Queen Margherita of Naples

I hope that my blog post title confused and/or intrigued you enough to commence reading. If so, welcome yet again. On this segment of Lena’s Life Abroad I will be taking you all on a journey back to the 1800s in Italy, where a woman legitimately named Queen Margherita (you cannot make this stuff up) supposedly decided that cheese, bread, and sauce all go well together and WHAM. There ya have it-a pizza.

I was fortunate enough to travel to this pizzeria where pizza freaking originated, called L’Antica Pizzeria da Michele. And oh my goodness, if you or anyone you love or care about find themselves in Naples-SEND THEM HERE IMMEDIATELY. This pizza was unlike any other pizza I have ever eaten, and trust me I have eaten a lot of pizzas. For 4 euro for a pie bigger than your head, it was obviously my first stop when I got off the train. Please enjoy this photo series of me taking my first bites in a cute and girly way:

Being in Naples was everything that I pictured an Italian city to be like and more. This is probably partly because Italy does this horrible, horrible thing where they DO NOT HAVE DRYERS. I shit you not, I have to use a drying rack for my soaking wet clothes which usually takes between 1-2 days for them to be wearable again and leaves them uncomfortably stiff and detergent smelling. I know I sound extremely complain-y and privileged right now, but I do not understand why we have THREE PIZZA CUTTERS in my apartment and no dryer. The two are not necessarily correlated, but still, you get my point. The one benefit of this is that it left the streets of Naples riddled with clotheslines hanging from balconies, resulting in an incredible authentic aesthetic that radiates through the entire city. It was truly beautiful.

On top of that, we also had a full and complete view of….an ACTIVE VOLCANO. Ohhh, scary. Sitting outside in Naples, drinking wine, and watching the sun set with Mount Vesuvius in the back, which could choose to take us all out at any moment, was thrilling and calming all at the same time. I live life on the edge.

And to end, I must mention that everyone in Italy and pretty much all of Europe cannot go two sentences without asking Americans what they think of Donald Trump. This one man in Naples who barely spoke any English still managed to squeeze it out. FYI America is a huge laughing stock right now to the rest of the world because we let an unqualified reality television star win our PRESIDENTIAL election. Just a small insight for everyone who might not have known.

Anyways, go to Naples. The pizza is good and cheap, the volcano looks cool when it is not leaking out molten lava that has once taken out an entire city, and the people are nice (if you didn’t vote for Trump)!

There is also this medieval looking castle right in front of the ocean, horribly misplaced, yet majestic and pretty darn cool.

amsterDAMN

Okay, okay, I know it has been a while, but do not fear avid readers, here I am: back and better than ever with yet another blog post title that makes you cringe. Since I now only have 2 weeks and 3 days left in Europe, I have really been trying to soak it all in and do as much as I can, leaving me to be a bit absent minded when it comes to writing a blog.

This past week I had an extremely special visitor (AKA my boyfriend) come and visit me. I then did the obviously logical thing and blew off class that entire week to galavant around Europe with him and give him a taste of how I have been living these past 3 months. This resulted in one of the best/funniest/craziest weeks of my entire abroad experience, and probably my life. We ate delicious food, and did as much as we could, resulting in walking 59.3 miles over the last 7 days, all the while taking in everything we could see around us.

One of the things we saw: Yes, this is in fact a grown woman sporting her small dog in a papoose made for children in Vatican City. The Pope would be ashamed. And yes, she did see me take this photograph. How could I not?

Furthermore, while out to dinner we stumbled upon some sort of strange American/Italian gathering in the party room of a restaurant, which consequently sported the only restroom in the joint. Cursed with a small bladder, I had to brave my way through the party. After relieving myself I was horrified to hear the catchy beat which could be none other than the YMCA. Walking out, my eyes were met with 50 party people ranging in age from 45-80 all boogying in their seats flailing their arms to make the letters. In shock, trying to get back to my pasta with clam sauce, and unsure of how to react, I immediately was hypnotized by the classic. My arms began to form the Y, the M, the C, and even the A. As I danced, I scurried through the crowd, getting cheers as I wiggled out of the party room and back to the dining tables. It was a moment.

