An artificially long day

We take off at 4pm GST, arrive sometime between 6 and 7 PST, and will be back in san diego by 11pm. I imagine we'll be spending about 30 hours on the earth during July 29. Just in case you were wondering, In and Out is the first stop after the airport.

Thanks everyone for your comments and warm wishes and I hope that you were able to get some level of the enjoyment I had during this trip. I'll talk to all of you soon!

The Pope's Hat is Really Big

We saw the Vatican today and, sadly, no Pope, at least no living Pope. We toured the Vatican compound earlier and now we're killing some time before we take the shuttle to the airport. I then read that Bonds hit no. 754 and now it's setting in that I might miss him breaking this record.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

It was bad enough missing the All-Star Game in san francisco and now this? I hope someone tapes it.

48 hours

We're back in Rome planning the last few hours of our trip. Travis took off for London earlier today so now I am just with the two girls; because you know that's how I roll anyway.

We spent the last couple of days in Florence and Naples, two in the former and one in the latter. Florence retains a lot of its medieval/Renaissance flavor, as far as I can tell at least, that makes it seem rather small and intimate. We explored the Uffizi, the Duomo, and saw the statue of David. The statue is supposed to depict David after killing Goliath and I would say that the whole statue is probably as big as Goliath was reputed to be. It was much more impressive than I could have imagined.

Our Florence hostel was yet another place we stayed that must have been a mental institution, a la "The Shining", before someone decided that they could turn the building into a profitable hostel. I'm going to start avoiding places with tall ceilings and symmetrical layouts on every floor after this trip.

We breezed into Naples yesterday just to go to the ruins of Pompeii. Nearby Mt. Vesuvius erupted in CE 79, causing the village to be destroyed, abandoned, and subsequently preserved in layers of volcanic ash for us happy tourists to peruse. One building, you'll be happy to discover, has been renovated into a Ye Olde Pompeii Taberna. Getting covered in lava, though, would be a terrible way to go. Several bodies are preserved in plaster casts to the extent that you can see teeth on one ancient Roman.

We made it back to Rome this morning on probably the most punctual train we've ridden on in Italy. Everyone at home jokes about Filipino time, Indian time, or whatever-ancestry-you-may-be time to mock someone for being late. In Italy, there is a tangible idea of Italian Time. It is an absolute joke that they even have train schedules as every train runs at least 5 to 10 minutes late and arrives at some hour that the conductor determines after he finishes his panini.

This leads into our rising bitterness with Italy: we've had the most frustration and irritation with Italy and Italians than any other country we've visited. When you get off a metro train here, people waiting to get on the train surge forward and basically prevent you from getting off of the train. People consistently walk in front of you on the street, not noticing or caring that you're also walking there. As of now, I have resisted yelling, "Hey, I'm walkin' here!" in a thick Italian-American accent but with Vatican City on the horizon tomorrow, I may not hold out.

The rudest thing these damn people do is cut in front of you in line. Americans and Italians just have to have different value systems when it comes to this. For instance, you know when there is a busy exit in traffic off a freeway and cars begin to line up (Garnet exit off of 5 for instance), there is always at least one car that will swerve in front of the line and cut everyone who has been waiting. Italians do this in every line possible. If you see or hear a story about an American tourist arrested for strangling an old Italian lady, it was probably me.

Tomorrow, we hit the Vatican and go back to London and then back to the US on Sunday.

I'm not built to withstand this heat

After nearly drowning in the course of stamping through the gigantic puddle that has been Europe for the better part of our trip, the heat of the last week is finally getting to me. I did laundry today and let me tell you, it's nice to look at your clothes and not see salt deposits all over them.

Sunday morning, we strolled down to the Rome metro to take the train to the Colosseum. We got out of the stop there and the 2000 year old structure loomed over us. I am very impressed by things that have stood for hundreds of years; a good thing too as we've seen a lot of things in that category.

One problem I had with the Colosseum is that there are regular Italian guys dressed up in cheesy Roman centurion costumes. They run up to you and ask if you want a picture and then charge you 5 euros for the privilege of standing next to them and their broomed heads. Do you really think of Roman legionnaires or centurions when you think Colosseum? No! Lions, gladiators, and things like that, obviously. I propose that some enterprising person should dress up in a lion costume and charge the same price for pictures. Nothing says "Authentic Trip to Rome" than pictures with a person in a lion costume outside the Colosseum.

