The Penultimate Post
OK, so this was going to be our last post... but then we weren't able to publish the long drawn out summary of our last few days in London before we were logged off (just like in Amsterdam... I guess we've gone full circle). So, we'll just say that we'll have to update this once we're back in Toronto, when many of you will probably already have heard of our escapades. Or maybe we'll just agree to not tell any of you anything until we've written it (you know, we don't want to spoil the ending).
So, it's late and we have to fly out of GATWICK (not HEATHROW!) tomorrow, so we need to get our rest. We're into the final leg. We'll see you at the finish line. Have that cheque for a million bucks ready. We've earned it.
Muggles, Lizzie Bennett & Wickham (!), and Guys & Dolls, oh my!
After visiting Christ Church in Oxford to see all the HP-related rooms, we headed off for the Bodleian library which holds the divinity school which was used for the hospital wing in the movies. There is also the Duke Humphrey's library which was used as The Library in the films, but we found that we couldn't actually see that one unless we went on a tour. We decided we hadn't travelled all this way (god, starting to sound like Ewan McGregor in his travel book...)to chicken out because of the £5 admission price, so £5 poorer, we found ourselves signed up for the 2 pm tour.
In the interim, I dragged Laura around the city of Oxford looking for the best Trinity regalia we could find. We ultimately decided that a bonafide Trinity College Oxford scarf is what I needed; I know what I'll be going as for Hallowe'en this year! We won't talk about how much it cost, but believe me when I say it's super cool! We'll have to take a photo of me "kitted out" in all this stuff at some point!
We also stopped into Blackwells and looked around, but soon enough we were on our tour of the library. Our tour guide was the real-life incarnation of Madam Pince! She was so surly and snooty and gave Laura the most aggregious look when she asked whether our bags would be locked up during the tour (since we had to leave them behind). Anyway... the tour was actually really boring (due in no small part to Pince, we think). Now we remember why history can be so dull! Blech! We did learn a few cool facts (like how Cambridge began when students defacted from Oxford because of killings that were taking place!), and the Library was awesome. They really have the books chained up (like in the Restricted Section!) and everything! Alas, we couldn't take pictures, it was verboten, and there weren't any postcards of the place, but we have the memories. Oh! And we also got to check out some places around the library that will be featured in the next film, so we'll have to keep our eyes peeled (we did take pics of those!).
After a scrumptious cream tea (with clotted cream!) we got on the train to London... We ate chicken cottage for dinner again, and then went to bed. Our hostel isn't as great as we thought it would be, but it is clean. The breakfast is pathetic, and we have a hard time finding a hot shower, but we're safe and it's mostly quiet (we've recently been overtaken by children)...
Not enough time to regale you with all our tales so far (sorry for the misleading title), but you'll hear all about London, Ewan,Platform 9 and 3/4!, and Wickham in our next update. It's a heck of a time!
Back in England... a super fast update! We swear!
We last left you before heading off to Mary King's Close. It had been recommended to us by Clart, our guide on the Lit Pub tour. We had signed up for the latest slot, although it didn't really matter as since it was below ground, it would dark always. We couldn't find a place to eat that satisfied all of my vague requirements: no potatoes, something with cheese, maybe meat, not fish and chips. Thus, we went back to The Elephant Cafe and had a fabulous salad while talking about JK and HP. The tour of the Close was... goodish. It was pretty interesting to see the underground alleyways (although they were not underground originally), although it would have been better if they had not bothered to try and be remotely scary since that just made things cheesy. If we wanted scares, we would have gone on the City of the Dead tour and then required new trousers, because when we first went into the Close, it was pretty scary on its own. We didn't like how the guides had to reenact the time by pretending to be people stuck down there; our guide was purportedly Mary King's own daughter. Still, it was pretty interesting, and we did like hearing about all the nasty and disgusting things they did in/to the Nor Loch (now Waverly Station and the Princes Gardens).
We had the most traumatic wakeup call the next morning as 2 of the people in our room decided to engage in activities perhaps best left for private rooms rather than 12-bed dorms. Even though they had constructed a little cave out of covers, it wasn't soundproof and they managed to wake up the entire room with their shenanigans. So frightening. More effective than any video in health class. Eep!
We left Edinburgh to go to Alnmouth/Alnwick (pronounced: Annick) to visit Hogwarts itself. It was really cool, and our tour guide Sid was fantastic. Alas, we could not totally enjoy ourselves as we had nowhere to put our rucksacks, and so we had ot carry them with us the entire time. We eventually abandonned them just past the spot where the kids take their first flying lesson. While at the castle, we also saw the improper site of the womping willow, the archway that Hagrid carries an Xmas tree through, the quidditch pitch backdrop, and a little area that the kids cluster around when Ron says that Hermione is a nightmare! So great!
We then took the train to Manchester, where we checked into our hostel and then went for chinese food (our first time in like, 43 days or something!). It was quite expensive everywhere, but we got a good deal in China town, and stuffed ourselves well.
The next day we took the train to Disley where we visited Pemberley/Lyme Park. We had dodgy directions from the station (read: walk half a mile from the station), so we thankfully found a woman who told us how to get there by foot (apparently this is uncommon). After much traipsing up cobbled laneways and across very hilly grasslands (lyme park itself), we made it to The building. We took pictures of the stairs that Darcy runs down when he is trying to catch Lizzie from leaving Pemberley, and of course, took pictures of the back of the house, and The Pond. We then spent a lazy afternoon dozing on the lawn near the pond and reading. No good gifts in the shop (zut!), but we did have a cream tea there, since how could we pass up that opportunity? Suck it, Taryn! Ha ha ha!
Got in very late to Oxford, and shared the train with many weirdos. One man had broken glasses and kept moaning and moving backwards from us but kept staring at Laura. Also, there was another man who was dressed as though he were an Indian chief.
Hostel provided us with full English breakfast (yum!), and since then we have been out and about wandering the streets of Oxford. Visited Christ Church, where we took pictures of the cloisters, the great stairway, and of course, the Great Hall (had to wait an extra half hour just for it to open, but only paid £2 instead of £3,50 for our troubles). Next we're off to do some more HP-themed sightseeing, and will head to London later today.
No more time to write, but we daresay there shall be time enough in London. Can't believe the trip is pretty much over. Can't say we want to come home... we're English girls at heart now! Haven't we always been?
Bloody Hell! Adventures and near misses in Edinburgh.
