Tuesday, August 18, 2009

The Land of the Scots

Metro, bus, customs, security, we had made it. We, 3 young Americans, were sitting on an airplane about to leave France for the rolling green hills of Scotland. Suddenly, a voice begins speaking over the intercom. We looked at each other and immediately began laughing. The moment we realized we were going to have a harder time understanding the Scottish than we do the French was the moment the laughter started, and it didn't stop for 2 straight days.
Brian, Scott, and I were a mess.
Anytime we were unsure where we were going or what to do, we'd look at each other anxiously. "Somebody should ask somebody"....The only problem was, we'd ask, get an answer, nod our heads, and walk away just as ignorant as we walked up, seeing as how none of us understood the response. "Which track for Edinburgh?" "querlkjsann stroiuseet stlakjdin" "Oh. aaaaaalright."




The worst part of it all was our inability to refrain from laughing every time this happened. Brian trying to get out an "Excuse me?" without giggling in the train conductor's face was priceless.

But we finally did arrive in Edinburgh. A lovely, comfortable, clean train drove us past lush fields and quaint towns until we arrived in one of the most beautiful cities I have ever seen. A friendly, helpful taxi driver took us our hotel where the kindly man at the receptionist desk told us he had a hotel full of Americans thanks to some Texan wedding and he was all the happier for it. (Please take note of all the adjectives I use to describe the various Scotsmen we met. Friendly, helpul, kindly, etc.)

We were starving.

The Pub Hunt began.

Up and down the streets of Edinburgh we traipsed, begging Brian to settle on a pub. He had his idea of a "true Scottish pub" so deeply ingrained in his psyche, he would settle on nothing less. We finally settled on "Dirty Dick's," one of the first pubs we passed, came back to, passed, came back to. It turned out to be the perfect pub. Unique, quaint, good food, good drinks, aaaand, they were playing Belle & Sebastian, which delighted me to no end.




Pub hopping commenced, the highlight being stumbling upon a live musician and a pub full of people clapping and singing along (we, of course, didn't understand a word). We jumped in with the clapping and did our best to mumble with the best of 'em.

After another sweet taxi driver took us to the hotel (with a momentary detour at a chip shop. chipshopchipshopchipshop) and we crashed.


We rose very early, an hour earlier than we planned or realized, thanks to Scott forgetting we weren't on France time. That was fine however, because it gave us the opportunity to eat a true Scottish breakfast, black pudding included. Scott, ignorant to the ingredients in black pudding, ate away in ignorant bliss. Brian and I didn't feel the need to spoil Scott's breakfast, but avoided our black pudding as if it were the black plague.






Initially, our plan was to try and book a bus tour up to Loch Ness, but everything was booked, so instead we took in the sights of Edinburgh. Edinurgh Castle, J.K. Rowling themed-landmarks, the Queen's retired yacht 'The Britannia', it was all magical. Brian and Scott did a special whiskey tour while I treated myself to a 3-course Thai meal. The boys bought kilts, I bought boxers with a dragon on the front/back, and we met Tom. Tom will be 90 years old next year, May 12th exactly. For thirty years he has stood on the streets of Edinburgh in his full Scottish regalia, kilt and all, raising money for sick children. Love him.


Busy busy day.


Time to head to our "hostel" near the airport. Train to Glasgow, dinner at T.G.I. Friday's, and a train out to the airport. We found the Free Phone (labeled as such) which was a direct line to our "hostel" and a woman in a Range Rover came to pick us up. As we drove through a suburban neighborhood, we started to feel a little bit confused. I was just waiting for her to pull into a driveway and declare us there. Somewhere amidst all the houses though, there was a hotel. "The Manor Park Hotel," is NOT a hostel. It is a beautiful hotel with a giant bar and lovely accomodations. As we pulled up, walked inside, and looked around, we were so confused. We thought we had to be in the wrong place. Then we started to worry we'd been brought out into the middle of nowhere to this nice hotel only to have something horrible happen to us. How Scott managed to book us a room in this sweet hotel for the price of a hostel room, I still don't know, but after we finally accepted that it was legitimate and we weren't going to be murdered in our sleep, we enjoyed ourselves immensely. Storytime in Kilts was the highlight of that night, without a doubt.





