day tour. The three other stops felt rushed in a very silly way. Like, rushed in such a way that it was clear these four attractions were not meant to be visited all in one go. I wish the tour description had included how long we would have at each stop, because people usually spend several hours at Windsor, and a whole day could easily be spent at Bath. This last stop hurt the most for me, because wandering tiny towns is one of my favorite things to do. There’s something freeing about being told, “You’ll be bored after an hour or two.” To me, this means, “You’ll be glad you decided to spend nine whole hours here!” I’ve got a gold star in Taking My Time.

The bus dropped us off on a bridge right over a beautiful city park with a river and blooms galore.

I caught sight of a tall pointy spire though, and that always draws my attention. I wandered over that way to find a beautiful church and even more pretty water.

Next, I found my way to the train station so that I could grab a map. I mean, seriously. Who drops a person off in the middle of an unfamiliar town without a map and says, go have fun, be back here in fifty minutes! The nerve…. Once I had the map, I felt a lot better about exploring without the feeling that I would wander myself in circles and be unable to find the bus again.

I walked the main shopping street of the town and was quickly sucked in by a crepe stand.

Nutella, banana, and whipped cream. YUM. It wouldn’t cool down, so I had to eat it with a fork and knife and allow each bite to cool so I wouldn’t burn myself. Some sort of magic heat-retaining Nutella must have been employed.

One of the main attractions of the city, besides the Roman baths, is the abbey.

It was so pretty! Unfortunately, evening service had just started by the time I arrived, so I was not able to enter the main chamber. I was able to pop my head into the lobby so I could look in the windows, though. My tourist map boasted that the ceilings in the abbey were unlike any other in the world, but I remarked to the woman at the entrance desk that the ceilings reminded me of those in Kings Chapel in Cambridge. She smiled and said, “That’s because they were designed by the exact same people.” Ha! Like no other in the world…. Sure…. I was also a little tickled at my worldly knowledge. (:

Then back out to find the bus. Yes, a quick little visit to this city, indeed. Maybe I’ll be back some day…

I was in a bit of a mood at the end of this tour because of how rushed I felt in Bath, and then our driver took a scenic route where almost all the scenes were on the other side of the bus, so I was sadly craning my neck to look out the windows of my neighbors.

Oh! I had an awkward thing. The group across the aisle from me was a mom and two very tall, fairly attractive boys. I took note of this because I like to look at pretty things (tehehe), but I was mortified at Stonehenge when the guide walked along the bus aisle to dispense our entrance bracelets. “Are there any children? Sixteen and under?” he asked, to which one of the boys said, “Oh,” and raised his (super long) arm high in the air.

Sixteen! I was giving goo-goo eyes to a sixteen year old. At least I still had his brother, though, right? Well, in the end, the guide had one extra child bracelet, so he decided to offer it to the older brother. “I’m seventeen, though,” he said, and the guide assured him that this didn’t really matter.

It mattered to me, though. Seriously. It should be a crime for high school… what? Sophomores? Juniors? to be so tall. It is very misleading to the general Lizzy public!

Bahahahaha. Okay. Enough of that. Even with all of the age confusion, the rushed ice cream eating, and the down-to-the-wire visit of Bath, I still had a lovely, if tiring, day. Here’s me waiting for my train back to my hostel.

See? Happy. Tired. Maybe a little watery-eyed. I think I must have just yawned. Really, though, I was pretty excited to have finally fulfilled my dream of seeing those crazy stones. More London-area adventures to come.

Cheers/ best wishes,
-Lizzy-wa

The evening of the 28th was my latest night yet, especially since I was two hours behind Finland time. We didn’t go to sleep until nearly 2am because I arrived after midnight, and then we had some catching up to do.

Now, when I say “we,” I’m talking about myself and my surprise guest: Timmy! You might remember him from Zurich in 2017. I visited him there while he was doing a summer research stint at a Zurich university, and now he’s doing a Master’s stint at Cambridge. What a cool cat. A chemistry wiz and a biking fanatic. With long hair. That about sums him up! Pictures of Timmy to come later.

I stayed with Timmy in his dorm in Churchill College, which he quickly informed me was once the residence of Queen Margrethe II of Denmark! Crazy world.

What was even crazier was the toilet’s disdain for flushing, the bathroom light’s disdain for turning on easily, and the bedroom heater’s disdain for heating the room. Turns out that even dorm rooms in the world renowned Cambridge University are still just dorm rooms.

Timmy had to jet off to his lab in the morning, and I took the opportunity to stay in bed much later than I had any other day up until this point. But I finally made my way up and at ’em.

Ooooohhh… Ahhhhhhh…

I decided to start my day with a free walking tour of Cambridge. I’d been here once before for a day trip, so I had checked a lot of the main boxes that time around. I thought a tour would be a great way to get some insider knowledge, stories, and history on the University, and I was right!

For example, there was this clock that moved when a little grasshopper-like time monster walked on the top of it, pulling the seconds under him and eating away our past:

And we visited many colleges, churches, and bars with plenty of stories to tell.

Unfortunately, I can’t remember most of the stories well enough to feel confident writing them down on the internet to be fact-checked, so I’ll just show you some more pretty buildings:

I do remember a fun story that is unlikely to be fact-checkable. Apparently formal dinners are a very common thing at the university, and each college hosts one as often as once a week, so with 31 colleges in the university, there are likely several formal dinners occuring every night. Jackets are required for men, but dress codes do differ from college to college. Apparently some require black tie or white tie for men and floor-length gowns for women.

So our tour guide, Will, who happened to be a student at Cambridge some years ago (in Kings’ College, I believe), vividly remembers attempting to attend his first formal dinner. Supposedly, the doorman/entry guard, upon learning of Will’s intentions to enter the dinner, asked, “Are you a Mancusian?” Will had to ask what this meant. “Are you from Manchester?” the guard clarified. Will answered no.

