Dippy Jones Across the Pond: Day 33/34 - May the road rise up to meet you

Today my check out was at 10, and the American girls, after an epic night on the town, were headed to the Aran Islands for the day. Unfortunately, they weren't planning on being back until after 5, at which point I had a train to catch to get home (for a rest, as it were). So it was another day by myself.

I rather like travelling by myself. I can wander as far and wide and fast as I want without having to deal with people wearing inappropriate footwear, or incapable of walking so far; unwilling to explore or slow as molasses. But eating alone is a little awkward; and I have no one else to share the embarrassment of navigating the unsure waters of ordering protocol and payment at each individual establishment. And though it feels weird toting my camera, snapping pictures and not having a friend to ease the awkwardness of that very touristy feeling, I suppose being alone makes you more approachable.

For instance, as I was snapping pictures of the Spanish Arch from across the river, a man approached me with his son and insisted on taking my photo for me; he took more like 4, each from a different angle, capturing a different part of our surroundings. All the while chatting at me about this, that and the other thing. He was quite friendly, and I think he was a local, or close to it; judging by the way he talked about the area.

Apparently next weekend, which is when they have their bank holiday, there will be an off-shore power-boat race starting from Galway, going all the way around Ireland I think. That'd be quite the thing to see I imagine. But band over powerboats really :P

I walked the streets of Galway, checking out the original makers of the Claddagh ring; the only ones allowed to stamp "ORIGINAL" on the inside of the band. It originated here in Galway, from the settlement of fishermen who lived on the other bank of the River Corrib and used it as an engagement/wedding ring. If you wear it heart pointing out, you are free for the taking. Crown pointed out and you are devoted to someone already. I've always liked the ring and what it meant: Hands for friendship, heart for love, crown for loyalty. I've always felt that it represented the kind of love that led to the perfect marriage: A best friend you loved, with absolute faithfulness. I used to have a pair of earrings with the symbol; I imagine they're at home somewhere...

I visited the statue of Oscar Wilde a few times. I like him... I really enjoyed playing Gwendolyn Fairfax, who wanted a man with a name which produced vibrations. I wish I could do that again... without getting my glasses stuck on the veil this time.

I've thought about that play a few times since I've been over here; more specifically that performance. We'd all put on British accents without noticing, until the Principal pointed it out. Thinking of that while I'm here makes me giggle. Especially when I make fun of Oliver's mock-Californian accent by reverting to the voice I used for Gwendolyn Fairfax... Oh memories.

I had a few good meals; an epic breakfast and a tasty red pesto pasta lunch. And wandered around quite extensively again. I bought myself some Guinness truffles (which were ok) and a Bailey's truffle bar (which was pretty much the most divine thing ever!).

I guess this time of year is just before the real tourist season started because it seemed like there were a lot of out with the old, in with the new sales going on. I picked up a tinwhistle and tune book for dirt cheap, so I'm going to try and learn a few tunes on that, and I got myself a shamrock blanket in preparation for the Ferry ride that night. Warm as my new sweater is, I was still anticipating a bit too much cold than I'd enjoy, and the price was right.

On my walk around Galway that morning, I'd found a pier, and on that pier was a sign, advertising the Corrib Princess which left daily at 2:30 and 4:30 to give tours around Lough Corrib; Ireland's 2nd largest lake, only overshadowed by one in Northern Ireland, so I got the impression that this was the largest lake that really counted. I was far too early to sit there and wait, but I didn't know how much it cost or how long the trip was; and saw no indication, so I figured I'd come back later and find out.

Before lunch, I saw the Cathedral; I was disappointed by the lack of Salmon at Salmon Weir, there was supposed to be a salmon run happening at that time, but I saw no indications of it; I found a whole park, filled with what appeared to be raspberry cane, if only I'd found it a month and a half later, I'm sure I'd have left with a very red mouth... I watched the local rowing teams practice too, it seems a very popular sport in that city. I also admired the wildlife. Especially when one of the thousands of swans in Galway started picking a fight with some poor diving bird which had strayed into its reach.

It seemed like all the birds had babies. The swans had their babies, the coots had theirs, the ducks too... I suppose that's spring time for you. Season of cuteness!






I wandered through town, grabbing my delicious pasta lunch at Kelly's; the venue ETH had been at the night before, and saw some great street art and vintage signs. Guinness is of course a big deal there, so there were some pretty fantastic signs...

Funny too. I'd never seen the Guinness for strength before! I imagine carrying that much steel with a bellyful of Guinness would be what we call A Very Bad Idea...

I headed back to the pier where some boys (boys will be boys, eh?) were swimming out to, what the boat tour later revealed to be, the old supports for the railway bridge. From there, somehow, they'd climb up on top and jump into the water below. I think Heather would have been right in there with them. Though I can't for the life of me figure out how they were climbing up to the top...

It turned out the boat tour was a reasonable price, and wasn't so long that I'd wind up missing my train, so I went on it. It was a little slow, and boring, compared to the one I took in London, but it was rather nice. And boy is that lake pretty~!

You can see the mountains of three separate counties from that river/lake, and so many ruins along it. And such interesting wildlife as well.

From the sounds of things they have really fantastic fishing there too... Salmon, trout, eel, pike; all sorts of great fish.

