THE UNITED KINGDOM: RELOADED! A history of my travels told with Miranda GIFs

OI! WELCOME BACK! Apologies, it's been a solid two months without a blog entry. I would love to tell you that it was because I was extremely busy planning my wedding, but the truth is I was lazy and--let's face it, only five people still read this thing (thanks guys!).

Where did we leave off? Ah yes, it was my birthday and I was being a complete downer, eh? But just in case you were wondering, I was able to recharge my joy batteries during 25 fantastic days in my favorite side of the world! That's right, I WENT HOME, BABYYYYY!!!!

But let's start at the beginning, shall we? I think the trip was eventful enough to actually write more than one blog entry, but let's see how much I can milk this cow.


1. Canada, eh?

the afternoon of Sunday, June 7th, 2015, I got on an AirCanada flight to Toronto. You may call me cheap, but I choose to call it economical. It was a very tight flight with no TV screens, so I was left to my thoughts and delirious excitement about going back to the UK and seeing all my favorite-est people in the universe.

Toronto airport was lovely and I am now a Tim Horton's Coffee convert. Who can even think about Starbucks now? Tim Horton's is every Catholic man's fantasy: the hotter, humbler, more modest sister of Starbucks. Starbucks definitely has a superiority complex.

Turns out, however, not everything Canadians make is beautifully perfect. AirCanada is crap, ya'll. Their planes are crammed and they make you download an app on your device to be able to watch anything instead of having screens like other normal airplanes. Of course, I missed the part where they instructed us which app to download, so I literally was stuck on an intercontinental flight with no movies-- torture, basically, since I just cannot sleep in planes for more than 30 minutes at a time.

2. Dublin meh-ness

With red eyes and bags under my eyes, I arrived in Dublin and was received by Autumnal weather. After an encounter with a very nasty bus driver (who I dared to call a jerk to his face) and much idle walking with my two HUGE suitcases (don't judge me, you know I can't help it), I finally managed to find my hostel. They made me wait for an hour and a half to let me into the room, but I was so exhausted and sweaty (TMI) that I just decided to stay there waiting for my room instead of trying to get adventurous and finding food.

After a nice shower and some Subway, I dared to venture out into the streets of Dublin, only to quickly change my mind. Don't get me wrong, it's not that Dublin is not a charming little city. But I was SO. TIRED. And jet-lagged. So, I am ashamed to say, I did the awfully touristy thing and bought me a ticket to one of those hop-on-and-off tour buses that takes you around the city.

I am sorry, but those things are WONDERFUL. You cover a lot of ground, you can get off whenever you want to and go do your thing and then just get back on later, you have a vantage view point for the majority of the trip,  and you've got a person explaining to you all the ins and outs of the city. TOUR BUSES, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE??

I saw the Guinness factory, the Old Jameson Distillery, and Trinity College, and a bunch of other nice buildings I honestly don't remember. Then, I went and had a huge three course dinner, eventually making my way back to the hostel for the night. Feeling tired really blurs your perspective. I really thought I did not like being in cold, rainy Ireland. Luckily, that changed the next day, when I arrived to.... *drumroll*

3. SUNNY GALWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!

You guys, the place is a dream. Big enough to be called a city but small enough to stroll around in a day. Quaint and clean yet packed with booze and yummy food! Did I mention live music in every other pub? Even the sun likes Galway better than Dublin.

Now, my hotel was quite out of the way, about four miles away from the city centre (which means it was in a totally different town). But I stayed in the world's best B&B, so Anne, my lovely hostess, actually gave me a lift into town. And made me tea. And gave me brochures. And booked a cab for me. JUST ALL THE THINGS!

Music, fish and chips, drinks, the works. Oh, you know what else? MEN.

I guess this is when I tell you about the Claddagh ring.

Months ago, the Claddagh ring was brought to my attention by my friend Iris. Little did I know that it was a symbol originated in Galway. So when I saw a jewelry shop with a big painting of the ring on the wall, I couldn't resist. I went in and entered the realm of the Claddagh magic.

According to what I understood, the Claddagh ring symbolizes loyalty, friendship, and love. It is customary for women who are married/taken to wear the ring with the heart pointing inwards, while ladies who are looking for luuuuuurve wear it pointing outwards, to draw in "the one".

I honestly bought the ring because I think it's really pretty; little did I know of its power. After buying the ring, I went into a restaurant to eat, and as I came out of it, sighing with satisfaction and smelly fish breath, a man approached me.

"So, good fish and chips?"
"Yeah, fantastic!"
"What's your name?"