We saw the Trevi Fountain in the evening and followed that up with a dinner that may have been the best of our trip. Unfortunately, we missed the Basilica and all that Vatican City has to offer so we'll be exploring that section of the city on the 28th before our flight to London.

I'm glad my stuff didn't get stolen

We finally made it to Rome after a day in Interlaken and another entire day spent on trains from Switzerland to the Eternal City. I probably can't devote as much time and impart enough detail in this entry as I would like, but here goes anyway.

Interlaken, nestled in the mountains of Switzerland, has some very striking scenic views, when there isn't a tumultuous thunderstorm almost causing flash flooding. We stayed indoors for most of the day. Our hostel was called the Funny Farm. The name is curious only until you realize that your room is in a converted barn that lacks modern comforts, like locks on the doors. The front desk repeatedly warned people upon checking in not to leave anything valuable in the barn and to instead leave it in an open room by the hotel lobby. Fortunately, we were lucky enough to have a latch on which you could padlock the door shut. Our neighbors were not quite so lucky and had their stuff rummaged through and their valuables taken. Prescription eyeglasses, for example. ("Sweet guys, I scored some glasses! Let's go read!")

Interlaken bills itself as the extreme sport capital of Europe. This reputation is well earned as each hostel has an Adventure Desk where you can book all sorts of crazy things to do including skydiving, ice climbing, hang gliding, etc. It's too bad that we didn't get a nice weather day there as I really wanted to go zorbing. Ever wanted to roll down a big, grassy hill while in a bubble that looks like it was designed for people with terrible, infectious diseases? You should try zorbing.

The extreme(!) sports offering attracts a lot of young Americans. We couldn't go anywhere without bumping into a few of our countrymen. Will have to come back here for both the zorbing and the atmosphere.

We made an early departure from Interlaken onto our first of four trains for the day on the 21st. The ride through the Alps offered some gorgeous sites. Unfortunately, I can't imagine going to any of these places without wads of hundreds bulging from my pockets. It's also funny to note that absolutely none of our trains up to this point were late until we got into Italy. We had a minor delay on one train in Germany and the voice across the loudspeaker profusely apologized for running 5 minutes late. We barely made our connecting train to Rome in Milan (yes, we had to run through a large train station in abou 5 minutes) and eventually arrived 1 hour late in Rome with no mention of any tardiness from the Italian train meisters. Life is beautiful, yes?

We had a long dinner outside our Rome hostel which made all the bad train memories disappear. For what they lack in punctuality, the Italians certainly made up for it in cooking a good meal. A little bruscheta, some cannolli, some wine, some after dinner drinks. The restaurant also provided caca gratis, or free shit, in the form of a bottle of champagne. Please note to all you cookers of food out there that I will always call your meal good if you provide free bottles of alcohol for my consumption.

We explored the Colosseum and Palatine Hill this morning and aim to have a seven course meal this evening.

I'm too lazy to tag all these photos right now so I'll just point to Travis' flickr page for your viewing enjoyment:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/reallifeonhold/

Beer should always be cheaper than water

Prague has great, cheap beer. To put it in perspective, I bought a t-shirt for 149 crowns (about 5 euros or so). Our lunch yesterday, including 1 liter of beer, was cheaper. The food is also excellent in case you were wondering. The heavy amounts of beer, meat, and cabbage, however, contribute mightily to the Eurofunk.

I had a lost in translation moment at lunch today. The others finished their meals and already had their plates bussed. The waitress came by and said something that I thought meant, "Are you done?" I said yes, but she walked away only to return moments later with another stein of beer. This is probably the best misunderstanding I've ever had in my life.

We met some girls from Texas and some guys from England in the "American" bar last night. It was touted as the ex-pat place for Americans, but was only populated by a handful of Czech regulars and our group. A quick summary of what I learned over the course of the evening:

- Texans speak a stranger version of English than Californians or the British

- Watching Europeans watch their country's soccer team play is nonstop fun (one czech guy slammed his hand into the stone wall and didn't even flinch while celebrating a goal scored in the Czech vs Austria game

- A "nightclub" in Prague actually means a brothel, not a place to dance (the non-horizontal type)

- British people should shut the hell up when they criticize baseball, especially when they are unaware that pitchers could throw other pitches than a fastball

- The phrase "the dog's bollocks" was used in a sentence without any prompting from me

- Buying two .5L beers should always cost ~$2

We'll be in Interlaken in less than 24 hours.