My camera battery died almost right after taking this picture though. It was rather disappointing, I hadn't taken all the pictures I'd wanted on the way up the river, assuming I could take them on the way back down. But it didn't matter much, something about turning the boat around made the wind that much more bitter and intense, so I caved and headed downstairs. I grabbed an Irish coffee from the bar, since it seemed appropriate and I enjoyed it quietly while enjoying the scenery.

When we arrived at the pier again, I made my way over to Eyre square and explored a little before double checking my train/ferry times and hopping on the train to Dublin. Unfortunately, when we arrived in Dublin I found out the handy dandy bus service that had taken me from Ferry port to train station the previous day only ran Monday to Friday (though I'd taken it on a Saturday, which had me a little confused, but my days were confused enough due to lack of sleep). That meant, the only way I could make it to my ferry was to take a cab. It was almost a small enough charge that I could cover it with what cash I still had, but it was a few euros over by the time we made it through the maze that was the port, so I had to grab more cash from the machine, which made me really unhappy; 5$ withdrawal charge because I didn't have the extra 2euros to cover my cab fare? GROSS!

But I got on the ferry ok. Settled into a seat, had an overpriced, and thoroughly oversized meal of Irish meatballs and more potatoes than I think I've ever seen try to fit on one plate. Then I took out my blanket, covered up my makeshift bed and went to sleep.

I must have slept really soundly because I didn't wake up until a passerby shook my exposed foot. Looking around I realized we were at Holyhead already! I had an over 4 hour wait until my train, but luckily, being back in the UK, my cellphone had access to skype again and I spent the time talking with my parents and then later with Jon, filling everyone in on my adventures. After 2 trains and a bus (and 3 episodes of Mad Men, season 3) I was finally back home around 10am Monday morning. Luckily it was a bank holiday, so I just went home, and went to bed. I basically slept all day, got up and did a couple things in the afternoon/evening, then went back to bed to sleep the night away.

What a fantastic, but exhausting, weekend!

Maybe one day this week, I'll recover from it! :P

Dippy Jones Across the Pond: Day 32 - Enter the Haggis!!!! XD

Ooooof! So dead.

I guess I should start from the beginning, so lets see...

Yesterday, having finally determined that yes, I will have a ticket if I go to Galway, yes I'll have a hostel, but no, no one would be coming with me; I tried to buy my ticket. For whatever reason, it wouldn't let me. I'd tried a week earlier to buy it through the online system, but it just wouldn't work, and now I was having the same issue. When I contacted National Rail, they told me "oh that's weird, that's too bad; guess you'll just have to buy it at the station!" So instead of having a relaxing evening at home packing leisurely for my trip the next morning; I rushed home, threw my stuff together and flew off to the Stoke rail station to buy my ticket. There was some problem with the ferry, that was why I couldn't buy online as I'd hoped; but he was able to do it in the station, yay! But being at the station already, it became a case of; why not just leave now?




View My English World in a larger map

So at 7 o'clock, I got on the train in Stoke. Then, at 10am the next morning; I finally arrived in Galway. After: a 1.5 hour wait at Crewe, somewhere over 2 hour wait at Holyhead, 3-4 hour ferry ride, ridiculous bus ride to Dublin station and 3 hours on a train to Galway. WHEW! Let me just say though, if you're taking the ferry; particularly at a time when you're likely to want sleep, take a blanket! Fancy as that thing may be, it seems to have nothing but airconditioning. BRRRR!

Anyways, having arrived, I went and checked in at my hostel, but couldn't go to my room until 3. No leeway on that. So 5 hours to kill on no sleep. What to do? I know! WALK TO ANOTHER TOWN!!! But more on that in a bit.

Given my experience with the frigidness of the ferry, and the fact it didn't seem the outdoor temperature of Galway was going to be much nicer, I was on the look out for a nice sweater. And I found one! At a nearly 1/2 off sale, pure, hand-knit merino wool; made in Ireland of course, it was such a steal! And so cute, fashionable, comfy... plus it suited me! And was purple! I love it! I'd describe it... but it's tough... It's got a nice wide collar that kind of folds down like a suit jacket's lapels, and instead of buttoning down the middle, it kind of over laps at the front and only has 2 buttons. Kind of a wrap I guess... The kind of sweater I can get real fat, but still be able to wear it.

I also got a pair of socks (not on sale, but still reasonably priced and really excellent quality) so now I have sheepies on my feeties! ^.^ Baaaaah!

So after looking around town, checking out the historic buildings, the bridges, the port and bay; I realized Salthill wasn't as far as I was afraid. In fact, from the description in my guide book, it was practically spitting distance. So I started to walk.

And it was beautiful.

It was an overcast, sometimes rainy day. But it was very nice, and I think the clouds really lend to the epicness of a lot of my photos.

I saw scuba divers taking lessons in the icy waters of Galway Bay, the Aran Islands off, blue and hazy, in the distance. It made me wish Jon were there even more than I already did. I'd love to visit the Aran Islands with him and give my rudimentary gaelic a proper run for it's money and Jon's been really passionate about wanting to take scuba diving lessons so... ya...

I also saw a leisure centre with a really massive water slide. Something else Jon really likes... It looked really fun.

The promenade I was walking along apparently has a lot of historical significance. Having been a gathering place and vacationing spot as long as there'd been farmers.

