tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81951809523545015962024-02-19T20:46:02.907-05:00No Foreign LandsAn account of friends and miles.
Travel--experiences, tips, recommendations and, hopefully, a few poignant witticisms along the way.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger81125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-24715477339732056592014-10-13T02:43:00.000-04:002014-10-13T02:43:41.711-04:00Beyonce and Jay-Z kill it in Toronto--On The Run tour!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Beyonce and Jay-Z. I know this doesn't really fit with my travel theme, but they were SO AMAZING. So, here's a taste of the glow:<br /></div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1xJ5jlg8Pgk&feature=youtu.be" target="_blank">Beyonce - Single Ladies in Toronto Video!</a></div>
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The backup dancer with the huge hair stole the show. She was incredible.</div>
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Money shot.</div>
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Holla, Rogers Centre!</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Rogers Centre, 1 Blue Jays Way, Toronto, ON M5V 1J1, Canada43.6414378 -79.38935320000001618.1194033 -120.69794720000002 69.1634723 -38.080759200000017tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-74449806449511822732014-10-13T02:21:00.000-04:002014-10-13T02:21:12.528-04:00Happy Thanksgiving!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Happy Thanksgiving, from Canada! The picture above is one of my few favourite places on earth, Moose Mountain, N.B. Why this image for Thanksgiving, you ask? I suppose I am thankful for living where I do, and for growing up in the best part of the world. Wonderful people, opportunities, and you get sights like this for a backyard. <br />
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Real reason? My turkey bird was a bit of a visual hot mess. While tasting spectacular, I forgot to tie her legs together and she went all spread eagle in the roaster. Not. Attractive. I'll stick to landscapes.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-86880286475546644782014-09-27T01:22:00.002-04:002014-09-27T01:22:18.217-04:00Reykjavik - Amazing hidden travel gem!Alright, admittedly Iceland isn't really so "hidden" anymore. Icelandair does such amazing packages that most of my friends have visited there en route to Europe. It's a brilliant idea to get you there, where you will instantly fall in love and want to come back for a purely Icelandic vacation.<br />
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Hallgrimska is a must see location--it's spectacular!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_E1tQxZfdfS-wpMi-XGt8elcl_4BI-pd4eAsiwbUxE7fRXR4DCnTk3zw9SzEbPYshKvyZEVitOauRh6yCqvTPbS06xyXdRULqDcNVWiLKhn4sRBx7f1WHNyytsZ2S7NxPvB2PFvZo_x4/s1600/PC070005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_E1tQxZfdfS-wpMi-XGt8elcl_4BI-pd4eAsiwbUxE7fRXR4DCnTk3zw9SzEbPYshKvyZEVitOauRh6yCqvTPbS06xyXdRULqDcNVWiLKhn4sRBx7f1WHNyytsZ2S7NxPvB2PFvZo_x4/s1600/PC070005.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><br /> Hallgrimska Church, amazing even at 6am on a cold December morning.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-EPneZUYU5OahYmLUatv18cj1KvZbZnVmmR5_smlUCYVkqjPtn8zjWZ0bK_68c3e3_tZQZ8EbHjcN06wophVKV_Z1XNMenJclcF32QFJrvQoqnD83_KDXiUzUz4eq36pw-52xUOsSE8w/s1600/PC070009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-EPneZUYU5OahYmLUatv18cj1KvZbZnVmmR5_smlUCYVkqjPtn8zjWZ0bK_68c3e3_tZQZ8EbHjcN06wophVKV_Z1XNMenJclcF32QFJrvQoqnD83_KDXiUzUz4eq36pw-52xUOsSE8w/s1600/PC070009.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Reykjavik</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG2HoxxN6C2qSEbj2V_Kll2Jf8oe4x9HoBRANFKMDIYAT8zLHbUmvtg5ucZLDGiRXpoyB5rbAH3S5zUJUbhs_Jk4kKW1tSR3nH9R8rO-MO7rx1ID4XEZYxq4Y4aA_NdVs7dPcMtQQd6Io/s1600/PC070013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG2HoxxN6C2qSEbj2V_Kll2Jf8oe4x9HoBRANFKMDIYAT8zLHbUmvtg5ucZLDGiRXpoyB5rbAH3S5zUJUbhs_Jk4kKW1tSR3nH9R8rO-MO7rx1ID4XEZYxq4Y4aA_NdVs7dPcMtQQd6Io/s1600/PC070013.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><br />Reykjavik</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIkkGkMTlq3QPCYMcwrEgaT2vtKuCbbvFERFkX9RG5j-ZLVlIXT3FxXltj7AHAyLTZe4_j6mb4iOXGacZbV3X8BPCOIfeVd3Cc9VwnEvtEkwd-JGbT36IV4DQCWBA2m2jPz9vXPi8Wavg/s1600/PC070021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIkkGkMTlq3QPCYMcwrEgaT2vtKuCbbvFERFkX9RG5j-ZLVlIXT3FxXltj7AHAyLTZe4_j6mb4iOXGacZbV3X8BPCOIfeVd3Cc9VwnEvtEkwd-JGbT36IV4DQCWBA2m2jPz9vXPi8Wavg/s1600/PC070021.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><br />Reykjavik - Hallgrimska Church</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkvl_Q2k-GbSR8aGoxiCt6LAL8gH3to-7PTqiUCa8EopoIuZrXx7rgaxJ9LqOnbX3b9QWfLMcBgIvaZNWMe6T9XTWiOrlEPcQSJfZcw0n9Nl8WUzlZ8xdca1ZCyd8aRf46AYYX1GDc7ZY/s1600/PC070026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkvl_Q2k-GbSR8aGoxiCt6LAL8gH3to-7PTqiUCa8EopoIuZrXx7rgaxJ9LqOnbX3b9QWfLMcBgIvaZNWMe6T9XTWiOrlEPcQSJfZcw0n9Nl8WUzlZ8xdca1ZCyd8aRf46AYYX1GDc7ZY/s1600/PC070026.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><br />Cafe Loki!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5TgMVzoZCf78_JXGhY_fIvqA3hSgg_UZNT7p5ayLycISPADmX7D3IiFnh2JeOnxzv9SqYA30ObgmANEKNXg7qobM5AXGWYgnziK4EKRgsIsrP2Qjdlg_tWILCrf__B6g2XWBX-koqHX0/s1600/PC070047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5TgMVzoZCf78_JXGhY_fIvqA3hSgg_UZNT7p5ayLycISPADmX7D3IiFnh2JeOnxzv9SqYA30ObgmANEKNXg7qobM5AXGWYgnziK4EKRgsIsrP2Qjdlg_tWILCrf__B6g2XWBX-koqHX0/s1600/PC070047.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgACGz-XzJXk-18XUP2q4Xt38oBHkK66l2WPvOqrCC3uyNdu1S7FEpTXDDDx__FS9J_ikBov6otCHTsQa3Nwu4xy6Q4Ufo-bsY1XF1vJFhqFCJfNEZgt-KLDE95JOVh30n5Laev9Ms_7hY/s1600/PC070049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgACGz-XzJXk-18XUP2q4Xt38oBHkK66l2WPvOqrCC3uyNdu1S7FEpTXDDDx__FS9J_ikBov6otCHTsQa3Nwu4xy6Q4Ufo-bsY1XF1vJFhqFCJfNEZgt-KLDE95JOVh30n5Laev9Ms_7hY/s1600/PC070049.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><br />Most popular restaurant in Reykjavik -- hotdog stand!</div>
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Iceland is well known for geothermal pools, likely the most touristy and famous is the Blue Lagoon. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivLnfqRFLvpNrkZnk-NhoALwg_X4E0pFSOZ7herS-Y7W3mVqqwK2uHKyMKA2DPe_suGKNeG4JiJ_-dlOaQ1KnerUYiFvl90R_gy-7e8DPq5GumVkXjbCAEblL_5m3R-BzRT0Dy4-FT1cg/s1600/PC070050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivLnfqRFLvpNrkZnk-NhoALwg_X4E0pFSOZ7herS-Y7W3mVqqwK2uHKyMKA2DPe_suGKNeG4JiJ_-dlOaQ1KnerUYiFvl90R_gy-7e8DPq5GumVkXjbCAEblL_5m3R-BzRT0Dy4-FT1cg/s1600/PC070050.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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My bestie and I, chilling out at the geothermal pool.</div>
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If you're looking into Iceland as a destination, I absolutely recommend Iceland Day Trips to help you plan the perfect stay! http://www.icelanddaytrips.com/ <br />We had owner Thorbear (<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Þorbjörn) </span>as a guide and he was amazing. Super reasonable prices and will take you anywhere you want to go! </div>
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We had 12 hours in Reykjavik--Sample Itinerary!</div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">7:30am</span></b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> – Breakfast</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<b style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">9:00am</b><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> – Álafoss Yarn Factory</span></div>
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<b style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">10am-12pm</b><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> – Downtown Reykjavík and
Hallgrímskirkja </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>12:00pm</b> - </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Head to Blue Lagoon - bring own towel, suit and
sweater/housecoat/whatever.</span><span class="locality"><span style="background: #B8C4CE; color: #55626c; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 7.5pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://www.bluelagoon.com/">http://www.bluelagoon.com</a> </span></div>
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<b style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">2:30pm</b><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> depart Blue Lagoon for
airport. </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">3:00pm</span></b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> – Arrive at Airport (go straight to security,
no baggage to drop)</span></div>
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<b style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">4:30pm</b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> – IcelandAir Flt. 454 departs
Reykjavik for Heathrow. </span><b style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Arrival at
7:30pm.</b></div>
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We got a little Iceland bonus when our flight was delayed on the way back from London, and we had to stay overnight in Reykjavik. Complete props to Icelandair, who dealt flawlessly with the delay, put us up in their hotel and fed us, gave us a cab to the hotel AND upgraded my friend and I into First Class on the way home!</div>
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A bonus of first class, which neither of us had ever flown before, is this fun little sack of freebies. And endless booze. Endless. <br />Oh, how the other half live.</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-45233597347503055812013-11-27T02:12:00.001-05:002013-12-05T03:44:10.709-05:00Spring in New York...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP3p726OfdWBOKnnFYc_fD8pQwpcmR0YzSGvuOp2Rm18RCSCx71TaOjei7cVB3JDrFLdfjAKFTVzdQWY-PkzDUolx22qz4Jcz38cMPpse4gtcUM_l-odRZA82XMfFuDk8xwaxeiDi7NWrl/s1600/P1030501.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP3p726OfdWBOKnnFYc_fD8pQwpcmR0YzSGvuOp2Rm18RCSCx71TaOjei7cVB3JDrFLdfjAKFTVzdQWY-PkzDUolx22qz4Jcz38cMPpse4gtcUM_l-odRZA82XMfFuDk8xwaxeiDi7NWrl/s320/P1030501.JPG" width="240" /></a>**I'm actually so bad at this, that this is from 2012. And I just posted it now. Awesome. The post below is mega out of date.**<br />
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I'm a shitty blogger--I know this. I only update when exciting things occur and I'm travelling somewhere interesting. Since that only happens once per year, my little blog looks so sad. I do try to keep on top of little trips, but they never seem to make the cut.<br />
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Hopefully I will have something new to report soon.<br />
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I did just take a quick birthday-weekend trip to NYC and saw some incredible shows. Death of a Salesman with Philip Seymour Hoffman was one of the best pieces of theatre I've ever seen--definitely go if you have the chance. Also caught The Best Man, starring John Laroquette, Candice Bergen, James Earl Jones, Angela Lansbury and Eric MacCormack. It was solid and more light and fun, but Salesman is the thing to see on Broadway right now. GO.<br />
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Drunken Brunch menu</div>
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I also had the chance for a reunion with my bestie Sam, of Bridges of Madison Avenue fame (yes, FAME). When Harpers BAZAAR sends you an incredible Missoni Home throw, you're famous. In Canada, anyway. </div>
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Guggenheim Museum</div>
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Central Park</div>
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Sam's amazing Easter cake creation....</div>
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The Easter menu.</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-89345616139744280922011-08-19T17:00:00.000-04:002011-08-19T17:00:20.499-04:00A slight delay...I swear my faithful few, I will be back with new posts soon!<br />
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I had a minor disagreement with my external harddrive, which I markedly lost--along with all my pictures. Fear not! They have been recovered and will soon be back in my hands. The stories of travel, my recommendations on destinations and pontificating on life over a pint and a sunset will also return. Until then, bon voyage! Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-57802886444469491752011-05-22T18:50:00.000-04:002011-05-22T18:50:08.202-04:00Is it possible to love Scotland more fiercely than before?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjziRHepdULT9KITXuFEV2XwUyjhR8hwNVXQRUc1R4KDZBUfYjXXgHFcBiN3BlVmBzyeX1ileGsmol1fm83SBH57C8o3mY9CFAqjmc7dynLmS3_MzfojCXNDIFYq57JoRVl0lrU0VYlOzcq/s1600/enfidd.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjziRHepdULT9KITXuFEV2XwUyjhR8hwNVXQRUc1R4KDZBUfYjXXgHFcBiN3BlVmBzyeX1ileGsmol1fm83SBH57C8o3mY9CFAqjmc7dynLmS3_MzfojCXNDIFYq57JoRVl0lrU0VYlOzcq/s400/enfidd.gif" width="400" /></a></div>Yes. It is.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-36886078181692819582011-05-22T18:43:00.004-04:002014-10-13T00:29:09.759-04:00"Turns out I don't hate whisky, I just hate bad whisky." - Kathleen<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #351c75;">Woke up in Inverness, with our Bride of Frankenstein room mate throwing shade at our itinerary for the day. Apparently Culloden Battlefield and Glenfiddich Distillery aren't legitimate destinations, and we should be trekking off to climb a hill in search of a majestic tree like she was. Silly hippies.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;">Culloden - MacKintosh marker</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4hCGICd3RZa3LTtMNXo2v3IuNZ9ceB3TMSygFYyvEbILhaXbSXCUO7M6AgA6jmJkuINxiFdhLVcKHq9EXeLIouZFrrBYYB2L5WbsvOQ7MsuGgWviIMbWwT0zMuNLvDTUk0jGhzHng82Er/s1600/Amy+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4hCGICd3RZa3LTtMNXo2v3IuNZ9ceB3TMSygFYyvEbILhaXbSXCUO7M6AgA6jmJkuINxiFdhLVcKHq9EXeLIouZFrrBYYB2L5WbsvOQ7MsuGgWviIMbWwT0zMuNLvDTUk0jGhzHng82Er/s320/Amy+014.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4hCGICd3RZa3LTtMNXo2v3IuNZ9ceB3TMSygFYyvEbILhaXbSXCUO7M6AgA6jmJkuINxiFdhLVcKHq9EXeLIouZFrrBYYB2L5WbsvOQ7MsuGgWviIMbWwT0zMuNLvDTUk0jGhzHng82Er/s1600/Amy+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="color: #351c75;">After checking out of our lovely hostel, we took off for</span> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Culloden"><span style="color: #ea9999;">Culloden</span><span style="color: #351c75;"> </span></a><span style="color: #351c75;">(pronunciation "Cull-awe-den", not "Coll-o-den"). Quite literally, it is a field outside Inverness with a lonely cairn of stones and red and blue flags. It is here that Bonnie Prince Charlie (or The Young Pretender) and his Jacobite army fought the English, led by the Duke of Cumberland--this battle and its bloody end signaled the final end to the Stuart claim to the throne. Sad times for Charlie. And my MacKintosh clan, who were the first to charge the British troops. They broke through the first two flanks, then found themselves surrounded. Almost all of the warriors were killed. At the site, there are two stone markers for the MacKintosh clan--hopefully to recognize that they basically met the same tragic end as that scene in Braveheart where the first two flanks charge the British and are massacred. That was the MacKintoshes. Pretty sure the Highland Clearances that occurred directly after this are the reason we ended up in Canada.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIt7CEmkJm4_9vY0JZMVoEd33K4SijGRlgaT7Y6z2FcDfhdAbF4eNq1oIL4R9JBLVrb_MA296YgQvfrFzZfeBKW80ygRVwEYT1QTOwAhfQeXW4HCsvQ9vO2MIKJyoTDxKf61QCbTS_HtEg/s1600/MacKintosh.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIt7CEmkJm4_9vY0JZMVoEd33K4SijGRlgaT7Y6z2FcDfhdAbF4eNq1oIL4R9JBLVrb_MA296YgQvfrFzZfeBKW80ygRVwEYT1QTOwAhfQeXW4HCsvQ9vO2MIKJyoTDxKf61QCbTS_HtEg/s1600/MacKintosh.png" /></span></a><span style="color: #351c75;">Sidenote - this is the MacKintosh clan motto. I like it. The motto's meaning is "touch not the cat when it is without a glove." The glove of the wildcat is the soft, under part of his paw, and when assuming a war-like attitude, the paw is spread or ungloved revealing very dangerous claws. The motto is a warning to those who would be so imprudent as to engage in battle when the claw of the wildcat is ungloved. Don't mess with the MacKintoshes</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"> </span>(My interpretation is slightly different. Seems to me that this motto is closer to "don't fondle the robot pussy thout a 'glove'". So, y'know, I guess it's all a matter of how you look at it. For example, my interpretation is correct, and C's is wrong. So if you look at it wrongly, you will draw C's conclusions. Amazing thing, logic).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglgIHuN9n54eEBrEfPkVW1CIwRpjSMLtRHrDUTC354wChAlu1USGQ0NsmzvBhk9xPz0-i-olXg5ZYiKuEBLl04drudxYrM7pQLNAfL1jKOERaWUVfQ5PFp8HYT5Q3bfbxxkXemYqhmVPN5/s1600/Amy+019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglgIHuN9n54eEBrEfPkVW1CIwRpjSMLtRHrDUTC354wChAlu1USGQ0NsmzvBhk9xPz0-i-olXg5ZYiKuEBLl04drudxYrM7pQLNAfL1jKOERaWUVfQ5PFp8HYT5Q3bfbxxkXemYqhmVPN5/s320/Amy+019.JPG" height="240" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;">Culloden is an amazing area, and the museum is one of the best curated I have ever visited. I totally loved it but feel bad for the dudes who had to fight there--it was cold as ice in late May, so I can't imagine how awful it would have been for them. That, and they were exhausted from a failed all-night attempt to trek to the English in a surprise attack. Poor war planning, Charlie.