Travel Update

We've made a few alterations to our itinerary. Tomorrow, we train to Prague and will spend 1700 czech crowns (50 euros or so) on our hostel room. Then, its on to Switzerland and Interlaken on the 20th. We end up in Rome on the 21st. We are still coming home on the 29th despite my wishes and bank account.

I wish we had more time to spend in Berlin...even if it meant taking pictures for 1 euro with the ladies of the night dressed in skimpy Soviet Union military uniforms around Checkpoint Charlie. I've never seem a historical landmark utilized in such a fashion for profit.

We checked out most of the landmarks (what's left of the Berlin Wall, Museumisland, etc.) of East Berlin this afternoon. Unfortunately, most of that was in a walking tour that didn't include going into these buildings. Berlin is on the must see list once again.

Will hopefully check in amidst the massive amounts of travel in the next few days...

Sprecken ze laundry?

After riding on the train from Amsterdam to Berlin in what had to be the only train in Europe lacking any sort of ventiliation system, we arrived in Berlin only to find temporary shelter from the heat. It's finally warm here in Europe and now I can rock the black socks and black shoes with shorts look that the girls love so much.

I'm doing a much poorer job of recording the notable events of the trip than my companions. These people even take notes and prepare before they write their stuff. I would highly advise checking out the other two blogs on the right sidebar for additional information or if you're tired of my perspective drivel.

So far in Germany, its become quite evident that far less people here speak English than in any other country we've been. Even in France we were able to get by playing the stupid American card. For instance, last night we went to do our laundry in our hostel and found the hostel's directions for the machines in German and terrible, incomprehensible English. A large teenager who was ironing his shirts (and T-shirts, who does that in 90 degree weather) and coincidentally blocking both of the top loading dryers and the two bottom loading washers happened to set our machines on the wrong wash program. It's worth noting that these four machines are the only laundry machines available to the 200 or so bed hostel and this guy was completely oblivious of what he was doing. You try and figure this out.

We set the washers and went to play pool down the hall. The table was so small that if you didn't sink three balls on the break, you had to have miscued. We checked the machines every game or so and found that our stuff just never finished. After an hour or so of this, we decided to ditch the pool game and just throw our stuff in the dryer. On account of the whole not speaking German thing, we couldn't easily figure out how to do that. We ended up pestering the attendant who scolded me for trying to open the machine, "When it isch done, it isch done." I blame Travis for setting the machine to another setting that made water spill out of the door on opening it later.

Now that our clothes were completely saturated, it was drying time. We threw our clothes in the dryer, set the machines, and headed to the pub across the street. This definitely put us in the right mood for surviving the laundry apocalypse that followed back at the hostel. We returned to find our still-wet laundry in the washers still spinning after over an hour. A large amount of laundry bags as well as disgrunted german teenagers were waiting for the machines to open. The attendant came by and scolded me (again) for having the dryer on the delicates setting. This system, while apparently completely obvious to the Germans, made no sense to me as one dial on the damn machine controlled two different numbers. I challenge all of you to do better with this.

Since we were now the most favorite people in the hostel, the girls decided to cut their losses and air dry their stuff in the room. Travis and I stuck it out for a little longer and eventually made it back to the room with mostly dry clothes. The girls used my bed to sort their clothes and I now had a giant wet spot on my bed where their dripping wet stuff had been. Awesome. And that's laundry in Europe.

Pictures!


It's apparently a custom in Germany to serve a beer with as much head as possible.


The mouse that "got up to the second story from outside" according to the waitress at the last restaurant we ate at in Amsterdam. She and her coworker were disturbingly nonchalant at the fact that a live mouse was tearing its way through a mayonaisse packet on the floor. We ended up being the stupid ones because we still ate there.