As with anything with a history, there is tradition. At the end of the promenade, is a wall. The Wall at the End of the Prom, in fact. And for reasons lost to time it is good luck to kick the wall at the end of the prom and well... I haven't had bad luck since! *knock on wood* :P

Of course, it's good luck if you wave at someone on Tower Bridge (in London) and they wave back, which I managed to succeed at having happen; then my harddrive broke :/

But Ireland is the land of luck! And I mean really, what's England? Land of.... well, I'm sure it's something, but it's certainly not luck!

There was a lot of beautiful views to be had down by the water in Salthill. The tide was a little low (or maybe that was a seasonal thing) and the sea-vegetation wasn't the most pleasant smell at times, but boy did I enjoy the sights.

When I reached a spot a little further down the path from where I took this last photo, I checked my watch and was pleased to see that if I set out now, by the time I got to my hostel I'd be able to sleep! Finally! So that's exactly what I did.

Turns out, basically all the people who worked at the hostel were Canadian; one from Winnipeg (who I'd had a great long chat with before heading out in the morning), one from Vancouver and the night shift guy was from P.E.I. When I got up to my room ("room 12, bed 5... room 12, bed 5... or wait, was that room 5 bed 12? ugggggh") I found I had three roommates already there, turned out they were all Americans (one from Tennessee, two from California) though one of them wasn't actually staying at our hostel. I invited them along to the Enter the Haggis concert after they'd inquired about the fact I was travelling solo. They had macbooks with them too. Right at home!

I took my nap, but woke too early and jumped in the shower; then went back to sleep. When I got up for real, it was mostly because of a pack of rowdy German children who were apparently throwing one another into walls for fun, as one of the American girls noted. We had a good long chat about this and that, then I suggested we head over.

On the way, we were surrounded by a group of guys. 2 older men from Kelly were asking us if we knew where Busker Brown's was until they discovered the girls were "Yanks", and 2 guys from Yorkshire had approached at the same time, from the other side (though they all seemed to be together) claiming they could guess our nationalities.

"Bet you can't" I challenged

"Americans!" he exclaimed

"Nope" I said

Then one of the older men from Kelly grabbed me by the shoulder and exclaimed at the one fellow from Yorkshire, "No!" he cried, "She's Irish!"

I laughed. I guess that's my answer about whether there's something in my looks that give me away as a Canadian or whether, until I speak, people could believe I was British. Even having heard me speak, he thought I was Irish!

Which seems an appropriate segue. Can I just say, and use the previous anecdote as a strange sort of proof, that Ireland is Nova Scotia?

Along my walk out to Salthill, I saw this row of houses along the mouth of the river headed out into the bay and it all just clicked.

The accents? Identical.

The architecture? Hauntingly familiar.

Which side of the pond am I on?

I guess I'd never heard a proper range of Irish accents, but the first few women I heard with very thick Irish accents had me doing a double take; they sounded exactly like Mary Walsh! Even the lighter, less noticeable accents, primarily from the local youths, sounded suspiciously Canadian.

Such confusion. But, back to my story.

When we got to Kelly's, it turned out the doors opened at 9, not 8:30 as it had said everywhere else. So we sat around and had a drink. Two of the girls ordered shots of Jamesons, which for some reason, made me cringe. I don't know, I guess it's a terminology thing. My dad drinks "fingers" of scotch, and I never really think of whisky as something you get as a shot, it's more for sipping; unless you're in for a get drunk quick scheme I guess. I had a pint of cider; I guess it was Magners, that seems to be almost all they serve here. Appropriate I suppose given that if memory serves, the can bills itself as Irish cider.

Unfortunately, my companions decided they didn't want to pay the 10euro cover, so I was by myself for the concert. I got pretty pally with my seat mate; a woman from Oshawa who lived in Vermont with her husband and had come with the Haggis Head Road Tour. I was mostly bound to my seat for the concert, my 25,000 steps earlier in the day, during which I'd tried to depend on my walking stick as little as possible, had my knee pretty close to its breaking point. But it was still a blast.

My seat-mate knew the piper, Craig Downie, in the band quite well it seemed, and I got to talk to him a bit before the show. He was checking if the Coca Cola he'd just gotten had High-Fructose Corn Syrup in it and I informed him happily that no, it couldn't. I elaborated that HFCS is a regulated ingredient in the EU so as to protect European sugar producers; he looked like he was about to hug me! Not that I'd mind. Maybe I should make that a goal... get a hug from every member of the band; they are the greatest thing since sliced bread after all! My seat-mate even suggested to Craig that I should make a documentary about them; and he seemed genuinely interested! Wouldn't that be awesome!?! ^.^

They played almost all of my favourite songs, though they didn't play my very favourite, though I suppose that would have been a bit of a downer for the last show of the tour (My favourite is Perfect Song, in case you were wondering). But they started off with my second favourite! One Last Drink. And as an encore, they even let Brian play electric guitar! They did a really fun rendition of a song that I recognized, but can't put a name to, unfortunately... But here's a sample of the fun I had:






Oh so fantastic!

After the concert, I even got to talk to Brian, the singer/fiddler/pianist/guitarist, and let him know how worth it it was to come, and how significant a thing that was for me to say, given that in order to be there, I'd barely slept since the previous morning! He didn't believe that it was worth it, but I still think it was! <3 ^.^ <3

I didn't really have anyone to say good bye to, or to walk home with. I felt a little at loose ends. But I figured I'd go mention to their guest Bodhrán player that I'd appreciated his playing. When he mentioned that he knew Craig through the celtic music scene around Toronto (despite him sounding like quite the native Galwegian) I mentioned that my uncle was in a Celtic band in Ontario around that time. When I said that it was the Privateers; he actually remembered them! I told him that my uncle was Mark, and he remembered him too, though neither of us could remember the names of the other band members all I could come up with was "Mitch... something?" which I've since realized was my brain trying to come up with the name Murray.