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglgIHuN9n54eEBrEfPkVW1CIwRpjSMLtRHrDUTC354wChAlu1USGQ0NsmzvBhk9xPz0-i-olXg5ZYiKuEBLl04drudxYrM7pQLNAfL1jKOERaWUVfQ5PFp8HYT5Q3bfbxxkXemYqhmVPN5/s1600/Amy+019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="color: #351c75;">After Culloden, we travelled to Dufftown for a Pioneer Glenfiddich Distillery tour. We stopped at a random restaurant and everyone had a bowl of delicious Cock-a-leekie soup. Amy had never experienced this soup and asked the chef what was in it. "Cock and leek", he replied. After an awkward 15 second pause, the server clarified "chicken, and leek." Ahhh. Light on. The little restaurant was great, and the chef also had some gem Camilla cracks for us ("Why would anyone trade anything in for her, ever?") After our delicious soup, we were off for Glenfiddich!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP5Zfp5VHMh_OFVlktlxJR9jYH_YtxJC0-0tXIlYi0dVi8V3ch07UTMa717hWGEZ33sJSTLBSG42GzFnK_Ji4nJF2mbm2E9N2mb-rmuOCgKJotqJSV5nG1cxaTeD4cjHdHvA9EqOiM__CL/s1600/May+18%252C+2011+038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP5Zfp5VHMh_OFVlktlxJR9jYH_YtxJC0-0tXIlYi0dVi8V3ch07UTMa717hWGEZ33sJSTLBSG42GzFnK_Ji4nJF2mbm2E9N2mb-rmuOCgKJotqJSV5nG1cxaTeD4cjHdHvA9EqOiM__CL/s320/May+18%252C+2011+038.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></span></a><span style="color: #351c75;">We had scheduled ourselves onto the exclusive Pioneer tour of the Glenfiddich Distillery--it costs 50 pounds, but you get a special guided tour and, importantly, you get to bottle your own wee bottle of whisky from one of four casks which will never be on public sale. Oooooh.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;">We checked into our tour with a lovely Swede who had already done four or five other distilleries. One of them that morning. He was an old pro. Clearly, this could go south since only one of us really liked whisky and none of us knew a damn thing about it. We sat down in the coffee shop for our complimentary non-alcoholic beverage and biscuit (I am still kicking myself for missing that chocolate cupcake). We awaited our tour guide Brian who had been "called away". While we thought this a strange description of Brian's location, particularly when the lady stated she didn't know when he would be back and we should just wait...we accepted it. Because we had free foodstuffs.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><br />Luckily, Brian appeared shortly thereafter. </span> I was initially afraid that Brian had consumed a bit too much of the Kool-Aid, since he gushed about how awesome the CEO of the company is, but it soon became apparent that Bri-bri is as cool as they come. I confessed that I actually have a hate/hate relationship with straight whisky (or whiskey as us Canadians, incorrectly, spell it). Brian's brow raised and he appeared slightly dismayed, but he promised that he wouldn't try to make me like something I don't like. Sort of the anti-Hitler of whisky. <br />
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I won't bore you with the details of the tour (actually, it was really quite fascinating, but we learned so much that I am about 100x too lazy to type it all out...much like I was too lazy to type out '100 times'). Let me just say that I highly recommend the tour - well worth the money (and not just for the free booze!). It's actually genuinely fascinating and you get a really in-depth view of how whisky is made (oh yeah, and the free booze. You also get free booze). It's a multi-pronged process, with very little waste (although there is waste...I can't remember what the actual stuff is called, but Brian described its taste as "marmite-esque" and "unpleasant". I described it as "gross". Brian, of course, corrected me - real British gentlemen and ladies do not say "gross", they say "unpleasant". I, always the cunning linguist (*snerk*), informed Brian that, in Canada, we pronounce it "gross". He was amused by our colonial ways.) If I had to pick a favourite part, it was definitely when we got to go into one of the storehouses and look at this, like, airplane hangar filled with casks (NOT barrels, as Brian pointed out) of whisky. Super keen! This was also the venue for my personal favourite line of the day, from Brian: "Alright now, just put your nose in the bunghole and give it a sniff". The bunghole is the name of the little hole at the top of a cask of whisky, into which is put a piece of burlap that can be removed. Actually, the government hates when purveyors of whisky have removable plugs for their bungholes (bahahahahaha), as it makes it difficult to determine how much tax they pay, or something. C understood that part better than me, frankly. I was too busy laughing at "bunghole".<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGjkDqSZTZhzukfBv_BtZX_VOH5s7WVH_Ic9CtXl-36P7Xbr6i36HfPUO280pJWydcEwDEXZ0ygE6eqMdPgvTS5PCFxIr8lAakW3w8BsNG4_HZEuWFVmdUnnmW1cRMN_hkziWu_kcB2O7h/s1600/May+18%252C+2011+040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGjkDqSZTZhzukfBv_BtZX_VOH5s7WVH_Ic9CtXl-36P7Xbr6i36HfPUO280pJWydcEwDEXZ0ygE6eqMdPgvTS5PCFxIr8lAakW3w8BsNG4_HZEuWFVmdUnnmW1cRMN_hkziWu_kcB2O7h/s320/May+18%252C+2011+040.JPG" height="230" width="320" /></a><br />
Once the actual tour part was over, we made our way to the whisky tasting portion of the evening. On the way there, C, always a smartass, made some pithy comment about something or other, to which Brian turned right, and informed her that she could "turn left". I added "and go straight to hell". It is my way, and it was accurate and I stand by it. This prompted our Swedish friend to recount a rather humourous (and thankfully short) story (literally, this story is like one line long). He once commented to his friend that they were marching straight into hell, to which his friend replied "no, we are skipping gaily forward". There's a real lesson there about outlook on life, but I'm giggling at the mental image of gaily skipping into hell. So, you know, draw your own conclusions or whatever. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi089lfWTGCW8_D0oqRlUlC8mv7i0SRGx2J1YCk55fgNpTG56fZPFVcmHb2dzQxEIn7D1AhvRL576-bsVKhZlN0p3HiTQLGwcTpKp7MdLussEYbzS7-fKINqPr-j5I1B8RmdBB0bYllNC9_/s1600/May+18%252C+2011+048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi089lfWTGCW8_D0oqRlUlC8mv7i0SRGx2J1YCk55fgNpTG56fZPFVcmHb2dzQxEIn7D1AhvRL576-bsVKhZlN0p3HiTQLGwcTpKp7MdLussEYbzS7-fKINqPr-j5I1B8RmdBB0bYllNC9_/s320/May+18%252C+2011+048.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a>Now, where was I? Ah yes, whisky tasting. Brian took us into this lovely suite in the upstairs offices of the distillery, where we each had six glasses of whisky waiting for us. The whole thing was delightfully posh (I am trying to think of a Spice Girls joke to go in here, but I've really got nothing. Perhaps you can all make up your own and insert it. Self-service comedy!). I schooled Brian on whisky-face (it's much like lemon face) and he schooled me on the addition of water to whisky. Apparently, when I pour a litre of water into my Crown Royal, I'm creating an odious swamp water, undrinkable by man. However, when you put but a few drops in there, it opens up the flavour or something (re: it makes it taste less like you're drinking sweetened lighter fluid). In the end, I discovered that I like 15- and 18-year-old Glenfiddich whisky, but not the 30-year-old hella expensive stuff. Which is a nice change from my normal spending habits. I downed 4 of my 6 glasses (look, I might not have liked 30-year-old whisky, but it was expensive, and those of you that know me well know that I cannot waste expensive things, just on principle). I was a happy camper. C, unfortunately, couldn't have too much, as she had to drive, and Amy later regretted not finishing more delicious whisky). We took another picture of me jumping in front of something, and moved along.<br />
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Our destination was Bruce and Kate's flat in Perth, which is about a two-hour drive from Dufftown (not a Simpsons-based theme town, I discovered. Who knew?). Nothing really to report about the drive, other than it was literally like riding a rollercoaster. roads in the Scottish highlands are basically like one big game of Chutes and Ladders, but without the Ladders. There were more S-curves on these roads than...than...well, I can't think of a good analogy, but there were a fuckload of them. It was making Amy dizzy in the backseat! A deer ran across the road and we saw a craptonne of sheep, but there weren't many other things to see. Oh, and I should mention that it was windy as hell. Like, knocking over cellphone towers windy. I guess them's the hazards of going through mountains. We survived and are better people for it (Ed. note: this is a lie).<br />
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We pulled into our hotel just as Bruce and Kate were walking up to the restaurant (located in the hotel, conveniently). Excellent timing on our part (although we were slightly late due to the aforementioned "roads", or "cow paths", as C prefers to call them). Bruce and Kate are always fun (you may remember our time with them from our last trip, when we made an unscheduled "drinking stop" at their flat). And the Tayside Hotel has some delicious freakin' food. I had the haggis and the steak pie, because I like to theme-eat for whatever location we are in at the time. Fabu. We had a few drinks there, then retired to Bruce and Kate's. On the way, I asked the question that had been at the forefront of both my mind and C's mind for the past few days: why are some of the license plates in the UK white and some yellow? Kate looked at us for a good 30 seconds, then burst into guffaws (Scottish people guffaw. Fact.). She then told us that, in the UK, the front license plate of a car is yellow and the back one is white, and, more importantly, how did we not discover this during the FIVE previous days we had been driving? C and I felt like right idiots <span style="color: #351c75;">(I didn't feel like an idiot, because I didn't notice. -C)</span>, but we got a good laugh out of it. When we arrived, we were regaled with some great stories, many of which are unprintable on this family blog. What? Oh for God's sake. Fine, I'll give you one. Vultures. Bruce and Kate are not fans of cell phones. In fact, Bruce is of the firm belief that the cell phone is the worst invention of all time (I would contend the atom bomb, but to each his own). Anyway, they were driving along the other day and some dude walked into the center of the street while typing away on his cell phone. He stayed there for a good minute, typing away, oblivious to the car full of angry Scots waiting for him to move along. Finally he did, but not before Kate declared him a "right dick'ead". Amazing. Kate's always great for an awesome turn of phrase or two - this trip, she gave us "bent as a two bob note", referring to a pair of homosexual gentlemen she and Bruce are acquainted with (oops, dangling preposition...whatever, you'll all just have to live with it. I'm getting tired). I would type up an explanation of what a "bob" is, but that's C's job.<br />
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So, all in all, I would say that our day was filled with win (and drinks). And there's still one more day in Perth! Calloo callay! Oh frabjus day! Here's hoping our luck holds, because this trip has been #winning so far.<br />
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Nanoo nanoo,<br />
KDu<br />
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"What whisky will not cure, there is no cure for." - Irish Proverb</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZx3HBbUu7LRhzWa1kKydcmcDAAz_YzEpcbOaL_H2c_ElWrayDV0DoHnjsDbgfwBu0NkFxBrRYjRdTCu28O9u1Xsl2jRgEglAGDHxOZnfyHieYFewoUk66Mho3EEDSOypiOphtTX_HzXO9/s1600/May+18%252C+2011+049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZx3HBbUu7LRhzWa1kKydcmcDAAz_YzEpcbOaL_H2c_ElWrayDV0DoHnjsDbgfwBu0NkFxBrRYjRdTCu28O9u1Xsl2jRgEglAGDHxOZnfyHieYFewoUk66Mho3EEDSOypiOphtTX_HzXO9/s320/May+18%252C+2011+049.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">50 Years Old -- 10,000 pounds/bottle. Kept under lock and key.</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 15px;">£</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 15px;">£</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPPsABc3Gx6qtuAqRIxhwmdJpUxfL0z00Q60OMevtbau1AzYb_i8cr0fHyVtYUqLvn3XzWau0hyo5nNqUF2WTG3yKsULQnhR2BhxZFPDe7HDH3wV-EwMLIuv3zwnjLIhD_G6jWRYUHcL_m/s1600/May+18%252C+2011+085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPPsABc3Gx6qtuAqRIxhwmdJpUxfL0z00Q60OMevtbau1AzYb_i8cr0fHyVtYUqLvn3XzWau0hyo5nNqUF2WTG3yKsULQnhR2BhxZFPDe7HDH3wV-EwMLIuv3zwnjLIhD_G6jWRYUHcL_m/s320/May+18%252C+2011+085.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-49022822640488492022011-05-21T08:20:00.003-04:002014-10-13T00:32:14.647-04:00The torch be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die...<div class="MsoNormal">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Isle of Skye</td></tr>
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<o:p><span style="color: #351c75;">We awoke this morning at a wonderful B&B in Kyle on the Isle of Skye in Scotland. Skye is renowned for its beauty and world class hiking opportunities--alas, we didn't have enough time to partake (or the inclination to spend more time walking...thanks very much, William Wallace). In fact, we were so tired from getting in at midnight that we were late for Breakfast--a travesty at a B&B, since some lovely houseowner is working to make your toast. We decided we would just go downstairs in pajamas and to hell with anyone who judged us.</span></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_WSQEKKjJjGSItpzuUw5jXX6h2sp-mszxaSjxtmE4CRl3kkyAS1F7CHKXT_CFiY4Ib6Yo5GsuXX1uMvgYYsMRvK47I406M0zNcver23YwCYltLZUa-arsLvNUcwWEZGecyhRI0yCZ38xV/s1600/May+17%252C+2011+025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_WSQEKKjJjGSItpzuUw5jXX6h2sp-mszxaSjxtmE4CRl3kkyAS1F7CHKXT_CFiY4Ib6Yo5GsuXX1uMvgYYsMRvK47I406M0zNcver23YwCYltLZUa-arsLvNUcwWEZGecyhRI0yCZ38xV/s320/May+17%252C+2011+025.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;">Eilean Donan Castle</span></td></tr>
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<o:p><span style="color: #351c75;">I fear we sent many to hell that morning. Everyone else in the rooms was appropriately attired--I was wearing a t-shirt with the neck cutout and Kathleen was wearing vintage Cows from PEI. We are classy broads. </span></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8XnVa7IwOl8uq6Z_UnEK0G-N8oRPwBg4LZM6mp5u0nICHtPcDCgXd9WQ1kANBZgPCgYkdnX1fxvBqqYxFCqaF7QbPOIfu6qy5sh2GnlnwTip04DHq-TSGlqwK6rOH470CC55v1YUwPT9c/s1600/May+17%252C+2011+028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8XnVa7IwOl8uq6Z_UnEK0G-N8oRPwBg4LZM6mp5u0nICHtPcDCgXd9WQ1kANBZgPCgYkdnX1fxvBqqYxFCqaF7QbPOIfu6qy5sh2GnlnwTip04DHq-TSGlqwK6rOH470CC55v1YUwPT9c/s320/May+17%252C+2011+028.JPG" height="320" width="212" /></span></a><o:p><span style="color: #351c75;">The real reason we came to Skye was to see Eilean Donan Castle, near Kyle of Lochalsh. When we finally hauled ourselves from the B&B, we were late for the castle and had to be in Inverness at a certain time for a Loch Ness tour. We decided to power through the castle, since we had come so far to see it. By power, I mean run in, see all we could in 40 mins, and run out. Can't miss Nessie.</span></o:p></div>
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<o:p><span style="color: #351c75;">Eilean Donan is beautiful, and is the ancestral home of Clan MacCrae. Being Canadian, we instantly thought of John MacCrae and his poem <i>In Flanders Fields</i> -- we were very excited to see a memorial cairn quoting this text!</span></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">The original castle was built in 1230 as a fortification against the Vikings and switched hands many times after this. It was also basically destroyed in 1719 during the Jacobite uprising. The castle was restored between 1919 and 1932 by Lt. Col. John MacRae-Gilstrap. It is one of the most photographed castles in Scotland and is frequently seen in films (Highlander with Sean Connery!) (tl;dr).</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmV3apRx5Xlcd9tplYq4p_azl742EFyRiJqkV05HvVW2iIBgA3Ycer1bpy1wGNGAd50lHC5bhZdtPI3FiQTtDv9YO0HPg19MJ7l11t4Zz_qh6iucXKGqMgRxwyg2g2AJSJy940tLp27W48/s1600/May+17%252C+2011+030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmV3apRx5Xlcd9tplYq4p_azl742EFyRiJqkV05HvVW2iIBgA3Ycer1bpy1wGNGAd50lHC5bhZdtPI3FiQTtDv9YO0HPg19MJ7l11t4Zz_qh6iucXKGqMgRxwyg2g2AJSJy940tLp27W48/s320/May+17%252C+2011+030.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmV3apRx5Xlcd9tplYq4p_azl742EFyRiJqkV05HvVW2iIBgA3Ycer1bpy1wGNGAd50lHC5bhZdtPI3FiQTtDv9YO0HPg19MJ7l11t4Zz_qh6iucXKGqMgRxwyg2g2AJSJy940tLp27W48/s1600/May+17%252C+2011+030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="color: #351c75;">After this, we trekked through the Highland hills to Inverness, ancestral home of my family, the MacKintosh's. We had a tour to catch, so I showed off my parking-vulture skills and stalked an SUV to swoop into a perfect parking location. We had a bit of a hunt to find the bus stop for our tour, but after some help from Mary at the Salvation Army, we were successful. We boarded the bus, and headed for the boat.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">I love boats. So much. It was freezing and damp, but that didn't get me down in the least. We boarded the boat and got our first round of drinks for the ride. Whisky/Hot Chocolates are wonderful. The highlight was when Kathleen was ondeck getting a photo and the waves splashed up and hit her in the face. At least, that was the highlight for me</span> (the highlight for me was when I daydreamed for about 10 minutes about kicking C in the face and then punching her in the scrawk. That, and the scenery and junk).<br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;">The boat went down Loch Ness to Urquhart Castle, a beautiful area of ruins in the Loch. Though extensively ruined, in its day it was one of the largest strongholds of medieval Scotland. It is also near this castle that the majority of Nessie sightings occur-alas, we were not so lucky. We basically ran around taking photos and looking like idiots--but it was a wonderful day and an incredible site.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;">When we got back to Inverness, we hit the high street for some shopping. Alas, everything closes between 5-530. We finally got a phone card though! Weeee! O2 sim card is in and we can call home now. That's all we got.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHSIvwWzeICWDII8rqFd7L6WWEPO3k4y3q7ufvOASevch_hfrzBTBne1NOatMM5r2rtKRdR9T-iY5FUPW_WPQyaU41mpTkur5R2W0GCZCyfrcRzARnnK9MgbRhd-tdOLXaBBjYyCA9o84x/s1600/May+17%252C+2011+157.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHSIvwWzeICWDII8rqFd7L6WWEPO3k4y3q7ufvOASevch_hfrzBTBne1NOatMM5r2rtKRdR9T-iY5FUPW_WPQyaU41mpTkur5R2W0GCZCyfrcRzARnnK9MgbRhd-tdOLXaBBjYyCA9o84x/s320/May+17%252C+2011+157.JPG" height="320" width="212" /></span></a><span style="color: #351c75;">We checked into a hostel tonight--the first of this trip--and hauled our stuff down a set of spiral stairs (my nemesis) to our room. If you've ever hostelled, you know that many hostels, particularly those billed as "Student" hostels, have an age cap for those who wish to stay. This hostel was not such a place. Our room mates were older than the hills and very strange, but we didn't much care as we were just there to sleep</span> (I should mention that, while C is able to sleep through a literal apocalypse [TOPICAL!], I was awakened at 2:30am by a total brofest. Some German guy was expressing his deep man-love [possibly Ol' Gregg style] for some other guy, who may or may not have been a fellow hostel guest. They hugged it out, each exclaiming that they "must" see the other the following day and retired to their rooms [or wherever]. It was so friggen heartwarming that I think it even warmed the subcockles of my heart.).<br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;">We sat and wrote blogs instead of going out tonight--a sad truth. We have been slow in our blogging and are definitely too tired to go out, drink, and make the trip of tomorrow.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;">Tomorrow--a trip to the Glenfiddich distillery and heading through the Cairngorm National Park to Perth, Scotland. Cannot wait.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"> xoxo</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"> Cane</span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-85486589670931020742011-05-17T19:35:00.002-04:002014-10-13T00:50:07.265-04:00Harry, you're a wizard! You're a wizard, 'arry!!<div class="MsoNormal">