We also saw this dead bird, and Dixon took a picture.

Besides these fun things, we saw the Trevi Fountain, Piazza del Popolo, The Pantheon, Castel Sant’Angelo, walked the Tiber River, watched the sunset, and took it all in.

And then it was off to none other than AMSTERDAM: home of the Van Gogh Museum and stroopwafels. The latter was very important because I had never had a stroopwafel before this, but was enlightened the moment one touched my mouth. It was a thin spiced waffle with a layer of caramel in the middle, served warm, a Netherlands go-to treat.

While in Amsterdam, we stayed at the best Airbnb (@Campsterdamn on Facebook), which provided us with free bikes with our rental, and was only a short ferry ride away from Centraal Station, the heart of the city. The air here was crisp and cold, which was refreshing compared to Rome’s mild weather. We walked through the Red Light District, biked around, went to the Van Gogh Museum, and lived the true Amsterdam lifestyle.

All in all, the week of a lifetime, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

P.S. the plane rides were beautiful and we got to the Swiss Alps:

The Swiss Alps!

Rome-ing Around

Hello, it is me, back again with another horrible blog post title. But, it is true, I have been in Rome for about a week now with my days consisting mainly of exploring and wandering through the streets of the city. Because the more walking I do means the more pizza, pasta, and gelato I can eat: a win-win situation.

Anyways, Italy is truly a magical place. I can honestly say that I am in awe at every corner. Since it was my first week, I obviously had to get some of the touristy things out of the way. This included going to the infamous Trevi Fountain, the beloved scene made famous by both being extremely ancient as well as being a key part in The Lizzie McGuire Movie. While admiring the beauty of the spewing blue water, I found myself surrounded by mass waves of tourists all trampling one another trying to make their wish. This is when, all of a sudden, while sitting at the edge of the fountain daydreaming about what I was going to use my coin to wish for, I began being pelted with flying coins. Coins came at me from what felt like every direction, from up above of those patrons too lazy to make their way to the bottom, who chose to Hail Mary their wishes from any length they deemed necessary. And there I was, standing there, deciding on what to do next with the plethora of coins that had just bounced off of my body onto the ground. All of those wishes, ended, by simply not making their way into the fountain. That is when I became THE WISH FINISHER. It became my duty to pick up those fallen coins that did not make it, and plop them into the fountain myself. I was greeted by smiles and thumbs up for finishing the job. It was my version of being a superhero for a moment, but even that moment meant so much to those people.

The tourist list continued with a trip on my first day to St. Peter’s Basilica. As the sun went down, I happened to experience one of the most breath taking moments of my life as a the colors of a Roman sunset silhouetted the huge church as it lit up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And again when I went to the Colosseum, which was particularly intriguing because I found out that they had captured wild animals from all over the world, and then would recreate the environment in the stadium to replicate that of the captured animal, and then have the Gladiators fight then. It was more than just a blood bath, but a performance of sorts with much time and dedication going into the setup and props used.

To end, a few more fun and weird things that have happened in this first week to me here in Rome:

All over Italy are these water fountains, constantly running supplying anyone who wants it water from the ancient aqueducts. During a walking tour that I took, we were encouraged to have a taste, and I must say, that was some FRESH water. I am not sure if it was because I was extremely thirsty, or if it was actually good, but still enjoy this photograph of me awkwardly drinking from an angel’s mouth, which sounds worse than it was.

I have also eaten an extremely thick piece of lasagna:

And to finally end, everyone here thinks I am either Latina or Chinese. I know this because I have been greeted multiple times with “Hola,” as well as “Ni Hao.”

And finally, finally, I was “Hail-Mary-ed” at the supermarket by an old Italian woman for buying alcohol. Cheers to her, and cheers to Rome.