Welcome to the land of poor grammar. We're not talking "Irvine Welsh" style prose here, but just full-on disrespect for the English language. Who ever knew that apostrophe-s made things plural? I am now going into overdrive as "The Grammar Warden". The city is lucky that I haven't taken to carrying a black sharpie with me to undo all of their grammatical offenses!
Anyway, a night of sleep did little to quell our stomachs back in Inverness, so the next morning, we did what years at university have taught us to do when one wakes up feeling queasy: eat a greasy breakfast. It might be a patented hangover cure, but it worked wonders on our roiling tummies as well. Who would have thought that McDonald's mcmuffins would be cure-alls?
We booked ourselves on a Jacobite Passion/Sensation tour, and wound up on a very nice tour bus with only one other elderly (more like ancient) couple to share it with. Our tour guide George was awesome (we have such good luck with guides), and was quite surprised to see the numbers so low. High season indeed! We blame the weather as it was threatening rain and was quite chilly out. The tour was a bit expensive, but the price included transportation to and from Loch Ness, admission to Urquhart Castle, a half hour ride on a boat on the Ness, and entrance to the Official Loch Ness Exhibition. Furthermore, George regaled us with stories and trivia about the area whenever we were on the bus, so it was a good deal!
We drove to the boat docks where we caught our ferry across Loch Ness to Urquhart Castle. It was quite cold out, and we think that might be why we didn't see Nessie. Still, we were happy that the water wasn't choppy, as apparently the waves can be as high as 6 or 7 feet when rough! The boat ride was actually really nice (despite the lack of paranormal visitors), and slow enough that no winds cut us to the bone.
When we reached Urquhart - which is really just the shell of a castle - we took tons of touristy type photos (we were in a mood), most notably ones where we are pointing out to the lake with aghast expressions on our face. We've left enough room to paste in a little Nessie when we get back home! In the souvenir shop, we found out by reading about the different clans that the Elliot(t)s were "bad-asses" and pretty much rabble-rousers who stole sheep and the like. It actually explains a lot. I guess you can't fight your past!
We were a bit late getting back onto our tour bus (George actually came looking for us) but this was only because we had taken his advice and watched the film in the tour center about Urquhart's history! Still, we vowed that we would be early when he came to pick us up from the Loch Ness Center. The center was really cool: you walked about from room to room watching little movies that traced the history of the loch and the monster sightings. Some rooms were very high-tech involving smoke and lasers (which Laura felt looked like the Dark Mark!), and it was all very interesting to see how they have gone about investigating the possibility of there being a monster/dinosaur living in the loch. George isn't the exhibitions biggest fan since it was put together by a single man and is therefore a unilateral look at Nessie. According to the exhibition, it is likely that Nessie is really just a huge sturgeon. Of course, sturgeon or no, we still didn't see her! Also, George has spoken to countless individuals (including some monks) who have all claimed to see something in the loch, and as he pointed out, they weren't all that concerned with convincing him about what they had seen since they were all personally satisfied. Also, all of these people were "reasonably intelligent" (in George's own words!) and had no need to make up stories. I guess we'll have to closely examine our pictures once we get back and see if anything mysterious crops up.
Once back in Inverness, we checked out of our first hostel and transferred over to our second one which was situated right across the street from a mall. Now we know why all the people from Fort William's went shopping in Inverness since, I personally managed to pick myself up a pair of jeans that no longer shame me when I wear them. They weren't too expensive, and were "petite" so they are the perfect length. Why oh why can't all North American stores have a petite section? It's just not fair to us short girls!
After some time doing some extensive window shopping, we began looking for a supermarket to get some food for dinner. Although we failed on that account (and actually wound up in a second-hand bookstore which seemed so promising at first (beautiful winding, iron staircase) but soon revealed itself to be infuriatingly unorganized), we did find a pub that had an awesome curry special on. Essentially we got a great curry with some rice, nan, chutney, and popadoms plus a drink for £4.99. We wanted to get Blackthorne (not knowing what it actually was, but the name sounded familiar). We were happy to find out that Blackthorne is cider, but then were saddened to find that they didn't actually have it available, so each got a pint of Fosters instead.
As we (ok, I) stumbled our way home afterwards, we lingered out in the cold for a bit longer as we watched some children doing some highland dancing. We were particularly amused by this tiny mulletted boy and his partner (Ginny Weasley) who essentially just lunged from side to side and threw their hand in the air. Very amusing!
The dampness from outside crept inward when I realized after climbing into bed that my sheets were moist. Although I got the guy at reception to change them for me, the matress itself was wet and so, I ended up just cocooning myself in the overlying duvet. Not the most comfortable sleep, although Laura was prodded throughout the night by her especially springy matress (she could feel every coil!). There was nothing good on tv (just Wife Swap, for whatever reason), so we stayed in our room reading. Much to our horror, just as we were getting ready to turn in for the night, Vomit Girl from the bus in from Fort William and her very unfortunate looking boyfriend/brother showed up! What are the chances that they would be in our room! It sounds like taking the tour bus was the best choice, since they had gone to Loch Ness as well but had walked for 12 miles or something and also did some hitch-hiking. No thanks!
The next day we took the train into Edinburgh. At first we were concerned because all of the seats appeared to be reserved, but the train was actually quite empty, so I guess people just didn't show up. The train was quite cold, although I slept through most of the journey! We did see a field where all the cows were lying down, although Laura couldn't remember whether her dad said that meant the world was ending OR whether it was going to rain. It then began to rain, so I think we're leaning toward the latter explanation!
We had to walk up some frighteningly steep hills (in the rain) once we reached Edinburgh, only to find when we got to our hostel that they had no record of us. This makes no sense since we booked it through the same site at the same time as our Fort William hostel, and they had us in their books! After 20 minutes showing them our confirmations (thank goodness Laura brought them along!) they conceded that they didn't have us in the books but that they had beds for us anyway (why they didn't tell us this from the get-go, we don't know). They wanted to put us in separate rooms, but then again, decided that they would not do this. This was all rather frustrating, but it did work out in our favour, so ha! Take that, Castle Rock Edinburgh! If we weren't so angry at them, we would have possibly been charmed by the Medieval Times like atmosphere of the place. The jury is still out on that. Also disappointing is that we got put into the Plant themed room, and are sleeping in beds called "Root" and "Nice Pear" instead of in the Scottish Slang Room or the Scotish Bands Room. Och!