Monday, May 16, 2011 (ignore that other date...it's a lie).</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPBiC8w9uxaJIqI1DszB0kpo3AdipW4TYPKWndKEcaOIhOrMGz4t13DTpcfPzLuH49iMLu4N43lnHa3kmJSlqGfWTrlyfFO-0Rou12JvBHyTzyGDdEHAMxBvo9y05Y54j2jm2VtMjQWo40/s1600/May+16%252C+2011+105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPBiC8w9uxaJIqI1DszB0kpo3AdipW4TYPKWndKEcaOIhOrMGz4t13DTpcfPzLuH49iMLu4N43lnHa3kmJSlqGfWTrlyfFO-0Rou12JvBHyTzyGDdEHAMxBvo9y05Y54j2jm2VtMjQWo40/s320/May+16%252C+2011+105.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></span></a>We awoke at the glorious Holiday Inn Express in Newcastle Upon Tyne, and rolled out of bed to enjoy a very free, very delicious, breakfast (yes, I know--not free--but a sunk cost, so it felt gratuitous). I tried, and failed, to get a SIM card for my phone-- so after another day of no phone, we just decided the telecommunication gods were against us an moved on.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOV9_rqgBUzDFvo4vL7cQ9gnkrhpcSru659l32m3V3hlvCbkw8J-PWmtbXF4E6hH6_L2jkWwbz0ycayFjFusE1LHSx7SYrHWrCROOE7jz2Ot8fMYd3uQDBrPF8hDAzM27raeVjrqZP3XHK/s1600/May+16%252C+2011+117.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOV9_rqgBUzDFvo4vL7cQ9gnkrhpcSru659l32m3V3hlvCbkw8J-PWmtbXF4E6hH6_L2jkWwbz0ycayFjFusE1LHSx7SYrHWrCROOE7jz2Ot8fMYd3uQDBrPF8hDAzM27raeVjrqZP3XHK/s320/May+16%252C+2011+117.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></span></a>First Stop - supposed to be Hadrian's Wall. Couldn't do it. Too tired, and too much in the wrong direction. We opted for our second spot--<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alnwick_Castle">Alnwick Castle</a> in Northumberland County. Famous for protecting England against the Scots, it was also the castle used in the Harry Potter films. Harry Potter, you say?? Yes. Awesome. We joined into the <i>Battle Axes and Broomsticks</i> tour, which included three children under the age of eight. Not that many kids, I suppose--except that it was just them, their parents, and us. No shame. <br />
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Our tour guide, Ryan, was an epic fail<span style="color: #351c75;"> (I'm willing to give him a pass; his job is total shite.).</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"> </span><span style="color: #351c75;">He was humourous and cute, but I'm relatively certain every fact he stated was incorrect and, and some points, completely fabricated. For example, he noted that the Ford vehicle used as the flying car in Harry Potter 2 were very rare. Apparently, there were 12 used in production. Of those, he believes at least 7 were completely destroyed, "never to be used again". The other 5? He thinks they were destroyed too. He doesn't know, but he believes they probably were. Or weren't. Who's to know. He also used the terms "wee" and "poo" to describe the contents of a chamber pot</span> (There were children under the age of ten there, he couldn't very well say "shit and piss", now could he?)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"> </span><span style="color: #351c75;">--twice-- and referred to attacking Scots who fell into one of Alnwick's many traps and were left to die as "dying for all eternity". A slip of the tongue? No. He said that twice too. In the end, I won 5 points for Gryffindor by knowing Robbie Coltrane's name and knew nothing more about that castle than before</span> (I learned that movie producers ruin historical structures for their own monetary benefit. And that, back in the day, Scots used to make small boys toss excrement on people. Kinky.).</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQiTE4-PqUEi3mfT4NYn7hjcEBG0x5CzyXZbIlojIbpLQmQ4dULmnK2f0T-IUZPMQ8Hhjax79RRwecS5SxEeactW7trmggkKtYWBVzaLAb8Xnt9KKagQ4zLfXcgKpKtW_VnVe9h3_R-J4Z/s1600/May+16%252C+2011+160.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQiTE4-PqUEi3mfT4NYn7hjcEBG0x5CzyXZbIlojIbpLQmQ4dULmnK2f0T-IUZPMQ8Hhjax79RRwecS5SxEeactW7trmggkKtYWBVzaLAb8Xnt9KKagQ4zLfXcgKpKtW_VnVe9h3_R-J4Z/s320/May+16%252C+2011+160.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">We were lucky to visit on a day where Falconry was presented--FALCONS! Well...a hawk, an owl, a black lab (in no way a bird) and a mini-falcon attacked fake pheasants for our pleasure. Not really amazing...but the lovely Tudor costumes were authentic-esque and fun, so the lack of proper Falcons is acceptable</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"> </span>(I think that C's expectation of what a falcon actually is is spotty at best. I'm still not entirely convinced that she knows that a falcon is a bird...might think it's some kind of palsy). <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"> </span><span style="color: #351c75;">This time. I was surprised that Kdu wanted to hang around for the falcons, since she was so scared of them when we visited the Tower of London. Kdu pointed out, correctly, that the Tower of London had ravens...not falcons. And ravens are scarier because they have "verocious" claws. We think this was supposed to be a melange of a voracious appetite and ferocious claws, but the origins of this slip remain unknown</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"> </span>(Here;s the origin: it's from the pig latin, uckfay ouya).</div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">Next stop--Stirling, Scotland. Kathleen and I visited this place in Jan 2010, but got to the monument a few minutes too late to go up. We were determined this time. Wallace would not conquer us.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">We sped off to Stirling and found the</span> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wallace_Monument"><span style="color: blue;">National Wallace Monument</span></a><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wallace_Monument" style="color: #ea9999;"> </a><span style="color: #351c75;">with 30 minutes to spare. The monument is at the top of a hill and is basically a very tall tower with beautiful views of Stirling. We ran up the hill--it was a super steep incline, and we basically ran up the damn thing. If we didnt reach the monument with 15 mins left, they might not let us us! Ahh! We had to make it</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBmPCasbBUd0wxdUiVCXQfhOTK1nn_JWlSys1mom5JRxUbRqz0STHuyuv8WgPHQwVOp5x9bJ_mOQea4gQJqNd7KueyCV-5og6_QfMmAb3Kj2SB7Il3qZQjXMaQ1RPLjJpPpev1M0Mjni3d/s1600/May+16%252C+2011+075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBmPCasbBUd0wxdUiVCXQfhOTK1nn_JWlSys1mom5JRxUbRqz0STHuyuv8WgPHQwVOp5x9bJ_mOQea4gQJqNd7KueyCV-5og6_QfMmAb3Kj2SB7Il3qZQjXMaQ1RPLjJpPpev1M0Mjni3d/s320/May+16%252C+2011+075.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></span></a><span style="color: #351c75;">Half way up, Kathleen is dying</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"> </span>(The Scots don't seem to understand the concept of "gradual incline")<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">.</span><span style="color: #351c75;"> Her frustration is palpable and she exclaims, while glaring at the tower, "I DIDNT EVEN LIKE BRAVEHEART." In retrospect, I think she just wanted to overtake me as second place in our hill-race, and knows that laughter weakens me.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"> </span><span style="color: #351c75;">We got up the hill and were admitted to the monument--where we climbed 246 steps of the circular old-skool castle variety--to view the town from the top. It was majestic, as much of Scotland is,...but there's no way I'd climb that thing again. We took many tourist/kitsch photos of our conquering of the tower--and told everyone we were American as we were clearly being quite obnoxious. It was believable. On the way down--a much easier trek--Kathleen commented that she actually really liked Braveheart, and felt very bad for her earlier outburst </span>(I did. Mel Gibson was exceptional in that movie. I've seen it like four times. I think that I was in a steep-hill rage, and I just blacked out and when I came to, I found out I'd said that. Horrible.).<span style="color: #351c75;"> Offending the honour of William Wallace in Scotland is basically a capital crime.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNUWVZvz7wsRVfXqkrfe8xo686x41ooHPbcKmjGmRJ1C0qWj0LSUqJsQYDCrGd4BtPQ5ppu4QTTjvPU2l7aHDfFtSLuCgmjkm9Q4ETIAqJpGAIR4BDUK-jZ4iNZ0vubsAu5OWkAtmTAA83/s1600/May+16%252C+2011+138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNUWVZvz7wsRVfXqkrfe8xo686x41ooHPbcKmjGmRJ1C0qWj0LSUqJsQYDCrGd4BtPQ5ppu4QTTjvPU2l7aHDfFtSLuCgmjkm9Q4ETIAqJpGAIR4BDUK-jZ4iNZ0vubsAu5OWkAtmTAA83/s320/May+16%252C+2011+138.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></span></a><span style="color: #351c75;">Next up--off to the Isle of Skye. We were starving and stopped at a random local resto on the way--the sign caught our attention and demanded our patronage. It read: FOOD, GLORIOUS FOOD. To the point. Succinct. True. Our meals were lovely, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></span>and we continued onwards to Skye. About 15 minutes into the trek, we see a sign warning that the road ahead is closed. A few minutes later--another sign. This time, it tells us the road it closed for 5 nights. A third sign a mile later prompted me to ask, "Well, how closed is it?" We found out--very closed. A lovely Scottish lad hopped out of his truck, visibly annoyed, and came over to scold us. I prepared. I opened the window and smiled sweetly and asked how he was--then explained that we were just three Canadian girls, off on an adventure and out GPS told us to go this way. If we had to detour, we'd be soooooo lost. *insert pout here*</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"> </span>(I once again suggested saying "I'm cold, I'm a woman", but, again, was vetoed.) <span style="color: #351c75;"> I maintain that it would have worked). He was lovely and obliging to this technique, and called ahead to the road construction and asked them to STOP so we could pass. He then proceeded to lead us through the construction himself, and we continued onwards to Skye. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">Arriving at midnight, we were dead tired. Kathleen decided she wanted to wear a nautically themed outfit on the boat tomorrow (cruising Loch Ness) and selected a shirt with various birds on it. Clearly, she is not particularly clear on what animals originate from the sea, but we'll give her this one (Seagulls.). This one time. It's been a long day for everyone--I tried to say that I wasn't a hobo at dinner...in reference to my drink selection--and instead said, "I am not a hobbit."</span></div>
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No, C, you are not. No one has ever accused you of Hobbitism or existing in the Shire.</div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">Onwards!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">xoxo Cane</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-26332061559513757132011-05-17T17:27:00.000-04:002014-10-13T00:51:07.955-04:00My pappy taught me how to float, but I can't swim a single note<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I arrived in Toronto around midnight, as is my wont, and walked into C's apartment to find delicious capaletti and garlic bread waiting for me…this was excellent, as carbs<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>with carbs is my favourite nutrient combo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Usually we stay up really late playing Nintendo and drinking and being idiots, but this time not even the excitement of our impending trip could keep us up past 2am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were zonked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, this meant that we got up at a reasonable hour, and not at 1pm, which is my usual M.O.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing really exciting to report, other than eating some fabulous burritos at Chipotle before we shoved off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>C, especially, was stoked about the burrito.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Justifiably.</div>
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The plane ride itself was uneventful, other than a girl who threw up in a garbage can upon disembarking the plane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was pretty gross, but she handled it with aplomb, and we decided to let her alone – I know if I were being sick into a garbage can in the London Gatwick airport, the last thing that I would want would be for 3 Canadian idiots to ask me if I’m okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The friggen Hertz guy kept trying to upsell us to a wide-ass Audi, but C held her ground on keeping our compact car, probably due to the remembered pain of that stupid Vauxhall from last time. <span style="color: #351c75;">(And relative poverty, as the Audi doubled our car costs... -C)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAsfjwNbd9U4MZ4UWW524ODbFRC-riztDKELG1GU9tcAFlYQOys5hqU6-eAqS0gQWGBJ5JrH9_iqaRuyGkpk0pEnZCqDLCWBCZwwGzy_zxu48vLsf83hG4pSwcbdNuLunvDkQ1gTjVbffg/s1600/Amy+018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAsfjwNbd9U4MZ4UWW524ODbFRC-riztDKELG1GU9tcAFlYQOys5hqU6-eAqS0gQWGBJ5JrH9_iqaRuyGkpk0pEnZCqDLCWBCZwwGzy_zxu48vLsf83hG4pSwcbdNuLunvDkQ1gTjVbffg/s320/Amy+018.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a>Once we got on the road, it only took C a minute to get back into the swing of driving on the “wrong” side of the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We drove along, marveling at the scenery, until we stopped at a service station that featured a Burger King<span style="color: #351c75;"> (Mistake)</span>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We did not stop especially for the BK, but it was there, and so we ate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Time was running short before we were to go and see the Monkees in Newcastle, and there would be no time later to refuel our tummies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The best part of the food at BK<span style="color: #351c75;"> (There was no best part) </span>was that it was food, and that their pop was not easily identifiable (a fun game!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was a nice touch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our Diet Cokes were, correctly, identified by Amy as tasting like Sprite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were clearly Diet Sprola (patent pending). In retrospect, the sketchy food may have caused the Backstreet Boys singalong to <i>As Long as You Love Me</i>...including synchro dance moves in the front by C and I.</div>