Unfortunately, the internet's not great in this hostel, and their Skype is faulty. Plus, the machines are all Linux; which I have little to no experience with. Oh well :(

Off to bed!

Dippy Jones Across the Pond: Day 30 - Oh does that cat hate Mondays!

Thank you so much everyone who's commented, facebook messaged and emailed me about my blog! It's great to know that I'm actually writing for an audience and not just casting magic missile into the darkness... umm... I mean... pretend you didn't read that last bit! >.>

Anyways, story time!

The day after Nina left, Fanny came in with a grocery bag. Nina had told me she'd be leaving me some stuff, because, well, obviously you can't really bring many things over with you, and by extension can't bring them back with you. So I was expecting some stuff, maybe food she'd have to throw out otherwise, but then I'm given the grocery bag...

And I think Nina must be trying to tell me something.

Inside the bag are 2 things: a bottle of Ibuprofen, and a scale.

As in a weigh-yourself-you-fatty scale, not a dragon scale or something. I know it's for when I leave, so I can weigh my luggage and make sure I'm not over, but still. It was funny before it clicked!

Since then, I've actually stepped on it, and either it's wrong or England's been very good to me; despite all its flaky pastry around pork, sausage, steak and all other manner of things you can make a savoury pie dish out of.

On the topic of weight, how about exercise? I've been doing a lot of walking, and done a bit of various exercise videos I have up in my room, but that room is just so tiny! I can barely do my yoga in there, let alone any of the other videos I have. But I realized: why not buy myself a cheap yoga mat and do my yoga out on the grass around my shed? So, once I figure out where I can actually get myself anything like that, I may just do it!

I'm also quite happy with my skin since I got here. You may not know this, but I have terribad acne. Yuck! But since I've been here, I've been in the clear, as it were. I'm more regular about my prescriptions, I guess because I have fewer distractions, but for the first bit my skin was drying out like whoa! So I went out and decided I'd try this Nivea light moisturizer, and Perfect! Having such clear skin is a really nice change, especially since I'm meeting so many new people.

In typing this, I've noticed something that may give some insight into the accuracy of that scale... my promise ring won't stay upright... it keeps falling down so the gem is on the inside of my hand where it doesn't belong. I guess that scale's right!

Awesome! ^.^

Dippy Jones Across the Pond: Blogging Assignment #1

Isn't this lucky? We just got our first blogging assignment and funnily enough, it covers basically everything I've had on my ever growing list of Things I Need To Talk About And Haven't Yet. A perfect opportunity!


So here goes!


I realized, last Sunday I think, that I haven't actually gone over where I am and what I'm doing. I really just jumped into the thick of it. But there have been so many other things to post about, I just haven't gotten to it.


I am currently at Keele University next to Keele Village, in Staffordshire, UK. I am working for their equivalent of York International, it's called CIED (Centre for International Exchange and Development). They had initially wanted an intern to update their educational materials, but they needed that intern over the 2nd semester; when the relevant activities were actually happening. So that's why they hired Ron. He's been here, doing my job for me, since they found out the internship wasn't what they had expected. I think I've talked about him before, but just in case I haven't; Ron is a York student as well! Well, a former one. He used to be in Film, but then switched to biology and after having done a study abroad opportunity at the real University of York (ie the one here in England) he decided to come live here.


So if he's been doing my job, what am I doing now, you may ask? Promo videos. And lots of them. You see CIED wants to better promote itself to the students here at Keele, and to better promote Keele to foreign students considering coming to England. So I'm making A LOT of promo videos. Unfortunately, it's been nothing but cascades of technology failure so far. This makes me one sad panda :(


But anyways, I've got practically my own office (especially now with Nina gone, it's really just Fanny and me in there; sometimes Ron, if he comes in) though it's meant to be the Peer Advisor Study Abroad Resource Room, so we get a lot of people wandering in with questions we can't answer.


There are of course a lot of differences, and a lot of similarities between Toronto and here. Especially the traffic! As everyone knows, Britain is a terribly backwards country, so backwards they can't even drive on the right side of the road! Driving on the left, made all the more terrifying by being peppered with roundabouts that you go the wrong way about. I will not drive here. Period. But it has given me time to test my hypothesis.


You see, living in Vanier we had a few British students, and after doing that awkward we're-trying-to-pass-one-another-but-keep-stepping-to-the-wrong-side dance, you know the one, a few times with them; I created my hypothesis. That awkward dance, is almost exclusively born from traffic based confusion. It so rarely happens with me and another Canadian, or American, but it happened almost every time I tried passing one of the British students in Vanier. So the test, if you're in Britain and it happens whenever you pass anyone without making a conscious effort to pass on the British side; that's what the problem is. 


And I was right!


The first bit, nearly every person I passed, we did that awkward dance. But if I made a conscious effort to behave as though I were driving a car on their roads, all of a sudden, the problem wasn't a problem anymore! Since then, I've been experimenting further. You can avoid the phenomenon all together by avoiding eye-contact and barrelling through; but who wants to do that?