We ended off the evening by wandering through the streets looking for a nice place to get some hot food since it was FREEZING out. Seriously, July here feels like late October in Toronto. Even wearing all of our long-sleeved clothing, the cold still got to us. We ended up eating at a pub called "The Last Drop" in the Grassmarket, which had great food and warm drinks (I had a frothy honey-milk drink called a "pooh bear"!). The pub is quite cleverly named as it stands just feet from where the gallows once stood, and where the last person was hanged. Clever!
After eating, we returned to the hostel where we read until we fell asleep, burrowed in our sheets (and in Laura's case, on top of egg-carton foam to boot).
The next day, we went to the castle where we had the best tour guide (eva!) named Jim Crewe. He was super Scottish and even wore a little baret with ribbons down the back. He told many jokes and had a strange proclivity for grasping people's shoulders in his iron grip. Never let Laura say that I am the geeky keener of the group, since when Jim asked us what the name of the tallest mountain in Scotland was, she blurted out "Ben Nevis" so quickly, no one else had time to react. Who's our little Hermione Granger now? Careful! You forgot to pack a pocket protector! ;) Then again, I was the one who proudly crowed out, "Nothing!", when Jim asked us what Scottish men wear under their kilts...
Anyway, we learned many cool facts about the castle, the Scottish Disease (golf, in case you're wondering), why they fire the cannon daily at 1 pm rather than noon (to save themselves 11 shells!), how the English end parties (they don't ask you to leave, they just clear up the food and put on their pjs!), and what will happen to the Stone of Destiny when Prince Charles or one of his sons is made king (it'll go back to England for the coronation).
After checking out the jewelry, the armour, and the Royal Apartments, and the Prisons (so cool! So many pirates! So little time! We could have made our own forged money and bought pieces of 8!), we had a whisky tasting at one of the gift shops. Never fear, we had the girly version: Drumgray, which is essentially like Bailey's Irish Cream. Very yummy, although we got less than a thimble full. Probably for the best that we stayed away from the other stuff as it smelled like cleaning solvent! Still, we couldn't go all the way to Scotland and not have a tiny taste, now could we? Although, after seeing some pictures of haggis, I don't know that we feel the same way about that!
We then made our way over to The Elephant House, which is the cafe where JK wrote her first Harry Potter novel. We enjoyed the delicious shortbread and paninis (brie & mango; give it a try at home!), and then went to the Museum of Scotland. We didn't make it off the ground floor, although we did learn quite a bit about torture instruments (best part of the exhibit AND it came in handy later... moihahaha). We headed into the Royal Museum, but weren't so interested in seeing Canadian totem poles (so that's where they all went). We did, however, see a child who resembled a turnip (we nicknamed him "Neep") more than any child ever should!
As we began searching for the statue of Greyfriar's Bobby (which it turns out that we had passed about 3 times previously), a scary man with huge gashes on his arm came up to us and began mumbling about how we had "missed him". We had no idea what he was talking about, but then he said something about how we had just missed seeing "Rom [sic] Weasley" yesterday. When I asked if he meant "Ron Weasley" he acted as though that was what he had said, and added "Chamber of Secrets" just to be clear. Turns out Rupert Grint may have been in the neighbourhood the day previously (a shop girl in another store seemed to confirm this), which pretty much makes us the worst Harry Potter fans ever. Fil, perhaps we were too hasty in taking away your membership. Our little hearts have broken, and we are inconsolable, although we cling to the hope that the Edinburgh drug smuggling ring is now just using Harry Potter lingo as a coverup, and that guy was just asking us if we wanted some heroin. Please let that be the case... We have no idea why he would talk to us about HP otherwise, since we weren't talking about it (for once) nor were we wearing/doing anything that would link us to HP. So it must have been drugs! Right? (Taryn, please do not comment on this matter; your cynicism is not welcome here).
Heartbroken, we wandered to the new Parliament building (the Charlie Brown Xmas music playing the entire way). Even its supreme ugliness could do little to raise our spirits, but apparently being £400 million over budget doesn't mean you'll construct a building that anyone is proud of! Took some shots of the Queen's residence (Hollyrood) but didn't feel like paying the exorbitant fee to actually go in.
Unable to figure out which type of tour of the city we would like to do (scary? scotland's history? Edinburgh's history? Undergound? Old school?), we decided to go on the literary pub tour that evening and to pick one for the next night later. The pub tour was AWESOME! We set ourselves apart as trouble makers early on, as we could not stop laughing, even when our guides were perhaps not purposefully being amusing. Although, it is our opinion that the other members of the group did not laugh nearly enough. Ms. Clart and Prof. McBrain were hilarious (especially McBrain's excessively effeminate mannerisms and his asking "Would you like a cream bun?"... we almost peed our pants!), and the fact that we decided to live it up and actually drink at the pubs as well, didn't hurt. We managed to stick to cider (strongbow and... some irish one, maybe Magners?). When we reached the end of the tour, there was a quiz about the facts that they had told us about during the tour. It's safe to say that we cleaned up, as we managed to remember quite a bit despite the pints of cider and the giggling fits. We knew the code names Burns and his "platonic friend" had used (Sylvander and Clarinda), the name of one of Edinburgh's female authors (Murial Sparks), the fictional character based on Deacon Brody (Gene Brody), and the ironic end that Deacon Brody met (being hanged on the gallows that he himself invented... I got to bring in my info from the Museum of Scotland and even named the device: the Maiden... our guides were a bit confused by that as they had not mentioned it. Keeners = Us!). When we got to the final pub, the barkeep, kept staring at my chest, which was a bit offputting, but then he finally asked if I went to the University of Toronto. Turns out his dad had gone to Trin and I was wearing my Trinity hoody. Whew! Still don't really know why he would recognise the crest, but oh well.
We made our way to a kebab shop recommended by Laura's book of lies (it had told us the city cafe served lamb burgers... they do not! Lies!). On our way, we passed a pub where drunken karoke was going on (someone was beautifully butchering "Common People"), and as we passed another bar, some guys yelled from the roof "Excuse me! Are you single!" at us as we passed and whistled quite a bit. Laura assures me they were trying to get my attention, but I think she looks less like a 12-year old boy than I do, so I think the flatteries were for her. No matter, we bypassed the kebab shop, and ended up getting pizza and a kebab elsewhere (at a place where we could understand the menu!). Dragging our sloshed selves home, we collapsed into bed, and slept very soundly. Word of warning: Saturday nights in Edinburgh are the times for hen parties, and those girls are, well... the text-book definition of "trollopy".
