Listen to your mother, I guess.

Starbucks Dude DEFINITELY tried to ask me out today.

When my mom told me the "watch out for Starbucks Dude," I dismissed her concerns as ridiculous. I guess I underestimate my irresistability.

I went in during my break, as usual, and we chatted for a bit. He rang me up, saved me nearly a pound on my drink with a flavor shot and extra espresso and my sandwich, and I said have a great day and went downstairs, also as usual. Maybe half an hour later he comes down to clean the tables and pick up used mugs and plates, and he sees me reading. Well, he was at the little table next to my little table. So. He said hi, and asked what I was reading. I showed him my Bill Bryson book, and he asked me what it was about, blah blah blah. Then he said something to the effect of "I like to read too," but I didn't really hear him so I just nodded and smiled and went back to my book.

When I was about to leave, I brought my mug back up to be nice (it was always nice when I was at the B&N cafe to not have to go pick up the plates and stuff customers left around). He saw me again, and struck up another conversation. "I like to read too. Mostly history. We should talk about books sometime." And I was just thinking, Okay... when would that be? I'm not gonna hang around the barista area on my break while you make drinks for people.

"What do you do on the weekends?"

Crap.

Luckily I didn't have to lie, because I really am traveling for the next three weekends. France, then Stratford-upon-Avon, then Dublin. I kind of stretched the truth a bit after, when I said I had finals the next week and then I went back home to the states. He might have looked a little disappointed, but I'm not going to flatter myself. Whatever. After asking me when I'd be in next, I was like, Gottagobye!!

And I laughed on the inside all the way back to work, with a giggle out loud here and there. I thought it was funny, because it was EXTREMELY awkward. And it's not like there's anywhere else where I can sit and read for an hour; trust me, breaks get old real fast if you're not doing anything to pass the time.

It's too bad I don't find him attractive at all. He reminds me of Theodore from The Chipmunks with longer hair and a soul patch. If Theodore were about 30.

My new favorite show.

Father Ted.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=74W7DsrK-eg

DON'T PANIC

Good news! I found my keys. Well, actually I didn't find them. At the repeated urging of Rachel and her friend Ashley who is visiting this weekend, I called the pub we were at last night, described them to him ("They have a Beatles keychain and a plastic keychain with Brian the dog from Family Guy") and, to my amazement, the guy who answered said they had them! I was positive he was going to say "Sorry, mate, you're out of luck." But not so!! And after a mini-celebration and a chorus of soft hoorays, I left the flat and went back to The Fest.

It was really nice out, and the sun was shining, and I was so extremely happy to have my keys back. I really thought I'd never see them again, or the keychains attached to them. The one sort of sad thing is that I lost my awesome "Bugger Borders" button, but I think I might be able to replace it if I ever make it back to the Cartoon Museum. Lesson learned: don't put anything in the pockets of my leather jacket that I can't afford to lose. Except my hands. Because those are attached to my body.

Jesus I am not.

This morning, I was having a nice time eating my oatmeal and listening to Bill Bryson talk about London in the 1500s, when I decided I should go get some groceries. I went to get my keys, only to find out that, yes, they were missing. Completely.

The first thing that went through my mind was "Don't panic." And I think I did a pretty good job with that, I looked in all of my pockets and my purse, everywhere I could think of. But I came to the awful conclusion that I must have dropped them sometime last night after coming home from "The Fest," some German-esque pub near Parsons Green in Zone 2. I know I had them on the way to the station, because I dropped my Oyster Card and panicked when that wasn't in my pocket (my friend Kevin had picked it up, luckily), so I remember feeling my keychain in there.

Kelly and Caitlin came home about a minute after I realized they were missing, and Kelly went on a walk with me to try to find them on our twisted journey home (we went through a bunch of side streets, as per Rachel's directions). No luck. As we were doing this, I came to a realization: they probably fell out of my pocket when I was sprinting down High Street Kensington in order to catch the bus that would take us home. So the only thing left to do was go there and retrace my steps, from the McDonald's where I started to run from to the bus stop.

I get there, go out, and I must have looked like a crazy person, examining the sidewalk like I was. I went into every store in the stretch between Mickey D's and the stop, asking if anyone turned in some keys, but no luck there either. At the McDonald's, the girl behind the counter didn't speak English, and when I asked her, her response was a really confused look coupled with the puzzled question, "Cheese?" No, not cheese. KEYS. To open a door.