“Are you from New York?” Again, no.

“Then why are you attempting to wear brown shoes to a formal dinner?” the man asked. He then asked to see Will’s cufflinks, which were novelty cufflinks in the shape of little pig faces that he had borrowed from his father.

The guard then told Will to come back after he had acquired proper attire, and his entrance was denied. Will then spent the remnants of his first term’s student loan on his first tailored suit and a new pair of shoes. Poor guy.

I’m sure it’s no secret that this kind of dinner sounds AMAZING to me, but I didn’t pack any fancy attire into my HP wonder backpack for this trip. If I manage to visit Timmy again, though, I’m bringing my prom dress.

Will also told us about the May Balls, which are the largest formal dinner parties of the year, hosted my several colleges. There’s a tradition that if party goers manage to keep up the party until sunrise, they get a gigantic group picture taken and are labeled as the “survivors.”

Here’s the famous Mathematical Bridge:

And some shots from The Backs:

And another “I came across a bridge in Cambridge” moment:

As with all ‘free’ walking tours, people are strongly encouraged to tip pretty well, but I looked in my wallet and saw that I only had US dollars, some large-bill euros, and some Danish Kroner. I thought about offering to buy Will a coffee, but I decided I was too awkward for such nonsense and instead slinked off to the market behind St. Mary’s Church.

Hungry and craving Italian food and hot chocolate, I managed to find the perfect spot!

I mistakenly ordered what the waiter called “thick chocolate” instead of standard hot chocolate, so I was expecting to be given a sort of drinking chocolate. I was surprised to see how large the glass was then, and I was also surprised to find that the ‘drink’ was actually more like hot chocolate pudding. Eh. Still hit the spot! As did the prosciutto.

Then Timmy and I met up to go to service at Kings’ Chapel and to see the Kings’ College Choir perform. I was expecting the choir to be made up entirely of college students, so I was surprised when a bunch of little guys walked in. I’d say about half the choir was college students, but the other half were much younger, some looking to be as young as seven or eight.

And they had LITTLE ANGEL VOICES. Ugh. I cannot explain. I knew this choir was a big deal, but my, my, my. The two soloist boys, both of the younger bunch, were…. I honestly am not even going to try to put words to it.

And we were in THE Kings’ College Chapel.

Quite insane. I talked to Jonathan about it later that night because he used to sing in a boychoir, and he said, “They’re the choir that every American boychoir is trying to be.” I don’t doubt it. I guess Jonathan’s choir was actually conducted by the Kings’ Choir director at one point, and that same director is retiring later this year, so I caught one of his last performances with them. Such a treat!

As we exited the chapel, it began to rain.

We walked a bit and settled on an Indian street food restaurant for dinner, but since I’d just eaten that giant flat bread, I just got a mango lassi and a green tea. The waiter was a bit confused. “Lassi, cold. Tea, hot?” I just laughed and agreed. No regrets! Both were delicious. I haven’t had a mango lassi in white a while, and this one was top notch.

As we ate and caught up, the rain turned to snow, so that by the time we walked back to Churchill, it was sticking to grass and cars.

Oh, and my eyelashes.

We stopped by the store on the way, and I freaked out over the tiny milk jugs. I want all of them.

Then some more snow walking…

I attempted to make a tiny snowman, but Timmy said it didn’t really count without a face. Oh well!

Then we went over to have hot chocolate with his friend Julie. She’s lived in this same room for five years, and it was adorable! And she had a giant window seat! She also had a very impressive collection of hot chocolate to choose from. I chose mint.

Julie was a lovely lady, but she eventually had to kick us out so she could return to work. It was past eleven by this time, and we agreed it was time to turn in. We walked through the college, though, so I could see some more of the spaces. And we accidentally came across a friend of a friend from back home!

This is Chen Chen. Timmy met her and found out she was friends with Venk, a friend of mine from UW. Timmy doesn’t know Venk super well, but he knew of him through me, and he therefore felt the need to introduce us. This short introduction quickly turned into about an hour’s worth of card playing.

I didn’t play because the game was unfamiliar. Timmy had only played once before, but as we stood there, he was asking questions and studying the moves, so that by the time the round was up, he wanted to test out his skills. Twice. Hahahaha. They also did something I’ve never seen before, which is that instead of one person dealing the cards out to the rest, they just stacked all the cards in the middle and took turns around the circle, taking one card at a time, until all the cards were in the players’ hands.

The game was called Tractor, and it was a trick-based game involving multiple decks of cards. For whatever reason, at the end of a session, certain people would have gained a number of overall points, and these points were them tallied up and added to a massive college-wide spreadsheet. The boy to my left had 500-something points, the most points in the college. The boy to my right, who showed up just after we had and was dressed in the remnants of his formal dinner wear, was in the 400-something range. When I asked Timmy later about the spreadsheet and why it existed, he shook his head with a chuckle and said, “It’s Cambridge.”

So that was day one in Cambridge. It ended up being past 1am again when we went to sleep, but that didn’t stop Timmy from getting up early to go to the gym. I took it a bit slower, haha. Oh, and here’s his cute little room and its view:

And then it was off into sunny Cambridge for one last morning adventure!

There was a street nearby called The Crescent, and it was shaped like… a crescent. The funny thing, though, was that all of the buildings on the inside of the shape were rounded to match the curve of the street.

There was also this snow-covered marsh grass that for some reason felt so English to me.

The ice was doing a fun thing where it had crystalized into large prisms wherever there had been a puddle.

I call this one “Whimsy:”

The Backs were beautiful with the sun and the snow, and there were even a couple snowmen.

I eventually made my way into the city.