 

London I Love Ya! (And Scotland Too)

London will always have a special place in my heart. Corny, but oh so true. As the city I have lived in for the past three months, it was extremely hard to say goodbye. So, to end my final rendezvous in the Big Smoke, I decided to do big things such as get warm bread and cheese from the oldest market in London and eat it on the Thames with the Tower Bridge in the background. I also did something new, and went to the top of Primrose Hill to get a view of the place that has given me so much, and that has truly changed my life forever. So, thank you London, you will be missed.

And, to finish up my last three months of United Kingdom living I had to take a trip to the mysterious land of kilts, AKA Scotland. I had always heard it was the place to go when studying abroad in London, but man did it impress. Getting off of the train I felt like I was transported to another world. All of the buildings looked like they were from the Middle Ages, with big stones jutting out left and right, and towers protruding out of the skyline. I hadn’t been there for 5 minutes, and was already feeling cultured.

Our first plan of business was to go see the Edinburgh Castle. It was there at the top of the Royal Mile looking majestic as the sun silhouetted the outline of its structure, when all of a sudden a noise was heard in the background. Listening more closely, I couldn’t quite make out. It was not until I walked back down that I saw him-a man playing BAGPIPES. He was huffing and puffing away as I watched with awe, when all of a sudden I looked to my right only to see LIVE OWLS. So there I was, in Scotland, with bagpipes playing in the background, petting soft owls: a weird experience indeed.

 

 

 

And then that next day, my friend and I decided to tackle the beast that is Arthur’s Seat. I have no idea who Arthur is, but he sure decide to make his seat up pretty dang high. After what my phone calculated as 80 floors worth of climbing, paired with 5 miles of walking, we made it to the top of what overlooked the entirety of the city. It was spectacular. 

 

Overall, Edinburgh was a blast. We also went to a quirky museum called Camera Obscura, a museum based entirely on optical illusion. Yes, we chose to do this instead of touring the Edinburgh Castle. And yes, it was well worth it, don’t judge. The main reason being that we got to go through a mirror maze, and  I also got to make myself look extremely tiny next to my friend who is actually extremely tiny! How did we do it? The world will never know.

Also I watched the sunset from a museum viewing gallery, and saw the graveyard that inspired J.K. Rowling, pictured below!!!

Oui Oui

I saw London, so obviously I had to hop on the train and see France. Get it? Ha. Ha. So off to Paris I went. The trip started out rocky as my seat mate for this 3 hour long train ride was a large and girthy man. We discreetly fought over the much desired arm rest while simultaneously sleeping on this 5 AM train. Many awkward moments later, I won the battle, or won as much as I could by using my arm on the arm rest to be this man’s makeshift arm rest; human bonding in the best form.

Anyways, I arrive in the city of love, and go to buy my metro pass. For those who don’t know, the metro is the most amazing public transportation system in the whole world. It is always on time, and has many vending machines filled with glorious European snacks. Anyways, I walk up to the information counter and ask the woman about buying a pass. Of course, like every person in Europe, she whispers a response that I can barely hear. I ask her to repeat what she said, to which I am again answered with what seems to be a mouth moving and no words coming out. AGAIN, I say “what,” and then lean in so close that I slam my entire face against the clear plexiglass dividing us. She breaks out into laughter, non discreetly, directly in my face, and points to the cash register with the price that I owe. I pay it, and am officially off to my hostel.

In Paris, I did a lot of cool things, and some not so cool, like crying of semi-drunken happiness entering Jardin de Luxembourg because it was warm out and beautiful and everyone looked so happy and the grass was green and it smelled like crepes and I had just eaten my body weight in cheese. But c’mon, wouldn’t you have cried too? No? Okay, don’t judge me.

 

 

I also walked the stairs of Sacré-Cœur where I almost got attacked by a pigeon while watching someone soothingly play harp, making me scream and run therefore completely ruining the moment for all watching (or making it better). Then, I bought a 6 Euro cappuccino in Montmarte, so please look at my picture of it because it was expensive. From then on, I explored the city, where every corner seemed to honestly be more breath taking than the last. Red leaves and green vines climbed up pink houses all silhouetted with an overcast fall Parisian sky. I could not get over how picturesque everything appeared to me, and at that moment I truly felt at peace.