I went outside, and saw a street sweeper. I thought maybe they'd have some policy that if they found something like keys or whatever they'd put them someplace, so I went up to him and asked him. And of course, HE didn't speak English either. Aren't I in England? I thought so, but I guess that doesn't mean anything. When I finally got through to him what I was asking, after a lot of pantomiming and using different words, he finally thought he understood and proceeded to tell me where I could get keys copied and where I could get new ones. I thanked him and walked away.

I was pretty sure I wasn't going to be successful. Finding a set of keys on High Street Kensington in the middle of the day more than 12 hours after they were lost is pretty much on par with Jesus walking on water. It's not going to happen for me.

In the tube station, I told one of the guys working what my predicament was and asked what to do, all the while hoping he spoke English. And when he responded, not only did he understand me, he sounded like he was from America or Canada. So that was a nice change. He brought me to the control room and the guys there gave me a number to call for inquiries about lost property, but I have to wait until tomorrow. At least there is still a ray of hope, but I don't know if that will lead to anything. I'll probably just end up making copies of one of my flatmates set of keys. It's not like my old ones had our address on them. I just lost two really cool keychains.

VICTORY

Okay, so I didn't actually win the auction, but I did buy tickets anyway. So I'M GOING TO SEE THE FRATELLIS!!!! :)

A day on the town.

Right now I'm stressed because I'm bidding on ebay for Fratellis tickets, and it ends in an hour and a half. So to pass the time, I'm going to tell you about my day all on my own.

I needed a day by myself, so I decided to go to the British Museum. I spent about an hour and a half there, saw a bunch of exhibits, including the Rosetta Stone. I'm glad I finally saw that, since I would have felt dumb if I had been in London and it was right there, and I didn't even bother to go see it. It was a lot bigger than I thought it would be. I also saw an Easter Island statue, that was cool.

After that I was going to walk to the tube station at Holborn, but on the way I saw a sign for the Cartoon Museum, and I was just kind of like, I might have to go there just to see what it's about. So I took a short detour, found out students get in for free, and did a quick round through the small museum. I did see an original drawing from the graphic novel V for Vendetta, and some random other graphic novel/comic strip drawings. It was an interesting place. Probably the best part was the small button I bought in the gift shop that says "Bugger Borders," as in the bookstore. THAT was fantastic.

After this, I walked around Covent Garden for a bit, hopped back on the tube and made my way to the Natural History Museum. I spent about an hour looking at the dinosaur exhibition, which probably would have been my dream come true if I had been seven again. I LOVED dinosaurs back then. But it was still pretty cool, there were skeletons and lots of information on everything. And a lifelike mechanical T-Rex. It's funny, I remember getting really excited for a field trip or something when I was little, because we were going to see dinosaurs. And I was picturing the skeletons and everything, and was kind of disappointed when they were just plastic renderings of what the dinosaurs were supposed to look like. So this was what the museum I went to SHOULD have been like.

I came home after that, and now I'm just sitting here, wondering if I will be able to see the Fratellis or if I'll just sit at home that night and cry instead. We'll find out I suppose.

Being friendly saves you money.

After a long hiatus, I finally made it back to my Starbucks in Farringdon, near my work. After I walked in, I was pretty much greeted immediately by the guy who usually takes my order and knows who I am, who I fondly refer to as Starbucks Dude (in my head, not to his face), with a hearty hello and an exchange of how are yous. Apparently he lives in East London and rides to work on his bike, and needs around a half hour to recover before going to work. After I ordered and went to pay, he told the girl at the register what I ordered (a tall hazelnut latte), but he told her to ring it up as a regular latte!! I saved 30p! :) That was so nice of him, and I was happy. When I went to pick up my drink, we chatted a bit and I told him how I had to play secretary for two weeks. Then I went to drink my latte and read some Bill Bryson.

So the moral of the story is: be nice to people and you might just save the equivalent to 60 cents on your already ridiculously expensive drink.

Filth!

Do NONE of my flatmates wash their dishes??? Do they just kind of rinse it and then put it in the drying rack, or do they not even bother to do that much??????????????

Happy Easter everyone! It's cold and gray here, and the tube lines are down. I hope it's nicer back home.

Cork

Okay, sorry I'm so behind, but I'm lazy. What can I say.

So Cork. For those of you who don't know, my birthday was a week ago Friday, and I wanted to go to Ireland as it's fairly close to St. Patrick's Day. So that is what we did. My friends Sara, Alexa, Sam and I flew into Cork in the afternoon, got there, checked into our hotel, and made our way downtown via public transportation.