Hitting the midway point

This entry will likely be short as this internet cafe is turning my shirt into a sweaty rag. We've been traveling much of the last couple days as we trained from san sebastian to paris to brussels from the night of July 10 to the morning of July 11. We spent the night in brussels and arrived in amsterdam yesterday morning. No bulls were following us on any of our trains in case they were looking for a second shot at us.


We stayed at an out of the way hotel in Brussels and wish we had a little more time to explore the city. We happened to be in town for Flemish Day so we witnessed quite the outdoor concert outside the Hotel de Ville in the City Center. A Flemish version of Neil Diamond belted out Flemish favorites and the whole crowd danced, drank stella, and ate waffles. Well, we ate waffles and assumed the crowd was dancing and drinking stella as the waffles consumed all of our attention. I will now devote 1 minute of your life to my waffle experience:


We were really excited about this.


Waffles are meant to be eaten with the spork's long lost cousin, the Knork. No word on if there is a Knork specifically designed for left-handed folks.

We got into Amsterdam yesterday morning and the first thing I noticed was that all of the cabs, sedans and vans, are Mercedes. I don't know how that happened, but Amsterdam travelers ride classy.

We ended up having to change hotels because my idiot self booked one way too far away from the city center. We're now settled near Vondelpark close to the Rijksmuseum and Van Gogh Museum. The plethora of delicious junk food throughout the city is really easing the burden on my wallet.

There's still time to do dumber things

We got into Pamplona at about 1am with two other would-be bull runners from the midwest. They were originally from Cincinnati and lambasted the Reds for perennially sucking, Adam Dunn for being terrible (which just isn't true), and me for being from the city whose football team beat their beloved Bengals twice in the Superbowl. We hung out with them at the train station bus stop amidst a crowd of Spanish travelers heading down into the main part of the city. We got to the city proper after having to catch the bus from seemingly the one station that still had buses arriving in the middle of the night.



The carnage was immediately noticeable: people were everywhere singing, drinking, and generally carousing clad in the uniform of white with red scarf and belt. That was the deal apparently; you were supposed to wear all that so you didn't stick out and could show off the wine and dirt stains you were going to get from the night of revelry you were about to live through. We all had white shirts and red scarves except for Travis who, naturally, had marched us through all of San Sebastian in search of a pair of white pants and a red belt as he, "will not do anything half-assedly." He even got his white shirt silk-screened with the logo of his blog. I must also report that my shirt for Pamplona was sponsored by www.reallifeonhold.com.



I quickly grabbed a gigantic beer with our Cincinnati friends. This was the biggest beer I've ever drank in my life. It damn well should have been too since it cost 13 euros.



We then walked into the city first into the Plaza del Toros and then along the route of the bulls. I cannot stress enough how much people were partying. Apparently, when you finished your drink, you just threw it to the side. I've never been to Mardi Gras, but I imagine it would be a lot like this. I was really excited to litter with no repercussions and drank my beer very quickly. It definitely was too crazy to have any more drinks what with the crazed partying folk all around us and the girls to protect, or at least, make sure they don't get clubbed about the head and dragged away.

The running started at 8am and we had to line up at about 6 in order to ensure decent spots. After being mesmorized by the celebration for about 90 minutes, we had about 6 or so hours to kill. We dropped into a few clubs and the girls had their own bulls, in the form of lecherous and drunk Europeans, to run from. Oh yes, I should say that I was persuaded to run, being caught up in the moment and all.


Mas fria.


Yep, we're really doing it.

We gathered in the Plaza at about 6, handed our valuable, earthly possessions to the girls at 7:15 and huddled in the crowd until about 7:50. The one good thing about this crowd was that the body heat from the packed runners kept us warm; a feeling we longed for since we were inside the bars. We were so tightly packed, in fact, that we really couldn't do anything except obey what the herd was going to do.

The herd started moving about 5 minutes before they let the bulls out to run. Apparently, if you enter the stadium before any bulls get there, the crowd throws tomatoes and other fruit at you for being such a wuss. Travis and I found two little doorways to duck inside about 250 meters from the entrance and waited for the bulls.

The first rocket fired and more people ran by us. They didn't let the bulls out until the second rocket. Some people were screaming, others very delighted. Then the second rocket fired. More people ran by and, finally, we heard the hooves coming up the street.



