Scotland Photos 1/2

First set of images from Scotland.  More to come after I get back the other camera.

JK MIA

We're alive! I swear! When we got to Scotland we were (not entirely) shocked to find that Sandra, with whom we are staying until our flight tomorrow, doesn't actually have internet. She uses the internet at the university instead, and as Jeff and I are not students there we can't use it. And we frankly just didn't have time to find an internet cafe.

So the plan is that as soon as I get a chance, I'm going to recap everything that we did and Jeff will post all the pictures and it's going to be a huge long post and you're all going to be quite upset with me, but that's just how it goes! So now we're going to finish packing and get some sleep and then we'll see how everything goes tomorrow.

We've been having a fantastic time. Climbing Arthur's Seat and fish and chips in St. Andrews and a whiskey tour and tons and tons of walking all around Edinburgh. It's been an absolute blast. More to come as soon as I get a chance.

Love!

So Long London and Thanks for all the Fish and Chips

Day 3? It’s hard to keep track, at this point.

Since Peter and Dan both had work on this morning, Jeff and I planned on making our way on our own, using the tube as we could and walking between places whenever possible. The plan of the day was to see the Tower of London and Tower Bridge, then pop back to get my newly unlocked phone (the guy said it wouldn’t be ready until 11), then get down to Buckingham Palace, walk over to the National Gallery, and then make our way back to the hotel, to freshen up before seeing We Will Rock You.

And, shockingly, everything went as planned! This is especially shocking as we had forgotten our maps in our room at the hotel, and having made all our plans we were quite unawares of how to get anywhere. But it turned out to be a lot simpler than we thought. We made it easily to the Tower of London, bought tickets, and attached ourselves to a tour group. As an uneducated tourist, I was honestly expecting a tower, and not the heavily gated castle that is actually present. We were informed by our Beefeater tour guide that it was originally actually a tower, or at least more tower-like when it was first built, and though it had increased in size and become much more expansive than a single tower, it still retains its name.

He also told us that nobody knows exactly why Beefeaters are called Beefeaters (they are otherwise known as the King’s Guard of the Yeomen of the Guard, or presently as the Queen‘s Guard of the Yeomen of the Guard), and that in order to be considered for the position of Beefeater, applicants must first complete at least 22 years in service of the Armed Forces, achieve the rank of Sergeant Major, and also be awarded the Good Service and Conduct Medal. No mere tour guides, these! They also live within the walls of the tower, in homes once used by the King’s soldiers. I thought that was amazing. And so much better than just a tour guide, once a History Major and now disillusioned with the world, but to actually have someone who is invested in the history of their country, having once been charged with protecting it.

The tower itself is also quite interesting, though I could have done without the line up of all the Kings’ horses. Unfortunately, the exhibit “King Henry VIII: Dressed to Kill” was closed, as it is being changed over to a new exhibit. I hadn’t even known about Dressed to Kill before I saw the sign, but as soon as I did I was absolutely depressed. I consoled myself with viewing the Crown Jewels, which we have no pictures of, but which were extremely shiny. I think most of the stones were plaster models, as having actual multi-million dollar diamonds and other precious stones in full view of mere peasants seems like a poor decision. But maybe HM the Queen has greater faith in her people than I.

After a few hours wandering around the Tower, we wandered back out again, took some pictures of Tower Bridge, and then headed back to the tube. At this point it was past 11, and we were going to head back up to get my newly unlocked phone from the smarmy phone guy, and then head back down to Buckingham Palace. Unfortunately, when we got to the phone guy, he had not only failed to unlock my phone, but he had actually completely locked it, so it couldn’t even recognize the original O2 SIM card. Needless to say, I was extremely upset. We had already spent 20 pounds on a new SIM card (the card was free, but we pre-paid for a 20 pound top up so we could call and text people) and now could not even retrieve my old contacts from my phone. The man offered to give us a new phone at a discounted rate, but we declined. I was, and still am, rather upset about the whole thing, both with him and with myself. Not only did he cause us to waste time, but we now have a 20 pound top up that we can’t use. Awesome. I mean, I’m sure we can find someone over here who wouldn’t mind having it, but it’s still damn stupid. And it put me in a foul mood for quite some time.

