So here I am, back in the good ole U.S. of A. But I must say, I do so miss the U.K. It's so different and, well, better.

People were just really nice there.
One evening while we were randomly standing on a street corner looking for a place to eat, a man came up to us and asked us if we were okay. We said yes, and that we were simply looking for a nice place to eat. He directed us to an awesome Thai place, said goodbye, and wished us a nice journey.
While we were in the train station looking for a taxi, two people came up to us and asked if we needed help. They kindly directed us to the taxi pick-ups and even recommended other rail stops that would take us closer to our destination.
Now these are just a few of the many kindnesses exhibited by the English.
And think. Would anyone in the U.S. ever come up to you if you looked lost? Would anyone in the U.S. ever offer dinner suggestions to a random person on the street? Would anyone in the U.S. ever strike up a conversation on a bus or a train?
The answer is usually no. Sure, some anomalies exist, but they are dwindling in number.

My point is that I shall go back to Europe one day. Their history, their people, their accents, their culture! All of it, spectacular.

And I got tagged by a few people too. So here you are.

six songs that you are currently digging ... it doesn't matter what genre they
are from, whether they have words or even if they're any good but they must be
songs you're really enjoying right now. Post these instructions, the artist and
the song in your LiveJournal along with your six songs. Then tag six other
people to see what they're listening to.

1: Strange Love, Phixx
2: Magical Mystery Tour, The Beatles
3: Blue Suede Shoes, Elvis
4: Jailhouse Rock, Elvis
5: Personal Jesus, Depeche Mode
6: Imagine, A Perfect Circle

Heh, I'm going through an Elvis and The Beatles fix right now...
But sorry, I'm going to be lazy and not tag anyone. But feel free to do this same thing in your LiveJournal if you so choose. I mean, you could pretend that I tagged you if it makes you smile.

And of course, I'd do anything to make you smile.

In Welsh, it means flower. Just think of a flower filled with blood! It would have an odd sort of niceness about it. Something terrible, yet beautiful.

We arrived at Wales without a problem. But our travel could have been disrupted if we did not catch the rail that we did. Our train was the last to leave: all the other ones were suspended because of what we suspect was a security issue.
There was a family from Australia that was supposed to leave the night before but were unable to for the obvious reason. They had to rent a room at the Savoy and it cost them £600. That's $1200. I felt so bad for them. Imagine spending $1200 on a room that you're just using to sleep. It's price inflation too. The hotels knew people needed a place to sleep, so they raised the prices to an ungodly amount.

Speaking of God, Iesu Grist is the equivalent to Jesus Christ. I think I'm going to start saying Iesu Grist instead. It's much more fun!

Our hotel is beautiful. Much better compared to what we were staying in. But really, it's not too difficult to be better than the Dover...

The weather is gorgeous, and I dare say we deserve it after practically a week of cold and rain.

So what did we learn today?
Two new Welsh vocabulary words, hotel costs are ridiculous, and that it is very important to have good luck.

The last few days have been fun. We went to Oxford one day and visited the History and Science Museum's the next. Uneventful, really.

But if you read the papers today (or the Internet news, or simply turn on the television, for that matter), you will learn of a series of attacks in London today.
I am (obviously) okay for all those who pretended to worry about my condition. I'm in Greenwich right now, about seven miles away from all the activity. And active it has been.

Having not known anything but information passed along through word of mouth, it all started with an explosion at a power station. It was a main power station, one that serviced the Tube (underground subway) and the King's Cross Station (yes, from Harry Potter). So, with the subway and rails being closed, people started migrating to the buses. After all, they still need to get to work. By this time, we were on a ferry to Greenwich, so this information about it being terrorist-related is new to me. Not necessarily a surprise, but new. Buses have been being targeted due to the augmentation of people taking them.

Oh, this is so scary. When we were walking to the ferry, we passed the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey. While there is usually tight security, I don't think that guards are habitually standing at their posts armed with what looked to be automatic machine guns... And every few minutes, sirens would shriek on and police cars, motorcycles, fire trucks, and ambulances would come wooshing down the narrow streets, swerving perilously in and out of the dense traffic.

We're here in a time of so much history. The G8 conference is in Scotland, London just won the Olympics, and now London has come under terrorist bombings. So much history...

But yes, I am okay and should (hopefully) be heading off to Wales tomorrow. That is, assuming, that they let people out of the city. Who knows, they keep the Tube, train, and buses suspended for quite a while. Planes too.