Not really knowing what to expect, I witnessed 3 head charging up the street and several people trying to outrun them right up the middle of the street. I know what I was doing was marginally dumb, but I at least have the sense to realize that I can't outrun a bull. Two guys were obliterated right in front of our eyes. They didn't get gored, mercifully, just knocked to the side. We trotted into the stadium where they let a small bull who has had his horns corked out into the crowd. This is where you can live out your fantasies delusions of being a matador. We decided we had had enough so we hopped over the rail and went back into the city.

We had some delicious churros in the course of trying to get an earlier train back to San Sebastian. We ended up taking a bus back as we would get in 8 hours earlier than if we waited for our train. We got in our room at about 1:30pm and slept, and slept...and slept. We got up at about 8am this morning.

Our room was one of the nicer rooms we've had and would have been the best if not for the bastard of a caretaker who was on duty. This was the same guy who stood over us waiting impatiently for us to drop off our stuff in the hours before we left San Sebastian and, upon closing the door after exiting guesthouse that night, turned off the only light illuminating the stairs down to the street. This guy even peeked into the bathroom after you used it just to make sure, you know, you didn't take a bat to the mirrors or something.

Now, we wait for our train back to Paris and eventually on to Brussels tomorrow morning. The whole running deal was actually not that bad if you knew what you were doing and kept to the side. It's easy to say that obviously; no one thinks that they'll actually be gored by a bull or trampled by the crowd before they do this, then no one would do it. For the sheer amount of people involved, I'd say the actual risk of even minor injury is definitely less than 1% and major injury far less than that. That is, as long as you're not drunk or otherwise incapacitated by a foriegn substance and/or natural stupidity.


Triomphe!

pictures!

Someone had a lot of fun at the Guinness brewery.



Tower!

Versailles and one its of many fountains

Paula of Chez Paula chides us for not speaking French



From the Eiffel Tower



You'd be surprised how good French wine is from a plastic cup

more later when I can steal someone's camera...

One of us will be having a close encounter with el toro

Britain
Ireland
France
Spain

We got into Spain this morning around 10:30 after sleeping on the night train from Paris. I drew the top bunk in a 6 person sleeper and couldn't really shake the fear of rolling over and falling 8 feet; the safety belt was more designed to hold up the middle bunk rather than keeping me alive. This was all after having to almost evacuate the train station in Paris as the cops came in and cordoned off first a small section of the platform and then the entire thing. It took about 10 minutes for the fuzz to clear thankfully. I asked an English-speaking cop what happened and he told me, "We had a problem and that's all I can say," as we walked past a guy getting cuffed by 6 officers prone on the ground. This is terror incident number 2 on our trip so far.

This morning begins an epic attempt to stay up until about 8pm tomorrow night as we'll be leaving from San Sebastian for Pamplona at 11pm this evening in order to catch bull festivities tomorrow morning. Travis has committed himself to running and has drank his one el toro rojo in order to stay ahead of the nasty, nasty bulls and their horns. I have no doubt that he is insane. We're only slightly behind him on the insanity scale at this point for following this closely behind him.

Over the last two days of Paris, we checked off some more mandatory sights on our list such as the Arc d'Triomphe, Cathedral of Notre Dame, and the Palace at Versailles. All were impressive, but none came close to Versailles where we were awestruck at just the palace gardens as we couldn't get into the palace itself since the lines were ridiculously long. Let's just say multiple wedding parties were on hand to take photos on the compound; it's that nice and more.

We also witnessed a guy proposing to his girlfriend in the park surrounding the Eiffel Tower on Thursday night. Of course, she said yes. Cheers went up and two nearby picnicers offered champagne. We immediately remarked that proposing there was too easy as she can't possibly say no; the girls were not amused with our glib appraisal of the situation.

Speaking of other mandatory sights, the Aviation Club was highly profitable. For those of you who don't know, it is a small yet well known casino/cardroom in Paris in which we had to don the James Bond attire to enter. I learned how to say flush in French (colore); which, coincidentally, is a very good poker hand which wins you money.

I´ll try and post some pictures here shortly as the internet connection here is very spotty and I want to make sure this gets up...

