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Showing posts from October, 2016

Day Thirteen, Fourteen, and Fifteen

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So on Wednesday I took a bus from Belfast down to Dublin. The ride was pleasant. I sat on my first double-decker bus! Top floor, of course. I sat next to a gentleman named Robert, who was very impressed that I was traveling alone. He told me about his global travels (he sells tractors to farmers worldwide) and his adventures in each area. Robert pointed out local landmarks too, which roads lead to castles and what the bridges are named after. He was very sweet, he made sure I got to my hotel safely after the bus ride. Here's to you, Robert Burell of Killdare. My hotel was nice, although there was a snotty Frenchy guy manning the front desk. I didn't much care for him. I don't think he cared for me. Fun fact about Ireland, there were a lot of Italian immigrants after WWII. As a result, there are a lot of authentic Italian places in Irish grottoes. The place I went was pretty good. I got the seafood pasta (again, I'm in an oceanside city, I could hear the seagulls. S

Day Twelve

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Today I took my first guided tour. I was walking around the center of Belfast and saw that there was a tour going from Belfast up to the Giant's Causeway. Since the causeway was on my to-do list anyway, I hopped on board.    The driver was both hilarious and informational. There were a lot of Dad Jokes (the kind that get a ha-ha sort of response), which consisted of Catholics vs Protestants. I liked him immensely.   I also liked the idea of a guided tour, because he pointed out things that I never would have known about if I had taken the trip by myself. Like the Titanic Quarter, where they built hundreds of ships - including the Titanic - and the museums about them. He pointed out local landmarks, explained why some sheep have red marking (because they're Catholic) and some sheep have blue markings (because they're Protestant).  Irish Sheepies   There was a lot of information about alcohol, too. Apparently Guinness owns the second most amount of property in

Day Nine, Ten, Eleven

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Alrighty. So Saturday and Sunday I visited cathedrals and graveyards. It didn't seem right, taking pictures of them. Disrespect or something like that. Although, if you want to google "Glasgow Cathedral" and "Glasgow Necropolis" you'll find plenty of pictures there.  At a suggestion, I went to one of the local cathedrals (there are more 19th century gothic cathedrals than you can swing a cat at) to hear one of their services. I went to a choral-led service. The music was superb, the building is custom built for those tones and voices. Content wise, it was different than I'm used to, but honestly I was more focused on the music and the echoes of the voices from the stone around me. This morning (Monday) I caught a cab at 4:30 in the morning to the airport. This Scottish cabbie was far more friendly and helpful. Although every time I get into a black cab I think of the BBC Sherlock episode.  FYI, Glasgow airport is a maze. The drop off point is hidden

Day Seven and Eight

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So yesterday morning I got on a bus from the hotel I was staying in to Glasgow. I like taking the bus because 1) I don't have to drive (there are literally signs to remind drivers to stay in their lane) 2) It's cheaper, and 3) I get to see countryside I never would have seen otherwise.   For starters, English radio is weird. It will play something like Frank Sinatra, then move over to Styx, then some Bruno mars, and then some Beatles.  So much Beatles. Everyone here hums or whistles it under their breath. It's a subconscious thing.  Also, American football is fascinating to them. It's a novelty, and is often the topic of morning drive game shows.  Manchester drivers, take this to account: If you stay at a steady speed, instead of flooring it, you won't have to slam on your breaks every time. Cool it zippy.   Finally, the topic of the American presidential race is approached with slightly amused horror. Mostly "Can you believe what's going on th

Day Six

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So in order to keep from going completely nuts, I've had to change my approach. Backpacking the whole of Europe in one go is a huge deal. In reality it should take a year or so to do it properly, and with someone. Since it is so large an undertaking, that might have been part of the issue. There was no definitive end date, no ticket home, no bracket to work within. There was no structure to my plan. And anybody who knows me will tell you that I am a Very Structured Person. I've decided that instead of trying to swallow the whole sandwich Scooby-Doo style, I'm going to take bites. Chew, savor, enjoy, then swallow. Since I'm already here in Manchester, I decided to tour the U.K. and Ireland for a month. I found a plane ticket to Phoenix under $500 on November 21st so that's when I'm going home. The advantages of the trip being only a month are many.    1) Less of a cheap budget. I don't have to be stingy with my choices as much. It's not going to kil

Day Four and Five

So I've got good news and bad news. Bad news. I missed my flight from Manchester to Belgium. It was a rookie mistake. I didn't check the flight times locally, I just knew when my flight would be in America. I'm also still sick. I could barely keep down the piece of toast and sip of soup I bought. Good news: I'm staying in a fancy hotel at the Manchester airport. By fancy I mean a 4-star hotel, which is leaps and bounds over the simple room I stayed at with Airbnb. The hotel is on the grounds of the airport, with a covered walkway leading to it (which is smart, since it's been raining non-stop since I got here yesterday morning). Bad news: I'm struggling with the desire to stay on this trip. Every time I think about booking another flight, another train, another bus, my heart starts to pound in my chest and my stomach turns to acid and I have to look for the nearest bathroom.  When you read a book (at least the kind of books I like to read), there

Day One, Two, and Three

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 For the record, my co workers were right. No sleep was to be had the night before my departure. Airports are strange places. It's a sort of in-between place, where time moves differently. It jumps and lags and skips all over the place.   On my flight to Canada, I was the youngest person by about thirty years. I was feeling a little nauseous, but I had some ginger and it helped a little. The flight time was about four hours long, which wasn't terrible. They had free satellite TV, and so I watched reruns of HGTV.   The view from my window was cool. Especially over the Great Lakes area, when the blue of the water and the clouds beneath us made it look like we were on the ground instead of in the sky. It was a little vertigo-inducing. I had to remind myself of gravity and where it was pulling me. The view of the red and orange trees was beautiful as we came close to Toronto.   The Toronto airport is more like a mall than an airport. Shops and cafes and stores and lots of ran