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We were running kind of late for the Monkees, due to a bit of GPS difficulty and the fact that our flight in had been delayed by a couple hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We rolled up to City Hall in Newcastle and Amy and I got out and ran into the venue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luckily, Peter, Micky, and Davy had only just started “Theme from the Monkees” (you know, “Hey, hey we’re the Monkees…”).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I really had to go to the bathroom, so I asked the nice ticket man where they were.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He replied “we don’t have bathrooms…but we have toilets”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At this point, the Monkees are moving onto their second song, and my bladder is going to explode, so I laugh politely and take off like a bat out of hell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I listened to the next song in the great acoustics of a downstairs bathroom, then sprinted back up the stairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpWG-uDMrqDnNnD7kLAtT_NcRbuHi4HPF6HSmnvHV2WaKObhmyfVzgCaWCwuJnxGKKCmTLfrOL1cKR9nvN_YY4ZoDLE0xeVDWvPdiuRV1EgC0o21MlD7qZAbKG5JJd2bRYhRcuqsYKZvUk/s1600/May+15+2011+027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpWG-uDMrqDnNnD7kLAtT_NcRbuHi4HPF6HSmnvHV2WaKObhmyfVzgCaWCwuJnxGKKCmTLfrOL1cKR9nvN_YY4ZoDLE0xeVDWvPdiuRV1EgC0o21MlD7qZAbKG5JJd2bRYhRcuqsYKZvUk/s320/May+15+2011+027.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a>Finally, it was time to take our place in history (or, rather, our seats in row W at a<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Monkees concert).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I won’t bore you with details, but the concert was the shit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was so great, I was so thrilled – they did all their hits and a couple of less-well-known songs as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Light on the banter and heavy on the music…just how I like it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After about an hour, they kind of stopped playing and did a little dance offstage for a – get this – intermission.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An intermission!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Awesome!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s all go to the lobby and get ourselves a snack (or, in my case, a t-shirt).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During the intermission, we made the executive decision to move from our floor seats up to the balcony, because it looked as though people were having more fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, we watched the second half of the show dancing around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They closed with an AMAZING version of Daydream Believer, which even non Monkee-ites C and A enjoyed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stumbled out of the venue in a stupor induced by the most energetic geriatrics I have ever seen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Actually, I’d like to take this moment to say that I don’t like the Monkees ironically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I straight up love the Monkees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have always enjoyed their show, and I think their music is just the tops.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, when I say that I enjoyed this concert, I’m not using “enjoy” in that hipster way where you’re mocking the act…I mean that the Monkees fucking rocked and I liked it more than a fat kid likes cake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I was dying of excitement the whole way back to the hotel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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In order to try to avoid an extra charge for having a third person in a two-person room, we had to be sneaky upon our arrival to the Holiday Inn Express (jealous?).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, C went inside and did the talking (as is our agreement),<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and made friends with the front desk clerk…who subsequently came outside to show her where to park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luckily, Amy is a ninja, and ducked down so that he wouldn’t see her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next morning, we realized that he could not have cared less, but at the time, our subterfuge seemed like a genius scheme.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, it even extended so far as our attempt to finagle more blankets and towels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I suggested the tactic “send more, I’m cold, I’m a woman”, but C decided just to use the ol’ “send us some towels and a blanket, please”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A bold choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Nothing much else to report, really.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We slept quite well, and were happy with our day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, and I guess excited for the rest of our trip…even though I think that, deep down, both C and A know that the Monkees<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>will be an impossible act to follow.</div>
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Nanoo nanoo,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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KDu</div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">Oh, there was something else. KDu was chilling out in the room while Amy and I went to pick up a pizza for a late-night supper. Apparently, they sell some illicit substances. At the pizza parlor. This notice was posted.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-11563406510446560102011-05-16T20:12:00.000-04:002011-05-16T20:12:19.155-04:00Haste Ye Back!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7fiuC3fwXhIYdS359QxoPGlhIk24iB4vhLn2B9L1VvlTlV9YHrtMBZ8WSb_647X1qjzW2mk8Yn2-_Rwoen_rcR3wmI0L19Zxsi15-IEy6vqKQ7JFSp1IgUpxrsHIfVegFiQoY-Zp-25F2/s1600/eurptrip-logo-eurotrip-1079616_828_228.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="88" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7fiuC3fwXhIYdS359QxoPGlhIk24iB4vhLn2B9L1VvlTlV9YHrtMBZ8WSb_647X1qjzW2mk8Yn2-_Rwoen_rcR3wmI0L19Zxsi15-IEy6vqKQ7JFSp1IgUpxrsHIfVegFiQoY-Zp-25F2/s320/eurptrip-logo-eurotrip-1079616_828_228.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0px; text-align: left;">It's that time again, mes amis...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0px; text-align: left;">Stay tuned for some epic travel, to include appearances by Noel Fielding, Patrick Stewart, and Alan Rickman (if we can track him down).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div style="margin: 0px;">Writing this is basically the only thing keeping me from wallowing in the deep despair that is my current life. I need travel like I need air, so I've grabbed some friends and last minute flights, and we're hopping the first flight outta Dodge.</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
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This shot was taken in the Ottawa Valley, heading back to the city at the end of a whitewater rafting trip. There is nothing more perfect than this.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-42076164999435300312011-05-08T22:58:00.000-04:002011-05-08T22:58:46.330-04:00Toronto, Canada<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5iLqpgkiXNqRYMagO9fADylWnbt_8OKIlEQCidJKWsN4z_pZGMO_syp-tHJhF0WqnHK0t5NPXjeNo6GaslmxfWbaid0QHWIWElAhP0JJkDbpu3C_-o7xlRgq23JwqkMYRc34H7tBycqbk/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5iLqpgkiXNqRYMagO9fADylWnbt_8OKIlEQCidJKWsN4z_pZGMO_syp-tHJhF0WqnHK0t5NPXjeNo6GaslmxfWbaid0QHWIWElAhP0JJkDbpu3C_-o7xlRgq23JwqkMYRc34H7tBycqbk/s320/003.JPG" width="240" /></a>If you live in Canada, you know that Toronto gets a bad rep outside of the GTA. Half the time, it gets a bad rep <u>inside</u> the GTA, so the city in general has it rough. Matters didn't get much better with the election of Rob Ford as mayor, but Toronto got plenty of flack well before Ford came to City Hall.<br />
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That said, Toronto is one of the best places in the world. I rarely post about Canada, and never talk about how great my own country is--tonight's post is for the T. (Pronunciation-- "The Tee Dot").<br />
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If you are visiting Canada, Toronto is a likely stop on your list. While I maintain Atlantic Canada is the best part of the country and should be on everyone's bucket list, Toronto is one of Canada's only metropolitan destinations.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKnev9okpDhBzyWXJ9Z7P60LvHAd9JHmI2AVG3Rkc6JafyqeJT1Jx-agHumFOr2SIhowssDFAqndZ01nJuBVaGPMnC3xQrt77FrTlYy6dDTwvKtQ0p3cCLHcSnYaX9eK-2XIamigAYjGHi/s1600/Caribana.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKnev9okpDhBzyWXJ9Z7P60LvHAd9JHmI2AVG3Rkc6JafyqeJT1Jx-agHumFOr2SIhowssDFAqndZ01nJuBVaGPMnC3xQrt77FrTlYy6dDTwvKtQ0p3cCLHcSnYaX9eK-2XIamigAYjGHi/s320/Caribana.jpg" width="320" /></a>Things to do in Toronto are endless--one of the foremost reasons I love it here. My short list of favourite things includes:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiH9AadoLHLUGD6jxGr4Hht2oNYhkUiq-sg60jNq5FRgtScCk6LsOfkkdgHYDMzBPCTrdVklzAKvyZerBo66ksBphFUbuwkuQOY8VaUEhEU-giKnPZrYG1Qegq9zZODLkxPBOypJC2IvRu/s1600/Taste+of+Little+Italy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiH9AadoLHLUGD6jxGr4Hht2oNYhkUiq-sg60jNq5FRgtScCk6LsOfkkdgHYDMzBPCTrdVklzAKvyZerBo66ksBphFUbuwkuQOY8VaUEhEU-giKnPZrYG1Qegq9zZODLkxPBOypJC2IvRu/s1600/Taste+of+Little+Italy.gif" /></a>1. <a href="http://www.canadaswonderland.com/">Canada's Wonderland</a>: I didn't go to amusement parks as a child-not because they aren't fun, but because they didn't exist where I grew up. Once a year, for one week, Campbell's Amusements would come to town with overpriced games and 6-8 rides and we would call it a fair. I first got to visit Canada's Wonderland when it was owned by Paramount. I was 8 or 9, and there were a lot of Klingons and Ferengi on display. Since then, Canada's Wonderland has grown into a premiere destination for thrill-seekers. <br />
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2. Festivals: Toronto is the greatest city in the world to live in during the summer. There isn't a weekend where you can't find an incredible festival or event to attend. Some of my favourites include<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgguIm1RMnFWyji3XSXrq9CpafA37IawCYTOj3qVoFW8o77yovBnteJ5WknrsvsK6xLMgDYzD0Ak-9KagxUOagDjc47nLBaLpylJyYZSuZbxcAfHNCnhY23F6Zwx8ONzEI-H2tVKAsgsNWW/s1600/Luminato.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgguIm1RMnFWyji3XSXrq9CpafA37IawCYTOj3qVoFW8o77yovBnteJ5WknrsvsK6xLMgDYzD0Ak-9KagxUOagDjc47nLBaLpylJyYZSuZbxcAfHNCnhY23F6Zwx8ONzEI-H2tVKAsgsNWW/s320/Luminato.jpeg" width="320" /></a><a href="http://www.caribana.com/">Caribana</a> - (July 28-August 1, 2011) Caribana, in its 44th year in 2011, is the largest Caribbean festival in North America. The festival is best known for its massive parade, where thousands of brilliantly costumed masqueraders and dozens of trucks carryling live soca, calypso, steel pan, reggae and salsa artists jam the 1.5km parade route all day.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7qpKUlvvD2Ng9_04VHgqGtm8Rfxwzb1Yy9abiMlESBlwcOA1iJJVjD7-Y67Sj-Iy04QP1ais1xfWFnT_zzjIvDtnCy1mS-hA69x7HYfERp0G0vHhhR9jR4zTmKjPPpbWZYml_hYQ1G_aK/s1600/TIFF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7qpKUlvvD2Ng9_04VHgqGtm8Rfxwzb1Yy9abiMlESBlwcOA1iJJVjD7-Y67Sj-Iy04QP1ais1xfWFnT_zzjIvDtnCy1mS-hA69x7HYfERp0G0vHhhR9jR4zTmKjPPpbWZYml_hYQ1G_aK/s320/TIFF.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="http://www.tasteoflittleitaly.ca/">Taste of Little Italy</a> - (June 17-June 19, 2011) This festival is arguably the most delicious of all events in Toronto (<a href="http://www.toronto.ca/special_events/summerlicious/post/index.htm">Summerlicious</a> July 8-24, 2011 and <a href="http://www.tasteofthedanforth.com/tasteofthedanforth.php">Taste of the Danforth </a>August 5-7, 2011 are close contenders). Little Italy (College West) is blocked off to cars and the already vibrant neighbourhood becomes a massive 3 day street party with incredible food and drink.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9HhCae_9Wf1U2MiY6hExvcXFBEsq9GTkKjp_WEZtVTVkuDiCX5BZsNx5Ag5_iFlMP3Qh8wl3flV3tjunRfkXFRLIhwVd0csI9plOr6p8Ng3pdTanGbyV-f9N4Gta3R52oWg3gEQ54r3FD/s1600/Summer07+125.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9HhCae_9Wf1U2MiY6hExvcXFBEsq9GTkKjp_WEZtVTVkuDiCX5BZsNx5Ag5_iFlMP3Qh8wl3flV3tjunRfkXFRLIhwVd0csI9plOr6p8Ng3pdTanGbyV-f9N4Gta3R52oWg3gEQ54r3FD/s320/Summer07+125.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="http://www.luminato.com/2011/">Luminato </a>- (June 10-19, 2011) I remember the first Luminato in 2007, when Chantal Kreviazuk did a free concert in front of BCE place on Front St. Since then, the festival of arts and culture has only grown. For 10 days in June, Toronto's stages, streets, and public spaces are illuminated with arts and creativity. Similarly, <a href="http://www.scotiabanknuitblanche.ca/home.shtml">Nuit Blanche</a> is also amazing, which sees the city turn into a 24hr art festival. Billed as a sunset to sunrise celebration of contemporary art, the festival generally brings out over a million people to Toronto's streets and makes art accessible to everyone.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-KKJDvGGG2mXorC-zpJr-PQWZgORqCQlif6SSP3Yp7tnMRZNI5dZyDntwghGIutf6Pmf7DtX-XnxSnP63JguNNRlvY7eqBOxaAjguvu9wHe_6DwR7kMVlRa2wQPV64heB_bN7FPXAtYHA/s1600/Summer07+807.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-KKJDvGGG2mXorC-zpJr-PQWZgORqCQlif6SSP3Yp7tnMRZNI5dZyDntwghGIutf6Pmf7DtX-XnxSnP63JguNNRlvY7eqBOxaAjguvu9wHe_6DwR7kMVlRa2wQPV64heB_bN7FPXAtYHA/s320/Summer07+807.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="http://www.tiff.net/thefestival">Toronto International Film Festival </a>- (September 8-18, 2011) TIFF is one of the most famous film festivals in the world--perhaps not quite as glamarous as Cannes, but definitely known as a good predictor for the Academy Award nominations. This event is the official end of summer in Toronto, in my books anyway, and is one of the most exciting. It's common to see a star or two walking around Yorkville--but for TIFF, they invade the streets and give Sharpie a 50% boost in sales. Aside from the star-hunting, the film screenings are amazing.<br />
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3. <a href="http://www.rom.on.ca/">Royal Ontario Museum</a> - Toronto has amazing museums. The Art Gallery of Ontario is another gem, but my favourite is the ROM. This particular photo was taken at the opening of the new wing, the Crystal, back in 2006 or 2007. While residents are split on the attractiveness of this addition, the amazing pieces contained in this museum are beyond question.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZU_gpCynHc9g3j0WqtjgQFG9dqws6FI4q19Hva687eq3COyHcVjxE8blYfhVLlUItPLzBgk5BXCyqifq0kvLjAOVoiSRze5iR8Jdpy02Mn84xQEbF2_Zh0wDaKaWZj-Vkp0SLMkrxdbDq/s1600/Summer07+551.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZU_gpCynHc9g3j0WqtjgQFG9dqws6FI4q19Hva687eq3COyHcVjxE8blYfhVLlUItPLzBgk5BXCyqifq0kvLjAOVoiSRze5iR8Jdpy02Mn84xQEbF2_Zh0wDaKaWZj-Vkp0SLMkrxdbDq/s320/Summer07+551.jpg" width="320" /></a>4. <a href="http://honesteds.sites.toronto.com/">Honest Ed's</a> - Ed Mirvish is a Toronto legend. Honest Ed's is a massive discount store on Bloor St. W., started by Mirvish, which is now a little sketchy and a lot dingy, but which somehow reminds me of home. My mother and grandmother get most excited to visit Honest Ed's when they come to Toronto, and would much rather visit this legend than the Eaton Centre. Ed Mirvish also owned a very successful live theatre operation, running the Royal Alexandra and Princess of Wales theatres. I think Mirvish is one of the reasons Toronto is known for its dynamic theatre scene, though there are now more companies running the shows (Dancap). Since moving back to Toronto in July 2010, I have seen Billy Elliot at the Canon Theatre, Legally Blonde at the Princess of Wales, The Secret Garden at the Royal Alexandra and Miss Saigon and South Pacific at the COC Theatre. The Lion King is on now, and the city has a long list of incredible shows to come!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd-DW1nMkqNZSCbcwYYD1a-bBeoqtpkbfCxT6kEJmeS2BcOanQpE9ZoHOjBSx3ccRo7EucTPK3M0k6qLFo0JQEFPKQGBEEbAm3K-AYhzbX9WzQhwQ508PxxRsYkSMTKDgBvcM1Kda8dMwe/s1600/Summer584.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd-DW1nMkqNZSCbcwYYD1a-bBeoqtpkbfCxT6kEJmeS2BcOanQpE9ZoHOjBSx3ccRo7EucTPK3M0k6qLFo0JQEFPKQGBEEbAm3K-AYhzbX9WzQhwQ508PxxRsYkSMTKDgBvcM1Kda8dMwe/s320/Summer584.jpg" width="224" /></a><br />
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5. The Skydome (<a href="http://www.rogerscentre.com/">Rogers Centre</a>) - I will always know this building as the Skydome, which it was for my entire childhood. I remember watching the Jays win the World Series in 1992 and 1993 (though, it's been pretty sad to be a Jays fan since then...much like the Leafs.) At Jays games now, it is frequent that most seats are empty, but I still believe Toronto supports its team. Another bonus? You can usually get the cheap seats for $12 and giant beers for the game. I only go once per season, but I make it count. See David Beckham-- definitely worth going out for.<br />
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6. Dundas Square - Not quite Times Square, but steps from my house and containing great restaurants, live weekend events, an AMC theatre, and the Eaton Centre.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhbkCAlgw_FH7YSXrYSQhbCCHwI51NX-zhKQSFYBCp2dnAcpIsBdPyHCgm_lkDypX9DeZw97Lmnuw34epiAwfPext4dKY98MgMuVPc7N_E_yBEDAz3mZb7GSdDSb-HvmheU1f2KT6TZgcW/s1600/006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhbkCAlgw_FH7YSXrYSQhbCCHwI51NX-zhKQSFYBCp2dnAcpIsBdPyHCgm_lkDypX9DeZw97Lmnuw34epiAwfPext4dKY98MgMuVPc7N_E_yBEDAz3mZb7GSdDSb-HvmheU1f2KT6TZgcW/s320/006.JPG" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmU4KnRxggDaNFXjKfnKMR5kM47Hko68IrZoyuQtfCwbCn0aRwC6ECAmOTyIdGId-jCdV_Ur5e3uBTyEFPC6GWMO9mLFtYJZ-BxOzMmGRH6d7bsK3S3q5j3aJ1jRzcPge99vy4_iwG7G-M/s1600/Floyd+-+Toronto+17+Oct+042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmU4KnRxggDaNFXjKfnKMR5kM47Hko68IrZoyuQtfCwbCn0aRwC6ECAmOTyIdGId-jCdV_Ur5e3uBTyEFPC6GWMO9mLFtYJZ-BxOzMmGRH6d7bsK3S3q5j3aJ1jRzcPge99vy4_iwG7G-M/s320/Floyd+-+Toronto+17+Oct+042.JPG" width="320" /></a> 7. <a href="http://www.cntower.ca/Intro.html">The CN Tower</a> - Tourists love this--before I lived here, I went up a few times. It'd fun the one time, like the Empire State Building for Rockefeller Centre is. If you want to do it, pay the little extra to go to the higher observatory--the view is worth it!<br />