AFter a bit of sleeping in this morning, we got up and went to the Writer's Museum. Unfortunately it was closed, but we did get tickets for tonight's tour of Mary King's Close (Ms. Clart had recommended it to us last night). When we were getting our tickets, the man at the counter asked if we were both from Toronto, and then asked if we knew about Waterloo (where we think he is going to be visiting/staying). Little did he know Laura was an expert on the place. Sadly, we could not be enthusiastic about the city, since what more is there to say than it is a university town? We also got to hear our favourite street musicians so far, the "Brassed Off" band; a group of 5 fellows who each play a different brass instrument and play lovely classical tunes, so enjoyable! We then made our way to the post office, which was also closed, and did some more wistful window shopping in Zara and Nine West (I hope the prices are better at home!). As you may be noticing, we've pretty much exhausted all there is to do here in Edinburgh as tourists proper, so it's just as well we're heading off for Alnwick/Manchester tomorrow.
We ate a wonderful lunch at Ndeble (?), an African cafe. Alas, the book of lies proved false once more in terms of sandwiches offered, but we were still well-satisfied with what we got.
So, just the underground city tour tonight, and then it's off to England. It's not quite so blustery today, in fact, it is almost warm out! Still, it's hard to believe it's summer... which seeing as it's almost over - we've only a week before we're home! - is maybe just as well. It's hard to believe we've been gone for nearly 6 weeks now! Ah well, no time to be nostalgic; there's still plenty more to see! Namely: EWAN! We won't let him escape us as "Rom" did....
Planes, Trains, Ferries, the Hogwarts Express, and Vomit Buses
Made it to Scotland without a hitch. The ferry coming over was quite cheap, and we got seats by the window this time. Steph amused herself by feeding a small bird that had flown onto the ferry, although members of the staff just saw what looked like a tiny child drinking from a juice box, clutching Harry Potter in one hand, and throwing bread onto the floor...
Once we got off the ferry, we took the train (a good 4 hour trip) to Glasgow Central Station (which is very impressive and pretty), where we then had to transfer to another train station. This little hike through the city will be all that we see of Glasgow, which looked nice enough. Shame that there's absolutely nothing to do there, especially when all the women sounded like Kelly MacDonald AND the boys had good hair. Looks like that Cute Boy Factory might be getting things back in order!
The train ride to Stirling was fairly uneventful although we did have to stand for a while and were not really able to put our packs down as a rude Canadian girl (not Steph) had seated herself onto the luggage storage block and refused to shift herself. Once in Stirling, we had to haul ourselves (nearly on hand and knee again) up a hill that rivalled the one we climbed in Salzburg to get to the Ice Caves. We were temporarily lead astray by the tourist sign (I guess they like to send people round the scenic route), but made it to the hostel unscathed but rosy-cheeked and gasping for breath.
We chatted with yet another Aussie in the hostel before setting out for dinner. We were sharing the dorm with a very frail elderly woman, whom I thought was dead later that night when I woke up and watched her "sleeping" (not in a creepy way!). We stumbled upon one of the best stores ever: Costcutter! Steph bought a massive bar of Cadbury's Fruit & Nut (Steph: Hey! I'm trying to fit back into those jeans!), as well as a bag of crisps enticingly flavoured "Prawn Cocktail" as well as a bag of crisp/crackers that were accurately named "Peking Spare Rib & 5 Spices". The Prawn Cocktail sadly turned out to be "ketchup"... I hope that's not what these Brits are dipping their shrimp in!
Stirling is a pretty dead town, and although we would have liked to check out the castle, we were dissuaded when we save the massive (and therefore extremely loud) group of school children (also staying at our hostel) heading off in that direction. After all, we wouldn't want them to mistake Steph for one of their own...
The next morning, we headed off for Doune, to visit "The Monty Python Castle". We had to first wait around in the bus station for a good hour before finally finding someone who could tell us which bus to get on. Furthermore, it would turn out to be very much an "Amazing Race" day as we were forced to keep our packs with us (looks like we're not going to be able to stow them at train stations any time in the near future) AND we were frequently getting off one mode of transportation in search of another with only minutes to spare. We are both still surprised that we managed to make every single train we had planned on... We were very much expecting that we would have to catch the 18:20 train from Glasgow which wouldn't get us into Fort William until well after 10 pm!
The woman at the gift shop at the castle was very nice as she let us leave our bags with her while we ran about madly clanking coconuts together pretending to be on horseback. It's a good thing we left the bags as we likely would have wedged ourselves in the narrow stairwells (something like Winnie the Pooh with the honey jar on his head!), and we darn well would not have made it down the scary winding staircases in one piece! Our galavanting was all caught on film, live, BUT whether any of you see that film is another story. Then again, all the evidence is on Steph's camera. Moihahaha!
We managed to catch an 11:15 bus back to Stirling, where we arrived just in time to dart over to the rail station and catch the 11:55 train into Glasgow. Once there, we then boarded a 12:40 pm train to Fort William. Finally we got to experience the glory of a train that leaves part of it behind! The train purportedly had the sketchiest bathroom ever (Steph can verify this claim... sadly), and as we neared the end of our journey, the two drunken Scotsmen across the aisle decided to engage Steph in conversation. At one point they asked her if she was a Canadian Indian (Steph: never had that one before!), and I tried to pass by as a pile of coats for as long as possible. When they asked what nationality I was, I pointed at myself all innocently and asked, "Me?" (Steph: I should have loudly proclaimed then and there, "She's no friend of mine!").
The hostel at Fort William was actually very nice, although it also required a horrible hike up a horrible hill. We chatted for a while with a guy from Prague (who was very happy to hear we liked the Czech Republic, and rightfully mocked and laughed at our butchering of their language; we still say the sounds they make don't correspond to the letters written nor do they have nearly enough vowels!). We then popped down to the common area to check out the library selection (Steph was hoping to increase her contraband Harry Potter books she's been thieving from hostels... Poor Arnie in Belfast no longer has a copy of Philosopher's Stone, the FUN edition). We had to leave, however, as there was a complete prat who was talking about how he didn't really like Harry Potter but that book 6 was "surprisingly good". He then dug his grave even deeper by saying that he liked HP because you just "turned your brain off" to read it, and that it was "very much like Dan Brown". AAAAAHHHHH! We wanted to snatch the book out of his hands, belt him over the head with it, and storm out, but we refrained.