A list of other cool Parisian things I did:

• explored a spooky cemetery in Montmarte and played with a black cat in the cemetery (so October)
• took a selfie with a bunch of pigeons, the dogs of Europe
• walked down the Moulin Rouge street and saw an Eiffel Tower dildo and many neon fluorescent sex stores signs such as “Pussy” and “Porno Store”
•  ate cheese
• went to the Eiffel Tower
• ate almond chocolate croissants
• went to the spooky Catacombs
• ate more cheese-this time in melted fondue form
• Shakespeare and Company book store
• ate more cheese with snails
• puked from eating cheese and snails

 

And then, on the last day in Paris we had plans to go to the Louvre. With the line being hours long, it was a unanimous decision to not wait and waste our last day. As we strolled through the outdoor area, an unexpected surprise hit us smack in the face. Right there in front of us were about FIFTEEN DOGS. Yes, fifteen dogs. Of all different shapes and sizes and colors and breeds. Ugh, they were all so cute and I just wanted to pet all of them. Being here has made me a sap for some good animal loving. We met one particular dog, a small, black pug, and decided to name him Pete the Problematic Pug. Why, you ask? Well, he would never stay with the pack, and when it was time to go the dog-man in charge literally whistled and said something in French, to which another dog rushed over to Pete, grabbed his leash, and began TO WALK HIM HIMSELF. YES, some good, kind-hearted, dog on dog walking action witnessed right before my very eyes. I shed a tear. Paris was amazing, 10/10 would recommend a visit.

 

 

 

Stockholm Syndrome

When a flight costs thirty pounds round trip, always say yes. Because then, you might just end up somewhere pretty cool, like Stockholm, Sweden. Any country whose cultural tradition is to take time out of your day to drink a coffee and eat a pastry is a country I’d like to visit; and that is exactly what I did here. It’s called “fika” to be exact, meaning that the coffee shop craze has taken over Stockholm, with dozens of coffee shops on each street, all booming and lined with rows and rows of different pastries. And during my sacred time of practicing Swedish tradition, I consumed the best pastry I had ever had in my entire life. When I asked what it was, the barista simply told me “apple and vanilla.” It sounded good enough to me, so I ordered it. With that first bite, I had just eaten a buttery croissant-like dough layered with cinnamon and sugar, and filled in the middle with vanilla pastry cream accompanied with slightly baked spiced apples.

Another key component to this Swedish soirée was our Air B&B rental: a gigantic 8 bedroom ski house complete with a sauna and a fireplace, with the walls lined with books like a library. Oh, and the red rental car to go with it added a nice touch. Situated in a suburb thirty minutes outside of Stockholm, our house was surrounded by the epitome of fall.

We happened to stumble upon an annual Jazz Fest, and were directed to go to the oldest jazz club in Stockholm, where a live jazz band would be performing. At 9 o’clock, a band stepped on stage adorned with guitars, a keyboard, and of course the occasional fedora hat. With the first taps of the drums, they all started jamming out to oldies rock songs. Expecting jazz, I immediately switched gears and proceeded to jam the eff out with some older women and all of my friends, with dance moves including but not limited to: air guitar, fist bumping, and sometimes getting wayyyyyy down all the way to the floor. The night was completed with late night snacks, where I witnessed for the first time my friend consume a hot dog with no bun, which rolled onto the floor of the car, and was still gobbled up willingly.

Anyways, it was a hell of a night. Other cool things happened in Stockholm such as

• having a taco night in our Swedish kitchen
• seeing minions dance while gypsies played music and a sad clown watched
• going to Galma Stan
• finding secret walking paths with amazing views
• getting spooky in a cemetery
• oh, and seeing a one woman show by this woman:

It consisted of her “making a cake,” in which she took pancakes and threw icing and jam and sprinkles on top of them with her bare hands, splashing the audience with sweets and constantly screaming in Swedish, meaning I understood not a single word. She then went around for everyone in the audience to taste, which everyone then did, including one woman who took a fingerful and stuck it into her baby’s mouth. It ended with her slow dancing to a guest accordionist, and inviting everyone into an art gallery. But hey, anything in the sake of art, right?