We are all embarrassed that we can't speak basic French

Yesterday, while you were undoubtedly consuming beer and hotdogs, we traveled from Dublin to London to Paris. I'm not quite sure of the total mileage traveled, but the whole 3 capitals in one day thing is goofy enough for me to mention. We made it to Paris at about 7pm local time and proceeded to the Eiffel Tower after we negotiated through the metro and arrived at our meager accommodations.

The girls were lethargic all day until we got to the hotel room when, instantly, Paris euphoria overtook them and they became giddy schoolgirls craving crepes, berets, and cheese. Never before in my life have women, given a 15 minute window to get ready, come knocking down our door within 10 minutes, flickering our lights and pounding the wall, eager to leave. Danette almost ran a half block away while we were going down the metro in her crazed, excited, "WOOO PARIS" state.

The Eiffel Tower was neat; someone prepared me for how big it actually is. Think about an entire 2 football fields underneath (only square obviously). Pictures will be up soon enough as I have to wait for certain excited American girls to upload them.

We saw the Louvre this morning and I am still amazed at how spectacular it is. I found the Mona Lisa to be lacking in that it has been reproduced in posters countless times and it is rather small compared to the gigantic oil paintings right outside its display room. It's impossible to describe everything we saw in there as you really do have to see it for yourself to appreciate the entire collection (or all that you can see). We spent the better part of 6 hours there and anyone who has more than a simpleton's understanding and appreciation of art will likely need much more than that.

I must also mention that I can't read French. This is also causing a lack of posted pictures.

I can't wait to put on clean clothes

My laundry is in the washer as I write, I can't tell you how excited I am to finally put on a clean shirt. We've all concluded that the Eurofunk has pervaded our bodies. Some clean clothes will hopefully get rid of it for awhile.

Since I've last wrote, we traveled back to Dublin from Cork and checked out the Guinness factory. Our Europe tourbooks described it as "uninspired" and "all style and no substance...if you want a pint, check out a pub." Those authors should stick those sentences right up their snooty noses. While I've never been on a brewery tour in the US before, I imagine that such tours are lacking compared to the Guinness one. It was definitely worth the E9.50 for two hours of entertainment and the free pint at the end. Plus you even get to drink said pint on the 7th floor of the old brewery which has been converted into a sky lounge with unobstructed views of the city. I would probably pay that just for the pint and the view. O to be a stuffy travel book author.

More after I throw everything in the dryer...

I'm supposed to be eloquent now

We had our first major change of plans as we discovered that it would be much much easier to see the Blarney Stone if we went to Cork instead of Galway. So here I am sitting in an internet cafe that smells like a locker room because 50 guys have been playing World of Warcraft since the morning. It's important that you take in all the sights, sounds, and smells I'm experiencing.

Yesterday, we flew to Dublin on ryanair. If you've taken a ryanair flight already, you have learned to realize that southwest is a luxurious airline. We were able to land seats in the emergency exit rows which saved our knees from being pressed up against our foreheads. The pilot was able to provide us with an hour's worth of entertainment when he informed us after waiting on the tarmac for 20 minutes (in an outrageous french accent of course) that, "As you can see, the plane, it has not moved. We should move soon, yes?" It's no big deal that snacks and drinks, including water, are not free, I can live with that, rather, I appreciate the fact that US discount airliners don't try and sell you company lottery tickets during your flight. To top it off, cheesy advertisements play throughout the flight culminating with orchestral music and canned applause celebrating your touchdown at your destination. My relief was quite sincere.

Dublin is fantastic. Unfortunately, we came in at 9am so our hostel room wasn't ready. Most of the shops were also closed as it was Sunday and nothing opened until noon. We eventually ponied up more money for a private room in the hostel and the weary travelers slept. This postponed the eventual guinness factory tour for Tuesday.



Who drinks Coors Light in Dublin?

After a late-ish night (as you might infer from the above picture), we took the bus for Cork this morning. I'm sure you can imagine all the picturesque scenes of rural Ireland; I was asleep for nearly the whole ride, but the others assure me it was fantastic and you should see it immediately.





Blarney Castle and its surroundings are amazingly beautiful. We hiked up to the top of the castle and contorted ourselves to kiss a little rock in the wall. Kissing the stone is much more difficult than you might think, some disgruntled Irish guy yells, "Next!", and you have to lean over like so:



Kissing the stone supposedly gives you the gift of eloquence. As you know by reading this entry, I must have done something wrong. We think it actually gives you the chance to kiss the 235098125897 people who have kissed it before you and take in their germs.