Even the roaring fire in the common area wasn't enough to keep the chill away (this is summer, people!), so we headed upstairs where we had the handy "egg carton" foam bedding to help keep us warm.
This morning was the most magical day since July 15/16... for today we boarded the Hogwarts Express... Or the closest we will ever get. We took our ride on the Jacobite Steam Engines from Fort William to Mallaig. The scenery was beautiful, and going over the Glenfinnan viaduct was great (think of the Flying Car scene in COS!). Alas, there were no sweets to buy (from the trolley or the snack cart), so we had to make do with Muggle candy (Steph: Dad, I still have not forgiven you for forbidding me from buying the following items when we were last at Chapters: Ice Mice, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Licorice Wands, Chocolate Frogs, and Bertie Bott's Every-Flavoured Beans).
There was really nothing to do in Mallaig but to have lunch, and thankfully for Steph, we found a little place where we had "Fish Tea". This got us bread & butter, tea, AND peas with our fish & chips. The fish was better in Dublin, but the chips were fantastic here (we ended our personal potatoe famine last night at dinner when we had bangers and mash). We also got to witness a french woman mime "pee pee" in order to figure out where the toilets were.
We paid our cheque and made it back to the train with about 1 min to spare; we think that the French groups in the restaurant with us were not so lucky! Once we made it back to FW, we bought some books and then got our bags and headed to the bus station. We figured we would take the bus because it would get us to Inverness in only 2 hours, as opposed to having to ride the rails all night (remember Italy?). Alas, the rails may have been the wiser choice as the Citilink bus was more aptly dubbed "The Vomit Mobile". 4 hours later and we are still queasy! The Belgian (?) girl a few seats up from us actually had her head in a plastic bag for most of the journey. Seriously? The coaches here might be cheap, but you pay in so many other ways.
And on that note, we should probably go and lie down and try and regain our strength. Tomorrow we are off to search for Nessie and a bounty of tacky souvenir treasures. Surely we will be successful on at least one count!
The BelFAST update
OK, so when we last left off, we were still in Dublin. No longer the case. We're in Belfast and getting ready to head off for Scotland in a couple of hours.
So, what has happened since we last wrote? Well, the fish and chips in Dublin far surpass those from Holyhead, so that debate can be put to bed. Of course, the massive helping there managed to put us into carb/potatoe/huge pieces of fish overload, and we are now sticking to a strict "curry-only" diet!
The big highlight of the day when we left Dublin was actually doing laundry. We've been doing most of it in the sink since Prague, so it was nice to do a proper load. It was a good way to use up some of our euros, since they are no longer good. Of course, I also put mine to good use on sweets as well...
Bought tickets to catch the train up from Dublin to Belfast as our passes don't work here. Thankfully the prices aren't too high (only about 33 euros for the ticket... try saying it with an Irish accent; it's fun!). When we reached Belfast, we walked to our hostel, and then went to get some food. We happened upon a great little kebab/Indian take-away shop, which we made our daily haunt. The prices were good and the food even better, so we didn't feel to bad about it. Like I said, it seems as though the Irish want to prove they have rebounded from the Potatoe Famine beautifully and give you about 5 with every meal!
It's quite cold here in Belfast (think October in Toronto), so we've been bundling up as best we can. Mom & Dad, I hope you don't mind if I use your credit card to splurge on some new jeans as the ones I brought are literally falling off of me and apart on me (I experimented last night to see if I could remove them without unbuttoning them... and yes, I can...). Our first night, we shared the hostel room (very tiny) with a very frightening man that we dubbed "Dracula O'Toole". He was a native of Belfast, and creepy as heck! He came in and said that "we should be getting to bed", then demanded that I remove my bag from the bunk, and then when I scurried out of the room to change, dropped his pants in full view of Laura. Scary! He also, spoke in a slow stilted manner, and said that Belfast was one of the most interesting cities we would visit and that there was nowhere else like it (imagine huge "...." between each word). When I said it seemed like a nice place to walk around, he made this "not really... I am going to kill you" face. We were very relieved to see him gone after the first night.
One good suggestion however was to take a black cab tour of the city's murals. We had been planning to do so anyway, but we definitely had a good time. Our cabbie, Walter, took us around Belfast and showed us all the political/historical/religious murals painted by the two communities (Catholic and Protestant, for those of you not in the know). He was great, and after one mean-spirited camera gag (he pretended to drop mine), we got to hear all the gruesome stories as well as take tons of pictures. Afterwards, he really just reinforced for us that Belfast, although interesting, is still pretty scary. When we visited the "Peace Wall" which divides the two neighbourhoods, you could see all these burnmarks and dents in it from explosives in recent years. It was so strange! Just more proof that religion causes nothing but trouble (with a capital T)! I think it was definitely wise that we took the tour with Walter (and some other tourists) because then you don't feel so exposed when you're taking pictures and asking questions.
Once that was done, we ventured on a Bailey's pub tour, where we visited 6 of Belfast's historical pubs. Our tour guide, was an older woman named Robyn, who rocked! She told us that if she slowed down in front of shoe store windows we should just give her a prod. As if! Anyway, we ended up chatting with this adorable Irish couple (it was the woman's birthday) about our trip, and it was just a very positive experience. Plus, we got a complementary glass of Bailey's, which is a far better reward than a pint of Guinness! So sweet, like candy! Mmmmm.... We should have tried to pilfer more. Our favourite pub was this one that was all literary themed (what a surprise!)... although we were a bit aghast to realize that from afar, Oscar Wilde looks a bit too much like Severus Snape (sob!).
We went back to our favourite little takeaway shop, where we chatted with the staff and were gifted with a free bottle of Coke. Save for Dracula, everyone has been very friendly here, and the people really seem to be making Belfast a far better place than it would be otherwise!
Yesterday, we made a day trip of visiting The Giant's Causeway. It probably shouldn't have taken us all day to get there, see it, and get back, but it was a Sunday which meant that the rail and bus service was hugely diminished. On the train ride over, we had to share a compartment with the most frightful family. One of the daughters was about three times a child her age's normal size and wearing pants that sat so low they could not conceal the crack of her bottom (whether standing or squating). The youngest daughter's eyes rolled about madly in her head and she repeated the same sound over and over again, much to her father's annoyance (which he showed by smacking her and strapping her into a stroller). We think there were definite mental problems at work there, as the mother was the only one who seemed to speak English, and did so in a very slow and stilted manner as though it was difficult for her. We have no idea what the other 3 were speaking, but they certainly rank as the most terrifying people we have encountered along the way. I suppose that is the nasty side of the "class system" at work. In more pleasant news, we got to ride along the Northern coast on the top of a double decker bus (open top), the wind whipping at our hair. It was very much like the scene in the first Bridget Jones movie where she and Daniel are on minibreak and she winds up with the huge frightful hair... But so beautiful! The coast is gorgeous, and we both agree that if we were to return to Ireland, it would be to see more of the countryside since it is clearly Ireland's real draw.