Really, it wasn’t until we got to St. James’ Garden, near Buckingham, that I started to feel better. Sure, we’d wasted 20 pounds but in the grand scheme of things it’s not such a big deal. And St. James’ is lovely. Rolling green hills and a waterfowl park, ice cream stands and lots of benches. Jeff and I had a wonderful time just walking around, holding hands (we are so sic kingly sweet, I know) and chasing some birds. There were even pelicans! I’d never seen such a diverse gathering of birds in the UK and it was a lot of fun. We got tons of pictures, and Jeff’s favorite can be seen in his slide show (hint: It features a tiny little doggy).

Ok, now comes my horrible confession time: I don’t know what Buckingham Palace looks like. I can identify it only from the men with big hats standing out front, and so we were literally at the gates before I realized where we were. We weren’t able to see the changing of the guard, but we did see them march around a bit and they were wearing very big hats, so all in all I was quite pleased.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
NOTE TO READERS:
Internet was very flaky though fast on the train so I was unable to completely upload UK day 3, Ill post on twitter with another update to this entry later so that you all know the images are up.  Now back to Kari's fancy writing.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 And the mall between the palace and Trafalgar Square was lovely and straight and full of huge flags, both of GB and South Africa, from whom HM was expecting a delegation the following day. We were told that the National Gallery was just the other side of Trafalgar Square, and having only about an hour before we needed to head back, we made our way there, with haste but with already aching feet as well. Trafalgar Square was the other side of a series of arches, through which Jeff and I passed and then were immediately stopped! We had paused to admire the gate of the arches, when an elderly man came up and spoke these words:

“There’s a nose on that wall.”
“Sorry?” I said.
“A while ago a gentleman told me that there’s a nose on that wall and I’ve just found it and isn’t it quite strange. I don’t know why it’s there. I suppose it’s like that artist who always put mice in his things.”

I had no idea what he was talking about! A nose? On the gate or on the column or what? Finally I spotted it. Indeed, at around head height on the side of an archway, facing (nosing?) where the cars pass by, is a life sized gold nose. There is no plaque that I could see, no reason for it to be there. Urban art? Perhaps. But a nose, nevertheless. I thanked the man for pointing it out, and assumed he would wander onwards. But, no.

“You’re American, are you? From where?”

“Well, I’m from Washington, DC and my boyfriend is from Baltimore, Maryland, which is about an hour north.”

“And what are you doing in London?”

“We’re just stopping here a few days before we head up to Edinburgh, to visit some friends.”

“I like London,” he said, “but I’m more of a Kentish man, myself. In order to be a true Cockney it’s said that you need to be born within the sound of Big Ben’s bells, which I was not, but my mother was, if you believe that. And so she was a proper Cockney, but then she went away to secondary school and got a bit of a posh accent. So when she came home everyone said ‘Oh, now she’s gotten all posh’ which was a bad thing because the whole idea of posh people is that they walk around with their noses in the air.”

I didn’t know what to say. What do you say to this outpouring of personal information? Thank you? I must have said something appropriate, because he lingered a bit more, talking about how he’d never been to America, and then wished us well and good health and was on his way.

Very friendly, these Englishmen.

After that encounter, and having gotten pictures of the nose, we made our way to Trafalgar Square. I love this square. It’s huge and open, with a lot going on. There are people draped on the lions that guard the statue of Admiral Nelson (not, actually, Napoleon), and several fountains with lots of mermaids, and giant steps leading up to the National Gallery.  We had only a few minutes to look around, so after I got a picture of Jeff with a lion, we went onwards into the Gallery. And how I wish we’d had more time. Like the British Museum, I could happily spend days in the National Gallery. Anyone who knows me well would know that this is true of any such place, museum or gallery or otherwise. But as we had only a bit of time, we had to choose what to admire with care.

When we left again it was nearly 6, and the air was quite a bit cooler. As the show was at 7:30, and we still needed to shower and get ready, we rushed to the underground and back to the hotel.

The show was tons of fun. I’m not the biggest Queen fan in the world, and I haven’t really heard that much of their stuff, but even so the show was great. The basic plot is that it’s a post music-apocalyptic world (meaning that the music is dead and/or destroyed) and this team of Bohemians must find the legendary weapons of the mighty Champions (Queen) and restore free thought to all the GaGa girls and boys. Honestly, when Jeff bought the tickets I was a little put out. I mean, clearly I’ll go, if only because I love him and he loves Queen and the transitive property is much in effect here, but by the end of the show I was so happy to have gone for myself. The crowd was really lots of fun, standing up and singing along to the final songs (We Will Rock You, We Are the Champions, Bohemian Rhapsody, etc). And now I really want to listen to a lot more Queen.