 

 

And that was Stockholm, a heck of a good time!

 

ICELAND

Before I get into detail, I would just like to say that if you wanted to take a trip, and could only pick one place, pick Iceland. That is how much I enjoyed every second of my journey to this strange land filled with volcanic rocks, humongous mountains, and hundreds of thousands of sheep. Yes, sheep. And this is a long one, but a good one, so bear with me.

Speaking of sheep, on the first full day we were there I saw these little puffs of wool all over, dotting the mountains and chomping away on the grass. I knew from the moment I saw them that I must pet one. I must. So, whilst driving (yes, we rented a car, yes, the best decision like ever), I saw a relatively close pasture filled with these clouds, I mean, sheep. I made my friend pull over immediately, as my newfound life goal was to get my hand literally on one of these sheep. I hopped out of the car and approached one, slowly. It ran away. I approached a group of two others even more cautiously. They darted. Then, I picked up a handful of grass and approached another. He seemed cool. He looked more chill than the others, more compatible with me. I held out the delicious leafy greens to him. He looked at me. I looked at him. He took a step closer. I stretched my hand further. He came closer. I stopped breathing for fear of scaring him away. He came closer, and closer, and then he opened his tiny sheep mouth, and took a chomp out of my grass. OH MY GOD, he ate it. I was ecstatic. Suddenly, as if a signal went off, every other sheep on the pasture began to run towards me. What was happening? I didn’t know. They ran faster and faster until every single sheep on the entire pasture gathered around me with the hope of also getting a bite of what I was giving. I was entirely  emotionally overwhelmed, and cried. And took a selfie too.

Here is the progression of the sheep coming towards me:

The End Result

Also, a real life picture of what I looked like when this happened:

But, continuing on, that first day we drove all around Grindavik, and walked the Bridge Between Continents where the Earth around us was black like volcanic rock with patches of green scattered all over. Then we moved on to a huge Geyser that was smoking so much you could barely see in front of you. The steam was so warm and smelled like rotten eggs, but contrasting with the red ground in front of me it looked beautiful.

Then onto the notorious Blue Lagoon, where we waded around in the bright blue waters until I felt like one big prune.

us enjoying the atmosphere

Then, on to day two. Another equally exciting and adventurous day, beginning with a morning in Reykjavik. We were driving when all of a sudden down the street of the most populated town in Iceland we saw gigantic mountains with snowy peaks off in the distance. It was surreal. We had our morning coffee with a local cat, and then ate a delicious fresh brunch of green eggs and ham with fresh bread and butter.

And we were off again, this time to drive the Golden Circle ourselves.

Stop #1: Thingvellir National Park, where the fall colors illuminated everywhere you looked-yellow, orange, red; it was amazing I felt like I was on another world. Then we hiked to Oxarafoss, a small waterfall.

Then onto Stop #2: Geysir, the geyser that gave name to all others. It spurted every 8-10 minutes. We hiked up the mountain behind it to get a full on view of Iceland while the sun began to go down.

Then Stop #3: Gullfoss, one of the most massive waterfalls I have ever seen. Claiming to be bigger than Niagara, you could immediately feel the mist hitting you as you walked down to see it.

We also saw a huge volcanic crater from an erupted volcano, and other nature-y things throughout the drive. It was wild.

 

And then, to finish my Icelandic experience, while we were driving we saw something in the sky. It looked like a small green cloud. Then, as we drove it got larger and larger, until suddenly a huge green streak floated across the entire sky, twisting and moving as time went on. Yes, you guessed it, A NORTHERN LIGHT. It was a singular one, but still, I saw it, and it was breathtaking.

That, my friends, my followers, my avid readers, is my Icelandic experience. Any country that has more sheep than people is a country for me. To end, here are a few other pictures. I can only hope that you will see this wonderful, mystical country in person one day.