Our first experience in Ireland was, and this is the best word I can use to describe it, odd. We spent at least twenty minutes walking around, trying to find a restaurant to eat at (for my birthday dinner, whatever). We finally decided on this vaguely African-looking place called Zanzibaar Bistro, but the only African things about it were the decor and the names of the meals.

I got a Zanzi skyscraper, which was a burger with a lot of stuff on it. And it was nice and overpriced. Fantastic.

The next stop was, of course, a pub. You can't go to Ireland and not go to a pub. We found this really cool place called Slainte, which I think is the Irish equivalent of "cheers," but I'm not entirely sure. It was nice inside, dimly lit with candles stuck in sambuca bottles that were covered in melted wax. And yes, I got some Irish stout, two kinds actually. Guiness and Beamish. I liked the Guiness better.

And that was day number one.

Day number two was a lot more eventful. We started our day at Eddie Rocket's, a really awful version of Johnny Rockett's in the states (but I do love when restaurants in the UK try to plug themselves as American--they're probably my favorite places to eat as far as atmosphere goes). It might have been the cheesiest restaurant I've ever seen, with also probably the worst coffee in the world. We then made our way to the bus station downtown, to catch a bus to Blarney.

Blarney Castle was probably the highlight of the entire trip--this is where the legendary Blarney Stone is, at the top of the castle. Yes, we kissed it, and yes, I know the local boys pee on it. I didn't care, because I wanted to do it anyway. I haven't been struck by disease yet so I can't see too much wrong with it. But there was a guy who helped you kiss it, as you had to lie on your back and kind of hang upside down in order to reach it:

That's me, kissing the Blarney Stone. Sam got a terrible picture and I was kind of upset. But it's okay, because Sara got a video of me kissing it (though you still can't see me actually kissing it, but you can hear me yelling "MOTHERLAAAANNDDD!!" That was for my friend Erica, who is part Irish.

There was actually a lot more at the castle than just the stone. Before we even got into the castle, we investigated Badger's Cave, which supposedly has passageways that lead all the way to Cork, and we went through the dungeons and around the castle itself. There were the Wishing Steps, which you are supposed to climb down and up backwards, with your eyes shut, if you want your wish to come true.

And there was the Witch's Stone which was a stone that looked like a witch, a Druid Circle with an actual sacrifice altar (these were real, not just some fake exhibit they recreated), and various other magical places.

Also, there were a lot of ghosts there. It's a haunted place.

And for the record, I took another picture after each of these and there was no more mist there. It wasn't something on my lens, and you couldn't see this stuff with your naked eye. So HA!

Probably every person who was at this castle the day we were there was an American, with the exception of one German couple. It was actually quite incredible. And we were extremely lucky, as when we left, we stopped and just stared at the line that went all the way to the street, a good fifty yards at least. When we got there there was no line at all. Anyway. Here's a picture of the castle itself:

Oh yah, it was raining. That was awesome.

After the castle, we wandered around the city for a bit, with the plan of going to the Cork Butter Museum. Yes, there is a museum there entirely devoted to butter, because I guess Cork was the leading exporter of butter, or something. And it may have been the smallest museum I've ever been in. There were a lot of churns and documents under glass. And that was really about it, aside from this awesome old-fashioned radio with this awesome song playing called "Leave My Butter Alone." Sweet.

That night, we went to an early dinner and then another pub, called Clancy's. There was live music, a cover band that played such Irish hits as "Another Brick In the Wall" and "Sweet Home Alabama." It was great.

I'd also like to mention that Sam had five pints that night, none of which were the same, and one of which was a cider. This proved to be a bad idea, as we shall see.

When we were on the bus home, we made some drunk friends. Sam got along very well with them, and they even got off at the same stop.

Have you ever seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail? You know how King Arthur travels by galloping and his servant guy bangs the coconuts together? Well, that was pretty much what the night then turned into. The guys told us that galloping was faster, and proceeded to gallop down the hill and smack their butts like they were urging on a horse or something. And brilliantly, Sam followed suit. I blame this for his later getting sick and using up all the toilet paper in the bathroom. And you'd think after this that he would learn his limit, but not so. This very weekend I had to deal with him getting sick again, this time on a double-decker bus, and while we were pretty much lost, and the only other person there being his friend from home who was visiting and had no idea where we were going or where we were. So now I'm mad at him, though he did apologize. But I don't think I'm not mad anymore yet. I'd tell you the whole story, but it's really something I need to act out in order to tell it properly.