When the show was over it was 10:30. This isn’t really a shock, it’s just that we were supposed to meet up with Peter once he was done with work and we were done with the show, for a few drinks to celebrate our last day in London (and not getting lost on the tube too badly). But at this point it was far too late. He had work the next morning at 5 or so, and knowing well how that is, we didn’t fuss about going out with him. Instead, Jeff and I went to a lovely Indian restaurant that was recommended by the man behind the counter at our hotel. We hadn’t had Indian yet since we’d arrived, and it was something we were aching to do. Funny how going to get Indian food is now a touristy thing to do in London, but there you go. And I love Indian food. It was nearly midnight by the time we got to the restaurant, and we were just happy they were open. Half an hour and most of a bottle of wine later, we were once again ready to lay down our weary heads, proud of ourselves for the full day we’d put in, and eager to restart our adventure the next day.


And now, as I type this, we have already started the next part of our adventure. We are most of the way to Edinburgh, having left King’s Cross at 10AM (sorry, no picture of platform 9¾! We thought the train was at 10:30 and not at 10, so when we went to the station we were quite rushed), and we will be arriving in Edinburgh at 2:30. I can’t wait! The countryside is rolling and beautiful and I eagerly anticipate running into the arms of my friend Sandra, who should, with any luck, be meeting us at the train station.

And with that, I’m all caught up!

London: Recap of Day 2: Electric Boogaloo

I know I’m a million days behind at this point. Ugh! It’s Wednesday and I still haven’t told you guys about Monday or Tuesday. I know Jeff has already uploaded all the pictures from that day, but somehow writing about what all happened takes a lot longer. Plus, when we retire for the evening I am invariably exhausted from whatever goings on happened in the day, and so I resolve to write it all out tomorrow, tomorrow, I swear. But it’s always tomorrow, isn’t it?

But it shall be today! I swear! Because now Jeff and I have left London and are on our way up to Edinburgh on the East Coast Rail, and so I have four long interrupted hours to do nothing but type. And so we begin.

When we last left off, Jeff and I were snoozing like logs after landing on London and going to a rugby match with our friends Peter and Alex and then having a few pints at the local hooligan’s pub. On of the tricks to beating jet-lag, in addition to eating lots of proteins the day before (thanks, Wendy!) is to stay awake until everyone in whatever time zone you’re in goes to sleep. This is what Jeff and I did, and it worked quite well. Breakfast at the hotel was to be served between 7 and 9, so we set the alarm for 8AM, and both of us were up before it, well rested and ready for the day. Breakfast was what’s called a Full English, consisting of eggs, sausage, toast, beans and salted bacon. And tea, of course. It was quite good, even though I didn’t eat the beans (never really a fan) and then we were ready to go. It was a really nice day, shockingly, with blue skies and a brisk wind and all in all I was really quite antsy to get out of the hotel. We had wanted to get a mobile while we were in the UK, and while we had procured a SIM card the day before, we still needed to get one of our phones unlocked, and so we went around the corner to a little shop marked “Mobile Accessories” to ask the guy behind the counter if he could. He said that for Jeff’s phone, a T-Mobile Google Android thingy it would cost 40 pounds and be ready in three days. For mine, an old Sony Ericsson from my uni days, it would take only one day and cost only 10 pounds, so we left my phone with the smarmy man behind the counter (I was not a fan of him. Just something about him) and went back to the hotel to collect Peter.

Now, Jeff and I had some very definite ideas on what we wanted to see while we were in London. Buckingham Palace, Madam Toussads, Tower of London, Tower Bridge, London Eye, the British Museum, the National Gallery, Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre and the Tate Modern. And at this point we had to do all this in two days. Peter suggested that we start with the British Museum, as he knew where it was and so we did.

I could spend days in the British Museum. We got there at around 10 and didn’t leave until 2, after wandering through King George III’s private collection, the Americas, Hindu statues, Persian kings, and Britain in Roman times. It was enchanting. And gorgeously built. Most of the museum is in a classically beautiful way, with lots of marble steps and columns. But it’s also quite modern.  As you can see from the photos Jeff and I took, it’s also got this sort of courtyard in the middle, with a domed glass ceiling, crisscrossed with metal beams, casting a chessboard of shadows down on the marble walls. It’s really gorgeous. You feel like you’re outside, but still pleasantly warm as it’s inside. And the light is wonderful.