Quick picture update before I pass out

We flew to Dublin this morning after waking up at 3:15am after 3 lounge-club-music-thumping of non-sleep in our hostel room. It's quite an experience sleeping in a room with 11 other people that was designed to fit 2 people comfortably. We would like to especially thank the German girl for talking on her cell phone while 7 other people in the room were obviously sleeping. Her bed was kicked on the way out. As you may be able to glean so far, our accommodations are far less than luxurious.

In any case, here are some shots from don's busted camera and some from Trav's...



Canada Day in London



Ye Olde Pub Lunch



We flew all the way to London to check out the Star Wars exhibit. This guy also hit on the girls 1.2 seconds after the picture was taken.



Steak pie...food over here is good so far.

Off to the Guinness factory this afternoon. Maybe 3 pints of beer will improve my understanding of the otherwise unintelligible Irish folk.

I have terrible luck with cameras

The camera Don lent me has decided to stop working just like my broken camera stateside. Funny enough, it appears that they both have the same problem: a flickering and generally not-working LCD screen. I'll have pictures up from Travis' camera at some point.

English food is not as bad as reputed

Our Air New Zealand flight was the best flight I've been on in quite some time. TV screens on the back of each chair (got a chance to watch 300 and The Italian Job) and plenty of room even in coach; paying $1,000 for your ticket gets you some service I guess. The drink cart comes around (free booze!) and the flight attendant (or Inflight Service Coordinator) asks me what I'll have. I take a glass of red wine, cause you know, civilized people drink wine with dinner, even airplane dinner. Danette orders a gin and sprite and Nancy has Jim Beam and coke. I've never felt more emasculated in my life. I had no doubt at the time that the service guy thought we all were taking this trip to find hot British guys.

We met up with Travis at our hostel after making our way through the Underground. I guess you may hear soon enough that there was a bomb discovered outside Picadilly station this morning. Consequently, a significant part of the train service is down and we had to take a few detours on our way to our new hostel this morning. We also heard the following announcements in classic nonchalant, British tones explaining delays yesterday:

"The Jubilee line is delayed somewhat due to someone inexplicably hitting the emergency switch on a train."

"The Jubilee line is delayed due to a person caught under the train."

I didn't think those messages would be quite so direct.

Our hostel last night was in the East End, I now want to watch East Enders when I get back.

We checked out London bridge and the Tower Bridge yesterday and will continue seeing more touristy stuff later on today. Pictures to follow when I am slightly more competent with this computer...

T-Minus 24 Hours

So by now, in a perfect world, I would be all packed and ready to go. This is hardly the case, though I am likely much more organized than I care to admit. For you commonwealth folk out there, I am planning on keeping the correct spelling of words like organize and center no matter how many times I may see it otherwise.

It's amazing to me how much we have planned in advance and how little of it I am prepared for mentally. Here's a brief schedule of where we will be going:

Trip Dates:

JUNE 27 (THURS JUN 28 11am) – JULY 29 (4:15)

June 28-30 London

July 1 – fly to Dublin, spend night in Dublin.

July 2 – Go to Galway City

July 3 - back to Dublin, leave for Paris in the morning

July 4-7 - Travel to Paris, distribute freedom fries to locals

July 8- Paris in the am, travel to Lourdes at night

July 9- train to Pamplona, avoid getting gored by bull(s), back to Lourdes

July 10- Lourdes to Brussels

July 11- Brussels to Amsterdam

July 12-14 - Amsterdam, god help us.

July 15 - train to Berlin

July 16-17 Berlin

July 18- train to Geneva, train to Venice, sleeping on trains is fun.

July 19- Venice

July 20- Florence

July 21- train to Rome

July 22- Rome

and from there, we will be in Italy until July 28. We will then fly back to London that evening for our afternoon flight on July 29 back to Southern CA.

Pre-Flight Check

Hello family, friends, and interested observers, welcome to the Europe blog! In a scant 15 days, I'll be on a plane destined for London never to return again that will leave me in Europe for a large part of the summer.

Please stay tuned for updates more detailed than any cliche postcard of the Eiffel Tower could ever contain.