A trip to the market meant I had to exercise self restraint to not purchase all of the scarves on display… So cheap! And so pretty! And so soft! But I really didn’t budget for shopping space in my backpack, and I don’t exactly need any more scarves. Ugh. There were some that were 100% wool, sooo soft, and only £5!!! Maybe I should go back, now that I think about it…

I settled on lunch instead, a delicious and cheap bibimbap.

I had some pretty views while I ate, too.

And then I decided to climb the tower in Great St. Mary’s Church. I’d done the climb when I visited a couple years ago, but my motto when it comes to climbing towers is, “You’ve yet to regret a single climb!” And that’s counting repeats!

Did I regret my adventure? Of course not! And I took about thirty pictures in my excitement.

Half the ground space on top of the tower was still covered in snow and ice, frozen solid into a thick, trecherous layer covering the wooden floor planks. There was a volunteer up there working hard to scrape each plank with a tool not unlike a giant car windshield scraper. I caught his eye at one point and commented on his hard work. He took this opportunity to saunter over and begin a thirty minute chat, tour, and history lesson on Cambridge from some number of feet up. (Dude, I just tried to Google the height of the tower, to no avail. Any insider information would be appreciated.)

 

But yes, the little old man had so much to tell me. We walked around all four corners of the tower so he could point out different buildings, give me tips about the city, and tell me stories about the university’s past. He was clearly proud of his town and of the university, and I don’t think he stopped smiling once during the whole conversation. We started the talk with about eight other people up there with us, but by the time we said our goodbyes, we had been alone for about ten minutes. P cute. P cute.

After my tower visit, I walked down the main road, and every time I saw an open church, I ventured inside.

I managed to come across two different organ players practicing in their respective churches! That was a treat.

I also took a gander around Pembroke College. This was one of the few main colleges that was open (and free) to the public, so I took my opportunity to stroll around.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Quite pretty. Quite pretty.

I found another, very old, church along the way and wandered through its garden and graveyard.

And then I finally made my way to the Fitzwilliam Museum. Believe it or not, this was my original destination all along. I’d even plugged it into Google Maps before leaving the dorm that morning, and I was planning on walking straight there. As you can see, I got side tracked. But I made it nonetheless, and I only had about twenty minutes to explore what I could before meeting Timmy for a last-minute walk and hang-out sesh, just in time for my bus to the airport.

The entranceway alone was worth the visit.

The museum admission was free, so I was not too stressed about my quick look around. And I was not disappointed, either! Seurat! Rodin! Renoir! Quite the impressive collection in this university museum.

And some more, less name-droppy favorites…

But all too quickly, the time had come to move along. I met Timmy out front and we walked back through the heart of the city. When we passed Corpus Christi College, and I saw that it was only open to students and alumni, I asked if we could take a peek in. Timmy wasn’t sure if he would be allowed since he was a member of a different college, but I encouraged him to ask! The porter ended up being pretty chatty and very welcoming once Timmy flashed his Cambridge ID card. He told us all about the college, recent renovations, and the split between undergrad and graduates. And then he let us on through! Woohoo!

The sun hadn’t made its way to the courtyard yet, leaving a bunch of pretty snow on the grass, and we found another organ player practicing in the college chapel.

Then we were off again! And this time, to the bus!

As we said goodbye, the cheeky bus driver commented, “Ooooohhh… Goodbyes! Very emotional!” And when Timmy said he might join me for a weekend later on in my trip, the driver said to me, “Oh, might! Might! It’s not a definite!” Haha. Not sure what he was trying to go for.

I wrapped up my day with a long sit on the bus, a longer sit at the airport, and another good sit on the plane.

Denmark’s next on the list, but until then…

Cheers!
-Lizzy-wa

Hello, again. By this time, now, my mom will be re-interested and re-invested in the blog since January 6th was technically her last day with us. So yay! Hi, Mom! Golly, you have no idea how difficult it was to talk to *other people*. Glad that’s over.

So, Mom, if you remember, we began this lovely Sunday morning by shipping you off to the airport.

It started with a very stressful game of packing and shuffling around the room so as not to wake Jonathan too badly. The main reason it was stressful was because I was the navigator, except that my phone had about 10% power and no internet connection because of the famous Blown Fuse of January 6, 2018. We made it out to the buses (it was pitch black still, seeing as how it was about five in the morning), and I paid special attention to the side of the street we were meant to be on. Heaven forbid my mom should miss her flight because I forgot we were in the U.K.

We got to see some pretty cool things from our spot at the front of the top level of the our double decker.

That’s a dark and blurry picture of St. Paul’s Cathedral!

So anyway. It was two buses together, and then we found ourselves at Victoria Station.

Or at least, that’s what the bus stop was called. The station itself was actually pretty hard to find because there was a ton of construction going on in the area. At first, I led us to the Underground station at Victoria, but that’s not where we wanted to be. I was trying to put my mom on the Gatwick Express, and her train left in less than ten minutes. I tried not to let it show because Mama was already pretty stressed out, but I was getting quite worried.

Finally, thankfully, we found the station. I continued my brisk pace, and soon we were at the platform. Oh, but the ticket on her phone wouldn’t scan. Cue more panic on her end. Luckily the dude manning the gate just looked at her ticket and let her in.

As I was hugging her goodbye, she suddenly shoved me off of her with a look of crazed panic the likes of which I had never seen, and then she booked it through the gate and toward the train with a frantic, “IT’S LEAVIIIING!!!!!!!!!!!”

I’ve literally never seen her run so fast.

It freaked me out, I must admit.

I was mostly just confused, because her train didn’t leave for another five minutes. She managed to disappear onto the train without my even noticing, but I spied on a few other people and figured out what the issue had been.

The train worked on the system which requires each passenger or set of passengers to push a button to open the door and enter. The door then automatically closes behind them. My mom hadn’t noticed this, and all she saw was that the doors were closing. Closing doors = train leaving = PANIC!