The next morning it was back to France, where we at least have the excuse of not knowing the language when we don't comprehend. We were quite sad to leave though. The people in Scotland were some of the nicest, friendliest people. I felt quite bad in fact, that half the time I couldn't understand the help they were trying to give me.......



Sunday, August 2, 2009

Londontown

“I’m driving to London Tuesday to meet up with my parents, wanna come?”

And so it all began.
English Emma took me and Sarah (my American roommate) on the best, spontaneous, whirlwind of a road trip we may ever experience.
I’m not sure how to describe the exhilaration Sarah and I felt after getting in that car and setting off. We were in a car, number one (even if it was a backwards English one), and number two, we were leaving France. LEAVING FRANCE. Leaving the Disney bubble. This in itself was pleasure enough. Knowing we were driving towards a country where everyone speaks English sent shivers of excitement down our spines. England, here we were on our way.

First things first! We had to get there.
You may be confused. “Isn’t there a huge body of water between England and France?” If that is what you are thinking, yes, you are correct. If you weren’t thinking that, you may need to consult a map. After you have done that, come back. You’re sure to be thinking it now. Do not worry friends, the Eurotunnel exists! Water cannot stop us with the Eurotunnel around.
The Eurotunnel goes under the Channel. Magic, I know. Its things like this that make me sure the wizarding world exists. After driving through the UK Border check (You do WHAT in France?) we drove onto the train which was going to zip us under the English Channel. This was a bit nerve-wracking, driving onto a train, knowing we were essentially trapped. A bit of knitting took our mind off things however, and we were in England 30 minutes later.

Wrong side of the road. Weird. ‘nuff said.

About 2 hours later we arrived in the city of London. Our hotel however, was just outside of London. OH our hotel.
The Rossmore Hotel, room 45. This room will go down in history as the shadiest room 3 young girls ever stayed in. The multitude of mirrors. My goodness. A plethora of reflective surfaces overwhelmed us upon our entry. My favorite was the mirrored headboard. The large bathtub in the corner of the room (surrounded by mirrors of course)was quite awkward, especially when Sarah tried to take a private shower but was foiled, seeing as how we could see her reflection on every wall in the room no matter how she cleverly tried to arrange the small shower curtain. It provided us will a place to sleep though, for which we are very grateful.

Wednesday morning found us on the Underground, making our way into the city center. Emma took us to the theatre in Leicester Square where many big movie premieres take place, including Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince just a week earlier! After that we wandered around Covent Gardens a bit, then we met up with Emma’s parents, one of the loveliest British couples I have had the pleasure of spending the day with. Seeing as how they are Northern Englanders, every few minutes we were informed that “in the North…” things are done a bit differently. I plan to visit them soon to find out for myself.
The big event of the day was a visit to Madame Tussauds wax museum. We spent the day taking pictures with celebrities, movie characters, and political figures. I really enjoyed running away from a giant disco ball with Indiana Jones, and of course, meeting the Queen. What trip to London would be complete without a private audience with Her Majesty?

Saying goodbye to Emma’s parents was a sad moment. I think I may have been more emotional than Emma herself. It was so wonderful to be around a mother, and saying goodbye to her felt a bit like saying goodbye to my own mom. I can’t imagine when that day comes in September, in fact, I won’t even try. It’ll be bad enough when it happens.
After that we hit up an authentic English Pub for an authentic English tea. I had proper fish ‘n chips, they were well good (I’m learning more English than French here I swear). Satisfied with our meal, we hit up the glory that is Primark for some cheap shopping (boots for 8p? shirts for 5?!?). I just wish I had had more energy to take full advantage of the glory that is Primark. Next time, I’ll be prepared. We made sure to hit up Tesco’s (the big grocery/anything you need store) for some last minute English food items and best of all, books.

It was time to hop back onto the Eurotunnel, this time back towards France. It took us longer to get home then it took us to get there since Emma tried to avoid toll roads, but, sure enough, 36 hours after leaving France, we were back. I was lucky enough to sleep in the backseat all night while the girls drove seeing as how I had to work the next day and they both were off. Despite that, the next day I looked a bit like a zombie while heading off to work. But it was worth it. Well worth it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
In fact, as soon as possible.