Part 6
Pints of Guinness make you strong!
So right now, I am in the sitting room of our B&B in Kilkenny, Ireland, playing Hot Rum and getting my ass handed to me. In the last hand (a run of 4 and a set of 3) I got stuck with 150 points worth of cards. I shall not recover from said hand. I am dead. Good-bye, cruel world.
But before I die, I should talk a little about the last few days of the trip.
So when we left off, we had been in Oban. Our last day in Scotland was spent in Glasgow. Technically we only had about half a day after train rides, so we had to be picky about what we did. First off, we left our luggage in the train station and walked down Buchanan St, a lively shopping district in Glasgow. We ate at Sloan's, the oldest restaurant in the city (established in c. 1790's), and then we went to GOMA, the Glasgow museum Of Modern Art. There we saw some beautiful exhibits about LGBT civil rights issues. It was very interesting, and was often very tragic.
Yeah that whole getting reamed in cards thing? Still going strong...
So, after the museum, we walked around more and sat and had tea at the Willow Tea Room, designed by one Charles Macintosh. It was beautiful. The only thing that he forgot to add was a/c... Only time I've sweat this entire trip because of the temperature.
Continuing the Macintosh trend, we visited the Glasgow School of Art, which was completely designed by Macintosh, down to the furniture. It was very cool.
I have never been destroyed like this before. I guess the card gods didn't get my last sacrifice...
So after our day of fun in Glasgow, we got on a train for the airport. We sat in the airport for a couple of hours playing cards, surrounded by the Hamilton Academical Football Club, who also rode on the plane with us. Now here are the differences I noticed between American Football players and European Football (soccer) players: In the first, while both are in great shape, the EU athletes look like actual people, not giant misshapen monster men like the US guys. In the second, all the EU athletes were very good looking. They could have been models. Gay much? Yes. True? Yes.
So then we got to Ireland. It was the best plane ride ever. Not only was it less than an hour long, but the landing was fantastic. We made a faster landing than I have ever experienced. I honestly didn't think that we were going to make it. So when we slowed down and were sitting thanking our lucky stars that we landed, a very loud trumpet fanfare played over the speakers and the pilot came on saying "CONGRATULATIONS! WE LANDED!... FIVE MINUTES EARLY!" I seriously expected someone dressed ass a leprechaun to come dancing out of the cockpit throwing bottles of Guinness to all the passengers. It was amazing. Only in Ireland.
So our first full day in the Emerald Isle was spent traveling to the town of Cashel. After a brief walk we found our B&B and got settled. Our B&B sat right at the foot of the Rock of Cashel, or St. Patrick's Rock, which was a ruined fortified abbey and cathedral on top of a hill. Mom and Beth and Kasey's room had a perfect view of the Rock, and of the flock of sheep (which included two adorable lambs) across the street. Christy and my room had a small view of the Rock, but we had a flock of sheep right outside our window.
We ate that night at a lovely pub called the Brian Baru, named after the king of Cashel who ruled the Rock before it was given to the Church, and who unified Ireland and ruled it as high king. At dinner that night, I reached a milestone in my life. I had my first pint of Guinness. It was amazing. I thoroughly enjoyed it, both for its taste and for the experience.
The next day, we took a tour of the Rock. Few interesting facts: St. Patrick visited the rock when it was ruled by the king Cormac McCarthy. He succeeded in converting the king, but during the ceremony, he accidentally stabbed the king through the foot with the point of his crosier. The king didn't make a sound. When St. Patrick asked why he didn't say anything, Cormac said that he thought it was just a pain that had to be endured to reach salvation through Christ. When the townspeople heard about the accident, they freaked out, and St. Patrick had to work hard to convince them that it was all an accident and he was not going to stab them. When they were convinced that St. Patrick was not going to stab them, they though he was a very kind and generous man and readily agreed to the new religion.
It was also Cormac McCarthy who gave the Rock to the Church, so as to keep it from falling into the hands of a rival clan. He was made the archbishop of the Rock, so he didn't loose any power in the region, and built Cormac's Chapel, which was later attached to the cathedral which was built there. The cathedral is roofless today, because of the truly evil Oliver Cromwell. When he attacked Cashel, all the townspeople ran into the cathedral seeking sanctuary. Cromwell had the roof fired, and it eventually collapsed on the people inside, and any who managed to escape the fires was killed by the Englishman's army.