I wonder what she was thinking as she sat on the non-moving train for those five minutes, likely hyperventilating. Oh, Mom. Hahahahaa.

The events had left me a bit shaken, and I still didn’t have much battery power left in my phone. I quickly connected to the train station WiFi so I could notify our Airbnb host of the outlet/ WiFi problem, took some screenshots of directions back to the apartment, and off I was on my own. I would have taken my mom all the way to the airport, but airport transfers are preposterously expensive in London, so that fun little joy ride would have cost me upwards of $50. Not about that.

Even more concerning was that my mom’s WiFi didn’t connect properly in the airport, so I never got any confirmation from her that she made it to her gate or onto the plane. In fact, the first I heard of her whereabouts was when she landed in Seattle about thirteen hours later. Ugh. At least she made it.

I made it back to the apartment unscathed and crawled back in bed where I stayed firmly put until about noon. Whoops.

When Jonathan and I finally surfaced from sleep, the outlets and WiFi were back in commission. Commence phone charging and a breakfast of champions (aka: some more of those pastries from the day before).

Then it was time for some adventuring!

I have a thing about pretty doors. Every single one presents a photo opportunity.

Same view of St. Paul’s, but this time in the daylight!

I also forced Jonathan to pretend to use a pay phone in a London phone booth. He typed out some very long and complicated phone number. Wonder who he was calling…

Our first stop of the day was the British Museum! Neither of us had ever been, and it was free, so I mean…. What’s the harm? I’m a museum fan, and this one seemed like a big one. We bargained for about an hour here.

Plans quickly changed once we got inside.

And that was only after seeing the architecture! Imagine our surprise when the first piece of history we encountered was THE Rosetta Stone.

Like, the real one.

There were even pamphlets explaining that Egypt wanted the Stone returned. Big surprise, but the Stone, like much in the museum, was stolen long ago through wars and pillaging. It has resided in the British Museum since 1802, though, so it’s probably not going anywhere any time soon.

There were other cool old things, though, too.

It’s hard to appreciate from a photograph just how big that dude’s arm is, but trust me – it was huge.

After agreeing to slash our later-in-the-day plans so that we could spend more time in the museum, we wandered the exhibits for another hour or so.

At some point, we stumbled upon a restaurant that was housed on one of the upper floors and suspended in the center of the museum. It was about three or four at this point.

Those privy to British culture may have realized that we had stumbled unwittingly upon tea-time!

It hadn’t been in the plan originally, but afternoon tea in the middle of the British museum was a little too hard to pass up. We grabbed a table and were quickly met with adorable green china and Prosecco to match!

Soon after came the tea and goodies!

Can’t get more British than scones with jam and clotted cream. I was pretty happy with how the afternoon had unfolded, clearly.

Feeling on a roll with the London-y activities, we then decided to hit up Harrods, London’s famous and preposterously gigantic department store.

Unsurprisingly, it had gotten dark by the time we got out of the British Museum. Harrods is that beam of twinkle lights in the distance. Also, enjoy this warped and blurry panorama of the store front.

And here’s me taking advantage of the fancy bathroom mirrors:

And here’s a dress I would have totally gotten if it had been on clearance for $35 or less:

We got to Harrods about fifteen minutes before closing, so we basically ran around its six floors like chickens with our heads cut off, trying to see as much as possible. There was one section called “Advanced Designer.” After analyzing the selection presented in this wing, we decided “advanced” designers are the ones who think they are from a future where humans stop wearing clothes and start wearing hideous modern art pieces and hobo-chic neon fur jackets. The elevators were cool, though.

After Harrods, we lived in limbo for a bit. We had dinner plans at eight, but it was only 6 o’clock. So naturally, I spent a good portion of this time trying to convince Jonathan that he had to buy me this adorable tiny phone from a souvenir shop:

Just look how happy I am with that phone!!!! How could he say no?! (Okay, technically he said ‘Yes,’ but I know what he was really thinking was: “You look cute, but you’re ridiculous and you’re embarrassing me. Put the tiny phone down.”)

Then we wandered around in the dark for a while near Hyde Park and around the Kensington Gardens (they had just closed).

It’s hard to tell, but the above two photos depict mansions along this road which was home to the backside of Kensington Palace along with all the wealthiest embassy buildings. Supposedly these places go for around $100,000,000. (I got that info from Jonathan, though, so who really knows?)

Finally, we made it to dinner! Yay!

I finally figured out the name of that Indian restaurant we had been looking for the day before, so we met Jonathan’s friend Molly in Camden Town and tucked in!

She was pretty cute. Most of the dinner consisted of discussions about the very wonderful game Runescape. (This is not a paid advertisement.)

Okay. I think that just about covers it. We made it back to the Airbnb, slept a wink, and were off to the airport the next morning!

The airport was a breeze, except for the part where we didn’t buy enough food for the flight and where I accidentally bought some coffee that had something in it I was allergic to, so I had to ask a flight attendant to dump it for me. Yay!

We didn’t get a window seat, but it didn’t matter too much seeing as how we were also sitting in the only row on the plane that did not have a window. At the start of the flight, a little video played touting the new, 60% bigger windows on this Boeing Dreamliner, and we just solemnly stared at the reinforced plastic wall to our left and imagined we could see pretty things.

We passed the time by watching The House with Amy Poehler and Will Farrell (pretty ridiculous, yet funny movie) and some other movie I can’t remember right now. We then switched to TV because there weren’t any other movies we could agree upon. And then we played some Schnapsen! (It’s a card game. Don’t worry.)

Check out these pretty lights, though:

And this gorgeous shot of Canada out the window of the poor unsuspecting chap in front of us:

Gorgeous! And speaking of gorgeous, check out this very beautiful photograph of myself marveling at the turbine engines on our plane as we deboarded and I forgot that I hadn’t washed my hair in four days or something (give or take two).