Just like that. We chatted casually as we walked up the street, and after a few minutes he asked if he could buy me a drink. Yep. Just like that. I politely declined, since I'm pretty sure he was my dad's age (although I gotta admit he was not bad-looking... we just reached a whole new level of 'eww', huh?).

Oh my gosh, this ring works!
Don't be silly, that's just a funny coincidence. 

Except it wasn't. The next day, I met a couple guys at a tour of the Cliffs of Moher. I spent the whole day hanging out with them. One of them kept winking at me. From then, it was just a series of cat-callers, kiss-blowers, starers, smilers, plain ole' creeps. What. the actual. f****?

Look, I'm not saying the ring has magic. All I'm saying is that I am suddenly super irresistible and very confident. Especially to Irish men. Clearly, I've been wasting my time with a bunch of non-Irish men my entire life. Now it's only a matter of finding a somewhat sober Irishman with acceptable teeth.

But it didn't stop there. It went on. In Durham. At the Lake District. In Scotland. In FREAKING LAFAYETTE, LOUISIANA. Everywhere (except in Texas, apparently). I'm quickly collecting binders of men around here.

4. THE CLIFFS OF MOHER

Also known as The Most Beautiful Place on Earth. Seriously, there are no words to describe the Cliffs. Dumbfounded. Awe-struck. Fangirling. There really isn't much to say. Just look at this place:

5. Day of Madness: Galway -- Dublin -- Manchester

Took a train from Galway to Dublin.
Took a bus from Dublin's train station to Dublin Airport.
Took a flight from Dublin to Manchester. I almost lose my life because I looked at a wrong screen and I thought the flight was leaving so I ran and ran and suddenly discovered that running with luggage practically makes me asthmatic. Turns out I had plenty of time. Fool.
Took the metro from Manchester Airport to the city centre.
Took a million years to find my hotel. I hadn't had food all day. But they have burgers. Delicious burgers.

Then, I waited and waited for someone I was supposed to meet up with. Waited and waited. AND WAITED. After hours of waiting (I waited, ya'll), I decided to dust myself off and take my pretty dress out for a walk, for a night in town. By a night in town I mean I went to the nearest Tesco to buy comfort food to bring back to the hotel so that I could watch the Women's World Cup. I bleeping hate this stupid city forever. #notbitter

Oh, here's a "Things that Only Happen To Me" moment:
Turns out, my hotel had been going through some "renovations", and it seems that they might have forgotten to actually finish some of the walls...

This meant that the walls of my room did not go all the way up to my ceiling, the same ceiling I was sharing with several other tenants. It was a matter of hours before I realized there was a beast sleeping next to me... because I could hear every single thing that was happening in the room next to mine. And it was not pretty. Burping. Growling. Hardcore snoring. GROWLINGOMGWTFISGOINGON!!!! The guy was GRUMPY, slamming drawers, windows, the door. I was actually scared for my life. Then on the other side there was someone else, also snoring. Oh, did I mention there was a drunken homeless man shouting "OI MATE!" outside my window for what felt like hours? Yeah, I had almost no sleep that night.

But it's totally fine, ya'll, because the next day I was Durham-bound. And that, my friends, is enough for me.

***TO BE CONTINUED***

Batman's house, Les Mis, near-death experiences, train adventures (AND ALL THE GIFS IN THE UNIVERSE)

Hello to the only three people reading this blog (even my mother has gotten over me, apparently). Thank you for being faithful groupies, Elena, Paula, and Elisabeth (seriously, according to the statistics, this blog only got three hits for its last entry, and I thought it was a pretty good one. What's even worst... like five people liked it on Facebook, which means people are just linking stuff on Facebook without actually looking at it.... when is this liking frenzy going to stop? When did the like button become so meaningless? The world is a dark place indeed).

Ah, rant over. 

I TRAVELED!!!!!!!!

My family/friends back home think I spend my entire time going to places and just splurging on travel, food, and souvenirs. This is not entirely true. I also splurge on Clark's shoes. Oh, and I suppose once in a while I do that thing I came here for--my M.A.

But no one wants to hear about the boring endless hours in which I sit before my computer and stare at a blank Word document only to eventually have a mental breakdown and eat my feelings.

So why would I bother writing a blog post about my very serious problems concentrating to get my dissertation done by the end of this week? Dissertations are the Paris Hilton of the academic world: no one knows where they came from or what's their use, no one likes them, and at the end of the day they are just useless.