So. The Rock of Cashel was a beautiful ruin with loads of history. Moving on.
We bought a picnic lunch and headed outside the city to Hore Abbey. We sat in the middle of the ruined structure and ate, and when we were done, we climbed ever climbable surface we could find. It was fantastic. After another great night at the pub, we headed back to our room for a game of cards and bed.
So, the next day, we got on the bus and headed for Kilkenny. Our first bus stopped in Cahir, where in our downtime we visited Cahir Castle, where the movie Excalibur was filmed. It was a very cool, very fun castle to explore. We got to Kilkenny later that afternoon and found a very nice B&B, and went to Langton's pub, where we were able to catch some great live music.
Ok, so we're almost caught up!
Today, we went to Kilkenny Castle, which was very big, and is being restored to how it was in the 1800's, so it was a very cool juxtaposition to the castle that we visited yesterday in Cahir. Cool note though, both Kilkenny Castle and Cahir Castle were owned by the Butler family, of which I am descended. I asked that they sign over the deeds to me, but they laughed in my face and told me to "get the fook out" whatever that means.
Besides the castle, there was also a lovely rose garden, and a beautiful walking park. We spent the rest of the day shopping around in the city, and retired back to the B&B for a night of pizza and cards (and you all already know how that last bit turned out...).
So, thus far I give Ireland an A+. Tomorrow, its on to Trim!
Slainte!
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
The Esthetic of Lostness: Epic Celtic Adventure
Part 5
I love scotch. Scotch scotch scotch. Here it goes down, down into my belly, mmm mmm mmm.
-or-
An Encounter with Tree-Throwing Scottish Monsters
-or-
There can be only one.
This blog follows days 5-7 of the Epic Celtic Adventure.
Whew. Loads to catch up on with this one.
So, where did I leave off? Oh yes! Going to sleep in Stirling. So. We were driven to the airport by our truly saintly innkeepers Tom and Mandy, and spent the next four ours on the train. It took four because the only way to get a train to Oban was to first take a train back down from Stirling to Glasgow, and then back up from Glasgow to Oban. Now, four hours can be a terribly long time on a plane, but since we were on a train, it was a much different experience. It was four hours to read, listen to music, and gaze out the windows at the gorgeous countryside. And man, it was beautiful. Rolling green hills, ruined castles, shimmering lochs, ahhhh. Scotland is wonderful.
So, we made it to Oban, and the first thing I was struck with was the sickly sweet fish smell of the ocean. The second thing I was struck by was the beauty of the place. Oban is a small town directly on the coast of western Scotland. Out in the distance are the islands of Mull and Iona, and all around are the western foothills of the Highlands.
Oban is home to one of the oldest distilleries in Scotland, the Oban Distillery. Established in the 1790s, they make a superb 14 year old single malt whiskey. Mom and I took the tour of the distillery, where we learned their process for making whiskey, from when the grain is dried over a peat fire, to its wash, to where the wash is mixed with yeast and fermented, then distilled, then placed in casks and aged for fourteen years. Apparently, every year that a barrel of whiskey sits aging, it looses 2% due to evaporation (“the Angel’s portion” according to the Scots), so by the time it reaches year 13, it’s down to ¾ of the original barrel. We were given a tiny sip of a barrel of 13 year scotch, and it literally was like drinking fire. The alcohol content on their whiskey is about 65-70% when they barrel it, so it was incredibly potent. It’s much more drinkable by year 14, however, because they fill in the missing ¼ with water, bringing the alcohol content down to a much more reasonable 40-48%. We were also given a dram of this, the Oban 14 at the end of the tour, and it was excellent.
The next day we set out to the isle of Mull. It was a beautiful 45 minutes of ferry ride over to the island, and when we got there, low and behold! the Mull Highland games were taking place that very day! So needless to say, we hopped on a bus and headed around the island to them. While the girls watched the dancing, I rushed over and caught most of the heavy events. I saw the 16lb hammer toss, the 54lb weight for distance, the shot put (one guy beat the local record while I was there), and of course, the caber.