Last minute proof that we were at an airport at some point:

And that’s really about it! Security was a mess and we ended up standing in a white and crowded hallway that was under construction for about an hour. At least we had hundreds of angry and confused strangers to keep us company! And they gave us tiny water bottles! Woohoo!

Yowzers. I’m sitting at my desk at work right now, back in Seattle, trying to figure out how to wrap up my fourth Europe trip with a BANG!

But I’m coming up empty. I was actually pretty tired at the end of this trip, not gonna lie. I think it was all the coldness and the darkness. I really need to pay more attention to the climate when I plan my seasonal travels! It’s okay, though, because for next year’s New Year Adventure, I’ve already decided to go to St. Petersburg, and a quick Google search tells me that the high might be a whopping 13 degrees on Monday! (Fahrenheit.)

Overall takeaways from this trip: Norways is awesome. Fjords are amazing. Tea is non-negotiable. Family is Forever, Danish or Otherwise. They do fireworks better in Denmark. Oh, and I think I may have given the bug back to my mom. The travel bug, that is. Be strong, Mom! Be strong!

Love you all. Hold tight until the next adventure.

Cheers/ Venlig Hilsen/ Best Regards!

Lizzy-wa

Remember in the first post of this trip when I said my Mom wanted to come home on Sunday so she could go to work on Monday? This is mainly because she cray, but also because she is overly dedicated to her fourth and fifth grade minions (aka: students).

Well anyway. As luck would have it, flights to Seattle from any of the major European cities were about $200 more expensive on Sundays compared to Monday. Crazy, I know. But I had to oblige.

The cheapest returning tickets were from London, and though I didn’t have any major reason or desire to go to London on this trip (I mean, once you’ve been to the Harry Potter studio tour, what else is there??), I knew it would be strange to send my mom off on her own to the U.K. and just hope she would make it back to Seattle alive.

So that’s how the crew ended up in London for a day. Jonathan and I were staying one extra night, but this would be the last 25 hours of my mom’s trip!

We weren’t able to get our seats all next to each other, so my mom was on an aisle in row 19, and Jonathan and I were way back in the high twenties by the window. Oh. And I had to pee. So. Bad.

Just before security, I downed a gigantic bottled smoothie called a Froosh. Though I realize I haven’t mentioned them yet, I had become very nearly obsessed since seeing them in the Keflavik airport on that layover at the start of the trip. But everybody else was tired on our early morning taxi and bus ride to the Bergen airport (this ridiculous ten minute taxi ride cost me over $50!!!!!!!), so I was pretty much alone in chugging this giant smoothie.

And theeeeen, when in the airport security line, I realized I’d forgotten to dump my water bottle, so I had to chug that as well.

We were running a bit late (or so we thought), so there was no time to stop at the bathroom. My mom went while we stood in line for passport control, but after passport control, the bathroom at our gate was our of order! There was no going back. And of course our boarding was delayed. And then after we sat down in our seats and buckled up, our turn to hit the runway was pushed back for some reason.

I honestly can’t remember ever being so distressed from the lack of an easily accessible toilet. This was somehow worse than that time I was trapped on a water taxi in Venice, missed my stop, and considered jumping ship so I could relieve myself. (Should I have included a TMI warning at the start of this post??)

Anyway, I was no fun to Jonathan until we were in the air with the seatbelt sign turned off (a full hour after we passed passport security and I started wishing I’d peed long ago). I basically hurled over Jonathan and the poor guy on the aisle. I got to the bathrooms before the flight attendants were even finished unlocking them.

The rest of the plane ride was much less eventful, with the exception of this glorious sunrise on the wrong side of the plane:

Touchdown in London. End drama.

We then wasted a lot of time in Gatwick airport trying to figure out a plan for the day, and we didn’t even end up sticking to that plan. Whoops.

Our first stop was King’s Cross Station, where we accidentally bought a bunch of pastries and some English Breakfast tea for my mom.

Jonathan was shocked to find that this patisserie offered a version of his favorite strawberry Lagkagehuset treat.

Our main purpose here was to take pictures with the Platform 9 3/4 set-up, but my mom took one look at the line and decided it wasn’t worth it. Please enjoy this selfie with the platform in the background.

Okay. So that was our first deviation from the plan. After this, we were supposed to go get some Indian food in Camden Town, but I couldn’t remember the name of the restaurant I wanted to find, so we ended up doing Chinese, instead.

At least it was tasty!

We did a little more exploring…

This guy created a drum kit using an upturned bike as the base!

Then on to the West End. We spent a lot of time trying to figure out which show to see, and the shows high on our list also happened to be high in price with minimal options for three seats next to each other. We even considered going to see Motown the Musical where we all had individual seats spread across the theater.

Luckily, we made the sensible decision to just buy our tickets at the box office instead of trying to mess around with internet sales and unreliable WiFi. Turned out that the tickets sold online had a little resale premium attached, so we saved some money there, and the awesome lady at the ticket booth gave us three seats near each other and then coached us on how to get people to move around so we could sit together.

Huzzah! My third show in London and my third time watching from the very last row. Theaters on the West End are smaller, so every seat in the house has a good view.

The show was a ton of fun! So many songs and lots of dancing (on both the part of the cast and the three of us). I also love learning from historical musicals. That’s why I loved Beautiful, the Carole King musical so much.

By the time we got it of the theater, as I’m sure you can see in the ‘after’ pictures, it was pitch black outside. It was only 5:30pm, but it definitely felt like it was past my bedtime.

We headed back to check out our Airbnb and to finally drop off or very full travel backpacks. We’d originally planned to drop them off at a left luggage facility, but it would have cost about thirty dollars for the three of us for the day, and that seemed like quite the rip-off.