Anyway, that was Cork, and what a weekend it was. Happy birthday to me.

I told you I was a procrastinater.

Okay, okay, I know I went to Cork last weekend and some of you might be waiting for an update. But I'm lazy, and I'll get to it when I get to it. The short of it is: we drank in pubs and kissed the Blarney Stone, and then did more drinking.

To keep you occupied, here's an encounter I overheard at a Burger King today:

"But I don't have any cash."

"Credit is a minimum charge of 7.50."

"Okay, well, that's against the law for Visa and Mastercard."

"I'm sorry, it's just our policy."

"Well then, I'm going to write a letter to your corporate headquarters in America and let them know you broke the law."

Okay, asshole. You go on and give a bad name to Americans everywhere, starting with that letter. After that I looked at the guy who was serving me and gave him a look like, did that actually just happen? He rolled his eyes at me and shook his head, then I looked at the girl and she was kind of like, what the hell? Which is just the reaction I would expect.

Mini break.

Okay all, I'll be going to Cork, Ireland tomorrow and will be there until Sunday, so don't panic. I'm not dead. Yet. I might get pneumonia or something, as I have a terrible cough. But whatever.

And yes, I'm still procrastinating.

I remember this well.

So guess what I'm doing right now? Procrastinating!

Of course I'm procrastinating. I have a paper due on Friday, which I will probably have to go in to school super early to pass in before I leave for my flight, and which I am currently working on. Hey, I almost have 2 pages, all right? I'm improving. Freshman and sophomore year, I wouldn't start a paper until the night before it was due. So there.

Meanwhile I'm being driven crazy by one of my roommates who talks to herself while on the computer, and who PROMISED to not talk when she moved across the table from me. Liar!!

And I am still achy. Which doesn't mean that I won't go out later. I'll decide when the time comes.

Sick.

Because I know you all want the most up-to-date information on my health, I thought you should know that I'm home sick today. Yes, I'm not sure what is wrong exactly but I feel weak and my throat is not doing so hot. But I'll be fine, so don't you worry.

Pay day.

Just another update on my secretarial day yesterday. I got PAID for it!!! 40 pounds! That's about $80. How awesome. :)

UPDATE!!

Update! Update!

In the building next door, I can see through the window. And Imelda Staunton (she was Dolores Umbridge in the fifth Harry Potter movie, among other things) is there and seems to be reading a part! By the way, that building is some kind of movie place. I haven't seen famous people there before though. This is so cool! Boy, is she a tiny lady.

Duckworth surprise

Today I walked into the Duckworth office after a mostly nice week off, smiling and saying hello to everyone. Nina told me to ask Suzanne what I would be doing today. There was a bit more bustle in the office than normal, and I kind of wondered what I would be thrown into.

"Hi Suzanna."

"Hi Tahleen. Today you'll be taking care of him," she said as she indicated the door to an office. Inside that office was the big boss, Peter himself. The smile pretty much vanished immediately from my face. Suzanna laughed and said I didn't have to look panicked, that it would be all right and nothing would go wrong. I wasn't so sure--I've never done secretarial stuff before and I was scared I'd mess up. Plus anyone who knows me knows I'm pretty much the clumsiest person ever. It was about fifteen or twenty minutes before Peter would ask to see me. Meanwhile, I felt like I was waiting for the axe to fall.

Fortunately it wasn't so bad, I mostly gave him his e-mails after printing them out and took down replies (and other e-mails) while he dictated them to me. I booked a cab for him too, which was great, since I forgot to find out which airport he'd be going to later today. He's flying back to NYC to go to the other branch, Overlook.

And right now, I'm just sitting here in the office, biding my time until he has another task for me to do. Hopefully they won't be as bad as trying to confirm his flight and finding out if it will be flying today. By the way, apparently there is a huge storm coming. Or something. I hadn't heard about it really, which says something about my awareness. Anyway, if anything crazy happens this afternoon I'll post. If not, it's probably fine. If I don't post for a few weeks, I might have been swept away by a gale or drowned in the rainwater from this supposed "hurricane."

The winner.

Debbie Saryan of Andover, MA wins the competition for "Guess this quote." It was a take on the line "Don't you think daisies are the friendliest flower?" from "You've Got Mail." So congratulations, Auntie Debbie! Your prize is recognition by yours truly, the master of this blog. You can take a title if you like. Perhaps, The Quotanator. Or something. It's your choice.