We can't say enough good things about the Giant's Causeway. Although they looked a bit freaky on the web, they were really cool up close. Laura could hardly stop taking pictures, and we both amused ourselves with the little tide pools and lounging about on the warm rocks in our best impressions of lizards. After spending a good deal of our time in cities (although they are quite varied in the UK), it was nice to spend some time in the countryside and be right next to the water. We don't quite understand the people who were swimming in it, but maybe this is warm for them! We were actually lucky to have such nice sunny weather, as it can get very windy and it would have been far less enjoyable if we had been swept out to sea or crushed by falling rocks. As we climbed the steep incline back to our bus, we kept repeating our mantra: Climber's Legs!
It's off to Scotland today; we're catching the ferry from the port here in Belfast to Stranraer, and then catching the train to Stirling. Tomorrow we'll visit the Monty Python Castle, and then make our way to Fort Williams where soon enough we'll be on the Hogwart's Express! Eeeee! Now, if only we could get our hands on some Ice Mice and Bertie Bott's... Honestly, Marks and Spencers... why have you let us down?
The U.K. mega-update
First, I should just point out that the breakdown involving reading the end of Harry Potter occurred in Winchester, not Bath, as I wrote in the last entry... And it is in fact Winchester in which we last left you and where we shall now begin updating you about our adventures in the UK (read: All those places that aren't London).
Also, yes, we have heard about the discovery of new bombs in London, and as we are in Dublin, we are once again, safe from potential harm. No need to worry... we won't be back to London for another 2 weeks or so. Plenty of time for them to track down the bastards doing this.
Righty-o... We left London early to get to Winchester. We managed to haul our bags to Tottenham Court Road station so that we were able to take the Tube directly to Waterloo station. We finally got to experience one of the trains where the front half winds up somewhere different from the back half... or we would have if we had gone one station more. Turns out that in order for us to get to many of our destinations here, we have to do a lot of train switching (although Winchester was a direct route... but nothing else has been!). Once we got to the station, we found out that there were no lockers to stow our bags and so we would have to take our 'rucksacks' with us on our Jane pilgrimmage (the Jane in question is, of course, Jane Austen... 'is she some English author?' we were asked by an Aussie girl in Bath...). Thankfully Winchester is a pretty tiny city, although distances ALWAYS feel much longer when you're hauling nearly 20 kg on your back! We made our way to the Cathedral where Jane is buried, but it was closed for mass... we sat around on the front lawn, eating crips and I was personally attacked by a large caterpillar whilst reading HP6 (during a very frightening chapter, too, I might add!). It was so big, and green, and squooshy!
When we finally got into the Cathedral (which was very impressive) we were a bit surprised to find that they claim to require £4500 per day to keep in operation. We both agreed that the air conditioning and automatic doors could probably go... Even seeing Jane's final resting place was not enought to loosen our purse strings because, in case we haven't mentioned it yet, it is EXTREMELY expensive here. And, no one was at the donation desk. Note: The man beside us is currently sucking at his teeth as though there is a particularly succulent morsel of something (gristle?) between them... Ah, internet cafes where it is only 1 euro per hour...
We walked by Jane's grave a few times (that'll teach us to rely on maps!) before we finally found her. Many pictures were taken, and if it weren't for fear that I would never have been able to get up again, I might have very well thrown myself across it, crying (show those girls from Morrison's grave how it's REALLY done). Alas, I would have looked more like an unfortunate turtle, so I refrained. Also, Laura would see my histrionics in full-effect soon enough!
We popped into Presto's for some pasties (We just went with the traditional of meat and veg) and then got to the tourist centre. As soon as we said we wanted to go to Chawton, the woman handed us a pamphlet on getting to Jane Austen's house, and we set off for the bus station. The bus to Chawton only comes once every 2 hours on Sunday, but we whiled away the time by reading Potter (we had JUST missed the most recent bus). By the time it came, we had both finished the book and, were dry-eyed but emotionally drained (I had spent a good while rifling through my bag for Kleenex). The bus driver told us he'd let us know where we should get out, but we kept an eye open anyway. We whirled through the English countryside, and finally alighted... at a roundabout in the middle of a field. If navigating those things is hard in a car, try it on foot some time... As we walked down a country lane (passing a dead fox and a massive pile of feathers... ah, death lanes), we found ourselves in front of the cottage Jane was most creative in and spent the last few years of her life (as we now know, she did not like Bath at all). We went through the little museum (thankfully we were able to leave our rucksacks by the door... although that might have been more for the museum's benefit than ours!) and spent some time in the garden before we had to make our way back to the bus stop... which was (I kid you not), a wooden shack on the edge of a forest. It looked like an outhouse!
Once we made it back to the bus station in Winchester, we then had to trek all the way back to the railstation on the other side of town, and then were on our way to Bath. Thank goodness we had to transfer at Reading, as there was a 'fatality' at Banbury (they kept loudly proclaiming this on the loudspeaker to explain why one of the trains had been cancelled entirely). Once we got to Bath, we caught a bus and made our way up the very winding hill (Bathwick Hill to be exact) and checked in at the YHA. Although we were in a very large dorm, there were only 4 of us in there altogether. One was a native Briton, and the other, the infamous ignorant Aussie girl mentioned earlier. Both were very nice, and we chatted for a bit before heading off to 'Bedfordshire' (see Fil, we can be nice... it just doesn't suit us!).
The next day, we found that climbing down hills can be far more enjoyable than climbing up them. We followed the map given by the hostel and found ourselves making our way through a huge field with only a very crude path as our guide. Seems like the sort of thing Lizzie Bennett would approve of, although neither of us had on skirts that we could muddy. Shame, that. We made our way to the Jane Austen centre (we are getting very good at navigating using an ingenious combination of tourist signs, and the maps provided to us on pamphlets to assist us in reaching tourist destinations). The woman at the centre was very excited and/or flustered, and seemed deeply in love with Jane and her family (which is as it should be). We learned that Jane detested Bath because it was so superficial and they were so confined there (kind of like York University!). We disliked Bath because we were beseiged by a foreign school group that clearly had no interest in Jane but traipsed through her centre very loudly so as to disrupt the largest number of enthusiasts as possible. We wanted to pick up copies of the P&P soundtrack they had playing in the gift shop, but alas, there was only a store copy, and the S&S soundtrack just wasn't doing it. No transparent, wet shirts in that one! Mmmmm.... Colin Firth in a wet shirt... But we get ahead of ourselves...
