Well, I'm in London.

And I should be somewhere on the European Continent.

Excuse me if I vent a bit, cuz its been a crazy few days. I shouldn't complain, because before now, things have gone pretty smoothly, and I had a great time over in Ireland.

BUT

Here in London, England, AKA, the most expensive place on earth that I just want to get out of cuz I can't even afford to go to a bar and have a beer, as Moby would say, Everything is Wrong.

Lets see, where do I start.

So we'd been toolin' around Ireland having a blast, talking with the extremely friendly locals. One of em was eating dinner next to us. Older chap. With his middle aged son. We were in Doolin. Pronounced like dueling without the G, duelin'. Right next to Doolin is a town called, and you probably wouldn't guess this unless I told ya, Lisdoonvarna. Now, Lisdoonvarna, which I write again just because I like the name, has a Matchmaking Festival every year. You can find out the 'official' scoop at , but apparently middle aged men go there to meet up with whatever screwed up women want middle aged wastoid Irish guys. I say this because the guy next to us had his son, and he was drinking heavily, and even if he wasn't, his Thick Irish Accent would have prevented good comprehension of his, um, English. But since he was drinking, that didn't help. He was at Lisdoonvarna, trying to matchmake, and I think he was drunk because instead of some cute Lisdoonvarnita, he had his Dad. Anyway, Kenz says to me, Doesn't he kinda look like Grandpa Newman, and I say, Damn, I was thinking the same thing. At the same instant, we both said, You ask him his last name. Cuz ya see Grandpa Newman's relatives come from Ireland in Cork. We'd already asked this guy where he was from and it wasn't Cork. I suppose we should have taken his picture. Oh well.

Anyway, I went to the bathroom, thinking that Kenz, being bored and by herself, would start talking with him again and ask him his last name. Sure enough, she did. But between his intoxication and his accent, she couldn't get his last name, but she did ask him if he knew any Newmans (And no knew is good Gnews, if anyone remembers that), and he did, but he didn't say they were family so I have to assume his last name wasn't newman. But he looked like Grandpa newman. Same hair. Same type of clothing. Even had a similar voice. Guess the Irish runs deep in my grandfather. Perhaps it runs strong in my father, and also in me. And in my sister. We all know she can't tan to save her life. She wasn't overly impressed that her lack of pigment probably helps her produce an ample supply of Vitamin A/E via the skin though, which is a pleasant side effect of being butt-white.

So that was pretty interesting.

So Ireland was fun, and to be honest, I don't know if Guinness tastes any better over there and I am not one to answer it because I won't be home for awhile to make the comparison in reverse, although having drank a few pints, I am in a good position to make that evaluation. Perhaps my Dad can publish a review and I'll post it.

So Kenz and I wrapped up our fun in Doolin, which included one of the best hikes I've ever done, along the cliffs from sea level to 400 ft tall as they turned into the Cliffs of Mohr. On a beautiful sunny day that left me quite sunburnt and windburnt and lovin' it. Across fields of green fronting the ocean. Through cowfields dodging cowpies. And cows. Some nice little cows even attacked Makenzie. Or so she thought. Cows. 'Oh no! Watch out for the attacking Cows!!!'

So Saturday our flight was out of Dublin, and we hopped on the 8am bus and got to Dublin at 2pm and got to the airport a little before 3 for our 4pm flight which was canceled.

So, being crafty, I thought I might fly to Munich instead of London, but I guess if your ticket says to London, you go to London. Sigh.

Then I tried to get a ticket to Slovenia, but no one would sell me a ticket, quote me the ticket, etc. I tried. What ineptitude.

So I flew to London. And our flight was at 8:45. A 5 hour delay. In the airport. Not even fun Dublin.

Then the flight arrived late.

Then the cops showed up and borded the plane when it landed - apparently some dude was obnoxious to the staff - the flgith attendent I talked to said he told the cops he had drugs so they would full body cavity search him. I don't think they liked him.

So we got to London at 11:20. Bus to London left at 11:30 while we still got our bags.

So we had to wait till 12:30.

It was late.

And when it came, it wasn't even the real bus.

And that one got full

And then ours showed up.

So we left the airport at 1:15.

Got to London at 2:15.

Then we had to take the night bus. Which took 20 minutes to show up. I think we should have walked, but KEnz was not a happy camper and did not want to walk.

Then the bus took 15 minutes.

So we got there at 3am.

And left the hotel at 9am to get Kenz to her plane.

I hope that went well for her.

I then went out to search for a cheap flight to Eastern Europe and passed on the options I found, because I wanted to get out of London on Monday and there was a bus available. 27 hours. So I decided to do that. I also went to the British Museum which was pretty awesome.

And saw London Tower and Tower Bridge, which is that doubledecker thing they always show on TV.

That was Sunday.

Monday I woke up, and went shopping for food for my 27 hour trip. Then went to the internet cafe to look one last time at flights, poke in one or two travel agents cuz they were closed on Sunday, and then buy my ticket online. But the online wsan't working, although it showed them available so i went to the trains tation to buy it, and of course, it was full.

So I'm still in London, and leaving tomorrow anyway and paying more money than I would have if I left today. So that irked me.

Then I got a new hostel cuz the one I was in and just cheked out of was awful. Totally.

So after that, it was 2pm, and I decided to go to the US Embassy which they told me was in Trafalger Sq.

Well, suffice to say, its not.

So I finally get to where it is, and guess what, it had closed 20 minutes before.

And also, we have the ugliest Embassy in the world in London. A beautiful city, and we mar it with a really ugly 60's FBI building style concrete monster. The richest country in the world. Its disgusting. It has a moat around it. I guess so you can't bomb it.

And there wasn't even a flag.

So I can go back tomorrow, but I think I'll skip it. There wasn't even a McDonalds near it. Go figure. Probably one inside, right?

So that was my frustrating day. But as I told my sis, I'm glad to get these bad travel vibes out of my system here in an English speaking country.

Oh, I've also been searching for a place to upload my pics off my camera. Of the 10 cafes I went to today, none were correctly equipped to perform it. London England - former center of the world.

Now, in Central America, a town would have 3 cafe's and maybe one would have it. Here, zero. Nothing like progress. Can't wait to get out of civilization again.

So anyway, tomorrow I head to Poland. I have 27 hours to learn Polish. I also have Michner's 'Poland' to occupy and enrich me during the journey. I also have two loaves of bread, nutella, bananas, sausage, peanut butter, split pea soup, and grapefruit juice.

Well, enuf on my venting. I'll write an upbeat entry next.

Cheers,

Ryan