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8. Christmas in Toronto - Though it's cold and dreary in the winter, Christmas in Toronto is highlighted by a wonderful <a href="http://www.torontochristmasmarket.com/">European Christmas Market</a> and the Swarovski Christmas Tree in the Eaton Centre. Always beautiful, Christmas in Toronto melts even the coldest of hearts--I should know, since I have one.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIy9EswmarpLANCoPDJDbwiDkEM1OnirtOy8mW7fs3z0-2Mv2sKah6lP_SL_t0GIs5AQ87RHsSsXZeNnc-KqiQQQY7f8DG5zME7eX3ot5DI0m791KmAij_fRGf1wY0ZB1yrDgsHP50YBVN/s1600/Toronto+XMas+038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIy9EswmarpLANCoPDJDbwiDkEM1OnirtOy8mW7fs3z0-2Mv2sKah6lP_SL_t0GIs5AQ87RHsSsXZeNnc-KqiQQQY7f8DG5zME7eX3ot5DI0m791KmAij_fRGf1wY0ZB1yrDgsHP50YBVN/s320/Toronto+XMas+038.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-39241525549382336632011-05-08T21:06:00.000-04:002011-05-08T21:06:13.523-04:00"Every artist is a cannibal, every poet is a theif. They steal their insparation and sing about their greif."I love U2. I know it's not particularly "cool" to like U2 anymore, but I will always harbour a special love for the band. These pics were taken at the U2 360 in Toronto on September 16, 2010. Another reason to love Toronto-- one of the only cities in Canada that continually gets all the world class arts, entertainment and live theatre events!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-1nw4jIdFx8yATFwOeLzTV9CQI-uWjHgCmn30go9MUOpBUGyEqLw27BFnrBzXIKDLcnVCFfuhXXCQXDfSwcukWnRR6cJC7l8XopOPohh6z3fb2z_EITXN-fVFa0fTxLKkC15cljKfurLO/s1600/8827_592406745919_94802230_36382708_3343753_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523173652292609234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-1nw4jIdFx8yATFwOeLzTV9CQI-uWjHgCmn30go9MUOpBUGyEqLw27BFnrBzXIKDLcnVCFfuhXXCQXDfSwcukWnRR6cJC7l8XopOPohh6z3fb2z_EITXN-fVFa0fTxLKkC15cljKfurLO/s320/8827_592406745919_94802230_36382708_3343753_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 240px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm6JQiBgL6cHkuRlFR2KuSrNX99527nD_E3DBac02YsWJWC_BIO5Ivbfctp-nzjUd7Eu-8bSEMORxz3wqoYRt8uYgLxeQ0SVee0zoYLIB49_81DkXL3_VLR9jGy8V7Ape4DdArjdTgYbtF/s1600/8827_592405134149_94802230_36382638_6816613_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523173589593294034" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm6JQiBgL6cHkuRlFR2KuSrNX99527nD_E3DBac02YsWJWC_BIO5Ivbfctp-nzjUd7Eu-8bSEMORxz3wqoYRt8uYgLxeQ0SVee0zoYLIB49_81DkXL3_VLR9jGy8V7Ape4DdArjdTgYbtF/s320/8827_592405134149_94802230_36382638_6816613_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 228px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6gu9QP3AWsq3dMYv7vxnTtqB5JxT4mZ0LYMo9atDKmihE0aueZHoaUAfTinqrgXcsN6xU1PK4JsoavdXninZRzUQt1VUXyN51bdV18Zg3tci2EDcW4w_c1FCNnTGRdhaMi3c89sjzP0Jp/s1600/8827_592406701009_94802230_36382699_2213081_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523173541687154370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6gu9QP3AWsq3dMYv7vxnTtqB5JxT4mZ0LYMo9atDKmihE0aueZHoaUAfTinqrgXcsN6xU1PK4JsoavdXninZRzUQt1VUXyN51bdV18Zg3tci2EDcW4w_c1FCNnTGRdhaMi3c89sjzP0Jp/s320/8827_592406701009_94802230_36382699_2213081_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 240px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0KYkwfQSKYlGGKXiNEo7cnAP4c2tRw93jiIcLkkIWYV_cDhTr_HjCA1DBP6dymcnXZi1axymLsN8wvLFNlr2K8vipXiqMfgQP5iqlkr5D4bq-YNbkFDmJ-ig4zeRAqiDOpGE1dBr_C1sP/s1600/8827_592405159099_94802230_36382643_1878120_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523173476971132114" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0KYkwfQSKYlGGKXiNEo7cnAP4c2tRw93jiIcLkkIWYV_cDhTr_HjCA1DBP6dymcnXZi1axymLsN8wvLFNlr2K8vipXiqMfgQP5iqlkr5D4bq-YNbkFDmJ-ig4zeRAqiDOpGE1dBr_C1sP/s320/8827_592405159099_94802230_36382643_1878120_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 240px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRDxXHQWR-LXgmCWJigHjYO2UjFPM0CP2vasInwOU5U6nw2Cu602Ye4PRCLzQSCfmDdzciH4NtajEHlsGfdSsP69M4GBtECaPEFICgwiLFNE7-vZheF5iCqwQmv9i0yyssJ6g7nR9CVpvy/s1600/8827_592405149119_94802230_36382641_4324599_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523173405777918626" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRDxXHQWR-LXgmCWJigHjYO2UjFPM0CP2vasInwOU5U6nw2Cu602Ye4PRCLzQSCfmDdzciH4NtajEHlsGfdSsP69M4GBtECaPEFICgwiLFNE7-vZheF5iCqwQmv9i0yyssJ6g7nR9CVpvy/s320/8827_592405149119_94802230_36382641_4324599_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 240px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-24568090989516474292010-10-01T17:30:00.002-04:002013-12-05T04:24:55.887-05:00Be still my teenage heart!So, I had seriously considered writing in this blog daily...instead of just doing an annual 2-4 week foray into travel blogging . But, as you can see from my last post in January 2010, this isn't going too well. There are a few reasons for my failure:<br />
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1) My friends. I have a few close friends that are avid bloggers. They write witty phrases and are in general smarter than me (see Sam at <a href="http://www.bridgesofmadisonave.com/">http://www.bridgesofmadisonave.com</a> or Miss Fabulous herself at <a href="http://www.iris-mylifeinpurple.blogspot.com/">http://www.iris-mylifeinpurple.blogspot.com</a> to get an idea of what I'm up against...). This creates issues of inadequacy as I, no doubt, do not have the high level of insight shared by these wonderful women;<br />
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2) My Schedule. I tend to take piles of photos (my FB albums are inense...) but I don't think to write about my adventures. I sometimes feel that is self-indulgent...but that's the point of a blog, right? To be self-indulgent and hope it strikes a chord with someone...which leads to my next point;<br />
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3) Be still my teenage heart. I'm (update: FAR) too old for angst and feel like talking about whatever I'm pondering on a given day might be lame (update: is definitely lame). Some people pull it off so well...but I fear I am not interesting enough for the elusive witty daily blog.<br />
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All of the above recognized, I have decided to make a bit more of an effort. It isn't even so much because I think anyone will read it, but because I miss the life I've shared on this blog and I want a little back (update: Working full time sucks). Now that I'm not in school (and am strangely jealous of my friends who are), I look at these pictures and the stories of the places I've been, and am both sad and fearful that I'll never get to do that again. So, for now, I will content myself with the memories and little trips around my immediate area.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-20908374249328235162010-10-01T16:24:00.010-04:002013-12-05T04:25:58.077-05:00The world beneath my feet...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZAmdDioaJ9yFl3oRQglNgFTcdI216-YPGCrWhGwzF02vLUQkgavj7krE3kWdKh_9uKurcjxFzC1-I51rgQhUmZpv3hlJQWYPn3CcchkVO8n5ZiDt1UzPADmADhBzWaAI4sOo0eKjGjJcJ/s1600/36950_626369723839_94802230_37688816_5392305_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523181430688354482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZAmdDioaJ9yFl3oRQglNgFTcdI216-YPGCrWhGwzF02vLUQkgavj7krE3kWdKh_9uKurcjxFzC1-I51rgQhUmZpv3hlJQWYPn3CcchkVO8n5ZiDt1UzPADmADhBzWaAI4sOo0eKjGjJcJ/s320/36950_626369723839_94802230_37688816_5392305_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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Mumbai, India<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMyRuGHf4B-TYoVa8JN9ZXsEv7GbnSqmaSH-atUtY8bQE4gPoCx8Q1T3_i7s-hdQuYA84W0QKNjSHeAAc1y-tPCFwAQhxDD0vgJiawhoj2c9ttRnfL9BVOP_yuGgvpPvIX6pr_S21wAI5h/s1600/34760_626370701879_94802230_37688901_4025526_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523181421963952194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMyRuGHf4B-TYoVa8JN9ZXsEv7GbnSqmaSH-atUtY8bQE4gPoCx8Q1T3_i7s-hdQuYA84W0QKNjSHeAAc1y-tPCFwAQhxDD0vgJiawhoj2c9ttRnfL9BVOP_yuGgvpPvIX6pr_S21wAI5h/s320/34760_626370701879_94802230_37688901_4025526_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 240px;" /></a><br />
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India<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBg7pV9jZqGDgQJ6hgVEypBgsVE4gkKdjxxAoiT_1kQ7nT5bwaZV5UHyHyZkgJQs-BOAJyuZrPN3PcIBcIOwgfkbsIE1hPjqN2ykfgwJlR2j5iD2CxAa-yVGSMMiYx5cmR_nGS8pMq3o8l/s1600/5371_585744397319_94802230_36057996_1075234_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523181419942846786" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBg7pV9jZqGDgQJ6hgVEypBgsVE4gkKdjxxAoiT_1kQ7nT5bwaZV5UHyHyZkgJQs-BOAJyuZrPN3PcIBcIOwgfkbsIE1hPjqN2ykfgwJlR2j5iD2CxAa-yVGSMMiYx5cmR_nGS8pMq3o8l/s320/5371_585744397319_94802230_36057996_1075234_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 214px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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Cairo, Egypt<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNFGpLvx6Djoidx7qn_lq7SKSiXT7bNwUPy15_LxI5jlx1_eSdkBD0jW4_pdoQnYHXwlwon1dnOGojG37GUc0NfeFaz5V3LlrM_PenYdYMswPovFD_I7WmaisNggyictKE7DzR2yoWAY2o/s1600/n94802230_35201989_8292.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523178897107291506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNFGpLvx6Djoidx7qn_lq7SKSiXT7bNwUPy15_LxI5jlx1_eSdkBD0jW4_pdoQnYHXwlwon1dnOGojG37GUc0NfeFaz5V3LlrM_PenYdYMswPovFD_I7WmaisNggyictKE7DzR2yoWAY2o/s320/n94802230_35201989_8292.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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London, England<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJfbwBDDvY5MEpQnHGn6C8cHcPvRoVU6mgerhleuVVBu2pStxSi3xRclGZ2-FQAEj-w9wCVyYgoNHpJ3Ux5BoXVAS6dHyxNXkADZ_2UzFjyKFktM0XPZoieTLFXDNLKfOXO-X70nxR3kwr/s1600/60260_634025875849_94802230_38028110_7173919_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523178879259118530" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJfbwBDDvY5MEpQnHGn6C8cHcPvRoVU6mgerhleuVVBu2pStxSi3xRclGZ2-FQAEj-w9wCVyYgoNHpJ3Ux5BoXVAS6dHyxNXkADZ_2UzFjyKFktM0XPZoieTLFXDNLKfOXO-X70nxR3kwr/s320/60260_634025875849_94802230_38028110_7173919_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 240px;" /></a><br />
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Kigali, Rwanda<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw9K0uWl1oULlNtQm0kWrmJopR-_CK_menT4RoUWvtswTy5bcil8A0HnhphGW4bcU1dzL0oalGsK4lD4FfNFSw4Wb2b1dL2VZRCJ2qJTMeEN7tov4D5_b_S8DJdHTtmW4FRg51zLEX2JHP/s1600/26986_615517092599_94802230_37237521_2804778_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523178875143531602" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw9K0uWl1oULlNtQm0kWrmJopR-_CK_menT4RoUWvtswTy5bcil8A0HnhphGW4bcU1dzL0oalGsK4lD4FfNFSw4Wb2b1dL2VZRCJ2qJTMeEN7tov4D5_b_S8DJdHTtmW4FRg51zLEX2JHP/s320/26986_615517092599_94802230_37237521_2804778_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 240px;" /></a><br />
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Chicago, USA<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj332wXTSTOBH3z01q9mZ02Mh_4yWX1X-YYb7jtbNAtxGsTmfixriT4IeT0T6NIIjqwX_2xlWpvZ0jZR5LdiWFRVX6NrvRjfN8xCtfhn1AHf1LCJFB0BYPH3BDKs23LOG86-RBZM09bb9vM/s1600/22261_605752076769_94802230_36889000_7406485_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523178686275532610" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj332wXTSTOBH3z01q9mZ02Mh_4yWX1X-YYb7jtbNAtxGsTmfixriT4IeT0T6NIIjqwX_2xlWpvZ0jZR5LdiWFRVX6NrvRjfN8xCtfhn1AHf1LCJFB0BYPH3BDKs23LOG86-RBZM09bb9vM/s320/22261_605752076769_94802230_36889000_7406485_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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Larne, Ireland<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioOH1fQfHbqEPJCQglV_j0axDT4C6-RmGP_xvuTxc5Qh7Lx7IWQV7LxMhCqla71xQETydSxJ7AOe0b3CSLAE9K1_eqUBDDz3ypTEv8-uSmzk6wFjYdAHMG4KDXU0ehnb75rxbZE4acVK86/s1600/22261_605454772569_94802230_36878587_8177132_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523178680265467746" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioOH1fQfHbqEPJCQglV_j0axDT4C6-RmGP_xvuTxc5Qh7Lx7IWQV7LxMhCqla71xQETydSxJ7AOe0b3CSLAE9K1_eqUBDDz3ypTEv8-uSmzk6wFjYdAHMG4KDXU0ehnb75rxbZE4acVK86/s320/22261_605454772569_94802230_36878587_8177132_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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Paris, France<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHgq1mVqA597I1R4x2P0_FkCzCkOljUrdxr6-7jB884f0oVhIBTI23tI0_fee5sSn7POmRpYm7rFX6fWwCV7y-VGpmQVRNWbM0hud8emNx8WVkMrmuy1-j9x_cdaAiyJrtPTy_ihwRuuRI/s1600/8827_594106225149_94802230_36455856_6487372_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523178671465482354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHgq1mVqA597I1R4x2P0_FkCzCkOljUrdxr6-7jB884f0oVhIBTI23tI0_fee5sSn7POmRpYm7rFX6fWwCV7y-VGpmQVRNWbM0hud8emNx8WVkMrmuy1-j9x_cdaAiyJrtPTy_ihwRuuRI/s320/8827_594106225149_94802230_36455856_6487372_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 240px;" /></a><br />
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Ottawa, Canada<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRH5Wlqbb4NK7qgwgvq5EkrQ_kY_Jx-BDF78d1EfpB7JUg-th8RNV9dWu6W_GumphY9wAo4N94JSKvA28DgTWswuVIu9yb3cdtJj9idwgwPUnaGT-ZUcuBVY84poVWqI1FEOpCr2y5f2wY/s1600/8827_594106205189_94802230_36455852_7877968_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523178672287104546" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRH5Wlqbb4NK7qgwgvq5EkrQ_kY_Jx-BDF78d1EfpB7JUg-th8RNV9dWu6W_GumphY9wAo4N94JSKvA28DgTWswuVIu9yb3cdtJj9idwgwPUnaGT-ZUcuBVY84poVWqI1FEOpCr2y5f2wY/s320/8827_594106205189_94802230_36455852_7877968_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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Ottawa, Canada<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLcWBwF0f5AQwHiBduovKuGZU3M8utnvt-kvi1W8V26t48l8nDhMlA1wD2qWIZdqkXtnU5k_EbEVF_PTaVjZgIrVNeEiG0tYlqZEmxDlHgwH5jP_WRnLaJ_6mseOXoYAnoG-9gqhicF6d_/s1600/6491_584099922859_94802230_35960228_4748113_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523178668866457170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLcWBwF0f5AQwHiBduovKuGZU3M8utnvt-kvi1W8V26t48l8nDhMlA1wD2qWIZdqkXtnU5k_EbEVF_PTaVjZgIrVNeEiG0tYlqZEmxDlHgwH5jP_WRnLaJ_6mseOXoYAnoG-9gqhicF6d_/s320/6491_584099922859_94802230_35960228_4748113_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 240px;" /></a><br />
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<span id="main" style="visibility: visible;"><span id="search" style="visibility: visible;">Ruhengeri, Rwanda<br /></span></span><br />
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<span id="main" style="visibility: visible;"><span id="search" style="visibility: visible;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyG2A12mndygdSTkqX0mQRT5i3OYSe2ASlewr9HmySbs31uWVtLETFcNUbO2de5WP7_Cvdo57sr5zMCg2EfQPplnrUWYEYh9HRLjCTEPks7GXrO0opkMnxqB4L65rBlpYPk-ARfGdaJwKT/s1600/5371_585758938179_94802230_36058650_8296902_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523178486224545410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyG2A12mndygdSTkqX0mQRT5i3OYSe2ASlewr9HmySbs31uWVtLETFcNUbO2de5WP7_Cvdo57sr5zMCg2EfQPplnrUWYEYh9HRLjCTEPks7GXrO0opkMnxqB4L65rBlpYPk-ARfGdaJwKT/s320/5371_585758938179_94802230_36058650_8296902_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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Alexandria, Egypt<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGMBI20hrn-8_Zi5G2bGwXqPlyL_icPcTgQvcSgNpPKIbSXZl4uTGBUiD0IwnsS8iwmsMLUb9iwnqpmKm20MjLw4G5V81Z1VmocZNY1ZLZtTJj8vHYgk0YsiOXe1P4MtOWTfQTIqPY7yRp/s1600/5371_585743648819_94802230_36057975_3568232_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523178480719019330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGMBI20hrn-8_Zi5G2bGwXqPlyL_icPcTgQvcSgNpPKIbSXZl4uTGBUiD0IwnsS8iwmsMLUb9iwnqpmKm20MjLw4G5V81Z1VmocZNY1ZLZtTJj8vHYgk0YsiOXe1P4MtOWTfQTIqPY7yRp/s320/5371_585743648819_94802230_36057975_3568232_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 214px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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Alexandria, Egypt<br />