So suffice to say, we spent half the day there, happily, and only at 2pm did we emerge back out into the sunlight for lunch and to meet up with our friend Dan. We went into a pan-Asian restaurant chain called Wagamama’s (I love saying that, I do) and had huge bowls of noodles and lots of green tea, and then we went to go and find our next adventure. Now, remember our huge list of things to do? We had knocked only one off, and it was already nearly 3pm. So we made our way to Covent Garden, watched a bit of a Punch and Judy show, and then walked down to the River Thames, where we could see London Eye, the Tate Modern, and Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre, in addition to other huge buildings. Having crossed the river, we found that the Eye was far too expensive (at 20 pounds a head? We’ll go next time, when Jeff and I are richer) and instead resolved to walk along the Thames until we came to the Tate and the Globe.

It should be said, it was almost sundown at this point, and we were not very far along on our list of things to see. But, honestly, I couldn’t really have cared less. We were with friends, we were walking along in a beautiful city, and we were having a great time. Who cares if we don’t see everything? We hardly need to.

When we got to the Tate Modern, I made everyone stop in the gift shop with me. I absolutely love museum and gallery gift shops, and am constantly wanting to outfit an apartment with everything I find. A great example of this is the tons of shopping I wanted to do at the MoMa, but having no apartment to put it in (yet!), Jeff and I held back. We left the gift shop and wandered around the Tate for a little bit, but it was very close to closing time, and we got to see only one exhibit. Luckily, it was the coolest thing in the world.

What it was, is a giant steel container, like a shipping container, several stories tall and facing towards a wall. There was enough space to walk in front of the piece and into it. It was cavernous. No lights were allowed in, so we stood, dwarfed in front of this mammoth black hole, staring deep into the darkness. Sometimes I think modern art is just play acting at ideas, but this was really quite… I don’t know. Not moving, exactly, but impressive? As we walked in, I could feel myself willing my eyes to adjust, to be able to make out anything in the massive darkness. But they refused. I could no more make out anything in that cave than I could in the deepest dead of night. Less, even. We wandered like the newly blind, arms in front and short, shuffling steps. Finally I could make something out. Floating faces, pale like a clouded moon, and indistinguishable in feature from any other. We had reached the end of the container, the back of the wall, and as I reached out my hand to check, I could scarcely believe it was real. Yeah, we were joking around about ooh it’s dark and ooooh who’s hand is that, but in truth, it was a relief to feel a solid wall. And then I turned around to see the entrance and suddenly, this big metal shipping container, two stories high in the middle of the Tate Modern made sense. What an astonishingly clear allegory for development and advancing into the future. Because as I looked towards the entrance, back from whence I’d come, I could see perfectly the way, and likewise could I perfectly see other people who struggled along the same path I’d just traveled. It was amazing.

Unfortunately, then it was 6PM and the Tate was closing and it was dark out and we’d wasted our whole day. But not really, not at all. We walked then past the Globe, but it was closed. And it’s not even on the spot where the original Globe once stood. And they don’t even know what the original Globe looked like! What a gyp! I’d rather like to go inside, I think, but as they were closed and we didn’t feel like scaling the walls and getting in trouble, so on we went. To a pub!

We happened upon a really Welshly decorated pub (Welsh flags, Welsh beers, Welsh Welshmen, etc) and had ourselves a seat and a few pints, Welsh and otherwise, before moving on again. I was loath to move, honestly, as with any good day’s journey, my feet were tired and I was hungry. But with the promise of food, I would gladly have moved at least to another pub. And that’s just what we did. We found a lovely pub with seats enough for all of us (a rarity at most other pubs) and good food. Jeff had a burger, as he had said earlier that he doesn’t believe that any other country does BBQ properly, or even at all. And I had bangers and mash. Good bangers and mash are amazing and I’d missed them, as they’re hard to find in the US (bangers and mash, for the gastronomically uneducated, are sausages and mash potatoes in gravy. Delicious!). A few more beers, and I was properly tipsy.

Dan had to catch a train back to the Midlands, which left at 10:30, so we said our goodbyes at the station and then our goodbyes again to Peter on the Victoria Line. We were going to see him again the next night, after he was done with work and after we were done seeing We Will Rock You (Queen’s Rock Opera). And so after a really, really full day and with really, really tired feet, we went back to the MacDonald Hotel and feel quickly to sleep.

London: So Long And Thanks For All The Photos

Day 2: London - A Day With The OB Brits

Day 3: London - On Our Own

Second slideshow is not completely uploaded (which contains a few photos I think are my greatest works, including this gem).  Rest to come when Kari's long fantastic entry is due. (tonight?)