I was a tourist this weekend.

My friends Jill and Jade (I worked with them at B&N) came to visit London (and me!) this weekend, and this gave me the wonderful opportunity to do fun touristy things in London that I haven't had the chance to do yet, and to get out of my flat as I don't really like hanging out here that much. SO we did a bunch of things, most notably Westminster Abbey (lots of famous dead people--my dad would love it), attempted to see the changing of the guards and failed, and, of course, ABBEY ROAD! Finally I got my butt up there, along with Jill, and yes, we absolutely did the tacky picture thing. We met four American girls who took our picture, and we took theirs; though it was pretty sad that ours came out not so great, and the ones we took of them were fantastic (we're awesome photogs by the way).

Oh well, I can go back. And for whatever reason, we forgot to take a picture of the road sign. What were we thinking anyway? We also did a quick run to Baker Street and took a picture with the great detective himself. We looked very ponderous indeed.

Later that night after we made ourselves dinner, we went to see Spamalot!! We were so excited to go, and took pictures out front and everything.

We had bought our tickets from one of those "We sell half-price tickets!" places. A word to the wise: don't trust them.

We paid 40 pounds a ticket, thinking we had pretty good seats. When we got there, we went and looked for them. And this was basically our reaction:

"This can't be right."

We were in the second-to-last row on the uppermost floor. We could barely see the stage we were so far away. And the price on the ticket was 17.50 (which I think is still too much for the crap seats we got). But being the sneaky and selfish college girls we are, we managed to sneak down a great deal and steal some empty chairs. Every time people came in the theater and ushers looked for places to seat them, we got nervous, but the show began and they couldn't do much. One time they did tell us to move, but only to the row behind. Unfortunately at the interval (what they call intermission here) this usher was checking tickets because people were waiting to sit in the seats we were in. Oh well. We were sad, but the usher was GORGEOUS so we let it slide.

But Sarah, Jill's friend who came with her, saw some empty seats that were even closer to the stage. So while I waiting in line for the bathroom, they went scouting. And we got the seats. No one was sitting there and the view was great--we were on the first balcony (the circle) and in the front row. We could lean right over the edge and see almost everything perfectly--even make out features of the actors. It was pretty fantastic. The only awful thing, really, was that the toilets didn't flush there. For some reason. I thought that was dumb.

But Spamalot was wonderful and fantastic and great and I'm so glad I got to see it, especially with such great seats in the second act. :)

Wales and some interesting characters.

Whew! I'm back, everyone. Back from Wales after six nights, and what a time we had. I'll try to get you all up to speed, but it won't be easy. Here we go.

Nicki and I got up very early on Friday morning, in order to catch our 7:30 am bus to Cardiff. We spent about 3 1/2 hours on the bus, and then finally got there. It dropped us off right outside the castle. Now all we had to do was figure out how to get to Swansea.

So here we are, in a strange, new city, lugging around, well, luggage (I guess that's where the word comes from), trying to figure out if a bus can take us there. We know there is one somewhere; all we have to do is find the stop. We must have looked pretty confused and helpless, because not five minutes after we arrive, a very nice, very old man with a cane asks us where we need to go. "Swansea," we tell him, with wry looks. We know we're probably in the wrong place, which he then confirms for us. He lets us know we have to go to the bus station, and tells us how to get there. Already the Welsh are nicer than any other people I've met.

We get to the bus station, and end up having to wait an hour for the Swansea shuttle. Luckily I brought some books. Also luckily, when the bus comes, there is a compartment at the bottom where I can stow my suitcase. The bus ride takes an hour, during which it begins to rain. And I mean it was pouring. Great.

Once we get there, we get our stuff and start to make our way to our B&B, which happens to be on the other side of the city. Thank goodness it's not a big city. We have to walk there, because we don't really want to spend the cash on a cab, and so we consult my Wales travel book, made by Lonely Planet. Which, by the way, we probably wouldn't have been able to survive without. Lonely Planet rocks, if you ever need a guidebook. Once we get to the Harlton Guest House, we're soaked (as are all of the contents of Nicki's duffel bag). We're not too happy right now, but we decide we need to do what we came here to do. We go to the Dylan Thomas Centre, which we have to cross the city again to get to. And it's still raining. I'm just glad the ladies at the tourist information center were nice ladies who gave us good directions.