Our Airbnb in London was a shoebox compared to our adorable gigs in Scandinavia, but what can you expect? This was our most expensive stay yet, and all we had to ourselves was a room with a single queen sized bed and a very uncomfortable sleeper futon with a tiny blanket for its covers.

We were all tired, but my mom really wanted to get fish n’ chips, so the two of us braved the dark British evening while Jonathan stayed back to lounge and sleep.

Now, do not take this sign lightly. It probably should have served as a bit of foreshadowing for us, because we certainly hit a few “humps” in the road. Ha.

We started out by getting on a bus going the wrong direction because I forgot that traffic moves the opposite way in the U.K. Whoops.

We were really enjoying the view from the front seat of the second level of the double-decker bus. That is, until we came to ‘the last stop’ and were asked to get off. It didn’t make any sense because we still hadn’t come to the stop we were meant to get off at.

And that’s when it hit me.

We slumped off the bus and ran around to the other side of the bus station to wait for the return bus. It would be another 37 minutes until we were at the chips stand, I said, and my mom thought I meant it would be a 37 minute wait until the next bus came. Ha! I would not have been so calm if that had been the case. Imagine her surprise and delight when a bus pulled up a few minutes later.

So I guess we got an extra dose of sight-seeing.

Unfortunately, we never did managed to find fish n’ chips because the one we had planned on visiting was closed by the time we got there. Fortunately, said closed fish n’ chips stand was right next to the Tower of London! Unlike the name would have some to believe, the Tower of London is less of a tower and more of an old-ish castle. Much older than dear Buckingham Palace, and surrounded by a plethora of wide turrets.

Not sure what’s happening to my face in that one. It was cold, okay?

We were also pretty stoked to find the Tower Bridge, lit up in the nighttime!

Das my mama in the red, posing unknowingly with the London skyline.

She originally wandered over to that railing to look at the lights and the water, but that’s also how we found the Tower Bridge and the restaurant that would replace the fish n’ chips-shaped hole in our stomachs.

To the left of her is the bridge, but to her right stood a little conglomeration of fairy-light-adorned biodome things with classy people inside of them.

We weren’t quite cool enough to make it into the dome things. In fact, once we walked into the main part of the restaurant, we were worried we weren’t even cool enough to eat there! The music was positively pumping (that’s what the kids are saying these days, right?), everybody was chic and classy and hipster and young, and my mom and I probably looked like a couple of bundled-up deer caught in some super hip headlights.

It’s definitely strange to know that most of the people there were probably my age and yet still looked about fifteen years older and cooler than me. *sigh*. I’ll get there one day.

My mom and I were shown to a table which I am just now realizing was in the farthest back corner of the restaurant next to another (cooler) mother-daughter pair. Ha! Didn’t even notice the severity of the situation we were in.

The food was pretty darn tasty, though. We shared some little fried chicken bites with a delightful dipping sauce, gigantic crab fritters, and some bruschetta heaped with fresh tomatoes. Yum. Mama also got a peach Bellini, but I was still in the bargain-fish-n’-chips mindset, so I stuck to water. Gah. Mistakes.

By the time we made it back to the Airbnb, Jonathan was fast asleep and sprawled in the middle of the bed… He was clearly very productive while we were gone.

About ten minutes after everyone was settled for the night, a really loud popping sound woke us all up with a start, and the smell of smoke instantly wafted through the room. My mom checked her phone, and it seemed my free Seattle City Light charging block had blown a fuse in the outlet. Oh, and it actually managed to blow all the fuses in the entire apartment, so we woke up to dead phones and no WiFi to help me figure out how to get my mom to the airport.

But that’s a story for another post. Stay tuned…

Cheers!

Lizzy-wa

The. Last. Blog.

Grab your tissues.

Ha. Just kidding. After this, my goal is to finish up blogs from study abroad and last September that I never got around to. Especially The Great Missing Paris Post of 2015.

But for now we’re in London. Here are some shots of the plane ride, on which Kristina and I snagged an empty row in the back for the umpteenth time.

We were supposed to meet my flight attendant cousin, Pauline, shortly after landing. She had waved the magic fingers and scored a shift that would take her straight to our door, but, alas! Another delayed flight! My poor friends just couldn’t catch a break. And because I was only in London for a day this time around, it meant I wouldn’t be seeing Pauline at all. Meh. Next time, Pauline!

Kristina and I found an apartment in Camden Town, described by Pauline as a ‘hipster’ district of the old British city. We were practically on top of the Underground station, so that was nice, and we were right in the middle of bunches and bunches of little cafes and restaurants tucked into busy and dilapidated streetsides.

We had a real struggle trying to actually get into the apartment. We couldn’t get ahold of our host, and I hadn’t had the sense to contact them ahead of time to figure all this out. We stood outside the door for a solid five to ten minutes, fumbling and knocking and knocking louder, until a girl magically appeared before us!

She was just another tenant, and she assumed (quite ignorantly and kind of dangerously) that we were also tenants. She told us exactly how to get into the building and then held the door for us. Hopefully she wouldn’t do the same for some random passersby!

The apartment was nice but small. Our room was essentially just the bed, and the housekeeper was an absolute mess. She was sweet though, and she gave us the host’s phone number so we could actually figure out how to get in and the details of WiFi and checkout. The bed set-up was a bunk bed with a double on bottom and a single on top. Room for three.

But who was the third, you ask?

Why, none other than John Jeff Jeng! J^3!!!

I had been looking forward to dancing with this weirdo once I got back to the States, but I noticed on some bus ride somewhere that this would not be possible. Scrolling through Facebook, I came across one of his posts, declaring, ‘Bye, America! See you in three months!’

Luckily, timing was on our side, and he just so happened to have nothing planned for essentially his entire trip. Cue: Day With Lizzy in London! Yahoo! He found us. We relaxed a bit, and then we planned our half-day of adventures.

