So apparently this didn´t actually post. Oops. Better late than never.
Belfast was another one of those places where we showed up and said, "well we're here. Now what?" Northern Ireland is a completely different country. After shuffling through the hotel tourist brochures we drew Paddy Campbell's Black Cab tour. We got the fellow at the desk to set up our reservation and the next morning Mr. Paddy Campbell himself was waiting for us in the lobby. He brought us around Belfast. Truth be told I'm uninformed about the conflict still going on in the city. So look into it. But the gist: loyalist vs unionists, Irish vs British, Protestant vs Catholic, those still fighting and those who don't give a damn. Problems: marches, bonfires, walls, flags, symbols, violence, habit, history, rubber bullets, petrol bombs. We stopped at sights of conflict and Paddy told us to get out for pictures and let him take some for us. It felt uncomfortable standing in front of portraits of murderers/war heroes smiling. But maybe the pictures will explain more. (update: I just saw on CNN- one of the only channels in English- about riots in Belfast Friday 9 Aug.)
Mr. Campbell also brought us to other sights north of Belfast like Giant's Causeway, Game of Thrones filming sights, and a small neighborhood tea shop for lunch. It was a luxurious way to tour. Not only did we have the big black cab to ourselves but we also had a personal chauffeur, photographer, and guide. Way better that getting motion-sick on a bus.
On to Edinburgh. Apparently there is a massive festival happening: comedy, music, military tattoo, art, etc. I think by the time we made it to Scotland we were worn out and it felt like there was too much to see to see anything. We spent a good amount of time at our hotel, a converted old house where we had a fancy room. We also did a city bus tour, walked around the castle and explored little shops. We watched performers from the festival doing previews on the street. There was a hardcore girl playing a drum. A vesty couple playing the guitar and fiddle. Singing, acting, etc. We found a stand with awesome hand painted shirts for the festival and got a couple for souvenirs. Saturday morning at 7am I walked mom out to the airport bus stop and waved goodbye. (She also took my laptop so figuring out formatting has been interesting) It was lonely going back into the hotel to eat breakfast at table for one. It was a classy breakfast with a big spread of fruit and little packs of gourmet cheeses along with a hot menu. After I ate my fill, I shamelessly filled my pockets with apples, cheeses, and toast. It was classy. I smiled at the girl at the desk as she gave my bulging pockets a disdainful look. It was made worse when I was 11 cents short for the bus to the train station and had to get change at the desk. Graceful exit.
I was excited to start my journey but I was also a bit nervous about having to figure out everything on my own. I can do anything, but I'm worried I'll end up doing nothing. Or just going through the motions of what I'm "supposed" to see. But I was off to London. The train ride was interesting. There were young families in front of me pulling out all the stops, candy, iPads, board games, to keep the wee little ones entertained. At one of the stops a group of 6 desperate housewife types got on in animal prints and wedges carrying a couple bottles of champagne each and trays of shots, and got hammered at 10 am on a train. At one point, one of the champagne stoppers shot out of the bottle with a bang, hit the ceiling and who knows what/who else. The women whooped and hollered and laughed until their carefully applied makeup was tear streaked. I arrived at Kings Cross. It wasn't what I expected. I went in search for the brick wall between platforms 9&10 and found a crowd off people waiting to stage their photographs and a Harry Potter gift shop. At the hostel I got really frustrated trying to facetime because the connection wouldn't last longer than a couple seconds.
I went to Buckingham palace there was some huge cycling race-thing going on. I sat on the steps and read my book and watched a barefoot man roll up his pants and search the bottom of the fountain for coins. Around 11am I watched the unchanging of the guards. Hundreds of people pressed in to the gates and stood impatiently for over an hour before the realization spread that the Changing of the Guards was cancelled. Weird. I stopped by Westminster Abby to have a look around the headed to a Sunday market on Brick lane. I knew nothing about it but the name, I found the street on a map, and traveled the tube to the nearest station. When I got to brick lane I could hardly tell I was in London because every one and everything as far as I could tell I was in Bangladesh. Even the street name was also in Bengali. I didn't know what I was looking for so I followed the trickle of people down the street. When I came to a crowd all sitting on the curb of the street I assumed I was in the right place and went in the door where the crowd was the most dense. It was a huge warehouse-type-thing stuffed to the brim with food stands. From every part of the world. Really I can not think of a type of food that wasn't there. I sampled everything. Somethings twice. And mastered the art of looking interested in buying then making a slick exit. But finally I did buy some food from who knows where and went to sit outside on the street curb. An American sat down next to me. Carly. She had an internship in London. She showed me around the area. Lots of craft markets, flee markets, art galleries, graffiti and a trendy mall made out of freight cars. There was also a really awesome cake shop called the depressed cake shop, that promoted mental health awareness and all the cakes were gray.
Then I went to Leinster square, the theater district to look around. I found loads of street performers. A guy who was pretty good at beat boxing, mediocre magician, a couple of religious/political ranters, and acrobats. Then I went to see Only God Forgives at Empire Cinema. The theater was beautiful. I was waiting in the lounge when this eccentric guy came to complement my hat, though he thought I was a sir and in his embarrassment he began to ramble about a film he's making about a drag queen in Albuquerque.
The movie had comically few lines even less in English and was very gruesome. But the theater was awesome and worth the experience.