London: 3rd Night

Last night in London.  QUEEN: We Will Rock You show was amazing!  That is all.  


More last two days worth of photos will be up tonight or tomorrow morning, London time.

London: Part Two

Day 3: Monday March 1st, 10pm

I mean, I guess it’s day 3 of our trip. It’s rather confusing at this point. I know today is our second day in London, but it feels like our first day. I mean, today was the first day we were accustomed to the hours, so I wasn’t half asleep the whole time.

So yesterday, day 2, was loads of fun. Jeff and I got into Dublin at around 5:30am, at which point Jeff immediately got a Guinness, and then boarded a plane to London at around 6:30. I had slept horribly during the trans-Atlantic flight, tossing and turning after dinner and the movie (Where the Wild Things Are, which was awesome!) and really felt awful when we landed in Dublin. I slept through the flight to London and just felt worse once we landed. Honestly, it’s like pulling an all-nighter. At the end of the night, when it’s just about daytime, you get this temptation to sleep for the next 30 minutes or an hour, just to get some sleep because dear god you are so tired now. But that’s really the worst thing to do. Either you sleep through whatever you’ve wanted to pull an all-nighter for, or you wake in time and are so horribly tired that you might as well be asleep. This was the same thing. I slept for about an hour, after practically no sleep at all, and when we landed I was like the walking dead. I wanted a cup of coffee, a dime bag of speed, a shot of heroin, anything! I was a wreck.

Nevertheless, on I trudged after Jeff, who was, as ever, awake and excited to be here. He is such an inspiration to go on when I’m exhausted. I hate to let him down, to let him see me tired or otherwise not at my A game, so I push myself onwards. We caught the Gatwick Express in from Gatwick to Victoria’s Cross, and then up to King’s Cross/ St. Pancras Station. Yes, this is the same King’s Cross of Harry Potter’s 9¾ but I have yet to find the 9¾ sign. I am looking, vaguely.

So when we got in it was rainy and gross and cold and dear god what am I doing here? I was hungry and tired and miserable and just wanted to get to the hotel and have a shower and go to sleep. But where is the hotel? We knew it was called MacDonald’s (har har big mac) and it was on Argyle something. So around and around we went on Argyle St. So many hotels, and none of them MacAnything, let alone MacDonald’s. After what felt like a millennia (honestly, about 10 minutes) we found MacDonald’s on Argyle Square and went in. Mind, it was about 10am at this point and we weren’t supposed to check in until 2pm, so we were a little hazy on whether or not we could actually go in at all or not. So we could go in to the hotel itself, but not to our bedroom. As a compromise, the lovely man behind the counter said that we could easily leave our bags behind the counter and then go out for about an hour while our room was gotten ready. A fine compromise indeed, except that going out for about an hour meant wandering in the rain and the misery, but out we went. It helped get us out when we realized that we needed a new SIM card for one of our phones’, in order to actually be able to text or call anyone. This inspired a search of King’s Cross/St. Pancras’ station, in which we were told that we could find a kiosk with free SIM cards and cheap top-ups. I feel like I have to keep reminding you how tired I was at this point. I’d been up since about 7am the previous day with nothing but fitful napping and being squished on an airplane. I felt awful. And more than that, I hadn’t really had a chance to sit down and rest. Sure, the train gave me some time to sit down, but I was still exhausted to my core. And keeping that in mind, I will tell you that we walked around King’s Cross station for just under an hour, going back and forth and up and down and generally in more and more frustrating circles, finally finding the kiosk and procuring a SIM card. Which didn’t work. Jeff and I hadn’t really thought about it, but in order to use the SIM card, which is from a company who’s name escapes me, we would have to unlock our phones. Bugger. And on a Sunday, that’s totally impossible. So back to our hotel we headed in order to wait for our room, wait for a shower, and wait for our friend Peter.

Oh yes, Peter! Peter is a very dear friend of ours who lives in London, who we met through The Internet, and who was kind enough to offer to show us around London and even take us to a rugby match on Sunday. And actually, that’s the main reason we needed a phone. We hadn’t been in touch with Peter since we’d gotten on the plane to the UK and we had no idea if he was going to meet us at the airport or meet us at the hotel or if we were supposed to meet him at the rugby game or what. So honestly we needed to call him. But without a phone, we had no way to.