The UK has a pretty decent public transit system; there are the trains of course, the marvellous, oh-so-cheap trains (relative to Canada, of course) but there are also the busses, and in cities like London, the Tube. I've only seen double decker busses in London and Edinburgh so far, but I haven't exactly seen the biggest sample. One thing I've noticed about transit, particularly here in Stoke, is how slow it is. Everyone takes their time to get onto the bus, the driver takes each fare individually and provides change, when you ring the bell for your stop, you sit until the bus stops and the driver waits for you to get up and leave. Not like Toronto, where you better have exact change ready and when you want off, you'd better be at the door when the bus stops or too bad for you! The UK is so much more civilized about it. You probably won't miss the bus if you're arriving just on time, because even if everyone's on/off the bus who wants to be, the driver might sit there just a mite longer. They also have variable fares based on where you're going, which is quite nice. Every trip's the same low price for me because I buy multi-ride tickets, but if you're just going a few stops down the line, your price will reflect that, it's nice.


The food is good here too. The fruits and veggies seem cheaper here, and they're more focused on the local and organic trends as a rule. They're also really good with the gluten-free business, and much to my eternal happiness, they don't use HFCS! If you don't know, High Fructose Corn Syrup is basically, in a kind of hyperbolic way, the reason the US is so fat. But seriously, look into it; you're eating enough of it everyday. That shit's in EVERYTHING! ... but not here! <3


Other than that, I have access to pretty much all the same food and restaurants as back home, except KD. Oh my beloved Kraft Dinner! Realm of cheesy deliciousness! *sigh* But seriously, the restaurant scene is pretty similar but it's dominated by some primary themes: Pub Food, Indian Food and "takeaway" (chinese etc). There are of course Italian restaurants, but they aren't so common, there are some nicer looking chinese places, but it seems that all the classy looking food places are Indian, the rest are Pub Food, and then there's takeaway places, either in the form of chinese food, or a chippy (fish n' chips shop). I haven't been to any takeaway places, but I love places that serve Pub Food, and I've been to one Indian place (for those of you who remember the late night food in Cardiff experience >.<).


And that brings me to people. I don't know about Toronto having a "keep you [sic] head down and move" context; I smile at people on the street just as much there as anywhere else, brief hellos particularly when its so early in the morning there aren't many others out and about. I find it's the exact same way here. People tend to be even friendlier once my accent peaks their curiosity, but it really isn't that different. Though I wonder, just looking at me, do people assume I'm just another Brit, or is there something that gives me away. Even just a little?


I'll have to find someone to ask....

DIppy Jones Across the Pond: Day 28 - I (k)need you!

We said goodbye to Nina. For real this time. This time, she won't let the volcano stop her, because she can't afford to; she has a new job to get to in the States. Go Nina Go!

We went to the Sneyd Arms in Keele Village, and yet again, Nina's initial claim to me about the quality of the food was incorrect. Positively delicious, though they were out of cider, which was highly disappointing, wound up accepting their offer of a Lancaster Blonde for the same price, but it just wasn't cider and both Nina and I wound up leaving half of it behind. I would have been fine with beer, if it had been what I wanted initially; but I had ordered cider because I wanted cider, so to get beer instead was just a disappointment to my taste-buds... I'm sorry for letting you down, oh trusty taste-buds...

Anyways, it was Oliver, Nina, Fanny, Duran and I who went. I rather enjoy trying to explain food related words to Duran (ie/ "what is grilled?" "Grilled is a way of cooking. Burgers are grilled") because it requires some imagination; simply defining the word doesn't generally help, but giving a common reference point does. I suppose it would be easier if we could just tell him what the Cantonese word is, but where's the fun in that?

Talking about Duran reminds me, I had some things from Scotland I had wanted to talk about then didn't wind up mentioning. I suppose first I'll talk about the one which was brought up by the mention of Duran.

Asthma, I don't like it, but it's a fact of my life and I deal with it. When we were in Scotland, specifically Edinburgh on the Saturday, we had set out in the morning, and I was keeping them going at a good clip, despite my not actually really knowing how to get up that massive hill to where the castle was. We wound up taking a wrong turn and having to take a nice big set of stairs up to the right road. No problem. From there, we continued through this great little market and along the road under the castle in the unshaded and blazing heat, then we found the stairs that led up to the Royal Mile after practically bounding up them, I was completely out of breath; so much so, I couldn't talk for a moment when we were at the top of the stairs. When I gestured "one moment" followed by a hand emphasizing my difficulty breathing so they knew why.
Duran exclaimed "Oh! You're out of breath? You should exercise more!"
cue glare "Or, you know, stop being asthmatic; whichever you think's best," I said.
I suppose, in hind sight, I shouldn't snap like that, but I was hot, tired and having trouble breathing, my thoughts weren't exactly at their peak. But that just bothers me so much. I have exercised more here than I think I did all last year. I'm walking a significant amount daily, and even more on weekends (to the tune of ~60,000 steps this past weekend alone) and have been so happy that I've managed to do so without killing my knee (more on that in a moment) but no matter how much I do, my breathing will always be an issue. I could probably become a triathlete and still be disproportionately out of breath after most activities; and people would probably give me "you should exercise more" as the great solution. It just irks me that people assume it's your fault, rather than considering for a moment that perhaps there is some underlying problem. Maybe that's just me.

Second, my knee.