The Highland Games are officially the most manly sporting events in the history of everything. For the uninitiated, the Highland games consists of huge men throwing heavy objects like rocks, cast iron weights, sticks with weights on the end, and trees. The games were created as a way for the warriors to stay in shape and train when the English outlawed weapons in Scotland. I had a fantastic time.
The next day, we got up, and headed for the hills. This time via bus, we went to Glenco in the Highlands of Scotland. Glenco is famous (unbeknownst to most of you) as being the location of Hagrid’s Hut from the Harry Potter films (other locations from each of them were filmed there as well), as well as sets from Rob Roy, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and, of course, Highlander. Unfortunately all of these sets had long since been dismantled so we weren’t able to see them, but we were able to see the Highlands themselves, and that was more than enough for me.
Glenco was one of the most beautiful places I had ever seen. I had a picture of the Highlands in my mind that was more like the section of the Alps we had driven through on a trip a long time ago, very dark and threatening. The bits of the Highlands we were in was far different from that. It was open and sunny and beautiful, absolutely breathtaking.
*yawn* Ahhh! So that’s all for now. I’ll write more tomorrow if I can, and tell you all about our last day in Scotland, and the beginning of our adventures in Ireland. Much love to you all.
I love scotch. Scotch scotch scotch. Here it goes down, down into my belly, mmm mmm mmm.
-or-
An Encounter with Tree-Throwing Scottish Monsters
-or-
There can be only one.
This blog follows days 5-7 of the Epic Celtic Adventure.
Whew. Loads to catch up on with this one.
So, where did I leave off? Oh yes! Going to sleep in Stirling. So. We were driven to the airport by our truly saintly innkeepers Tom and Mandy, and spent the next four ours on the train. It took four because the only way to get a train to Oban was to first take a train back down from Stirling to Glasgow, and then back up from Glasgow to Oban. Now, four hours can be a terribly long time on a plane, but since we were on a train, it was a much different experience. It was four hours to read, listen to music, and gaze out the windows at the gorgeous countryside. And man, it was beautiful. Rolling green hills, ruined castles, shimmering lochs, ahhhh. Scotland is wonderful.
So, we made it to Oban, and the first thing I was struck with was the sickly sweet fish smell of the ocean. The second thing I was struck by was the beauty of the place. Oban is a small town directly on the coast of western Scotland. Out in the distance are the islands of Mull and Iona, and all around are the western foothills of the Highlands.
Oban is home to one of the oldest distilleries in Scotland, the Oban Distillery. Established in the 1790s, they make a superb 14 year old single malt whiskey. Mom and I took the tour of the distillery, where we learned their process for making whiskey, from when the grain is dried over a peat fire, to its wash, to where the wash is mixed with yeast and fermented, then distilled, then placed in casks and aged for fourteen years. Apparently, every year that a barrel of whiskey sits aging, it looses 2% due to evaporation (“the Angel’s portion” according to the Scots), so by the time it reaches year 13, it’s down to ¾ of the original barrel. We were given a tiny sip of a barrel of 13 year scotch, and it literally was like drinking fire. The alcohol content on their whiskey is about 65-70% when they barrel it, so it was incredibly potent. It’s much more drinkable by year 14, however, because they fill in the missing ¼ with water, bringing the alcohol content down to a much more reasonable 40-48%. We were also given a dram of this, the Oban 14 at the end of the tour, and it was excellent.
The next day we set out to the isle of Mull. It was a beautiful 45 minutes of ferry ride over to the island, and when we got there, low and behold! the Mull Highland games were taking place that very day! So needless to say, we hopped on a bus and headed around the island to them. While the girls watched the dancing, I rushed over and caught most of the heavy events. I saw the 16lb hammer toss, the 54lb weight for distance, the shot put (one guy beat the local record while I was there), and of course, the caber.
The Highland Games are officially the most manly sporting events in the history of everything. For the uninitiated, the Highland games consists of huge men throwing heavy objects like rocks, cast iron weights, sticks with weights on the end, and trees. The games were created as a way for the warriors to stay in shape and train when the English outlawed weapons in Scotland. I had a fantastic time.