This has been quite a trip. A trippy trip.

Our first night and day in London.

Oh deary me, I dislike this city.
There's a good amount of interesting history and attractions, along with my love of their accents, but those are the only things I like.
It's cold. It's rainy. It's cloudy. Damn depressing.
It's dirty.
The driving is awful! There are five ways to get around town.
1) Walk 2) Car 3)Train 4) Bus 5) Motorcycle
Alright, 1 is the best as it's cheapest and a good source of exercise. But, the city is enormous, so we can't walk everywhere. 2 is out and so is 5, for the obvious reasons. 3 is nice, but it doesn't go everywhere we want. So, what's left? 4. Buses. I dislike buses. They are not fun.

And oh my gods everyone here smells like body odor. We may just be the best smelling people here.
But the fashion is really good. I love the fashion.

And our room sucks ass. Lots of ass. I hardly call it a room. It's about 19 square feet and somehow fits 2 twin beds (which are like rocks), a sink (that just happens to splash my bed), and then something that used to be a closet which now hold a toilet and a spout that gives water. I refuse to call it a bathroom: bathrooms have DOORS. All we have is this ripped screen thing. We have a rule, whenever one of us needs to use the bathroom, the other goes and waits in the hall.

Fortunately, we have some fun times looking out of our window. And the walls our thin, so we can hear people having sex.
Last night...yeah, they were having some fun in the room next to us...

I'll leave it at that.

So we spent our final day in Edinburgh yesterday. This entry will be all about what we did there, so if you're not interested, I suggest you don't read. But, we did do some pretty nifty things, so I kinda suggest that you do.

The commencement of the G8 march was that day, so we walked in that for a little bit. It was really quite cool. There was this energy in the air. It was so strong that I could feel it. It sent shivers up my spine and gave me the goosebumps. I think it was simply the fact that all these obviously different people had one thing in common. And this thing was so important to all these people as to inspire a march about it. It was a beautiful thing.

We then went up to the Edinburgh Castle. Basically, it was built a long, long time ago and if I try to guess the date, I'll be incorrect. 1400's or 1600's. One of those. Look it up if you really want to know. Anyways, we saw the dungeons, the Royal Apartments, and the Crown Jewels. Very cool.

After we had lunch, we went on a tour of Mary King's Close. A "close" was a narrow street, about 15 feet wide or so, that was sort of like an alley in between buildings. Oh, and I probably should mention that Edinburgh is built upon another city, The Old City. It was constructed around the 1600's, when the plague struck. So the tour was underground in this old city. We were shown a whole bunch of houses (that were one room) and different shops. Also, we learned a bit about the people that lived there. Practically all of them were affected by the plague. 450,000 people, probably more, died because of the plague, many of them in the close, in the very rooms we were in. Also, we heard talk of the ghosts that were down there as well. Of a little girl named Annie whose mother ran off, a man who was emotionally attached to his house, a widow. And that's not the only talk of ghosts we experienced.

The highlight of my day was the City of the Dead Tour. This tour took us on a mile long and quarter of a mile wide (yay!) trek to Greyfriar's Cemetery. On the way, we heard about really cool various forms of torture. Some I knew about, some I didn't. But I remember them all. Burning, Chinese water torture, a couple involving pressure, the rack, the wheel, and others. Ask me if interested in more info.
When we got to the graveyard, we heard this crazy story of the first Death March and Concentration Camp. It happened in some year (again, don't remember which) and it involved this group called The Covenanters who were fighting this man named Mackenzie. Well, in short, they lost. They lost far away from home. So they were made to walk 500 miles to the Greyfriar's Cemetery. Once they arrived, they were forced to lie down on their stomachs on the ground. Anyone who got up was shot. So, they layed there for five months, in an Edinburgh winter. 5 months. In winter. In Edinburgh.
(For those who are unaware, Edinbugh winters are bitter cold and unforgiving. Not a good time to lie outside on your stomach for 5 months.)

Anyways, most of them died. But the ones who did survive were sold as slaves. When they were put on a boat, going to their new masters, the boat sank.
Obviously, to be a Covenanter was to be cursed.
So where they died is now haunted. People get attacked by thin air, and it happens really frequently, like twice every week or so. Nothing happened while we were there (unfortunately). That would have been quite a story.
And a rather ironic thing about this whole story is that the man that sentenced the Covenanters to death is buried naught 500 feet from them. There's weird things around his crypt too, but none really worth mentioning. But let's just say that him being buried so close to the men he slaughtered is bad for the feng shui of the cemetery.