My knee has this problem, it's too flexible for the muscles trying to hold it in place. I can actually rotate my upper leg separately from my lower leg to the tune of a little more than 90 degrees (as in, my knee and thigh are pointing one way, while my shin and foot are pointing a little more than 90 degrees in a completely different direction). This is what they call Not A Good Thing, and while you'd think sitting would avoid the problem, my knee actually gets stiff and painful from sitting in say a theatre seat, bus, rail or airplane seat too long (usually being unbearably uncomfortable at just over the 1hr and 30 minutes mark). As for walking? Normally, after a absolute MAXIMUM of 12,000 steps, my knee gets out of alignment and is painful and difficult for the next week or so. I've been working on it, doing exercises to try and resolve the issue, strengthen the muscles holding my knee in the proper position, but the ones my doctor and chiropractor gave me weren't really helping. However, after starting to do WiiFit in the last few months of school I started to notice an immense change (I credit the chair position and rowing squats, and try to do them often), and now, here in the UK, where I carry my PokeWalker (see image) with me everywhere, I've noticed changes that make me oh so very happy!

Remember Cardiff? I wound up putting my knee out at around 17,000 steps (5,000 more than usual) and wound up doing around 13,000 more steps that day (total for that Saturday was just over 30,000), even on the bad knee. I thought I'd be out of commission for at least two weeks because of the point I allowed my knee to get to. It was more painful than it'd gotten before and I was worried I'd really over done it. Even so, without even cutting into my steps per day, after 2 days, it was 100% healed! I have never had it get that much better that quickly! I've brought my walking stick with me on all the trips since, and haven't managed to put my knee out again once! I've done so much walking; on flat terrain in London, on ridiculously hilly terrain in Edinburgh and Stirling, and it hasn't gone out since! It probably has something to do with the fact I've been bringing and using my awesomely spectacular walking stick, but still.

In Edinburgh and Stirling, I experienced something that I don't think I can remember ever experiencing before: I walked so much, took so many steps, went so far, that my legs were actually in absolute agony from pure exhaustion. You'd think that'd be a bad thing; your muscles were worked so hard, that they were actually in pain from exhaustion? Ouch! But no! My knee hadn't given out! I'm so used to walking any little bit and being basically incapacitated by the pain from my knee, that being able to walk enough that my legs are dead from exhaustion and not joint problems just feels like such a miracle! I think it was quite possibly one of the greatest feelings ever... I hope I can continue to experience it! For once, I feel like I might actually be able to do these things unhindered, like I used to.

Come on knee! You can do it! Keep it up! ^.^

Dippy Jones Across the Pond: Day 26 - Scotland is how you spell EPIC.

Some things I forgot to mention yesterday:

• I bought myself an awesome rugby shirt that was on sale. Purple + Scotland = AWESOME!

• I saw a deluxe TARDIS! It's bigger... on the outside? Well, I saw a few of them actually. It seems the TARDIS' broken chameleon circuit would still allow it to blend in quite well in Edinburgh!

But that was yesterday! Time to move on!



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We spent today in beautiful Stirling. The gateway between the Highlands and the Lowlands of Scotland, Stirling is home to the historic lowest point where one can cross the river Forth. Also home to Stirling Castle, the world's oldest football in the Stirling Smith Art Gallery, and the National Wallace Monument (placed there because Glasgow and Edinburgh couldn't stop bickering over it).

We started out our day scavenging for food. The hostel didn't provide breakfast, and when you're heading out early on a Sunday, good luck finding some place that's open! While the other's got ready, I went down to reception to use the internet and double check our plans, so instead I wound up sitting there, chatting with the very hung over guy running reception that morning; he was really quite upbeat for being as hungover as he claimed! Much to my relief, he told me you can walk to the Wallace monument (even though it looks soooo far away) in about 25 minutes, but it'll take you an extra 25minutes to walk up it! o.O

Our first order of business was to go up to the castle. We wound up in an unaffiliated giftshop to buy our tickets, but it was actually quite lucky... not only were they offering family name histories, but they also had some beautiful jewellery! As I forgot all of my necklaces at home, my clothing choices have been quite a bit more limited based on neckline; my mom suggested that maybe I should find a nice piece of jewellery here, and so that's exactly what I did! It's a heart made out of a thistle, wearing Queen Mary's crown; it's beautiful! Oh, and I mentioned they were offering family name history printouts? Well, I looked through their book to see if mine was there, then oh so stealthily looked mine up on their foolishly unattended computer. It wasn't really anything worth buying, just everything I already know about my name: That nobody is entirely sure where it's from or what it means, but these are a few of the possibilities. However, it did have a motto, which I've never seen before... something invoking God, I'll have to look it up though... I think it was "Deus com...." something, oh man am I useless! :P

Anyways, Stirling Castle was beautiful, and really interesting! We walked along (un-railed) parapets, and saw their full display of the castle kitchens. Interestingly enough a woman's place was not actually traditionally in the kitchen! Women weren't allowed in the castle kitchens until the seventeenth century or something. Take that traditional gender stereotypes! Hah!

They also had a really cool bit in the chapel about the feasts of the time, with a lay out of traditional food (which you of course couldn't eat, but it was all real food) and a woman explaining the fashion of the court at Stirling, which was quite bizarrely, French. Turns out, the Queen (?) brought with her a French seamstress, so all her dresses were in the French fashion, and all her ladies followed suit. They had a few people walking around in examples of this as well.

They also had weavers working on new tapestries for the soon-to-be restored palace portion of the castle, so we got to watch one of them working on a panel of the hunt of the Unicorn, specifically the panel where the unicorn's horn is wounding one of the hunter's dogs for those of you who know the tapestries.