We then decided to pop into the supermarket and pick up some Battenburg cake (could there be anything more British than sponge cake wrapped in almond paste? or anything mroe delicious?). We then popped into the local market (boasting 'traditional shopping'... whatever the heck that is) for some cheap samosas and pasties. Not as good as the ones in Winchester, but cheaper, so: yay!
We returned to the street to realize that we had made our first mistake in England: neither of us carried rain jackets or umbrellas! How could we forget the cardinal weather rule in England? Stupid! At least it wasn't raining very hard, although we were happy to make it to the Museum of Costume nonetheless! There we learned the secrets of the corset (the 18-inch waist is a myth! They never got below 21!), saw some very ridiculous fashions, and best of all, saw the exhibit proudly displaying the costumes used in many Jane Austen tv/film productions! There in the flesh (ok, not really) were the costumes worn by Emma Thompson, Kate Winslet, Alan Rickman, Gwyneth Paltrow, Jennifer Ehle.... oh yeah, AND COLIN FIRTH!!!! The audio guide tale about the infamous wet shirt was very amusing... as much as we love it, we'd just like to let you know that it was that or NAKED! Yes, he could have been wearing nothing at all, but they had to keep American tv in mind. Argh! Oh, and for this wondering, the Dress of 2003 was the J-Lo hardly-a-dress-at-all dress.
After that very bracing exhibit, we went for 'linner' as it was 5 pm. We had foudn a pub where all meals served between 2-6 pm were 25% off, and we're more than happy to alter our eating patterns to suit a deal! We sat down to a fabulously large English Breakfast consisting of: 2 eggs, 2 sausages (the big ones you put on buns), 2 rations of bacon (back bacon), chips, beans, mushrooms, and tomato! Yowza! So filling... really, it's a good thing we can only afford 1 meal a day because we wouldn't be able to eat like that 3 times daily!
Then we rolled ourselves to the Roman Baths and made our way through there. I amused Laura by quoting Gilmore Girls while we stood in front of one of the mannequin exhibits, and we had a good time relearning about Aqua Sulis. I was disappointed to be unable to find out how to taste the Spa water without paying (dunking your head in the bath itself is not an option, dad...), so we decided to instead make our way back to the hostel. Finding it quite nippy, I slept in my hoody, and Laura herself had to get up and get her sweatshirt. She of course did this while sleeping, and so first was muttering about not being able to find her ticket. When I asked her what the heck she was going on about, she snapped that she didn't need a ticket, she needed a sweater! Whatever, Laura! Even when she's sleep-talking she's snarky! I love it!
Next morning, we made our way to the bus stop (they don't start running until just before 8 o'clock and we had a train to catch at 8:01) so that we could get to Stratford-Upon-Avon. Once more we made our way to Reading where we then transferred to Banbury (no fatalities that day... although a bit of our hearts died when we saw the scrumptious ads for Cadbury Creme Egg McFlurries that we have been unable to procure at any McDonaldses hence... oh the sorrow when we are in the land of Cadbury!). A train tunnel had collapsed somewhere, so we then had to get on a bus which drove us the rest of the way to Stratford.
Once in Stratford, we walked a bit into the center of town and caught a bus (along with all the retired people) to our hostel. We were aided by an old woman who was very determined that we should make it there on the best bus (she was so cute!). Of course, our hostel was not in Stratford proper, but rather in Warwickshire county, just outside of Stratford. We realized that our train the next day was leaving at 7:45 am, but that the bus at the hostel did not leave until 7:35... a little too close for comfort, so we resolved that we might have to walk to the trainstation from our hostel. We did enquire about taxis, but the man working at the desk (who actually seemed a bit misinformed about everything come to think of it) told us that the taxis 'might not run that early'. OK....
We figured that we should try the walk without heavy packs on, as that would probably not be the best time to see if we could do it or not... or how long it takes. After 35 minutes of walking, Laura proclaimed that she could not do the walk (although I think she could, if she were forced to and had no alternative but to stay in Stratford for the rest of her life), so we hoped that we would be able to get a taxi. If we missed our 7:45 train, the next one would not get us to Holyhead, Wales in time to catch any ferry save for the one getting us into Dublin at 10:30 pm. No good at all!
We checked out Shakespeare's Birthplace, and were once again beset upon by the Spanish tour group that could not care less about the Bard. Also, Laura had the misfortune of overhearing an American woman ponder why Willy didn't leave anything to his "daughter [sic] Hamnet... you know, Judith's twin". Unfortunately, she didn't realize that Hamnet had died at a very young age and that Hamnet, much like HamLet, was a boy. Ah well... if Paris Hilton won't read, why should anyone else in America?
Then we went to the Church where Shakespeare is buried (the old woman asked our nationality before exclaiming: "Ah! You're Canadian!?! Well then you'll be wanting the English brochure!"). William and his family have the whole back of the church to themselves, and it's a very impressive memorial what with the cursing of anyone who moves his bones. No possibility of me prostrating myself on the Bard's grave, as they have it neatly roped off. Yet another emotional outburst subverted. Drat!
We then had ourselves another "linner" of sorts as we found a place where you could get 2 meals for £7.50. How can you pass up that bargain? You can't (unless you are the american girls who paid at least £2.50 for a glass of pepsi...)! of course, we didn't really want any of the options that fell under the special, and so we found ourselves ordering yet another breakfast-dinner since it seemed the best option. Once again, very hardy and enjoyable. Although, really, how can anyone pack away that much for breakfast?
After a fruitless quest for the Cadbury McFlurry (and reading an outrageous claim that Harry Potter makes fools of adults who should be reading "better" stuff...), we made our way to the theatre where we sat down for a most enjoyable performance of "A Comedy of Errors". So good! I maintain that the Royal Shakespeare Company can't be beat when it comes to putting on Shakespeare productions. They never fail to amuse, even if it is one of the Bard's "lesser comedies". Also, the whole thing had a very "Tim Burton-esque" feel to it, and was just a great way to spend £5 and a couple of hours. Highly recommended.
