C'est Nice

no longer in nice, i've started another blog. writesomethingnew.blogspot.com, a bit different but hopefully just as fun. see you there.

charlie.

i won't sing for you, or even reprint further lyrics, but you get the gist. I'm about t-minus forty-five minutes from departure from Brenna Clarke's house. I know I've left the blog woefully unupdated, but hopefully that should surprise exactly none of you.

Anyway, a few long hours I'll be back with two feet on American soil, which makes me want to go burn a communist or something. just kidding. ireland's been quite lovely, despite the shitty weather, which really hasn't even been that shitty, given ireland's reputation. Of course, a more in-depth account of my travels, which I believe left off in York, of all places, will follow, once I'm back from outer space.

As to my future whereabouts, nothing (naturally) is set in stone as of yet. I have to be in SF for May 25th for a mandatory orientation for my summer park and rec job, but my parents and I are discussing having me return to NYC after that for a little more family time. I'll keep you all posted as things become ever clearer.

Other than that... I'll be seeing some of you soon! Strange! I hope everyone is alive and well, and I can't wait until our various and sundry paths cross. All the best.

hey.

if you're having trouble following me, welcome to the club.

I'm back in Edinburgh, which is a little strange. It's kind of like hanging out with someone you've just had a fight with (this reference will be lost on almost all of you except Jessica and Amalea, but it's almost exactly like having to go see The Two Towers with Abby after she tried to fire me the day before, because we had bought advance tickets several weeks before). Anyway, I feel like we're getting on well enough. Me and Edinburgh, that is (Abby's most likely totally hopeless).

The last few days have been tiring, but in a good way. I last posted from Charlotte's grandmother's house located square in the middle of bumblefuck, Lancashire, England. There was nothing quite so gratifying as pulling into the itsy bitsy little station of Hellifield and seeing Charlotte there with her lovely grandmother. I was whisked off (in a Jaguar, no less... her gparents are car enthusiasts) to their lovely home which is located in between some sheep (let's just take a moment here to say that if England has an abundance of one thing, it's fucking sheep) and seems to have been built yesterday, it's so clean and uncluttered and... well, really quite lovely. Moreover, in the middle of nowhere they had digital sattelite television and high speed internet. Wow. I walked into their beautiful spacious kitchen (you could have fit our kitchen in the lycee into it several times over) and immediately began cooking. Nothing fancy, but it was unbelievably soothing. Then we sat down to dinner, Charlotte flipped on... wait for it... The Daily Show! I was blown out of the water. It was like I had been ejected from the cold wet streets of Edinburgh straight into the warm lap of the US.

That evening, I decided to drastically reduce my trip, both for practicalities sake and for my own peace of mind. As it stands now, I'm not going to the super-north of Scotland, nor am I going to the West coast of Ireland... from here, it's going to be Glasgow either today or tomorrow, Belfast on Thursday, Dublin on Saturday and NYC on Tuesday. I felt a little crazy about changing things around like that, but then, I stop to think about how crazy I felt with the whole trip looming before me, and I'm fine.

So, after taking care of all the internet stuff, Charlotte and I watched an episode of the OC I had stored up on my computer, and then, having slept absolutely abominably the night before, I completly conked out and slept like a log in a way that no one before me has ever slept like a log.

The next day, Charlotte's grandmother proceeded to stuff me as chock full of food as she could possibly manage, starting with scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast, and then taking us out to a restaurant just over the border in Yorkshire, where I got a giant Yorkshire pudding filled with Lamb stew. I left the restaurant feeling not a little plush (i.e., filled to bursting... does it work? maybe not).

Our next stop was the town of York, where Charlotte had gone to University. We took a train to Leeds then switched to the York train. We were met at the station by Charlotte's friend Liz, who earns super high marks for allowing some random friend of a friend crash at her place. We drove back to her flat, which I gather is on a very English street (brick houses puilt right up one against the other, no greenery at all), dropped off our stuff, and headed into the old town of York.

If any of you were ever hoping to visit Diagon Alley, go to York. The streets there are about as Dickensian (or whatever it is Rowling is shooting for) as you could want. Okay, fine, the one downside is that it is a bit shopping mall, replete with a borders, h&m, a gap (a Gap!), and several other huge chains. But still, absolutely lovely.

We had tea at Betty's Tea Shop, which, while not full tea, was rather proper (say what?); I had a scone called a fat rascal. It was tasty.

We ended up at Charlotte's favorite bar, the Evil Eye, where I made the insane discovery that in England, spirits and mixers are cheaper than cocktails, which is most definitely not the case in France (I once ordered a coke and vodka during happy hour, and it cost me 7 euros!). Anyway, I dove straight into the coke with vanilla stoli's, and found myself as happy as a clam. We were joined by Nick 4, another one of Charlotte's friends (she knew four of them, and they all got numbers; I've met Nick 1, he came down to Nice early on in the year). We all had a good time hanging, though Nick 4 and Charlotte seemed to be forever asking how people other people knew were, which, while annoying, was forgiveable (I guess). We ended up switching to a place called The Cellar or something like that, where I had a conversation with an Englishman who was incredibly(one might even say classically) drunk, and seemed fascinated by the fact that I was from San Francisco (that seems to be the answer that's coming out the most these days...). Anyway, it was a nice, solid night out, and afterwards, we trudged back to Liz's, stopping for some nice proper chips(!) and then conking out once again.

There's more to write, but my time at this internet cafe is up. I'll give you the rest of the story tomorrow. I haven't decided if I'm staying in Edinburgh tonight or not... There's a particular hostel I want to stay at in Glasgow, and I can't seem to reach them. If I can't, I might just stay here another night and book the glasgow hostel online. Anyway, we'll see.

Until next time...