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It seems inevitable that however far you may wander or whatever paths you choose to explore, the place you will always love and yearn for is where you came from.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgDooxRbkL9HFQYsjslycg9H7haA2Vd64kraOvzvXwGOWOXoUMayBAiVzD9gv6Fov3W3V-J9zzETiDgyxxoOnoYVD5fzA9MimgZZAYADssYIWN8xKZg5fNKwK7rS718TLOuiSqUqqatkd8/s1600/n94802230_35108526_3762.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523178884658582018" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgDooxRbkL9HFQYsjslycg9H7haA2Vd64kraOvzvXwGOWOXoUMayBAiVzD9gv6Fov3W3V-J9zzETiDgyxxoOnoYVD5fzA9MimgZZAYADssYIWN8xKZg5fNKwK7rS718TLOuiSqUqqatkd8/s320/n94802230_35108526_3762.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 320px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqte2VYSDhsf3PlnUqtuZAPcxy6Lr8XVIWs5IjD8ejVAc68xWrv1BkmmMUE_YWvPGEsqN-ORqpakvri5gw4DLm1VjY_28erYHbbY_9o95gzr9OUNMs_Pdyar7stq9Yyay7PMuKiiUo2_pR/s1600/47523_633764449749_94802230_38018300_7344780_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523181439816702034" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqte2VYSDhsf3PlnUqtuZAPcxy6Lr8XVIWs5IjD8ejVAc68xWrv1BkmmMUE_YWvPGEsqN-ORqpakvri5gw4DLm1VjY_28erYHbbY_9o95gzr9OUNMs_Pdyar7stq9Yyay7PMuKiiUo2_pR/s320/47523_633764449749_94802230_38018300_7344780_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 320px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjHd47-K7KeirBqn8vN7lxf8edlTYnf2J2c3VnyzlUhKsMM3ZjdMDNrh_cr2CcqG02PgLBj7_xXcgRdC6W2vWE4yz2iRtzP5pY-BNTPfWMoRHAeVzvHTXdvKRljwsAr3ZoxKiajaN5v2sX/s1600/6731_590050557739_94802230_36271643_8138764_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523176981349360802" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjHd47-K7KeirBqn8vN7lxf8edlTYnf2J2c3VnyzlUhKsMM3ZjdMDNrh_cr2CcqG02PgLBj7_xXcgRdC6W2vWE4yz2iRtzP5pY-BNTPfWMoRHAeVzvHTXdvKRljwsAr3ZoxKiajaN5v2sX/s320/6731_590050557739_94802230_36271643_8138764_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 252px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhseUcfG9SUZgHlFwgYsgup-c3Rwxi2pYL-S3m6AeHGjpKj6q9wJurAFUsjsc9uHRa6YF9NawxsxKxc3C8Eiz392uav0COuZsznzJSAavi_4xMTZYcd2MImxruoPZwFF2QAN72Z5sFESBwv/s1600/6731_590050562729_94802230_36271644_7104481_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523177032982694898" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhseUcfG9SUZgHlFwgYsgup-c3Rwxi2pYL-S3m6AeHGjpKj6q9wJurAFUsjsc9uHRa6YF9NawxsxKxc3C8Eiz392uav0COuZsznzJSAavi_4xMTZYcd2MImxruoPZwFF2QAN72Z5sFESBwv/s320/6731_590050562729_94802230_36271644_7104481_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 320px;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-30412712427904572282010-01-28T13:37:00.003-05:002010-01-28T13:43:31.069-05:00Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey - Wordsworth<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4WZpOoe9MkpJKI9fGjrj70NFk27z7H8Otyx0MnhCs6NQmCWqFyG-kGoNjWk8RpNsMDXrVRm6vGpcRPLACHSGeVP1mjKuBqwnuVH5qNt0kXcVELFSWNvpwBpLJtiZobqiqBuAHAdvBxPK/s1600-h/Ivy+tintern.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431862708988673970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 227px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4WZpOoe9MkpJKI9fGjrj70NFk27z7H8Otyx0MnhCs6NQmCWqFyG-kGoNjWk8RpNsMDXrVRm6vGpcRPLACHSGeVP1mjKuBqwnuVH5qNt0kXcVELFSWNvpwBpLJtiZobqiqBuAHAdvBxPK/s320/Ivy+tintern.jpg" border="0" /></a> Pretty, yes? This is an artist's rendition of Tintern Abbey in the centuries after it was left to ruin, when people were first rediscovering it. It had such a sense of romance-- the ivy sprwaling over the entirety of the ruins was particularly attractive, but in restoration the decision was made to remove it. Sad.<br /><br /><div>I'm not going to re-post the entire poem--it is lengty and I know that 99% of my friends who check this page will not read it-- but if you want to read William Wordsworth's poem written while reflecting on (or as most historians say, after he had passed through) Tintern Abbey, check out this link for the text in its entirety!</div><br /><div><a href="http://rpo.library.utoronto.ca/poem/2343.html">http://rpo.library.utoronto.ca/poem/2343.html</a></div><br /><div>Better yet, find a book! Poems read better from the pages of a book. </div><div>Conspicuous consumption be damned-- books are forever.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-53508480135366766592010-01-24T18:55:00.005-05:002010-01-24T19:06:19.817-05:00Dylan Thomas' Boathouse - Laugharne, Wales<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2GQkizar4VnG1RRnZSnyTkUPa4RHFJsi8nUeskb9lUIgoHfNJXlEHNqqXDbjDUI1oybbIWessgd85TFKBBRdz2fjE-HT_vhBOFpViyuMVZshtuZc1WdOTM0PMbfMG6DW6Zf1xV3HjfSFB/s1600-h/P1080935.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2GQkizar4VnG1RRnZSnyTkUPa4RHFJsi8nUeskb9lUIgoHfNJXlEHNqqXDbjDUI1oybbIWessgd85TFKBBRdz2fjE-HT_vhBOFpViyuMVZshtuZc1WdOTM0PMbfMG6DW6Zf1xV3HjfSFB/s320/P1080935.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430461221306777186" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-family:'Trebuchet MS';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night<br /><br /></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal; font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">Do not go gentle into that good night,<br />Old age should burn and rave at close of day;<br />Rage, rage against the dying of the light.<br /><br />Though wise men at their end know dark is right,<br />Because their words had forked no lightning they<br />Do not go gentle into that good night.<br /><br />Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright<br />Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,<br />Rage, rage against the dying of the light.<br /><br />Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight</span></span></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,<br />Do not go gentle into that good night.<br /><br />Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight<br />Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,<br />Rage, rage against the dying of the light.<br /><br />And you, my father, there on that sad height,<br />Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.<br />Do not go gentle into that good night.<br />Rage, rage against the dying of the light. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> --Dylan Thomas</span></span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-76105895106334016152010-01-24T11:36:00.017-05:002013-12-05T04:30:01.421-05:00"Who is Ted Yannick?"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHKXYkZjBxH8tm-p5_3YWzvxoHQQ_As_RsbbCQejVIi-3xZYgbSLTenZ7Ma1A8bTuabgg8ALLCoJj75pBmmPOYtaqf1jUCcyqAW30C4w1ecoUIKT5FizgmKiEJhiyfuFg5Qk_gC23RGwXW/s1600-h/llanstaffenm.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431860421746708210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHKXYkZjBxH8tm-p5_3YWzvxoHQQ_As_RsbbCQejVIi-3xZYgbSLTenZ7Ma1A8bTuabgg8ALLCoJj75pBmmPOYtaqf1jUCcyqAW30C4w1ecoUIKT5FizgmKiEJhiyfuFg5Qk_gC23RGwXW/s320/llanstaffenm.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a>Wales! <br />
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We left the hostel in Dublin at 6 am to make the 2 hr trek to Rosslare to the ferry. Lotssss of time to make it for 9am, yes?</div>
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No. Not.</div>
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The ferry didn't have an address--it just said Rosslare. So, we figured it would be like Cairnryan in Scotland-- we would simply show up to the town and it would be the only thing around. We got to Rosslare at 8:10am for a 9am departure (had to be on the boat by 8:45), and there was no ferry to be seen. We drove around until we found someone walking their dog as we asked him where it was.</div>
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"ah, yous want Rosslare harbour, you do.It's back around the roundabout, first exit, about 15 minutes."</div>
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Uhh...damn. We raced back on the wrong side of the road (it was 8am...who's to care) and got to the ferry terminal at 8:30. I ran in, with one hobbled foot, and got us a ticket on the boat to Wales... we boarded at 8:42am. We weren't the lone stragglers though--there were two others cars as well. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg98I5e-QwuSU8EyCLseKakpvFNqnMNslcUi0ySaYYv920KYR36-BieWp5NIIecOM9R5wZlS0-dpqPY3mWC_24683tnCj5A_RbG559jkB3jYz59uI0rbhIBEjJWgVcf1Rx8jLcwrX3GpqWi/s1600-h/dylan+boathouse.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431859780982373554" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg98I5e-QwuSU8EyCLseKakpvFNqnMNslcUi0ySaYYv920KYR36-BieWp5NIIecOM9R5wZlS0-dpqPY3mWC_24683tnCj5A_RbG559jkB3jYz59uI0rbhIBEjJWgVcf1Rx8jLcwrX3GpqWi/s320/dylan+boathouse.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px;" /></a>The ferry to Wales is over 3 hrs long. It wasn't particularly busy, but did seem to be filled with a disproportionally large number of irritating people. Particularly loud, obnoxious people. Kathleen and I sat and ate our English breakfast on the boat, then went to find a place to nap/read. I curled up on a long bench and slept for the entire trip--apparently Kathleen wasn't so lucky. It was very cold-- I'm pretty sure the wind from the Irish Sea was coming through the crap insulation at every window. </div>
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After our freezing trip, we got in to Wales and found our first field of Welsh sheep! I really wanted to stop and ask a farmer if I could go meet his sheep, but KDu seemed humiliated by this option. I would happily have gone to play at a farm... alas.</div>
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On our way to Cardiff (we decided to skip Swansea because we were running out of time) we saw the signs for Dylan Thomas' Boathouse. I had resigned myself to skipping this, but since we were so close... why not? We got off the beaten track and headed to Laugharne...aka middle of nowhere. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixDcSEYUGZYFGgyv3Z45qrKacvU9JJVLUvzU4MtL0MC7IKr59JVRNR0o2voQWy7GYIxZSB9u_zXNRFDo67_BgDPNoioqDgV9sBRRpVbG9VFbKG-HAsKQcepvVyNWDam8G__vUa6plQTLpV/s1600-h/dylan+garage.bmp"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431859785334970034" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixDcSEYUGZYFGgyv3Z45qrKacvU9JJVLUvzU4MtL0MC7IKr59JVRNR0o2voQWy7GYIxZSB9u_zXNRFDo67_BgDPNoioqDgV9sBRRpVbG9VFbKG-HAsKQcepvVyNWDam8G__vUa6plQTLpV/s320/dylan+garage.bmp" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 240px;" /></a> Dylan Thomas is most famous for "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night!", but he wrote many other wonderful works for fiction and verse. I've always loved poetry and have a vast repetoire of random quotations contained in my memory, so I was very excited to see the place where Thomas wrote and lived (it's apprently haunted, but I saw no ghosts. This time.)<br />
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We had to scale a cliff in the rain to get to the cabin, but we did make it. It is very simply and nestled on a literal cliff overlooking the water. A few hundred feet away is the remains of Llansteffan Castle. A beautiful area, to be certain, and it only lost a small fraction of its majesty due to the crap weather.</div>
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We drove straight to Cardiff after this, and checked into a wodnerful hostel. They had the best parking/breakfast situation of any we had visited, so I liked them the best (I will later do a post about places to stay when you visit all these fabulous places!). Cardiff has a reputation for being "hard". It was an industrial town, and people were thought to be kind of unhappy and mean. We met some lively people... but driving around the city everyone has an angry expression and seems a bit unhappy to be there. We only spent a day walking around, but that was the general expereince.</div>
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Wales has so much to see! It isn't marketed as being a hotspot, but there are castles and beautiful scenes at every turn. We saw Cardiff Castle (can't miss its massive walls) but we didn't have time to go in and do it properly-and it was too expensive to just pay to go thru the gate and leave. Most importantly, we found a place that sold YARN, my mother's only requested item from the trip. I got us some more wonderful Indian food (korma!) and we went shopping on the Queen's Arcade. Kdu really wanted to see Roald Dahl Plas, so we headed over to Millennium Center to see it... except that if you didn't know it was there, you would have no idea it was dedicated to him. There is a statue of Ivor Novello close by, and just a plaque to Dahl. We were confused.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC_dvh6Yf-BasCk9u3JQQRn9DtjaFU2BRn_NsdazTdTvDQ9sk-md8O4VQCKxPljKTMQzMOP5ivVfJwjIo_P4V-umxwBParmSqI6T79tCaZzNIrcQ8ru6FuEp9ItTAj8ZqlCzWNLM2KadzC/s1600-h/roald.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431859776093193586" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC_dvh6Yf-BasCk9u3JQQRn9DtjaFU2BRn_NsdazTdTvDQ9sk-md8O4VQCKxPljKTMQzMOP5ivVfJwjIo_P4V-umxwBParmSqI6T79tCaZzNIrcQ8ru6FuEp9ItTAj8ZqlCzWNLM2KadzC/s320/roald.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px;" /></a></div>
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After a night in Cardiff, we were on our last day. Sadly. We were to hit Tintern and Stonehenge this day, but we knew the chances were slim. We left Cardiff for the 45 min trip to Tintern--another literary heritage site that I insisted on visiting. Kathleen hates Wordsworth, so it meant less to her. But, regardless of personal interest in the Wordsworth poem, the site of Tintern Abbey is increible to see. It was founded in 1131 by Cistercian monks, and was only the second foundation in Britain. Cistercian monks (or "White Monks") who lived at Tintern followed the Rule of St Benedict-- the Carta Caritatis (Charter of Love) laid out their basic principles, namely: Obedience , Poverty, Chastity, Silence, Prayer, and Work . The remote location was ideal for the Cistercians, whose desire was to follow a strict life of prayer and self-sufficiency with as little contact as possible with the outside world. They chose well--calling it remote is an understatement.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzrVmy0KHKbGIiMBD-RGyFW2C8T0Uqclx8FHeP3cj3AtDgRd572B366h1sV59Vz6SYOIAjr0xkfiI5Bclks-W3q5PKP0au2GKaBKsBascPjJG7n36vKK6QRqmSgJNKXVes8P16xEwpZXGx/s1600-h/tintern+2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431859768164841954" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzrVmy0KHKbGIiMBD-RGyFW2C8T0Uqclx8FHeP3cj3AtDgRd572B366h1sV59Vz6SYOIAjr0xkfiI5Bclks-W3q5PKP0au2GKaBKsBascPjJG7n36vKK6QRqmSgJNKXVes8P16xEwpZXGx/s320/tintern+2.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px;" /></a>The present-day remains of Tintern are a mixture of building sites covering a 400-year period between 1136 and 1536. In the reign of King Henry VIII traditional monastic life in England and Wales was brought to an abrupt end by his policy of establishing total control over the church, partly to take advantage of the considerable wealth of the monasteries (and to get a divorce and chop off Anne Boleyn's head...). On September 3, 1536 Abbot Wyche surrendered Tintern Abbey to the King's visitors and ended a way of life which had lasted 400 years. The Abbey sat in ruins for 200 years,... and the rest you can read on Wikipedia. Point = I LOVED it. We also got some fun presents for people here-- in particular, cards and bookmarks made of sheep poo. Apparently, only 50% of the contents of a sheep's stomach is digested--the other 50% is usable fiber... so it is now made into paper products. </div>
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We took off for Stonehenge, just north of Salisbury, England. Unfortunaetly, it gets dark quite early in England and we didn't have time to get there. We didn't know if it could be seen from the road, but we thought we should try.</div>
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Lesson: Stonehenge cannot be seen from the road. At night, at least. (Or ever, I think).</div>
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The parking lot is even barricaded, so you can't even stop to take a picture. We pulled over and got a picture of<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLOwZcO2i1zYVZwDGcJZRSgUCiteDH_vQF0FXT4sCI6MWXyqCLmr_b_CCqBbpeMbIRY_yLt7wgDAxRsCTalpWXK3y4IKUEPk5rb9EUY3AUGggure8CWCGmW-U1omSG64Jfp9Zd3vvrJ4Tr/s1600-h/wales+millennijm.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431858871232138962" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLOwZcO2i1zYVZwDGcJZRSgUCiteDH_vQF0FXT4sCI6MWXyqCLmr_b_CCqBbpeMbIRY_yLt7wgDAxRsCTalpWXK3y4IKUEPk5rb9EUY3AUGggure8CWCGmW-U1omSG64Jfp9Zd3vvrJ4Tr/s320/wales+millennijm.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 240px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /></a> darkness....somewhere out there is Stonehenge. Alas, next time!</div>
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At this point we were tragically late to meet my friend Elise, who we stayed with in Oxford. We got in around 8:30 and headed out for food-- but it was Friday night and super busy everywhere, so we ended up getting wine and pasta at a Sainsburys and cooking in the basement kitchenette of her dorm house. This turned out to be far better, as we ate, drank, swore and gossiped with abandon. </div>
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Dear Elise-- I adore you and we must find a way to traverse the world and see each other more often! xo</div>
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6am came too early--we hopped in the car and headed off towards Heathrow. It was only an hr and a bit away, but we anticipated something would go wrong. The "something" turned out to be that the GPS was not programmed with the right address for the car rental return. It took us an hr of visiting each terminal and driving around in circles before finally found the return depot. I was a little harsh with the attendants...but they didn't care. They already had my credit card. And here it ends--we checked in (with the nicest AirCanada lady ever...who let me have my massively overweight bag of clothes checked for free!), went through security relatively unscathed (KDu got felt up), and we sat at our gate until they let us board the plane. It was only half full, so we each got our own section of seats, and I curled up and slept the entire way back. I was really cold, so the nice space waitress got me a Dasani bottle filled with boiling water-- a water bottle. She said she was going through menopause and was having hot flashes, and even she was cold...so I must be. It was pretty nice. She also brought me extra flax chips, my favourite airline snack.</div>
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It was a wonderful trip... and now we are back. I don't know what is next (Italy, maybe?), but I know I will escape again soon to another fabulous destination. </div>
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Oh, and are you wondering about Ted Yannick?</div>
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We were driving past Southhampton and I exclaimed "Oh, that's where Titanic is from!" Kathleen, half deaf, misheard (for the 10th time on the trip) and looked at me, puzzled, saying "Who is Ted Yannick?"</div>
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Probably only funny if you were there. But, funny, I promise.</div>
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xoxo</div>