The next day, we got up, and headed for the hills. This time via bus, we went to Glenco in the Highlands of Scotland. Glenco is famous (unbeknownst to most of you) as being the location of Hagrid’s Hut from the Harry Potter films (other locations from each of them were filmed there as well), as well as sets from Rob Roy, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and, of course, Highlander. Unfortunately all of these sets had long since been dismantled so we weren’t able to see them, but we were able to see the Highlands themselves, and that was more than enough for me.
Glenco was one of the most beautiful places I had ever seen. I had a picture of the Highlands in my mind that was more like the section of the Alps we had driven through on a trip a long time ago, very dark and threatening. The bits of the Highlands we were in was far different from that. It was open and sunny and beautiful, absolutely breathtaking.
*yawn* Ahhh! So that’s all for now. I’ll write more tomorrow if I can, and tell you all about our last day in Scotland, and the beginning of our adventures in Ireland. Much love to you all.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
The Esthetic of Lostness: Epic Celtic Adventure
Part 4
FREEEEEDOOOOOM!
As you may have guessed from the title of today’s blog, the highlight of the day was visiting the William Wallace Monument in Stirling. If you’ve never seen the monument, it is a great tower outside of the city, overlooking the countryside on all sides. Inside, enshrined behind glass, is the sword of William Wallace himself, as well as panels and exhibitions celebrating his life and his service to his country.
To get to the monument, we first got a ride from our amazing B&B hosts, Tom and Mandy (they offered to drive so that we wouldn’t have to pay the extra 15 pounds for a cab). Then, rather than being wimps and taking the shuttle bus, we hiked up the trail to the tower. By the time we arrived, my calves felt like they were about to shred into a million pieces, and my chest was tighter than… (10 points if you get it (and no, its not uncle’s purse strings.).) I honestly didn’t mind however. I felt the pain was quite appropriate; since visiting this shrine was a special pilgrimage for me, the pain it took to get there seemed quite fitting, and I did feel much more worthy to be in Wallace’s monument than all the other people who had been driven up. This may sound quite silly, but it’s true, and I am, for once, being completely serious. William Wallace is one of my biggest heroes, and the trip to his monument was more important and spiritual to me than any pilgrimage to any “holy” place on this earth. It was a very humbling and rousing experience.
Ok. I’m going to have to cut this one short tonight. We have a very early train to Oban tomorrow so I need to get some sleep. Hope all is well with you peeps back home. Much love.
FREEEEEDOOOOOM!
As you may have guessed from the title of today’s blog, the highlight of the day was visiting the William Wallace Monument in Stirling. If you’ve never seen the monument, it is a great tower outside of the city, overlooking the countryside on all sides. Inside, enshrined behind glass, is the sword of William Wallace himself, as well as panels and exhibitions celebrating his life and his service to his country.
To get to the monument, we first got a ride from our amazing B&B hosts, Tom and Mandy (they offered to drive so that we wouldn’t have to pay the extra 15 pounds for a cab). Then, rather than being wimps and taking the shuttle bus, we hiked up the trail to the tower. By the time we arrived, my calves felt like they were about to shred into a million pieces, and my chest was tighter than… (10 points if you get it (and no, its not uncle’s purse strings.).) I honestly didn’t mind however. I felt the pain was quite appropriate; since visiting this shrine was a special pilgrimage for me, the pain it took to get there seemed quite fitting, and I did feel much more worthy to be in Wallace’s monument than all the other people who had been driven up. This may sound quite silly, but it’s true, and I am, for once, being completely serious. William Wallace is one of my biggest heroes, and the trip to his monument was more important and spiritual to me than any pilgrimage to any “holy” place on this earth. It was a very humbling and rousing experience.
Ok. I’m going to have to cut this one short tonight. We have a very early train to Oban tomorrow so I need to get some sleep. Hope all is well with you peeps back home. Much love.
Monday, July 20, 2009
The Esthetic of Lostness: Epic Celtic Adventure
Part 3
1,2,3, Whiskeeeeeeey!
Ahhh.