From the castle, we headed over to the Church of the Holy Rood. A rood is a cross, if you were wondering, so it's basically the Church of the Holy Cross.

It's a fantastic church with some really great history surrounding it. It actually still has marks from the musket balls of Cromwell's men, and was where Mary, Queen of Scots' infant son was crowned king.

It was rather loud inside for a church, but I think that was because some of the parishioners seemed to be hanging around for "coffee time" off to the side. I always wondered what churches without gymnasiums did for social hour, so now I know!

According to the material I read about it before we went, this particular church has the finest stained glass in all of Scotland, and the largest, and nicest, Romantic organ in the whole of the UK. The Organ was really quite impressive, I just wish I could have heard it being played...

You know, I love photographing Churches... their lighting is always so interesting. I wonder if there's a career in that :P

From the church, we had initially planned to go to the Art Gallery, but I realized that it was only open from 2-5, so if we went there, we wouldn't be able to go to the Wallace Monument. So instead we used the opportunity to grab some lunch at a pub in the town centre called Cape. A tasty meal but nothing terribly special, it was the after meal conversation that interested me. A middle aged man, who I'm going to assume was the manager, came up and asked if everything had been fine, as he cleared our plates. After I responded, he asked me "Where are you from in the States?" I gave my usual "I'm not" response, allowing the offending party to correct themselves with an "Oh! Canada! Cool! Where?" But instead, he responded with an "ah, Toronto!" apparently Torontonian accents are extremely similar to the New England accent, so for him it was a 50/50 chance. And he understood my being disgruntled at the question because "It's like when people call us English" (he had a very thick Scottish accent). I never really understood what the difference between American and Canadian accents was (just that they're different, dammit!), and it's a question that's come up a lot with the number of non-native English speakers I've met here who are dealing with distinguishing different accents. I've found I've gotten quite conscious of my accent, especially as I'm fighting the slide into Temporary British Accent Syndrom (TBAS), but nowhere has it received as much attention as in Scotland; and they're so good at catching it too!

Here's a good picture of my travelling crew, but you may notice something about it... Catch it? I am taking this photo from a ways in front of them. Did I have to run up ahead to get this photo? No. They are just damned slow! I walked, with my sore, tired legs and my walking stick/cane, and still outpaced them by a wide margin. And I thought I was going slow! Eventually I got tired of waiting for them and started taking a few pictures of them. So that's Nina, Oliver and Duran. Quite the multinational group! USA, UK, Canada and Hong Kong. We've each got our little inside jokes, sometimes Nina and I will talk about something and no one else will get it: It's a north american thing. Sometimes Oliver and I will talk about something and no one else will get it: It's a commonwealth thing. It's quite fun :)

Now where was I?

Right. From the pub, we decided to start trying to walk to the Wallace Monument. However, the slow walkers significantly hindered our ability to reach it in any sort of good time, and we had to call off the trek before we even crossed the river Forth. So unfortunately I have no epic panoramas of Stirling and the highlands, but who needs em? I'll go back. And for now, look at what lovely photos the perfect weather got me!

So from there, we went back to Edinburgh and grabbed some dinner before our train, I had mussels while I eavesdropped on the table next to us after I heard mention of Ottawa. >.>

Before we left I also managed to find a Scotland/Canada crossed flags pin to go with my Wales/Canada one.

And may I just say, men wearing kilts like it's nothing make me soooo happy! I love Scotland.

In fact, so far, I think this weekend trip has been my favourite! I love Edinburgh, it's so rich with interesting architecture, without being blindingly crowded and dirty like London was. Kilts, haggis, neeps, tatties, scotch and shortbread. Beautiful.

A tapestry of beautiful, old, buildings.

Dippy Jones Across The Pond: Day 25 - Sunburnt in Scotland

Yes, I managed to get SUNBURNT in SCOTLAND.

Despite seeing this adorable and reassuring postcard, with cute little cartoon sheep and all, claiming everything I'd heard about Scottish weather was true; this was not my reality.


Instead, this is the weather I got:

Bright blue skies with big white puffy clouds and the most intense, and hot, sun I've seen this whole trip. Very impressive, and marvellous for sightseeing; but it also leads to the most incredulity about your trip.


"Ya, right, you were too hot when you were in *Scotland*"


And so, I have nothing but these photos, and a mild sunburn on my arms (and maybe neck, but there's a mirror shortage round here, so I don't actually know) to prove my experience. So you'll just have to trust me on this one.


I really should have brought neither the long-sleeve shirt I wore there, the black Enter the Haggis shirt or the sweatpants tucked into my knapsack incase I got too cold. But hindsight is 20/20. I honestly thought I'd get myself a nice Scottish sweater while I was there, but I couldn't bear the thought of buying anything warm.


Anyways, on with the saga!



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We arrived in Edinburgh quite late, leaving after work is always a rather painful experience. But it was my first time taking the bus to Crewe. Nice short little jaunt, and quite cheap too.


When we got to the hostel, it was just overwhelmingly awesome. Bright colours, free internet, and best of all very clean. Also; most comfortable beds ever!


But then the bad news struck. Our new travelling companion, Duran, a fellow from Hong Kong who lives in halls with Nina, realized he'd left his luggage on the train! Frantic phone calls and a rushed journey back to the station in hopes of retrieving it were all for naught (he went back early in the morning and retrieved it then), and we wound up back at the hotel with nary an ounce of energy left to find ourselves dinner. Good thing the hostel provides free breakfast!