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C<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431857605146477138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhojvZ5Ti9KHo10vigsXHgCe6kRb30wGijJMBkhSR3AU5r0agbsuy657mXWQFWBVSSmep5LK7UNdjnLZXGUR8dwA99eakbca3iJ1g-dl2RlrwdFNI0W5KIa0FetSWznR2vNjL-iN_t2VBuJ/s320/wales.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-45646920015802129832010-01-20T16:51:00.010-05:002013-12-05T04:34:55.999-05:00Dubh Linn -- "Black Lake"<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428965452116248946" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYjsC8w1YmYoJ-O6n9qAuwGsQzehNU5DKObUtLAoxoYs7saihZoNo7YZ8Vmi_0fUR8Jo9RFynlWmKLvqPncJ8Lw_PNK0OmsooHFwPFFChwupy-boxTzxxPzleVt6BdcDTUw6UdGTagS8uA/s320/P1080843.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 240px; margin: 0 0 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYjsC8w1YmYoJ-O6n9qAuwGsQzehNU5DKObUtLAoxoYs7saihZoNo7YZ8Vmi_0fUR8Jo9RFynlWmKLvqPncJ8Lw_PNK0OmsooHFwPFFChwupy-boxTzxxPzleVt6BdcDTUw6UdGTagS8uA/s1600-h/P1080843.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">As some of you may recall, we were in Bruges earlier in the trip. If you don't recall, you haven't been paying attention or drugs have rueened your mindtank - either way, I can't be bothered to recap such things for you. The po</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">int</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"> is, upon our arrival in Ireland (and long ass car ride due to us programming the GPS to avoid toll roads; while the countryside was lovely, we probably could have done with about 3 hours less of it), we checked into our hostel and unpacked. After supper at Dublin's oldest pub (The Brazen Head - fill in your own filthy jokes here), we decided to watch a movie. "Oh," said we, "let's watch </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">In Bruges</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">,</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"> because it is awesome and we were recently in Bruges!" Excellent plan devised, we went down to the front desk to rent our movie. In order to do so, I had to hand over my passport (this will come up later). When we went downstairs to actually view the video recording, we met a very nice man named Paddy Kelly (niiiiiice), who runs a tour here. We decided to sign up for his tour once the movie was over. After figuring out the dvd player, we started watching the hilarious story of two assassins chilling out in Bruges. We were about an hour in when we heard a peculiar sound. That sound was, apparently, the call of the drunken English hooligan, aka Drinking Gam</span><span style="color: white;">e Charlie and his gang of miscreants. Needless to say, they raised such a clatter that we were forced to abandon our movie. Titboxes. So, despite having actually been to Bruges, and taking the initiative to rent the movie In Bruges, C has yet to see it. Oh, the humanity.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">C awoke much earlier this morning than I did. Much, much earlier. And walked around in</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"> the rain. I'll let her fill in her harrowing ordeal trying to put the car park. If it were a Harry Potter story, it'd be 'Harry Potter and the Wide Vauxhall'.</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;">This is true. Basically, I was tired as hell last night, and we drove into Dublin at 4pm (read: rush hour) so I eventually gave up on finding parking and parked on the street. It was free until 8am, so I figured I'd just move the car to a car park in the morning. That was a great plan. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;">I awoke at 5:30am and decided I should go down and move the car before rush hour. I really didn't want to navigate with a pile of cars, so 5:30am was definitely the time to try it out. I went down to the front desk and a rather crotchety young man was working. He demanded a 20 Euro deposit for the key, and 8 Euro for the night. Fine enough-- I gave him my credit card. Well, this proved inadequate. He put a 20 Euro hold on my card, but demanded cash for the 8 Euro. I had none. Whatever, I said I would go to a bank machine after I moved the car-- but he wanted it by 8am. Ugh. Ok, fiiiine. I'll do whatever inefficient douche thing your require, dick, just give me the FOB for the parking garage. Finally, I got it in my hot little hand and was out the door.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;">It was raining. Pathetic fallacy, I believe. I walked a few blocks to the car, stopping at the gas station to try and get cash out. Alas, their ATM was on a time delay and refused to let me have</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;"> my monies 'til 8am-- too late. So, I decided to move the car and deal with the ATM later. I drove to the street where the parking was supposed to be, but I couldn't find a park. I noticed one, but there were big metal doors closing the entrance and I didn't know what to do. So I drove around a few more times trying to see if I had the wrong place. Luckily, I saw a woman go in--she got out of her car and there was a tiny little fob reader outside the door--she clicked her key, and went in. I decided to try the same. It did work, but the metal door kept swinging back and forth</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;"> like it was possessed. I was afraid it was going to hit the car, so I let it close and re-opened it again. After zipping into the car park in an open opportunity, I realized I had to get up to level 8.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;"> I can't even navigate a car park in Canada-- the only accident I have ever had was scratching the side of a car (not mine...even worse) on a pole in a damn parking garage. So, I was in some fear. I made it up the first one, but when I got to level two there was a car parked opposite the UP ramp. I couldnt get enough space for clearance to turn my long-ass car around to get up the ramp. I tried a few times, to no avail, and eventually just went up the DOWN ramp. I was very glad it was 530am at this point. I eventually made it up all 8 stories unscathed, but I am not looking forward to coming down tomorrow.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;">As for the 8 euros, I walked around in the rain until I found an ATM and took out enough for the day. By the time I got back to the hostel, it was 7:00am. It took me 1.5 hrs to move the damn car. Perhaps a lame story.... but try to picture the expletives coming out of my mouth as I tried to get up the whore ramps and you should appreciate and be amused by the situation.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;">We tried to go to the Jameson Factory, but we didn't have enough time to get there and get to Kathleen's tattoo appointment. So we walked over to the Jervis shopping complex and while she was being needled, I went shopping. I have zero monies for such things, so I went to Penneys (aka Primark in the UK) and bought some comfy 8Euro boots for walking around. Then, it was off to meet Kathleen and take a Dublin Tour! </span>Now, while Cane was shopping, I was, as</div>
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mentioned, getting a tattoo. Nothing really spectacular there, except that, when I went to show the nice tattoo man my passport as valid id to prove I was of age to be tattooed, I noticed something odd about it. The picture on the passport I held in my paw was, strangely, of a girl</div>
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with shoulder length hair named Bailey. She is from Kitchener and was born in November of 1984. </div>
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All of this would normally be fascinating for me, but it was not at the time. Nosireeee. Basically, panic closed its cold claw around my heart and I could not think of anything other than</div>
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'where in the GEE DEE EFFING ESS is my passport?' (that one's for you, mom). The answer: remember back up there when I....okay, I will continue this story in a minute, but I have to</div>
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comment on the fact that the French dudes behind us are listening to the Ketchup Song. And singing. It is hard to concentrate. Okay, anyway, my passport was at the hostel....in the movie jacket...and not with me. Luckily, I had my birth certificate on me, so I got my tattoo, but holy Jesus, if I hadn't checked it this afternoon, I'd be at Heathrow in a couple of days SOL.</div>
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The Dublin Tour. All epic win. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;">We started with with Irish Museum, which contains the remains of an entire Viking village that was excavated in the middle of Dublin. Sounds lame, but it very interesting. There are very uniquely preserved human remains, and the equivalent to Irish crown jewels (The Brooch of Tara). We also hit the art museum, which</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;">has a surprisingly vast collection for such a small country. We also saw Dublin Castle, </span>(Edinburgh's retarded cousin castle) <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;">which was far less impressive than other castles. We also saw Trinity College and the incredible collection at Chester Beatty's Library. We also hit city hall and Christ Church Cathedral, which contains the excavated ruins of a monastery from a few thousand years ago. It was a great afternoon, about 4 hrs long. We missed going to the Guinness</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;">Storehouse because we were walking around, but we saw enough to make it worth our while! We also learned a few fun facts... My favourite?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;">1) This may be an urban legend, as some say, but our genius guide (an Irish historian and teacher) swears that the etymology of the word FUCK can be found in the time of Henry VIII. He told us that Henry started taxing prostitution to fund his new church, and legal prostitutes had to have a parchment with a royal seal on it--the seal said FUCK--Fornication Under Consent of the King. Hence, the term. Some swear by the truth of this, and some say it is total bs...but either way, its a good story. UPDATE--this is definitely untrue. Oh well.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;">2) In North America, the hand gesture for "Fuck You" is the middle finger-- in the UK it is the first two fingers flipped off at someone--a backwards "peace" sign. This comes from medieval times. Archers use these fingers to shoot, and when they were captured the opposing army would cut their first two fingers off so they could no longer shoot. If they ran fast enough to get away, they would turn back and flip their first two fingers off to the other badasses, as a sort of "screw you".</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;">3) We also learned where "pale" comes from, in reference to being afraid. This one isn't naughty, so you can skip it if you're only reading for our sexual and vulgar references. In viking times,</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;"> there was a community within a walled city, and outside there was a wicker barrier around the</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;"> city called a pale. If someone within the walls screwed up and was thrown out of the city, and had to live "beyond the pale". This came to be synonymous with feat because if there was an attack, those living beyond the pale were too far to get back to the safety of the city. Hence, they were scared as hell and "pale".</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;">The more you know.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;">Tomorrow, we are off to Rosslare to catch the ferry to Wales! The final hours of our journey are approaching...and we are considering jumping off the ship to avoid returning. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666;">xoxo C</span></div>
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NNB, K</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-70164802136192752832010-01-19T17:35:00.003-05:002010-01-19T17:40:15.370-05:00Haste Ye Back!<p class="MsoNormal">I’m sitting on the ferry now, tea in hand, heading to Larne!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We woke up at 6am to catch the 730 ferry… but we were pretty tired and decided to sleep in and catch the 1030 one.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The ferry is kind of expensive, but since it hauls our car over I suppose it’s fair—and most of the traffic consists of large trucks and commercial vehicles, so they could clearly make more money</p><p class="MsoNormal"> by filling the ship with those rather than poor civilians.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We drove through, bought our ticket, and pulled up to two police, or security, officers.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The nice old man asked me to “hold the car and lift yer bonnet”.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>…What?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I looked blankly at him for about 15 seconds before I realized-- “pop the hood??”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>That was it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So I found the thing that pops the hood and then I had to get out and open it because they aren’t permitted to.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Now, I can’t even open the hood on my car in Canada, so this was a challenge.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I kind of stared blankly at it and the nice make helped me open it, with the provision that if he broke something it was still my fault.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They were checking for a bomb, or explosive device.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Then a woman came and asked if she could pat me down.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Sure, go to town…not as if I don’t enjoy it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But, here’s what I don’t get—if I had a bomb, wouldn’t I put it in the “boot” (truck) or on the other passenger (Kathleen)?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It just didn’t seem like a very logical</p><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVRBIXsFIG_2y65SDjiHwrjmQIEs-izb980WFVqSyWTSQZHi3UdLzsR5Sz0p3zkItdLF5GTgD1mOUjDpUtsWfWwBuc-fC1rvaxqgIz-pPjRHSe7BJv8RWIsHpUvgHG1iwo9OyPUWukeqle/s320/P1080808.JPG" style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428584155936249858" /><p class="MsoNormal"> security check.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Terrorists don’t even have to be smart to survive that, just a bit lucky.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>This is a big beef I have with security in general—I understand that you have to do it, but if you’re going to irritate people with searches, at least make them necessary.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I wouldn’t mind had they searched the car for stuff—I mean, we are headed to Northern Ireland… it seems smart to check.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But, DO A GOOD JOB.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>That is all.</p><p class="MsoNormal">It’s a cool, damp day, so the views aren’t tremendous yet, but I love being on a boat so I don’t really mind.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I don’t know what to expect in Ireland—other than pure awesome.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We don’t have a lot of plans, other than Guinness and Jamieson tours (I’m hoping to get certified as a Whiskey taster) and a tattoo appointment for KDu, so we will probably just sightsee and meet people.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I have a friend I haven’t seen since high school living in Dublin, so we will meet her and do dinner with some real Irish!</p><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrGtf3MiejXuV9O4f9M8ZB1BU6MAP2V2z3mDA_cqvcruqpx6dv0T_If-eTHu-e1R9wp-xSXrimbLG01El6MDyUYoE1xHoCnmyhWYTnS2fb3BHqOPfBoAgyDZS3x8XzFH68M46PsIE0SRE/s320/P1080806.JPG" style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428584164645018658" /> <p class="MsoNormal">I have found some of the street signs here, particularly in Scotland, a bit strange.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I took photos of some of my favourites, including “Elderly people”, where the elderly are hunchbacks and the woman is leaning on the hobbled man, and “Haste ye back!” which appears a lot in Scotland and I can only assume means come back soon. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But, I don’t really know.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The third is what we have affectionately named “peenie hydrants”….as they look like fire hydrants, with…peens.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>After seeing a lot of these with the “peen” on different sides, we realized it is a hidden</p><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV0xB25e6Moc_HqQZy9wyci4zZBHkx53ITDpijFcHF30eecgPoLI3azqsarx2ucauOKrVgUjfxxLOtDaEvS2XTGJFFG_TCaF-OyNdKTIXO4-B8ikTFDLfpX5560B84txVA15DHV1fuMB6D/s320/P1080804.JPG" style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428584142397018194" /><p class="MsoNormal"> driveway sign.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We are having a stellar time!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A few days in Eire, then back through to Wales and Oxford before hitting Heathrow to fly home.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’m considering hiding out as an illegal alien, but I suppose I have to come back and make some monies for the next excursion!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">xoxo</p> <p class="MsoNormal">C.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-31244129491442273492010-01-19T17:03:00.007-05:002013-12-05T04:38:29.892-05:00"Don't you know? Scotland is its OWN COUNTRY."<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlVNxJT3pmkro9R72GqeqKWP1b5iXfbk4NmRR_PlPvDeDjw18LIyelc1uudO9INqbLIfrLVEbNBLkJt5_CyBWU812o9lp5VyQIks50ZKvGp6ay6dwtMYk1qah4HD4FGLKXJoJE9PEq8_mc/s1600-h/P1080775.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428582975645939810" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlVNxJT3pmkro9R72GqeqKWP1b5iXfbk4NmRR_PlPvDeDjw18LIyelc1uudO9INqbLIfrLVEbNBLkJt5_CyBWU812o9lp5VyQIks50ZKvGp6ay6dwtMYk1qah4HD4FGLKXJoJE9PEq8_mc/s320/P1080775.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 240px; margin: 0 0 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /></a>Scotland!<br />