And the Dylan Thomas Centre turns out to be a bit of a disappointment. The only thing that was an actual relic, I guess you would call it, were the doors to the shed in which he wrote Under Milk Wood.

And then, to make my life more difficult, Nicki wants to go shopping. So we go from store to store in this shopping center (which actually was a pretty nice one). Meanwhile, I'm exhausted. We had gotten up around 6 that morning and had a terrible day, and I'm being dragged around a mall. Finally we go back. It's still raining. And we are cold and very wet.

That night was a relaxed night. We did nothing except read, take naps and watch TV on the tiny set Ron (the guy who owns the place) provided for us in our cozy room.

However, there was one incident that is worth mentioning. As we go up our stairs, the door to room 5 is wide open. The door faces the stairway directly, and the bed inside is right behind to doorway. So the guy inside gets a clear and close look at everyone going up and down. Lucky us.

"Hi, what are you doing here?" he greets us. He then proceeds to ask us where we're from and whether we aren't going out tonight. My inner alarm started to tell me to wrap up the conversation, which we did as gracefully as we could after sharing a look. Later that night Nicki (who thought that guy was Ron for whatever reason) said that she had imagined him saying, "Wanna party with the Ronmeister?" And he was known as the Ronmeister from then on.

The next morning was sunshiney and actually pretty warm, to our intense relief. Nicki wanted to go to the Mumbles, another part of town nearer to the coast (and also where Catherine Zeta-Jones built a $4 million mansion). We ate breakfast (Ron made it for us! The real Ron.) and then set off. The bus dropped us off near Oystermouth Castle, which is by the way my new favorite castle. No one was there because it was closed, but we could still walk up to it and around it, which we did. It was so great!!!

Then we went walking and found a cemetery, or at least a road that led to one. We started to walk up the long hill, when on the right hand side we found a nature conservation area. We took that little sidetrip, which really all it was was lots of trees, vines and daffodils, but it was nice. By the way, daffodils are the national flower of Wales. And they are freaking EVERYWHERE. In the wild, in people's yards, in front of buildings, you name it. And this day was St. David's Day (he's the patron saint of Wales), and on this day everyone wears daffodils on their lapels or around there. It's a good thing we knew this, otherwise we'd have thought every Welsh man, woman and child were absolutely insane.

Anyway, the cemetery. It was really one of the coolest places I've seen. HUGE burial ground, on a hill and in the little valley. Also lots of daffodils on graves, growing above those at rest. There were some of the most beautiful monuments and carvings I've seen at cemeteries.

We spent a while here, walking around and just looking at everything. There were a lot of people out walking their doggies too.

There were two of these little guys. I want one.

Unfortunately this is pretty much where the day stopped being good.

Around noon we were off to Cardiff again, this time to stay for two nights. It wasn't raining, which was great, and we were looking forward to the St. David's Day celebrations. We walked to our B&B, checked in and dropped off our stuff; and boy, was our room nice. We had our own bathroom with a shower, and it was huge. Unfortunately, I got a sinking feeling when I was thinking about the booking I did online. I pulled out the printout I had, and found this: our room was not 20 pounds a night per person, as I had thought; no, it was twice that amount. Fantastic. So because this was my fault, I told Nicki I'd buy her dinner. To cheer ourselves up, we went to find the festivities out in the city center. We walked around, confused as to why there was no parade or anything of the sort going on, and got to the tourist info place, where we asked what was happening for the day. The lady said "Lots!" followed by "But most of it is done by now." The only thing that we could even consider doing was the "Really Welsh Food Festival," down the street. We decided it was worth checking out, and we were starving anyway.

We got to where it was supposed to be. It turned out to be basically a tent, the kind you might go camping in at a Girl Scout weekend trip, with a few stalls in it. What a goddamn waste of time. At least I bought some really Welsh red mustard. That's really all that kept me going.

Later that evening, we went out looking for a restaurant and found this little gem: Old Orleans. An American restaurant. Oh god, this was the most entertaining place I've eaten in in a long time! They gave us popcorn instead of bread, and there were these decorations all around that were supposed to give off the feeling of "Americanness," I suppose. Mostly it was Mardi Gras and jazz stuff, since it was kind of based on New Orleans. Why they called it Old Orleans is anyone's guess. But apparently no one told them that Americans eat ribs with their hands instead of cutlery--I didn't even get a wet nap!! Stupid. But the great thing about this was they had Sam Adams Boston Lager, something I thought I'd never see in Europe. "Shipped from America!" they boasted. Those funny people.