I had the best sleep of my life that night, however, the loud street noise apparently kept the boys up (we were sharing the same 4-bed dorm though, so I don't know how Nina and I slept so well, while Oliver and Duran slept so miserably).

Thanks to my wonderfully prepared places to go, things to see map I made on My Maps, I had the whole day planned out.


So we started by going over to Dean's Bridge, where I heard you could get a great view. Wasn't a view of what I'd expected, but still beautiful, and I would very much like to explore the walking trails that go underneath that bridge.


Then we went to Edinburgh Castle. More expensive than we would've liked, it turned out to be well worth the money! We learned all about Scottish military history, and it even made Oliver, who's not Scottish in the least, feel patriotic; so imagine how it made me, the only one with Scottish heritage in the whole group, feel!


The guy selling the tickets picked up on my accent and asked me where in Canada I was from; then admitted he'd seen my card. Confused, I looked in my wallet to see what could have given me away... I think it must have been the TD bank cards... because the only other things visible are my student card for Keele, and the card that has my cellphone number on it!



This weekend was actually one for special events at the castle, the Black Watch was there! They did their thing, showing off their colours, and musical prowess, it was all very impressive! ... Even if we did only get to see them from behind...


From there we went through every single part of the castle. We went through the military museum and got shot at by the 42nd regiment. They were doing a demonstration while we were going through the displays, and when we were behind what to us was a window, but to them was just a mural, they started pointing their rifles at us and firing away! Quite exhilarating, I guess I can now say I've had a gun pointed at me? :/


We saw the Scottish War Memorial, and "the Honours". The Honours weren't as exciting as I had thought they might be, it was so crowded and we were so rushed in, rushed out I barely had a chance to see the crown, scepter, sword etc etc.


Apparently, it's a 'thing' in Scotland to have, not only your usual giftshop, overpriced cafe and the like, but also a Whisky and Book Store. But hey, I'm not complaining! I got a couple little books on the history of my clans (Anderson and Graham, though I neglected the Robsons o.O) and got to taste some pretty fantastic whisky from the year of my birth! It was a 1988 Tullibardine, and it was delicious. They apparently only sell the stuff in 3 places (one of which is Edinburgh Castle of course) and the young fellow serving the samples was very nice and chatty and gave me some great book recommendations; so now I must check out "The Ghost That Haunted Itself".


We wound up being there long enough to see the firing of the one o'clock gun, a tradition meant to give the citizens of the town an audible method of setting their clocks accurately as the fog often made it difficult for them to see the observatory dropping it's "time ball".


Also, I believe it's the same tradition the crazy old man with his cannon is trying to recreate in Mary Poppins, but it's been a while since I saw that movie, so I could be misremembering.

After the one o'clock gun, we had seen everything there was to see in the castle, so we headed out. We went to see the cafe J.K. Rowling wrote the first Harry Potter novel in, and took some pictures. I think Heather would have appreciated it; it was called "The Elephant House"!


There were a lot of things there that made me think of Heather actually. I guess that's what I get for having a sister with such a good Scottish name. They had Heather tea in all the gift shops, and even a special "Isle of Heather" tartan, which she would hate; it was primarily green, but had stripes of her most hated colour, purple, through it.

From the Elephant House, where we didn't actually go inside or eat or anything, we went to a place I was recommended to try Haggis. OH MAN! I would recommend that place in a heartbeat! In fact consider this it: The Royal McGregor is the best place to try your first haggis in Edinburgh! First, as an appetizer, we had a plate of "Haggis Fritters", it's basically haggis, wrapped in a kind of pastry shell and fried, then drizzled with a honey and chili sauce. It was so delicious! I could eat like, ten of those things! Then for my main course, I decided I'd try the highland burger. It's just like your average burger, but it's a patty of Scottish beef, topped with haggis, and smothered in whisky sauce. So fantastic! And the prices were impressively reasonable for being such a nice, classy-looking place on the Royal Mile.

After that, we'd hoped to hike up to Arthur's Seat, the tallest point in Edinburgh and the peak of what was, once-upon-a-time, a volcano; the one which created the basalt rocks on which Edinburgh castles and many of the other surrounding landmarks are perched. Unfortunately, it was a higher and steeper climb than had been expected, and Nina wasn't wearing very good shoes for that at all; so I will have to return to Edinburgh and conquer that mountain some other time.


In fact, to give you an idea of scale, click through this picture of it, now look along the ridges. Here and there you'll see a little fleck of white; those are the people who have climbed up. o.O And this picture was taken not even a kilometer from the base!


Nobody else wanted to go see Greyfriar's Bobby, mostly I think because Oliver and Duran didn't want to deal with Nina crying about such a sad story, so instead we decided to go catch the train to Stirling, so we'd actually have a chance of finding food there.


Our hostel in Stirling was literally right across from the train station, while it wasn't as nice as the Caledonian Backpacker's in Edinburgh, it was quaint, and comfortable. All of our beds were numered, and then labelled with film star's names. I got to sleep in Ewan MacGregor's bed ;) Awesome! I felt bad  for Nina though, sleeping in Jude Law's bed :P


After dinner, while they perused the streets of Stirling, I decided I'd rather get a head start on sleeping.


And that, is always a good idea.