ANYWAY

So to take a break from my procrastination, I went on a little three-day trip to "The South"

Everything except for Scotland is south of here, so going anywhere in England is going to "The South" if you are from Geordieland. But to be specific, I went to Nottingham, London, and Oxford 'cause I'm cool like that!

Kristen Wiig is the blonde, forty year old version of myself. It's ridiculous.

There was laughter, tears, horror, adventure, singing, walking, and lots and lots of delicious food. Shall I tell you all about it?

THURSDAY

I hardly slept--I was too excited about the trip/terrified to miss the train. So I got ready before time, and then made an amazing packed lunch for the train and gathered practically all my belonging to take with me on the trip. I arrived at the station in good time only to find out that there had been a major problem at the Newcastle station and all the trains were well over two hours behind. What is even worst-- I realized that I had left my amazing packed lunch on my desk at home.

Why is life so hard sometimes? I don't know, bro. I don't know. So here we were waiting at the station along with dozens of other people until finally, about 45 minutes after we were supposed to leave, a train (that had been due over two hours ago) comes, and we're like LET'S GO!

And because we ended up getting on a faster train, we actually arrived at Nottingham at the same time we were supposed to. Oh, and by "we" I mean Mike, Liz, and myself...

to put under "qualifications" on resume: "years of ample experience third-wheeling."

We changed trains at Sheffield, and as the train guy (sue me, I don't know the proper terminology) came to check my tickets I had a flashback of the last time I had seen my tickets--hint: it was in the train we had just left behind.

By the grace of God, the train guy realized that I was traveling with two responsible people who had their tickets, so he figured I was saying the truth when I explained to him that I couldn't find my tickets, so he let it slide. 

Thankfully, we were meeting the fourth wheel at Nottingham. Yes, my sister from another mister, my fellow Austenite, my cake fairy, Elena, who was waiting for us at the station. I could have tackled her ala Michael:

But I'm learning to be more gentle with my affections. Also thankfully, there were no gates at the Nottingham station so I didn't have to explain to anyone where I last had seen my tickets. 

We made our way through town in order to get to here:

Let me tell you a little bit about Wollaton: it is famously known for being the home of brooding Bruce Wayne in The Dark Knight Rises.

That's right, be jealous. 

We wandered around the grounds, saw the deer (I, of course, attempted to pass as deer by making some rudimentary antlers with some sticks I found on the ground---it didn't work), took a billion photos, hugged a gigantic tree, had very British lunch, and went into the house to explore all the dead animals in it--apparently the owner back in the day used to be hard-core into "studying" animals... so everything you can think of, from a giraffe to a platypus, has been hunted, killed, and stuffed--a taxidermist's dream come true! But for the animals? not so much.

Photos:

The art of the bunny ears...

If you're thinking book cover... I like you.

Don't tell Phineas and Ferb. 

After a few hours of exploring, we headed back to the city centre and went into St. Barnabas Cathedral, a beautiful church. Oh, and I forgot to mention, we also got to see "Nottingham Castle" (not an actual castle) and the statue of Robin Hood... who looks a lot more like a child and a lot less like Russel Crowe. 

It is worth mentioning that I carried my backpack--with basically all of my life in it--for the day. So I looked like this:

I always tell myself I should pack a lot less than I do. But there's always a tiny voice inside of me saying "BUT WHAT IF YOU NEED MORE?" So I always end up with over-sized luggage. Anyway, we get to the Cahill household just in time for dinner. SHOUT-OUT TO MRS C. WHO MADE THE MOST DELICIOUS RISOTTO I HAVE EVER HAD!! Also a shout-out to Mr. Francis Cahill, who I am pretty sure is a better spy than Johnny English himself...

Then we took Mike and Liz to the station and came back to the Cahills' for the night. We talked (well, I talked) and we watched Emma and then we went to bed and Elena tucked me in under a billion blankets because I was very cold.

when I woke up in the morning all the blankets were on the floor. 

FRIDAY

We woke up late because we stayed up too late the night before. We got ready, then had breakfast, then packed a lunch and went off to the station. Next stop: LONDON!! We get to the station at 1 o'clock thinking that our train is at 1:20 only to realize that the train to London Paddington was at ONE-OH-TWO. 

Elena ran to pick up the tickets, I ran to try to figure out to which platform to go, and then we are late and I'm pretty sure we've missed the train and I just want to crawl up in a ball and cry myself to sleep and then we get the tickets and realize our train is really at 1:32.

This is the kind of thing that happens when two people with nervous tendencies are friends. So we get to London and meet up with Clare and guess what? No way to leave my stuff somewhere--I must carry my cross (or rather, my backpack). We go over to King's Cross to take the tube and while I am waiting on the girls, a guy gets his luggage stuck on the little gate, so I help him out (he also happened to be conveniently handsome).