The next day was much better. We went to Cardiff Castle in the morning, which was really cool and very ornately decorated inside (those Victorians will do it every time). Then, later that day we went to this place Nicki found in my guide book called St. Fagan's National History Museum. It was this awesome open-air museum that had tons of historical buildings brought there from around the country, and a bunch of cool stores like a bakery (delicious scones with jam and butter, and cheesey pastries, mmm). Also, it was at this place that we met the coolest man ever on the planet. His name was Geraint and he worked there. He got our attention when he told us the storage shacks we were looking in were for storing coal. He then asked us where we were from, where we'd be going while studying abroad, etc etc. THEN he talked to us for a really long time about Wales and the Welsh language and its history and where it's going. I know so much about it all now thanks to him. AWESOME guy. It was also especially funny when he made fun of New Jersey, not knowing that's where Nicki is from. He felt terrible, but we all were laughing pretty hard. Especially me.

That's him! Notice his scarf with the colors of the Welsh flag. He was really Welsh.

That was basically our entire day. Except that night, I had some Brains. Not the organ. That's gross. No, it is the local ale brewed in Cardiff and it's everywhere in Wales, but no where else that I've seen. And god, was it delicious. It was so good, it's a shame it's only in Wales.

The next day we said goodbye to Cardiff and went to Abergavenny. This was a convenient and cheap place to stay for what we wanted to do, so get off my case. At least three people asked us why we were staying there (two of these people lived in the town and the other was a bus driver). It felt like everyone we met thought it was weird we were there. Whatever.

We got to our hostel, dropped off our stuff again and set off to explore the town. We saw another castle (number 3) and went through a museum near it. Old castles are pretty awesome. There were also some great views of the surrounding mountains from up there.

But that night was pretty much a disaster. There was a pub downstairs from our room. It felt like I was in a dirtier, more racist version of Cheers. The lesson I learned that night was: never drink with old drunk men, because they will offer to drive you to your planned destination the next day and it will be super awkward every time you see him afterward. And if you're wondering, no we didn't take him up on the offer.

The next day was Tintern Abbey, which was wonderful. I loved it there; it truly was haunting, especially since we had audio tours and there were recordings of monks chanting and singing. It was great to imagine what it must have been like hundreds of years ago when the abbey was not falling apart, before Wordsworth was even born. It was beautiful.

Then, on a whim, we decided to go to Chepstow and see Chepstow Castle. This turned out to be a great idea; Chepstow Castle was awesome. Oystermouth is still my favorite, but Chepstow was grand and imposing and wonderful. It's also the oldest surviving castle in Britain, with its construction starting in the 1060s. It's Nicki's favorite castle.

Plus it had an awesome view.

And we got to try on war helmets from back in the day.

Then it was back to Abergavenny (after a nerve-wracking busride from Chepstow because we thought we weren't going to make it to Monmouth in time to make our connection and be stranded there) for the night. This time, no drinking in the downstairs pub.

The next day was our final full day in Wales. Our destination: Hay-on-Wye, second-hand book capital of the world. THE WORLD!!! And it is a well-deserved title. It was a fantasy freakin' wonderland for someone like me (and Nicki); there are 30 bookstores in this town with a population of 1,300. (!!!) Every street had at least one. It was crazy. Nicki and I went into at least 20 of them; I took pictures of as many as I could. And some of them had crazy themes, like there was one called Murder and Mayhem with all crime, mystery, and horror books.

Then there was Rose's Books which had a bunch of rare children's books, and there was a Renaissance bookstore, and bunches of others. Most were used bookstores, I went into one where they sold new ones. Even the cafes sold books. And I actually found a book I've been looking for since the seventh grade, called A Christmas Mystery by Jostein Gaarder. I've been interested in it since I read Sophie's World and read about it in the back of it. I also bought another one by him because I'm pretty sure I'll never find them again. AND I bought a Bill Bryson book I've never heard of about him traveling down Route 66, AND I got a big book of Irish ghost stories (at a used book store that used to be a movie cinema!). So all in all it was a great day of booky fun and adventure.

And that about does it for my trip to Wales. Today we woke up, got breakfast in town, and spent a total of 5 1/2 hours on two buses. And we are glad to be back, because at least now we know where the hell we're going. If you want more details about anything, feel free to ask me!