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.

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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!