Then we proceed to go down the escalator to catch the tube and something horrible happens....

I was wearing a long dress and, in the London tube, you have to keep to the right side of the escalator to make way for the people rushing up/down. so I moved right, then felt a tug.

The bottom of my stupid dress got stuck in the escalator. It was that episode of Modern Family when Claire's coat gets stuck in the escalator... except it's not funny when it happens to you. The longest 30 seconds of my life. 

I tugged and tugged to no avail, then I started thinking of what I was wearing underneath the dress--you know, because the damn thing was probably going to rip the dress off my body.

 I suppose this is what my face looked like.

Then I started thinking of my life, my regrets, all the things I should have done--since the dress was probably going to choke me to death. 

Clare tried to help me, but couldn't get it out either. This was her face:

I have never seen someone so terrified. Meanwhile, Elena was just frozen with fear.

We were about to get to the bottom of the escalator, so I decided to gather all my Herculean strength and pull that dress with all my might, not caring about ripping it anymore. 

ONE.... TWO...THREE!! Dress came off all in one piece, thank God! I don't even know how it happen, but it was probably a miracle, to be honest.

So after catching our breath, we proceeded to get on the tube. Then we just went to explore London for a couple hours before going to see Les Miserables at the Queen's Theater! 

Oh my gosh, you guys. This show had me with my mouth open for three full hours. What even?! There are no words to describe it. Sure, the movie is amazing (my favorite movie, after all) but there's something about seeing it done live--and with a Javert that can actually sing!!! My favorites of the whole thing were Eponine (look up Carrie Hope Fletcher on Youtube and be amazed) and her parents, who were hilarious. After the show I was just up in cloud nine. It is the most wonderful thing I have ever seen in my life.

So many feelings. I have become a bigger Les Mis geek than before. I am part of the fandom now. I'll be like the Justin Beaver fans.... but with a legitimate reason. 

SATURDAY

After an amazing and massive breakfast at Clare's house, Elena and I, two Oxford rejects, headed to Oxford for the day! I have promised myself to make Oxford feel bad about rejecting me--because I certainly felt bad after seen the beauty of Oxford and knowing I didn't get to live there (even though Durham is my heart and I wouldn't trade it for the world). 

We roamed around the town, mostly looking at everything from the outside, since these people charge to go into everywhere--even some churches! Oh, and we totally geeked out when we saw a Dominican friar in the street. 

We had lunch at a cafe that was also a bike shop. It was ridiculously hipster.

We walked the whole afternoon (me with my backpack, again) and took photos and endured apocalyptic rain that lasted for about 15 minutes. We dangerously crossed streets  when we weren't supposed to (the things one learns from a seemingly harmless young Englishwoman), and basically just stared at all the gorgeous buildings (too many to count). Photos:

In awe... 

I don't think I have seen a place with so much breath-taking architecture. One surely needs more than a day (and tons of money) to see it all! For dinner, we went to the oldest coffee house in England---no big deal. We felt all fancy, and they served us the most delicious tea in the history of the world. 

oh, who wouldn't love to be that teacup....

Then came the time to leave and that meant it was time to say good-bye. I'm never good at good-byes---can never find the right words to say or when I should stop hugging a person before they start panting for breath. It was one of the hardest good-byes, too. All I can say is that my life was forever changed when you walked into it, Elena. 

I was a bit cheered up by the unusual situation happening in the train: a Korean guy in his thirties had ended up having to sit with a group of teenage girls who were just coming back from Disneyland Paris and were still wearing their Minnie Mouse ears. The girls were not that annoying and although it did seem that at first they were trying to mock/patronize him, they eventually came to appreciate him and were having a nice, funny conversation that I was totally listening to.

They asked him what his name was. He said it was Trevor, from Seoul. 

"Trevor" doesnt' have a girlfriend but is trying to impress a girl he likes. Trevor has two sisters. Trevor is just coming from Barcelona. Trevor is Catholic. Trevor goes to evening mass because he can't wake up early enough for mass in the morning. Trevor likes Oasis and ABBA. Trevor is a really bad singer (not because he said it, but because they actually made him sing). Trevor wants to work in a Directory (not sure what that is). Trevor took a selfie with the girls. One of the girls took a photo of Trevor and made it the background image for her phone. This was all a lot more interesting than reading my research. 

That reminds me.... I NEED TO DO MY RESEARCH! 

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!