It is 8:35pm as I write this and the sun hasn't even begun to set yet. I'm scribbling this outside tonight(!), on the deck behind our B&B. There's a wonderful breeze out tonight, and I'd guess its about 60F. There's hardly a sound except for the clink of the waiters clearing away dinner inside and the babbling of the small garden stream next to me.
I'm sitting here with an excellent (albeit ridiculously expensive) Punch Exclusivo Reino Unido, and a glass of scotch. The former is from Cuba, and he latter is from right here in Edinburgh. What an absolutely fantastic end to an absolutely fantastic day.
But before go on about today, a little bit about what happened yesterday after we landed:
Well, first off, we landed. I've found that is always an excellent way to start off a vacation. We took a taxi from the airport, driven by a lovely Scottish gentleman, and arrived at our B&B, the Ceilidh-Donia Hotel.
We wanted to keep ourselves awake until at least 8 or 9 and to eat some real food (damn you airlines and your stupid peanuts!), so at our hostess's recommendation, we went to an awesome little pub called The Crags. It is mostly populated by the university students here about, so it had a great atmosphere. It was very much like Fidos or Bongo Java, except with fish and chips and beer.
After we prevented our starvation (damn you airlines and your stupid peanuts!), we went on an awe-inspiring hike up to Arthur's Seat.
Arthur's Seat is the highest point on a hill in the middle of the Queen's Park, and from it you can see all of Edinburgh. It was absolutely breath taking. We also saw a lot of HUGE rabbits, pheasants, slugs, and ravens. Not the ravens you see at the Tower of London either. Those are kept ridiculously fat and clipped so that they won't fly away, thus bringing about the fall of the English monarchy. No, these were wild and beautiful ravens.
Then, we slept. On beds.
It was wonderful.
Christy and I woke up this morning at 8, just in time to catch a few minutes of the just starting UK version of Who Wants to be a Super Hero? before breakfast. Unlike the American version which was populated by fat nerdy adults, this one was filled with British children, and was almost as adorable as it was funny.
And speaking of breakfast, wow. I had a full cooked Scottish Breakfast, which consisted of bacon, sausage, tomato, beans, egg, hashbrowns, and haggis (which I loved), as well as several glasses of fresh OJ and coffee. Fan-freaking-tastic.
Then, we took a cab into the city and went straight to the castle. Needless to say, I love any visit to any castle ever. This time we got a great intro tour by a man named Jim. He was by far one of the best guides I've ever had. He was an excellent guide and a fantastic story teller, and we got to stick around and chat with him for quite a while after.
The rest of the afternoon was spent walking down the Royal Mile. We stopped for tea at the cafe below St. Giles Cathedral (tea and raspberry tart w/cream for lunch ftw!).
After a hearty dinner of fish and chips, we took a tour of Mary King's Close, a section o the old Edinburgh that is now buried underneath the Royal Mile. I would HIGHLY recommend this to anyone traveling here. It was very interesting, as well as being a very fun tour.
And so here I sit, with two extremely sore and well blistered feet, exhausted, but full of life. Cheesy-much? Definitely. But also incredibly true. Despite the mind numbing stress of the past weeks and the crazy 48 hours of travel, I have spent a glorious first day in a country I'm falling in love with, and have many more such days coming to look forward to.
But now my cigar has finished, and my glass is empty. It is time to put down my pen, have a mug of hot chocolate and a shower and go to sleep.
Til tomorrow then.
Slainte.
1,2,3, Whiskeeeeeeey!
Ahhh.
It is 8:35pm as I write this and the sun hasn't even begun to set yet. I'm scribbling this outside tonight(!), on the deck behind our B&B. There's a wonderful breeze out tonight, and I'd guess its about 60F. There's hardly a sound except for the clink of the waiters clearing away dinner inside and the babbling of the small garden stream next to me.
I'm sitting here with an excellent (albeit ridiculously expensive) Punch Exclusivo Reino Unido, and a glass of scotch. The former is from Cuba, and he latter is from right here in Edinburgh. What an absolutely fantastic end to an absolutely fantastic day.