I really wanted to see a show. John and Kristina didn’t really care. And, ta-da! Due to planning, sell-outs, and prices, we ended up buying tickets to a very random show that none of us had ever heard of, with hopes that our money and time would not go to waste.

And then, dinner. Yummmmmmmmmm. Fancy Indian food at a very reasonable price point. We each got a lassi (smoothie-ish yogurt drink). Mango is the most common, and in fact, I have never seen anything else. But here, there were several flavors to choose from! John went strawberry, I went ‘sweet,’ and Kristina stuck with the mango. This was all in spite of the fact that the waiter insisted mango was the best anyway. When we got our drinks, we played musical chairs for a couple minutes until finally settling on our original orders, though we technically all liked the mango the best. We should have listened!

The food was delicious, and the wait staff was super nice about us being in a hurry (in order to get to the other side of town in time for the show). We scarfed down two different curries, two different rices, and a coconut naan. Gah. So good.

And then we were off! To the Westside! To see a new show called Half a Sixpence. Our seats were beautiful. Top row, smack in the middle. The thing about London theaters is that there just isn’t a bad seat in the house. Even from the farthest rows, we were still close enough to see everybody’s faces. No such thing as second, third, and fourth mezzanines here.

Review of the show: loooooved it! The songs were great. The jokes were hilarious. The protagonist was adorable. He was having some lady issues throughout the show, but I just wanted him to come offstage and pick me! 10/10. Would recommend. Would see again. John and Kristina were also big fans. Sometimes spontenaety pays off!

After the show, we made our way back to the apartment to chill off a bit before John and I set off again while Kristina did laundry. Bahahaha. It was by choice, I swear.

Why would John and I leave the house at 11:30, you ask? Well, dancing, of course! John had already been in London for a few days, so he’d already had time to go dancing a few times and had heard about tonight’s venue by word-of-mouth. The dance was supposed to last until two or something crazy, so we were just on time showing up at midnight. And the place was still hoppin’!

I had some seriously great dances here. Everybody was good. Everybody was nice. Plus, I got to dance with John, who is arguably one of my favorite people (and dancers) on the planet. John was a little less enthused than I, but he was comparing the venue to Seattle, where he still has the energy to dance approximately many times a week. I was tickled pink, and I tired quickly.

I knew it was my last dance when my partner began apologizing profusely immediately after our song ended, sometime around 1:30. I couldn’t figure out what he was apologizing for until he told me I might want to check myself for blood.

Blood?? Am I bleeding?? Where??

Nope! It was his blood! And it was everywhere.

He had a giant scab on his finger that had opened up during the dance (yuck!), and there were about three dozen giant drops of blood on the floor around us, plus some on my hand and some dripping down my forearm that I wouldn’t notice until John and I were comfortable on a double decker bus. If that doesn’t signal the end of a night of dancing, I don’t know what does.

John and I made our way back to the apartment, stopping for fried chicken along the way. (Dancing makes you hungry!) And then we took some much-needed showers before snuggling into the ridiculously comfy clouds that were our bunkbeds.

I awoke at nine, just in time to shove everything into my backpack for one last time, and then Kristina ran out for a quick goodbye breakfast. I was leaving her all by her little self to explore the terrors of London for a few solo days. We hit up Costa Coffee, London’s Starbucks, and grabbed croissants, berry things, a smoothie, and an americano at about five times the cost of the coffees in Spain. Still good, though!

And then the goodbyes. ): I hugged a groggy and underweared John (at least there weren’t six of them like in Portugal), hugged Kristina about three times, and then hit the Underground.

My flight was a nonstop to Vancouver, and I managed to book another of those wonderful windowless window seats. I got four and a half blogs written by the time we landed, plus a bit of a nap. The bus from Vancouver to Seattle was a bit more eventful, if only because my seat was slightly unhinged from the bus itself. Every time the bus stopped, started, sped up or slowed down, my seat went catapulting abruptly and violently forward or backward. What a mess! There was no way to sleep on that, and bracing myself with my feet on the back of the seat in front of my accomplished next to nothing because that seat was experiencing a similar, if less violent issue.

I felt a little bad about it, but after the bus unloaded at border control, I sneakily snagged the seat behind me. Whoops! No more violent rocking for me. Can’t say the same for the other guy. (:

So.

….

I guess that’s about it…

….

Yep! A wrap on the Third Annual Europe Extravaganza. ‘Twas extravagant, indeed. Very hot. Fairly busy. Lots of friends. Even more food. Many alcohols. Even more fresh orange juices. And art. And Kristina. And languages! And…. Yep.

(:

Until next time…

 

Venlig hilsen/ cheers!

Lizzy-wa

7:22am and I’m on the underground  (which happens to actually be above ground at the moment) on my way to Heathrow Airport, where I’ll catch a flight to Geneva, Switzerland to meet up with the cousins. Looking forward to having some company.

I couldn’t help but glance at this guy cut off in the picture because he is sitting directly across from me with his legs sprawled open, and rather suspiciously, the crotch of his filthy grey sweatpants seems to have been hastily stitched up Frankenstein style with bright blue thread. In my opinion, I think this dude needs new pants. Hope you enjoyed that mental image.

Also, I am on the Picadilly line, which is arguably my favorite line, and I got on at Hammersmith station. Not sure you can possibly get any more British sounding than that, which is why I love it. Bahahah… the train conductor: “Alright now… I’m going give you a break from hearing my voice now… you shouldn’t hear from me unless you need to… Well… alright. Heathrow…”

I gotta say. I am pretty pumped about this airport. According to friend Shelby, it is airport heaven. She literally said she wished she could have spent more time there. In the airport.

Okay. Let’s go back to where we left off. I had just touched down in London, was running on as close to empty as I have ever been (mentally, physically, emotionally), and I had been awake for approximately 40 hours. My plan for London all along was to try to just get as much rest as possible before continuing with my trip, since the first time I dealt with Europe jetlag, I slept for 17 hours my first night, and last year I slept for 19.