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I’ve wanted to come to Scotland forever and was super excited to head up here!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We got back to St. Pancras station from Paris and did a quick stop at Sara’s for our extra luggage, before heading to Heathrow to pick up our car!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, I’ve never driven any of the times I’ve been here…I gave UK driving laws a quick 5 minute lesson and we headed out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s now been 4 days and so far I’ve only been on the wrong side of the road once</div>
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and had one minor “overtaking” issue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Roundabouts are my nemesis, but I’ve done pretty well</div>
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driving across this nation!</div>
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We headed out from London on the way to Edinburgh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stupidly, we left in the afternoon on the M6 north and were caught in HOURS of traffic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A 7 hrs 20 trip became almost 11 hrs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We missed our dinner reservation and Lisa, a friend we were meeting for the weekend, was stuck alone in the bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fortunately, she emerged unscathed and only slightly poorer (until I arrived and we got a bottle of Mumm’s.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Edinburgh is a beautiful city, and nowhere near as busy and crazy as</div>
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London is.</div>
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Our day in Edinburgh was spent visiting sights—we went to Edinburgh Castle, Mary King’s Close, City of the Dead ghostwalk/poltergeist tour, and hit some pubs—the one where JK Rowling wrote Harry Potter, and one that had amazing treacle tart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We also went to The Witchery, one of the best restaurants in the city, for an 11pm reservation on a Saturday night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sadly, this meant we missed the legendary bar scene of Edinburgh, but we had a great meal, champagne, wine, dessert etc, and walked back to the hotel—we weren’t carried, nor did we pay someone to haul us back. We did a bit of shopping on the Royal Mile... I made the mistake of asking a guy why the pound looks different from the English one. WHOA. One of those nationalistic things you do not say. For the record, I know what countries comprise Britain (and the UK, for that matter) but I didn't know I would get weird Scottish money when I took cash out at the bank machine! And I was told that the money in Scotland wouldn't be accepted outside of the country, despite that it is valued the same as the English pound. Anyway, I ruffled the feathers of the shop owner, who replied. "Scotland is it's OWN COUNTRY, don't you know?" He then went on to admonish the English and I learned that while their money is valued the same, no one else will take it simple because they are, essentially, jackasses.</div>
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Sunday came and we sadly had to leave Lisa (who was likely happy to have her own room) and head onwards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We went to Perth to visit family, and what was supposed to be dinner on the way through turned into dinner, 5 pints, and a sleepover.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had a great time visiting, and it was nice to be in someone’s home instead of in a hostel or hotel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was very cozy, and we had breakfast made for us!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A true luxury of home and ode to Scot hospitality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I even got schooled in Burns poems—the Selkirk Grace and Address to a Haggis are as good, or better, than the gamed red, red rose one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As an aside, we also saw the Burns Bachelors Club tonight—he was a famous romantic and womanizer!</div>
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We left the family today and were heading over to catch a ferry to Ireland and head to Galway to visit some more friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We stopped in Stirling to see William Wallace’s monument, but it was shortly after 4 and we could only get a pic from afar- likely not a bad thing, since we didn’t really want to climb the 300 steps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We also FINALLY stopped at a Little Chef!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are a big chain in the UK and we know of them because of a food network show Heston Blumenthal hostel where he revamped the chain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a series, and it aired again over the holidays in a marathon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were determined to visit a LC, but we hadn’t seen any until today! We even typed it into a GPS in southern England and the GPS took us to the middle of no where suburbia and said we had arrived at the destination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had almost given up hope!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The food was good, and Kathleen tried Fish and Chips—she has now had fish, blood pudding, haggis and steak pie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She covered her bases.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ive had chicken and vegetarian lasagna.</div>
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We tried to catch the ferry on time… but we hadn’t actually pre booked or organized anything here since the day preceding was sort of up in the air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What did this mean?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It means we didn’t catch the ferry and are now in the sketchiest hotel imaginable in a town I can’t pronounce.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are near Cairnryan, and are getting the 730am ferry to Larne and heading on to Dublin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sadly, we will miss Galway and an amazing friend who is in school there, but we will eventually get to Eire!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We got to the ferry port town and stopped asking for rooms in multiple places—even the dodgiest were all full!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a nice place that wanted WAY too much money…so we drove down the road until we found a hovel and I went in to ask.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The reception is actually a bar, where 5 or 6 men were sitting around watching TV and drinking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The barman is the hotel operator, and he told me he had one room left for 50 pounds if I wanted it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The conversation went something like this:</div>
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Me: “Do you take Visa?”</div>
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Nick the Barman: “No, cash only.”</div>
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Me: “ok, I will go get some!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No problem.”</div>
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Nick: “Great, and I need you to fill out a form for health and safety reasons…just basic information, name etc.”</div>
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*30 second pause and rummage*</div>
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Nick: “Eh, fook it, I can’t find me pen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t really need health and safety.”</div>
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This was a reassuring start.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The room itself is actually very nice, and we get continental breakfast, decent TV and internet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another lesson in “don’t judge a book by its cover.”</div>
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So, its 12:30 and I am trying to sleep…can’t make my mind shut off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a problem I have that is usually cured with pills, but alas I don’t have any here with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We leave in a few hours for the next leg of the journey—can’t wait!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></div>
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Though one sad thing about leaving Scotland—I never did find out what belongs under that kilt.</div>
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xoxo Cane</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-14272215806883975282010-01-18T10:25:00.003-05:002010-01-18T10:30:22.270-05:00In Search of Perfection (with Heston).<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9YOaoFggVBjxZmRbaAVFbDAmLMBoxVEWgBDoxnBN9EQ_OFvkslpMJHYO48kWOiDUuXm_AbKhaIbzF0O5qO0yylmXbZgj1lYczIRhW1DKyceRpTzDiVVjsP1tDxC3clCtXkKXPpLSmeMuu/s1600-h/P1080786.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9YOaoFggVBjxZmRbaAVFbDAmLMBoxVEWgBDoxnBN9EQ_OFvkslpMJHYO48kWOiDUuXm_AbKhaIbzF0O5qO0yylmXbZgj1lYczIRhW1DKyceRpTzDiVVjsP1tDxC3clCtXkKXPpLSmeMuu/s320/P1080786.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428102462771157298" /></a><br />We are sitting in a Little Chef right now, just outside of Perth, Scotland. We literally drove 3 miles past it and then swung back around. One of the goals of the trip was to dine in a Heston Blumenthal approved Little Chef, but previous attempts to find one have ended in disaster. Thankfully, we are now living the dream. William Wallace's castle or Little Chef? Clear champion: Little Chef.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-71052859096422846542010-01-18T06:52:00.014-05:002013-12-05T04:41:09.094-05:00Because of the metric system?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3PMAhk7m9nkiz2q9evrlfnltDg0M2mS5zAIbtNpqH3PtuRgd6ygnFd0fmi9gKaiIyNHriug2xEDZH9-N1g0VzD0XN_8adU6CNh7o1XBIHbfvp4wXUfb8UWMppLxQhpuK-ZuWPJ0rfSna5/s1600-h/P1080557.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428070180075546578" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3PMAhk7m9nkiz2q9evrlfnltDg0M2mS5zAIbtNpqH3PtuRgd6ygnFd0fmi9gKaiIyNHriug2xEDZH9-N1g0VzD0XN_8adU6CNh7o1XBIHbfvp4wXUfb8UWMppLxQhpuK-ZuWPJ0rfSna5/s320/P1080557.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 240px; margin: 0 0 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /></a>Well, it's been awhile since we blogged for realsies, and I am a fan of being complete and thorough (everyone who knows me can stop laughing now), so I'm going to go back and recap Paris now, then Scotland - although might not get to Scotland today. I'm about to go eat a delicious breakfast, prepared by Cane's uncle Bruce (a true Scot, yo) (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff6666; font-family: 'courier new';">NB from Cane: Bruce is actually of no relation, but I call him uncle Bruce anyway.</span>). <br />
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Apologies for the preceding paragraph, it's a bit spastic - I'd delete it, but then I'd have to start again. Mehnyway, Paris. So we departed from our hostel in Bruges at around 5:45 in the a.m. to catch our train into gay Paree. It was a rather uneventful trip - the train was a bit crowded, but Cane was able to sleep and I was able to pass the time listening to my ipod and looking out the window, so it worked out nicely for everyone. When we arrived in the city, we made our way </div>
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to our super-close-to-the-train-station hotel, where we dropped off our bags and left for breakfast (we couldn't check in until around 2 in the afternoon). We had som</div>
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e tasty omlettes and croissants and formulated our plan of attack for the day. We also managed to reapply some makeup, which we pooled from our pockets and bags (always prepared!)...we were ready to see the most fashionable city in the world. Okay, truthfully, we still looked like scrubs, but there was nothing to be done about it.</div>
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First stop: the Louvre. We didn't go in, because, really, what's the point of spending, like, an hour in the Louvre? We saw the pyramids outside - the exterior of that building is beeeyuuutiful. Also, it is effing HUGE. Like, what the hell. Next, we took the Metro to Notre Dame cathedral, home of Hugo's hunchback. The interior was really nice (obvs), but the real highlight was the completely ghetto Christmas tree out front. It was Charlie Brown quality, with the most hilarious balls (insert your own joke here).</div>
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The Eiffel Tower was our next stop. Out in front of the Tower there were dozens of people attempting to sell you mini Eiffel statues or draw you as a caricature. Holy Jesus, they are annoying and as tenacious as vultures. I was ready to choke a bitch. Once we got to the middle level of the Tower (the top was under construction), we admired the view and took our pictures.</div>
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It was, unfortunately, a bit hazy up there, so the pics weren't the best, but it was a pretty astounding view nonetheless. There were a bunch of children there, so once again I had to be</div>
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restrained from stabbity revenge. We made our way down to the base of the Tower, ran through the packs of vultures, and hopped on the Metro to go back to the hotel. We had originally hoped to go to Versailles at this point, but it would have taken too long, so we went to McDonald's for lunch. "Why McDonald's?", you might wonder; the answer, obviously, is that I wanted to order a Royale with cheese (a la Pulp Fiction). I should also mention that I have never eaten a Quarter-Pounder in my whole life - verdict: it wasn't bad, and was definitely worth it for the PF reference. After stuffing our faces, we took a fast food induced</div>
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nap.</div>
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When we woke up (late as per), it was dark. We decided to Montmartre, then to the Arc de</div>
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Triumphe, then to a restaurant on the Champs d'Elyse, and then back to the Eiffel Tower to watch it sparkle. Montmatre was notable for the Moulin Rouge (shout out to Mepa!) as well as the Sexodrome, and the McDonald's next to the dirty cinema. In short, Cane was in heaven - she was finally home! We only spent about half an hour on Montmatre before heading down to the Champs d'Elyse for a bite. The Arc de Triumphe is on the Champs, so it was two birds with one stone. We ended up in a little Italian resto called Vesuvius, where we had a three course meal (highlight: goat cheese salad starter mmmmm). We took a bit longer than we thought to eat, so we missed the first 'sparkling' of the Tower, so we kinda wandered around a bit, then hopped the Metro again (sweet, sweet day passes - Cane's, hilariously, stopped working about halfway</div>
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through the day, so she had to keep getting it 'reset' by the transit people. Finally, she got them to replace it, but that was right before our last ride, so a bit useless).</div>
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What to say about the Eiffel Tower's light show? Well, it was spectacular. We ran through mud and nearly killed ourselves, but it was worth it. Cane was so excited! It was a real highlight of the trip. </div>
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Well, I think that is about it for Paris. I will note that I didn't speak any French (it never really came up, as people heard us speaking English and so addressed us in our preferred language), and that Paris is less French than Quebec. So, make of that what you will.</div>
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Stay tuned for further updates from the UK! We're heading out to Dublin this afternoon - there's no real plan, but I'm sure that we'll see some pretty sweet sights.</div>
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Nanoo nanoo, bitches!</div>
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KDu</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195180952354501596.post-12167150177100724682010-01-17T22:55:00.003-05:002010-01-17T22:59:22.174-05:00Half way!Hi all!<div>Again, lame update. It is very late, but I wanted to let you know we are safe! Edinburgh was amazing and we hopped in the car this afternoon to head to Perth, to visit some of my family. We had a glorious dinner and a few pints, and decided to sleep over. We are here for the night, and off to Ireland tomorrow, after seeing William Wallace's memorial. Ireland for a few days, Wales for two, then home! Why must time travel so quickly?</div><div>xoxo C.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3366FF;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:medium;"><b><span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS, Arial, Helvetica;font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3366FF;">Address To A Haggis </span></span></b><p><span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS, Arial, Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3366FF;">Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,<br />Great chieftain o' the puddin-race!</span></span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Comic Sans MS', Arial, Helvetica;color:#3366FF;">-- Robert Burns</span></p></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0