Back at the hotel, having procured a SIM card we couldn’t use, we asked the man at the front desk if we could use his phone to telephone our friend. He agreed, and so we phoned Peter. And got his voicemail. Lovely! At this point we started making plans of our own for a nice dinner and a walk around, as we weren’t sure we’d be able to meet up with Peter at all. At one point Jeff checked his Google voicemail and saw he’d received a VM from Peter, saying that he’d dropped his phone in the sink and he was unreachable once he left his computer. Wonderful. Our room finally being ready at this point (roughly noon) we retired to downstairs to relax at least for a bit, before Peter arrived.

We got to relax for all of five minutes, rearranging our bags in our cabin-like room (Mama, I felt like I was on a ship the entire time) when we hear a knock on the door. “Room service!” Which is odd, because the MacDonald hotel is the least likely I’ve ever been in to have room service available. But we open the door and lo! And behold! It’s Peter! What a surprise!

So having acquired Peter, we trudged out again into the rain, to get lunch and to get over to the rugby stadium. We actually had a few hours before the rugby match, so we went around some of the more touristy places to see how many tourists stand about in the rain looking ridiculous. Besides ourselves, of course. I feel so bad, though. I was in an awful mood by this point. And w still had yet to meet Peter’s girlfriend! After lunch I felt better, sure, but my feet were still utterly achy and I just wanted to sleep.

We met up with Alex at the Euston station at around 3ish (the game being at 4) and bought tickets out to God only knows where, England. Peter described it as “dingy, horrible, uninteresting, small town England” and yes, it was that, but it was also quite interesting, from an American’s perspective. And it was what I was used to from living in Edinburgh. Small, squat, concrete buildings standing out sharply against a small, squat, concrete colored sky. Lots of puddles and a very long walk later (I swear Peter was just pulling our legs for the most of it), we got to the stadium. In keeping with the theme, the stadium was small, squat, concrete, and covered in a tarp. Turns out that the Seracens (sp, Pete?) who we were going to watch play, don’t have so many fans and so they don’t have a ton of money for a really nice stadium, so they just kind of patch up their old stadium.

So the game! Lots of fun, especially during the second half. During the first half the Serries did quite well, getting ahead of Bath, the opposing team, using a variety of smart kicks and good teamwork. In the second half, however, there were neverending scrums and absolute cheating from the Ref! It was nuts! I mean, the scrum went over the side on the Serrie end but not into the goal and he still called it a goal! Can you believe it? What an arse. So there was a lot of shouting and beer drinking and IrnBru swigging and really a ton of fun.

Afterwards, we made our way back to Euston station, to a pub that Peter had heard has the best home made pies in all of London. Turns out it was a huge Man.U football pub, loud, rough, and rowdy, and we were the only rubgy hooligans in the whole joint! Well, that was fine by us so we grabbed some beers, wedged ourselves into a table, and had a hell of a time teasing the football hooligans, laughing it up, and eating what basically amounted to a puff pastry on soup (so much for pie!). Did I mention that I absolutely adore Alex, Peter’s girlfriend? Well, I do. Two pints in she and I were like best chums, gossiping about our boys and how Yah girl’s do their hair and the enormous effort it takes to do your eyebrows properly and everything. She’s a doll.

After the pints and the football hooligans and the pies, it was time to say goodnight. Jeff and I were going to meet up with Peter again tomorrow (which is now yesterday, yipes! So far behind!) for some more sight seeing, but we probably wouldn’t be seeing Alex again. So after a huge hug, we said goodnight, and Jeff and I made our wobbly way back to our hotel and our narrow little cabin room. And there we slept like rocks.

Now it’s time for me and Jeff to get out and have our own little adventure, but I’ll update later tonight on both today and yesterday. Promise! Here’s a hint: It involves the British Museum, the Tate Modern, the London Eye, and me, asking what a train is.

Lots of love and wish you were here!

London: Station to Station

Photos of day 1! We went from Dublin to London in these photos.  I was a lil camera shy at first for some reason but after a certain point, the sucker was always around my neck. 

Some quick remarks:

• I was quite happy to be able to get a pint of Guinness at fook'in 5:00AM in the morning at the Dublin Airport.  Righteous!  

• Rugby game was amazing!  So glad I brought that 40 to 200 zoom BTW (thanks dad), made the rugby game much easier to spectate!

Ill go over each one more in detail in the actual photos in Picasa, and post a few of them here, but for now this is the easiest solution. Enjoy our adventures thru the amazing city.  Kari and I would love to thank Pudduh and his lovely girlfriend, Alex for showing us such a personal view of their city.

Now we wait for Pudduh to get out here while we finally clean up for London Day 2: The Tourist Trap!