But before go on about today, a little bit about what happened yesterday after we landed:
Well, first off, we landed. I've found that is always an excellent way to start off a vacation. We took a taxi from the airport, driven by a lovely Scottish gentleman, and arrived at our B&B, the Ceilidh-Donia Hotel.
We wanted to keep ourselves awake until at least 8 or 9 and to eat some real food (damn you airlines and your stupid peanuts!), so at our hostess's recommendation, we went to an awesome little pub called The Crags. It is mostly populated by the university students here about, so it had a great atmosphere. It was very much like Fidos or Bongo Java, except with fish and chips and beer.
After we prevented our starvation (damn you airlines and your stupid peanuts!), we went on an awe-inspiring hike up to Arthur's Seat.
Arthur's Seat is the highest point on a hill in the middle of the Queen's Park, and from it you can see all of Edinburgh. It was absolutely breath taking. We also saw a lot of HUGE rabbits, pheasants, slugs, and ravens. Not the ravens you see at the Tower of London either. Those are kept ridiculously fat and clipped so that they won't fly away, thus bringing about the fall of the English monarchy. No, these were wild and beautiful ravens.
Then, we slept. On beds.
It was wonderful.
Christy and I woke up this morning at 8, just in time to catch a few minutes of the just starting UK version of Who Wants to be a Super Hero? before breakfast. Unlike the American version which was populated by fat nerdy adults, this one was filled with British children, and was almost as adorable as it was funny.
And speaking of breakfast, wow. I had a full cooked Scottish Breakfast, which consisted of bacon, sausage, tomato, beans, egg, hashbrowns, and haggis (which I loved), as well as several glasses of fresh OJ and coffee. Fan-freaking-tastic.
Then, we took a cab into the city and went straight to the castle. Needless to say, I love any visit to any castle ever. This time we got a great intro tour by a man named Jim. He was by far one of the best guides I've ever had. He was an excellent guide and a fantastic story teller, and we got to stick around and chat with him for quite a while after.
The rest of the afternoon was spent walking down the Royal Mile. We stopped for tea at the cafe below St. Giles Cathedral (tea and raspberry tart w/cream for lunch ftw!).
After a hearty dinner of fish and chips, we took a tour of Mary King's Close, a section o the old Edinburgh that is now buried underneath the Royal Mile. I would HIGHLY recommend this to anyone traveling here. It was very interesting, as well as being a very fun tour.
And so here I sit, with two extremely sore and well blistered feet, exhausted, but full of life. Cheesy-much? Definitely. But also incredibly true. Despite the mind numbing stress of the past weeks and the crazy 48 hours of travel, I have spent a glorious first day in a country I'm falling in love with, and have many more such days coming to look forward to.
But now my cigar has finished, and my glass is empty. It is time to put down my pen, have a mug of hot chocolate and a shower and go to sleep.
Til tomorrow then.
Slainte.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
The Esthetic of Lostness: Epic Celtic Adventure
Part 2
Brussels' Sprouts and Aeroplanes
As I'm writing tis, I'm sitting at the Brussel's airport again. By the time you read this, I'll have transfered it from my dirty notebook to the internet, minus the typos and scribbled out bits of course.
...Ok scratch that. I'm on the plane to Edinburgh now (or as the ticket lady in Jay Eff Kay told us, "Eden-burg.")! It is, however, the smallest and most cramped plane I have ever been on. I'm choosing to think of it as my own private jet, coming to speed me off to my chateau in jolly old Pictland. It is just so nice of me to give all these other people a ride.
This has been a trip full of small planes. Last night for instance, we flew across the Atlantic in a 747, which is nearly half the size of every other trans-atlantic flight I have ever been on.
Oh hang on a minute. We're taking off. Moira? Could you be a dearie and bring me a scotch on the rocks when we've reached cruising altitude? Yes, you know how I like it. You're a peach.
Now where was I? Oh yes, the New York to Brussels flight. Well on the whole it was quite uneventful. The movies were terrible, so with the help of two magical pink pills called Benedryl, I slept for most of it. Not good sleep mind, or long. It would be better described as brief instances of shitty sleep punctuated by brief instances of being completely awake and alert before succumbing again to another brief instance of shitty sleep.
...
...
...