 

 

 

Market Mania

I know, I know, the titles of my blogs continue to get more and more corny, but I am corny, so I literally cannot help it. Also, it is finals week and I just do not have the brain power to think of a more original and similarly punny title-so Market Mania it is. Why, you ask? Because this past weekend I went to not one, but two amazing London markets of which I immensely enjoyed and even shed a tear. That is not all though, because Saturday I visited the Tate Modern, greeted by the outside with a sign that said “ART CHANGES WE CHANGE,” which could not better describe how I feel about coming abroad. I am growing everyday, and sometimes it is scary, but sometimes it is wonderful and adventurous and invigorating, and this weekend was one of those amazing times. Inside, I saw my first real life Picasso, as well as some amazing feminist art by the Guerrilla Girls. This was after I went to St. Paul’s Cathedral and walked the infamous Millennial Bridge (yes, the one from Harry Potter).

St. Paul’s Cathedral

Guerilla Girls, views

But before I describe my marvelous market adventures, I must tell you about my Saturday night-it was a weird one. I began the night by getting blatantly denied from a 21+ bar. Yes, you read that correctly, because 21+ bars exist even here where the legal drinking age is 18. And me, looking at most the ripe age of 16, had a hard “NO” before I even got to the front of the line (or queue, if you’re a Brit). Following that, we went from place to place, with everywhere being peculiarly closed on a Saturday night, until we found one tiny bar which was hosting only private parties that night. Telling the bouncer we were part of the party crowd, my friends and I marched right in, and directly to the punch bowl. After getting my free glass of punch, I looked up to find the entire party, a whopping 15 middle aged men and women, all glaring at us suspiciously. 30 seconds later we were approached with the stereotypical question “Who do you know here?” I had never heard that question in a real life situation outside of an angsty high school movie, so giggling, I ran by that woman, down the stairs, and out of the bar. Never again.

Then it was to the canal where we met the character named Ambrose. It was 2 in the morning, and he rolled up on bicycle in front of us adorned with a bag filled with eight large juggling pins; hair in two long, red pigtails popping out of the side of his head. I asked him to juggle but he said he couldn’t, and I was perplexed as to why someone would come to the canal at now 3 am with all those juggling pins only to refuse a juggling request. And then we walked back to our apartment, and I went to sleep. Here is Ambrose and I that night:

Then, it was Sunday Funday!!!!! I woke up early and went to Brick Lane Market. I was walking around, and it was cute, and cool, and had good shopping, but then suddenly I looked to my right and there they were…a bike…with a basket attached to the back….filled entirely with….SIX CHIHUAHUAS! Yes, that is not a lie, or a joke, this is a real life thing that happened to me that I was so excited and overwhelmed with happiness that I screamed to the owner “STOP, I MUST PET THOSE CHIHUAHUAS.” To which he happily stopped, and proceeded to explain to me their entire chihuahua lives, in which the two smaller ones were boyfriend and girlfriend, and the bigger ones were husband and wife, and the other two just flirted which made members of the original chihuahua couples jealous and sometimes they fought but overall they were just great friends. He was saying these things about his damn dogs, and I shed a tear, because that is how badly I want a chihuahua. Here is a real life picture:

And I will leave my weekend at that. P.S.-the one in the back left looks how I look when someone touches my hair. Thank you for reading, until the next time I decide to post, see ya around.

Dublin Troublin’

This blog post is dedicated to the two weekend trips I have done so far: Liverpool and Dublin. And precursor, it is less funny and more for documentation purposes, but still bear with me dedicated followers.