*Spoiler alert* I did not get close to sleep in the teen hours.

I also had purchased ‘groundling’ tickets to two shows at Shakespeare’s Globe Theater. Groundling tickets are only five pounds and you don’t get a seat. Standing on the ground in front of the stage, only. Hence the name. The shows were Twelfth Night at 2pm, and Tristan and Yseult at 7:30. The thing is, my head was swimming. I made it to my hostel easy enough by about 11:30, but I couldn’t check in (or get as bed, which I so desired) until 2, when I was due to be at my first show. It was quite a dilemma figuring out if I should or would be physically able to make it to both shows, and I consulted anyone and everyone I thought might be awake at 5am to get input on which show I should sleep through if I skipped one. Unfortunately, nobody was awake or online, so I had to make the decision myself. I decided to attend the 2pm show so that I would not have to deal with getting back in the dark and so that I could *potentially* get a long, uninterrupted night of sleep rather than trying to rouse myself from a nap to go outside again in a few hours.

This all may have been a bad plan.

I still had an hour or so to kill, and I spent most of this time debating bribing the hostel staff into giving me an early bed. I needed to order food to get change for the locker, so I ordered a salad and a hot chocolate, which I thought would calm me down and lift my spirits.

Wrong! Ohmygod that hot “chocolate” was without a doubt the number one most terribly disappointing beverage I have ever purchased. I paid about four dollars for a cup of what was most likely cheap hot chocolate powder mixed with water. No whipped cream and no show. As the waitress gave me the mug, I’m sure my face said, “You’re joking, right?”

But she was! She was joking in that I had not even tasted the “chocolate” yet, so had no idea just how ripped off I had really been. Not only was this an ugly, sad looking excuse for expensive hot chocolate, but they probably put about a fifth of the amount of chocolate the recipe requires. It was essentially chalky brown-ish water. What a great prank.

It also took them about half an hour to give me my tiny salad. It was alright, I guess, but not worth five pounds. Behold:

So that was disappointing. I ate what I could and drank very little and was off to the Globe. The view was nice from my hostel’s street, though:

A quick jaunt across town, and I arrived at the Globe:

It was getting hot out, and I did not plan for the shade when choosing my standing location. Throughout the show, in fact, it was a kind of game between myself and those around me to hide from the hot light and crowd in the bits of shade that moved with the sun.

The show, however, was wonderful. I wish in had been more awake and less in fear of getting sunburned, because I didn’t fully follow the story at all times, but that is quite common with Shakespeare, anyway.

I have started to get more interested in Shakespeare now that I have seen some shows live and read about the process of a theater troupe preparing a performance of Hamlet. The history is so fascinating to me. Shakespeare is really an art form separate from the rest of theater. His plays have been around for so long, and are so well known, and are played by so many, many different groups all around the world so many times a year. How could people possibly still be interested in watching them? In acting in them? In directing them? Don’t they get bored???

But that’s just it. Putting on a Shakespeare production has turned into a game of not getting bored. The directors and actors morph the scripts into shows so wildly different from each other and from the original style. I never know what to expect, now, going into a Shakespeare play. I think it really is the only way to enjoy it. Reading the plays does not do them justice.

For the Twelfth Night, the cast began with a dance number. ‘Okay….’ I thought. Then, a big, beautiful black man in drag, with a floor-length, deep-cut, glittering gown, a full beard, and an even fuller diva wig, stepped onto the stage. She was quite mesmerizing, with a deep, ringing voice.

I can’t remember how they transitioned into it, but next thing I knew, the cast was dancing around and singing, ‘We are family… I got all my sisters with me…’ Half the cast was in sailing uniforms and the other half was in disco attire.

It was immensely interesting and seriously entertaining. The performance was funny, dramatic, and showy. My favorite characters were the drag queen (narrator maybe?) and Malvolio, this little man played by a woman. She was sooooo funny and committed to her character. I had to look away sometimes, and other times I couldn’t. So talented.

Overall, show 10/10, tiredness and blazing sun aside. I hung out a little after that, went grocery shopping for dinner/ breakfast, chatted with some family and friends online and then went to bed around 8pm.

Didn’t sleep super well, unfortunately. I went through three phases of restless dozing/sleep that probably lasted about an hour or so, interspersed with texting and counting sheep. Was too hot to get comfortable, and people kept coming in and out of the room. Geneva bed don’t let me down.

I got up a little ahead of schedule and was able to enjoy breakfast outside before getting on the train.

Didn’t get to spend much time in the airport, Shelby, but it was definitely nicer than Gatwick and Luton! Later I will be flying into Stansted, so by the end of this trip, I will be able to compare all four major London airports.

On the plane, with a real window. I’m flying Swiss, and it is quite nice. The seats are sleek, relatively cozy, and have a lot of room around them. Maybe I’ll get another nap in. Next stop, Switzerland!

 

—

 

Crap. I think I left my watch in the hostel. ):

 

—

 

I’m liking Swiss more and more. That was one of the fastest, smoothest takeoffs I’ve ever experienced, and then they gave everybody croissants. Strangely, the croissant tastes like a pretzel…

The plane itself is so cute and bubbly, too. Not sure how to describe it. Like a cartoon plane or something. Plus everybody speaks French and has French accents.

—

 

Something that always amazes me on flights is how much land is farmland. It doesn’t seem that way from the ground.

Also, our plane keeps flying by other planes that are flying, and it looks so cool, you have no idea. That’s one of my favorite things to see in the air.

Eeeep. Another of my favorites are the Alps. So beautiful.

—

Touchdown was a little more dramatic than takeoff, but I’m in Switzerland! Talk soon!

 

Venlig hilsen/ cheers/ au revoir,

 

Lizzy-wa