Sorry for the interuption. Moira brought me my scotch. (ed. note: tea and ice water.) Blessed girl!
So. Despite the lack of sleep, we made it to Brussels. We had +10 hours to kill so we were able to visit the city itself. I found Brussels to be a beautiful and charming city that deserves its own trip.
I've been boning up on my Scottish in preparation for this leg of the trip. Useful phrases such as:
"Ach aye tha noo!"
"Gob shite!"
"By Murridan's beard!"
And of course, "FREEDOM!", as well as my hearty booming laughs, sword dancing, and tree throwing.
Yeesh. My head hurts and my stomach is quite unsettled from the lack of sleep, and from breathing in the same stale recycled air as the other thousands of travelers I've crossed paths with over the last 48 hours. The best consolation is in the promise of an evening in the very near future spent with my family at a small pub, finishing off an incredible dinner with a pint of stout and my pip or a fine cigar, soaking in the atmosphere of the lands of my ancestors. I am so excited. Our traveling has almost come to an end, but the true adventure is about to begin.
Caledonia here we come!
Brussels' Sprouts and Aeroplanes
As I'm writing tis, I'm sitting at the Brussel's airport again. By the time you read this, I'll have transfered it from my dirty notebook to the internet, minus the typos and scribbled out bits of course.
...Ok scratch that. I'm on the plane to Edinburgh now (or as the ticket lady in Jay Eff Kay told us, "Eden-burg.")! It is, however, the smallest and most cramped plane I have ever been on. I'm choosing to think of it as my own private jet, coming to speed me off to my chateau in jolly old Pictland. It is just so nice of me to give all these other people a ride.
This has been a trip full of small planes. Last night for instance, we flew across the Atlantic in a 747, which is nearly half the size of every other trans-atlantic flight I have ever been on.
Oh hang on a minute. We're taking off. Moira? Could you be a dearie and bring me a scotch on the rocks when we've reached cruising altitude? Yes, you know how I like it. You're a peach.
Now where was I? Oh yes, the New York to Brussels flight. Well on the whole it was quite uneventful. The movies were terrible, so with the help of two magical pink pills called Benedryl, I slept for most of it. Not good sleep mind, or long. It would be better described as brief instances of shitty sleep punctuated by brief instances of being completely awake and alert before succumbing again to another brief instance of shitty sleep.
...
...
...
Sorry for the interuption. Moira brought me my scotch. (ed. note: tea and ice water.) Blessed girl!
So. Despite the lack of sleep, we made it to Brussels. We had +10 hours to kill so we were able to visit the city itself. I found Brussels to be a beautiful and charming city that deserves its own trip.
I've been boning up on my Scottish in preparation for this leg of the trip. Useful phrases such as:
"Ach aye tha noo!"
"Gob shite!"
"By Murridan's beard!"
And of course, "FREEDOM!", as well as my hearty booming laughs, sword dancing, and tree throwing.
Yeesh. My head hurts and my stomach is quite unsettled from the lack of sleep, and from breathing in the same stale recycled air as the other thousands of travelers I've crossed paths with over the last 48 hours. The best consolation is in the promise of an evening in the very near future spent with my family at a small pub, finishing off an incredible dinner with a pint of stout and my pip or a fine cigar, soaking in the atmosphere of the lands of my ancestors. I am so excited. Our traveling has almost come to an end, but the true adventure is about to begin.
Caledonia here we come!
Saturday, July 18, 2009
The Esthetic of Lostness: Epic Celtic Adventure
Part 1:
Stream of (un)Consciousness/Observations from Jay Eff Kay.
Can't keep my eyes open. Flight was good, but started way too fast. Couldn't sleep because of the rocking of our aeronautical vessel, and was too preoccupied scoping out the other passengers and envisioning our own version of LOST.
Sitting, again. This time in the airport. McDonalds to the right of us. Sbarro to the left of us. Starbucks behind us.
At least this time I can stretch my legs.
We have landed in a strange and foreign land called Jay Eff Kay. We are not alone in this country. There are many other humans here. They all have the same look of exhaustion and resignation, as if they all are saying "We stuck here and don't know when we can leave." In truth, I am beginning to wonder whether or not leaving is even possible. It seems entirely feasible that we may have landed in an alternate reality that is impossible to escape. Impossible. Oh well.