To begin, I just want to say that I would have never traveled to Liverpool in my entire life if my study abroad program had not taken me there. And it was such a pleasant surprise! We visited the International Slave Museum and the Maritime Museum, as well as saw the infamous SUPERLAMBANANAs and the city ports. Because I am oblivious to anything that happened before I was born, I actually found out it is where the Beatles grew up (Why did everyone act like this was such common knowledge???) Because of that, they have basically dedicated the entire town to those four dudes, and everywhere you look there is some sort of Beatles reference, such as this creepy statue in the middle of the town square:

Ignore my awkwardness, I was trying to look cool

Then that next weekend I was off to the homeland, AKA Ireland. As probably none of you know, I am 50% Irish, so this was a big deal to me. First of all, the plane ride itself was unlike anything I have ever experienced. It was as if the plane was fighting to get through the thick cloud barrier, and then once we were above it I could see no land whatsoever, just a mass array of fluffiness. We landed already starving, so my friend and I immediately rushed to the famous Temple Bar. Fun fact about Temple Bar is that it is not just one bar, it is hundreds of bars and clubs all shoved into this one area in Dublin stretching for blocks and blocks filled with late night munchies and lots of beer. I was not at all prepared. Navigating through the area, we went into a little whole in the wall place called O’Flaherty’s and ordered the most “Irish” stuff on the menu that we knew-mashed potatoes, wings, Irish soda bread, and beer. While we got our food more notoriously Irish things began to happen. I mean, you hear about this stuff and people joke and laugh, but I never would have thought as I am shoveling mashed potatoes into my mouth that a fiddle player would get on stage and start singing Seven Drunken Nights. It was out of a damn movie, and I was loving it.

That next day we did the touristy stuff- visited Trinity College, Books of Kells, St. Patrick’s Cathedral, ate shepherd’s pie, and the most important thing I probably did the whole time I was there: the Guinness Factory. The thing about the Guinness Factory is that it is like a museum, except it is just all about beer. It is the epitome of classy and trashy at the same time.

I am now a certified Guinness pourer according to a certificate that they gave me and the other 20 people I was with who they “taught” how to pour a Guinness. We all messed up horribly, but it made me feel cool and special. There was also a Texan couple there who kept calling each other “baby” over and over again. Their words of encouragement included “Go on baby, pour that thing, tilt it, tilt it, yea baby, go baby, that’s foamy!” This gave me a good laugh. Although the Gravity Bar at the top was a madhouse, it still offered a beautiful 306 degree view of Dublin, which actually has mountains that you can see, another thing I was blindly unaware of. All in all, I loved Ireland, and all of the beer I drank there.

Sidenote: this was my favorite old school Guinness ad, claiming a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle. #feministhumor #girlsdrinkbeertoo

DCIM113GOPRO

 

The Third Week, or the Bird Week

It is the beginning of my fourth week over yonder as Shakespeare would say (I think), and the United Kingdom has not disappointed yet. I accidentally forgot to blog, so here is a list of cool things I’ve done since the last time you’ve stalked me:

• fed a parakeet in Hyde Park out of my hands
• had a pigeon run into my head
• went to Carnival
• walked the equivalent of a marathon in 2 days
• dropped my phone out of a window down 3 stories and cracked it into a million pieces

 

Regarding the pigeons, European pigeons have no mercy. If you go to pretend to kick them so that they fly away, you will simply just kick them, a lesson I learned the hard way and felt terribly guilty about. So when a young girl decided to drop a bunch of crumbs directly in front of me and run away in the middle of Piccadilly Square, I immediately knew it was going to end badly.

Within seconds, every single pigeon in a quarter mile radius made a B-line directly for these morsels of food. And there I was sitting in the midst of a flying rat feeding frenzy. I tried to get up, I tried to run away, but there was collateral damage. As soon as I lifted my head to flee the scene, I was greeted by a pigeon wing straight to the face. I probably have bird flu now, updates soon to come.

 

Carnival was insane- a delicious smelling, booty shaking, music blaring conundrum of seas of people as far as I could see. I actually got caught in a mosh pit of what I could only describe as a Soulja-Boy-esque dance crowd. It lasted approximately 30 seconds and could have been the happiest I have been ever. While everyone else was full of coordination and adorned in the most intricate outfits I had ever seen, this is what I look like when I try to dance:

And with that, I’ll see you all again in a couple of days, hopefully with more ridiculous stories of my joke of a life which happens to be pretty cool sometimes, kinda.