Since the bus that would get us to the hostel would not come by for another hour and a half, we decided to hoof it home again. This time in pitch black. Perhaps all that talk about Death Eaters and Inferi, etc., was not the best idea. Although it all seemed perfectly harmless when there were street lights! All too soon we were stumbling through thick grass and trying not to fall into pot holes or get hit by cars. Neither of us admitted it until later, but it was a terrifying walk home. 2.25 km each way it was (argh! pirate speak!), so we certainly got our exercise!
We had to get up the next morning at 5 am (careful not to wake up our roommates who had shown up just before midnight... perhaps they were French Cinderellas... (Cinderellae (?)) because we had to call the cab company at 6 to see if they had any free cars, and if not... we had to start walking. Thankfully, we were able to procure a cab for quarter past 7, and ate our bag-breakfast in the dining room. Our cabbie was quite friendly, and we saved our backs an awful lot of pain. Best £8 ever spent!
From Stratford, we took the train to Birmingham (alas, not enough time to stop off at Cadbury Land... Britain's happiest place on earth as they've not got Disney), walked to a different station (only 5 minutes), and from there we went to Crewe before getting on the train to Holyhead. From Birmingham onward, we were accompanied by an Irish family with the most rotten children. At first Laura was taken in by Tom (or "Tam" as his "Mam" called him) because he had bed-head and wore a mining helmet, but soon his screeches drove us all wild. Also, there were 2 very drunk men on the train from Birmingham to Crewe who kept speaking loudly about hoping no one was a terrorist. Keep in mind they were sloshed before 9 in the morning. You've gotta love the English! Then, on the train from Crewe to Holyhead, we managed to alienate a fellow adult passenger because we think he thought our smiles and giggles were mocking him for reading Harry Potter, when in fact we were only debating as to whether we should strike up a conversation. Seeing others read the book makes us feel a sort of kinship with them (although we felt nothing for the guy from Mississippi in our London hostel who had claimed to come all the way there for the book, and yet did not go to the midnight opening because he "had the flu" (a revelation to which, Laura deadpanned "yeah, I can tell" and then also told him it was a "pretty crappy excuse"). Also, the most terrifying nag woman sat across the aisle from us. She just complained about EVERYTHING, and kept telling her husband(?) to speak up, and then would berate everything he said and swear at him. It was very: un!comfortable!
Wales was great from the train as we got to pass through a castle, see the sea, AND stop momentarily at what must be the town with the world's longest name (and probably the fewest vowels, too!): Llanfairpwllgwynwyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantyiliogogogoch. I took pictures! Once we reached Holyhead, we dashed to get away from Terrifying Woman, and booked ourselves ferry tickets. We then made our way to a fish & chip shop, as Holyhead claims to have the best fish & chips. I will say this, they probably provide the LARGEST fish and chip. The piece of cod they put down in front of each of us must have been at least the length of your keyboard (though not that wide). The vinegar strangely had no flavour, and the fish was kind of bland too (good chips, though). We'll have to see if Dublin can beat 'em!
Then it was on the ferry (after dubbing a tiny, obviously Irish child: Seamus O'Toole... so adorable with his freckles to outfreckle Laura and his gap tooth smile), where I promptly passed out face-down on the nearest table. Every one seemed to be loving their curries, which they all seemed to have been waiting for the ferry ride for. Laura foolishly stayed awake to watch the horrible Irish children misbehave horribly. And if that makes it sound like all Irish children are horrible... well, Seamus was cool. And I felt a little more love for "Tam" when he began making up a song about the escalator.
After making it through customs, we got on a bus to the city center. We got off prematurely though because it was going so fricken' slow and we thought we could walk it much faster. Well, we did walk it, although it would have been less painful to sit on the bus and let it do the work. Our poor backs will be permanently curved into question mark type shapes (as they ask us: Why? Why did you do this to us?)upon our return home.
The hostel here is ok-ish. We are sharing a room with a terrifying man who looks like he spends ever waking moment pumping iron, and who sleeps in his skimpy boxers (he wears short shorts!) on top of the covers and snores something fierce. Also, there was one girl who wore more to bed than she does out and about... Honestly. Also, the man working the front desk is creepy.
After taking some time to recover, we made our way to the Guinness Storehouse. We were one of the last people to be allowed in, and got this cool keepsake (it's like a paperweight that has a drop of Guinness in it). We also got to drink a pint of the stuff up in the Gravity bar (after seeing vintage ads, and learning how they make it in the first place). It tasted better than I remember it, and perhaps better than Laura does too, but it still tastes like... a glass of vinegar that people have boiled gym socks in and dumped an ashtray into? How can roasted barley smell so good yet it taste so bad? We blame the damn hops! It smells evil right from get-go. Best part was definitely the view... AND the shamrock the bar wench (heh!) artfully managed to engrave into the foamy head. Pictures!
Feeling a little foggyheaded, we made our way home, ate the left-over Battenburg cake and some Sweet Chili& Corriander crisps from Marks & Spencer we had been saving, and then promptly fell asleep.
Today we made our way to Kilmainham Gaol, and had a tour of Europe's largest unused prison. The place was supremely creepy, but we learned a lot. Our guide, Paul, told us that to study the history of the US, you look at its presidents; to study the history of France, you look at its Revolutions; and to look at the history of Ireland, you look at its prisons. We learned all about the rebellions and revolutions that took place and all the men and women who were killed to create the Republic as it is today. Now, if only we could figure out why the French don't refrigerate their eggs or their milk... One of the great mysteries of the world...
We had a bit of trouble finding the bus station to get us back to town, but we made it, and then checked out Trinity College Dublin. I snagged myself a t-shirt (I apparently have the proportions of a 9-11 year old... whatever!), and took photos in the Trin Quad... Now if I can only get me a shirt from Trinity College, Oxford, I'll almost have a complete set!
We checked out the Dublin Writer's Museum, the Garden of Rememberance, and set off several theft alarms in the music stores we went into (we don't have anything on us that should be activating them... and yet...). We made a pricey call to Belfast to confirm our reservations at the hostel for tomorrow night, and now we're off to get fish & chips at the place that people apparently visit EVERY night.
Sorry for the Looooong post. Had a lot to update you about. Tomorrow it's off to Belfast, where we are back to the scary sterling pound. Sigh... who thought the Euro would ever look so kind?