At least there's greasy Chinese food here.
JFK...
Junk Food King...
Jazy Fat Kissinger...
Jack Frack Krack...
Jay Eff Kay.
JFK.
Too little sleep.
Eyes going fuzzy.........head falling dangerously close to keys....
Brain shutting down.....
JFK.
Stream of (un)Consciousness/Observations from Jay Eff Kay.
Can't keep my eyes open. Flight was good, but started way too fast. Couldn't sleep because of the rocking of our aeronautical vessel, and was too preoccupied scoping out the other passengers and envisioning our own version of LOST.
Sitting, again. This time in the airport. McDonalds to the right of us. Sbarro to the left of us. Starbucks behind us.
At least this time I can stretch my legs.
We have landed in a strange and foreign land called Jay Eff Kay. We are not alone in this country. There are many other humans here. They all have the same look of exhaustion and resignation, as if they all are saying "We stuck here and don't know when we can leave." In truth, I am beginning to wonder whether or not leaving is even possible. It seems entirely feasible that we may have landed in an alternate reality that is impossible to escape. Impossible. Oh well.
At least there's greasy Chinese food here.
JFK...
Junk Food King...
Jazy Fat Kissinger...
Jack Frack Krack...
Jay Eff Kay.
JFK.
Too little sleep.
Eyes going fuzzy.........head falling dangerously close to keys....
Brain shutting down.....
JFK.
Monday, February 23, 2009
THINGS THAT REALLY PISS ME OFF: PART 1
Hello there, and welcome to Part 1 of a potentially limitless series, Things That Really Piss Me Off. Today, we're going to be talking about...
IGNORANCE!
DISCLAIMER: If you are ignorant, you should probably stop reading as you are likely to be offended. Not that I care.
Ignorance and ignorant people piss me off so much... that if I let myself go, this will turn into a rant, and not a witty, intelligent and biting commentary like I want it to be. Thus, I'm going to step back, and let people who are far wiser and who are far better speakers than me do the talking.
Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe.
-Albert Einstein
To be ignorant of one's ignorance is the malady of the ignorant.
- Amos Bronson Alcott
Is it ignorance or apathy? Hey, I don't know and I don't care.
- Jimmy Buffett
Nothing in the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity.
- Martin Luther King, Jr.
I believe that ignorance is the root of all evil. And that no one knows the truth.
- Molly Ivins
Fear always springs from ignorance.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson
Ignorance is the night of the mind, a night without moon or star.
- Confucius
When ignorance gets started it knows no bounds.
- Will Rogers
Ignorance is not bliss - it is oblivion.
- Philip Wylie
Ignorance and inconsideration are the two great causes of the ruin of mankind.
- John Tillotson
There is only one good, knowledge, and one evil, ignorance.
- Socrates
Most ignorance is vincible ignorance. We don't know because we don't want to know.
- Aldous Huxley
To surrender to ignorance and call it God has always been premature, and it remains premature today.
- Isaac Asimov
Your ignorance cramps my conversation.
- Bob Hope
He was so learned that he could name a horse in nine languages; so ignorant that he bought a cow to ride on.
- Benjamin Franklin
Prejudice is the child of ignorance.
- William Hazlitt
Nothing is more terrible than ignorance in action.
- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
The trouble ain't that there is too many fools, but that the lightning ain't distributed right.
- Mark Twain
There is so much to be said in favor of modern journalism. By giving us the opinions of the uneducated it keeps us in touch with ignorance of the community.
- Oscar Wilde
The most violent element in society is ignorance.
- Emma Goldman
Some scientists claim that hydrogen, because it is so plentiful, is the basic building block of the universe. I dispute that. I say there is more stupidity than hydrogen, and that is the basic building block of the universe.
- Frank Zappa
The empty vessel giveth a greater sound than the full barrel.
- John Lyly
The good Lord set definite limits on man's wisdom, but set no limits on his stupidity - and that's just not fair.
- Konrad Adenauer
Ahhh. That was very satisfying.
See you back here next time.
Steven
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