Something about a late night underground train ride makes music sound better.
My last full day in London I meandered to a free walking tour. We saw all the sights and our guide, Paris, was an actor and he told humorous stories like the drunk Irish man who proclaimed he was going to chat with the queen. Broke into buckingham palace, found the queen in her nightgown, and asked her for a cigarette. He was only in jail for 1 day for drunk and disorderly conduct because at the time breaking into the palace wasn't illegal.
I met a couple very nice people including Mathews a friendly gay Brazilian and Maria from Guatemala. We ended up running the the rain after the tour to get McDonald's and then all went to a pub crawl. It was a blast by the end I had loads of temporary friends and we danced to some mix of salsa and jitterbug the Elvis Presley. Needless to say by the end I was inebriated. I couldn't figure out the night buses so I tried to catch the last underground train. Well, I did, but I missed the connection. I had my maps on my phone so I started walking. Problem was it was 1am and my hostel was about 18 miles away. But I figured I would just keep walking. Problem was I didn't really know where I was besides the little dot on my map app. Which is fine except I only had 5% battery that was rapidly declining. The neighborhood was starting to look a bit sketchy and there weren't really any cars. No signs of life besides some yelling from some alley and an bottle breaking. Then appeared- the best taxi driver ever. He was a very friendly English man who politely chatted with me the whole drive which took about half an hour. Problem was he didn't know where the middle-of-nowhere-hostel was and I didn't know how to tell him because the street I had walked to it from was closed to traffic. And I had too much to drink. So he dropped me at the underground station that was 3 blocks away. Well a bit away from the station actually and I was lost again. So I pull out my phone to consult the map app except I don't have my phone. Or my rain jacket. And suddenly I'm cold and kicking myself. I ask a pizza place where the underground station is and the tell me but look at me weird because it's closed. I finally make it back. Thankfully I still have my wallet and backpack. I try to call my phone from a pay phone, no luck. I message mom from my iPad at 3am (not her time thankfully) to please repeatedly call my phone. She was awesome and I waited in the lobby where there was wifi, half asleep until she told me it wasn't working. Defeated, dejected I went to bed. Around 4 am I hear a knock on my bunk and a guy with a flashlight asks if I'm me, that a taxi driver had dropped off my phone and jacket. I thought I was dreaming but I went downstairs and sure enough! The desk dude seemed a bit worried that he bent the rules to tell the taxi driver that that's where I was staying and that he had woken me up, but obviously I was very grateful. And the driver! He tracked down my hostel and drove back out to nowhere to bring me my things for nothing in return. I am so stickin' lucky. I know I'm making this sound dramatic but my phone is my safety net traveling around. It had all of my reservations, my London photos, my maps, contacts, a half unread letter from Amanda, and other really important things. I also don't have a mailing address so it makes a replacement not only very expensive but not really feasible. Anywho moving past that saga.
On to Paris. I woke up not feeling so hot so a went to the train station super early instead of more walking around. It was a wasteful day. The train ride was uneventful, I mostly slept. I realized that my French classes were completely useless when a nice girl came up to me while I was waiting to get metro tickets and started talking so quickly I could barely tell if it was french. Caught off guard that I actually had to socially interact I gave her a horrified look and stupidly just said "no, no". "Non?" Then she realized I didn't speak french and explained I could have her metro ticket, she didn't need it. Very kind. I fumbled my thanks. Between leaving the train station and trying to find my hostel I must have done 30 flights of stairs. My backpack got heavier the whole way and by the time I finally found the hostel (at the top of a vary large set of stairs) I was out of breath and flustered. I managed a butchered "parlez-vous anglais?" Which thankfully she did. Then I chatted with my roommates (one American, 2 Australians and two french girls from Normandy) and crashed.
Yesterday morning it was raining. My throat was (is) very sore and swollen and my nose has run a marathon by now. It made the loneliness a bit rough and the self motivation to face a foreign world near impossible. But I'm in Paris and it would be a waste to stay in so I went to Musee D'Orsay thinking I would have time to have a look around before the free walking tour. After and hour in line I was still a mile away and it started to rain. I'm not proud but I got out of line plopped down on the wet steps and threw myself a little pity party. Maybe I should have planned a bit more. But I was trying to do the things people do when they visit Paris. I shook it off "how dare I feel sorry for myself in a city like this" so I emailed my mom and took the scenic route to the walking tour. I walked across pedestrian bridge that looked gold at a distance but was entirely covered in locks. It was the bridge in the end of Now You See Me that I saw in Dublin. It was beautiful and personal and fascinating. My favorite sight I saw yesterday. Then I walked by the Louvre and wandered through the gardens that were filled with sculptures. I got my first real view of the Eiffel Tower and the big arch. The walking tour was good but our guides were new. But I saw plenty and got oriented to that part of the city. A bit more wandering then I let myself go back to the hostel to rest and try to not get sicker.
Today I went to the Rodin gardens (if you're ever there, the best part is the gardens and it only costs 1euro to go in instead of the 10+ to go in to the small building part and the garden.) It was a nice way to spend a few hours: tucked away benches, rose maze, and sculptures everywhere. I then went to a great reading spot where I had a view of the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the big ol'arch, of the ducks and coy in the pond.
It's been an adjustment traveling by myself. I know I'll end up with the memories of a life time. I just am still figuring it all out.