Possibly the best thing about this tour was the guide himself. His name is John and he is everything I want in a guy. For real. Everything. It was kinda creepy how perfect he was.
Funny, blue eyes, feathered sandy blond hair, a thin nose, not too much taller than I, nice lips. He wore a trenchcoat and looked damn good in it. He has an obsession with torture/pain/murder and threatened all while we were touring. He loves the Greyfriar's Cemetery with a passion. Also, instead of getting paid, he says he likes to be beaten. He enjoys it, and prefers it to money.
And I know this is a joke, but it was the right one to make in my presence.


I love Edinburgh and will go back someday. I will go back.

I'm now in London, and it definitely lacks the charm of Edinburgh. I mean, I did just get here and everything, but still. Edinburgh entranced me, captured me. I can't go back to anything less now and be content. I guess I'll have to be though.

Our first night and morning in Edinburgh is beautiful. But we picked a crazy weekend to stay here. There is this G 8 (eight of the world's most powerful nation's leaders) protest being held here over the weekend. It's actually rather cool because there are concerts and marches going on and such.
But unfortunately, all of the cool touristy things that I wanted to see are heavily guarded by the police! Poo, so we won't be able to see them while we're here.

The slogan of this protest is 'Make Poverty History', and their main color is white.
Of course, I come to town today wearing an army green shirt.
I could just take it off...

And no, I wouldn't be streaking down the street! I have a white tank top on underneath it. Gosh, I'm not that much of an exhibitionist.

And perhaps if I took off my top, more of the hot Scottish boys would take notice. All the sporty ones look like carbon copies of David Beckham. It's amusing: they all have shaved heads, track pants, and tight t-shirts on.

Which reminds me: Scottish people have an *awesome* sense of fashion! Oh, they dress so well. It makes me happy to see guys wearing nice jeans.
I love it here.

But no one loves me, the stupid American tourist.
We actually look pretty cool until we open our mouths. Our lack of an accent (which are very cute here, by the way) gets us weird looks. It's rather depressing.

Oh well! I'm here! YAY!

Hey everyone! I somehow got Internet Access from over here, so you all get an update! Now, don't you feel special? And so you should.

I'll start with the beginning, as that seems the most logical place.

We arrived at the Shannon's house at about 1:40 and left for the airport around 2. The car ride was fine, and everything seemed off to a great start. But then we exited the car. Right as I stepped foot onto the sidewalk, I was huffily run over by two men weilding breifcases. Alright, shake it off.
We get into the airport without any further issues. I mean, what can happen 10 steps to a door?

We get to the check-in desk, or whatever and learn that our 4:30 flight to Philedalphia was delayed 3 hours due to weather surrounding Philly. *Surrounding*. Keep in mind that this weather wasn't even in Philly, just around it.
We were put onto another flight (one that was supposed to go at 1:30, but was delayed 3 hours and would take off at 4:30 instead). So we wait and get delayed for that flight as well. When the delay was over and the plane was there, we boarded. We taxied out to the runway and then...

We waited.

We waited on the runway preparing to take off for about 2 hours. I cannot begin to describe how this felt. Imagine Murphy's Law (anything that can go wrong, will.) Now imagine it times 10. And at an airport. While waiting to go on the trip of a lifetime. It was awful!!
When we got off, we talked to a travel agent (who was about to have a nervous breakdown himself) and got another flight to Toronto. Ah, but another problem lay ahead of us! This flight was in the morning, meaning the next day! So we had to get a room at the Hilton (with Paris and her sex sheets plus the lipstick stain on my blanket). Gross, but at least we had a flight.

The next morning, we get on a prop. plane to fly to Toronto. All went well. But not for long.

From Toronto, we would make a connection to Heathrow in London. Instead of doing this, we decided to book a flight to Glasgow, Scotland instead. This save us a 4 hour train ride, but made us wait two more hours in the airport.
Two hours? you say. That's nothing.

Let me just say this. I know the Tornonto Airport well enough to call it home. We were there from 12:22pm to 11:30 pm.
In other words, WAY TOO FUCKING LONG.

The flight would've been excruciating without the help of my favorite little orange pill, Dramamine.

But we arrived safely and are now in beautiful Scotland.

I love this place a lot more than I will ever love the USA.