Does A Bear Shit In The Woods?

Yes.

And so does Steve.

So I went for a pretty decent hike yesterday and of course, according to Murphy's Law, I had to take a dump about half-way down a mountain, 45 minutes away from civilization.  I held it as long as I could but at one point it was made very clear to me that this crap was going to burst forth no matter what I thought about the situation.  I found an area off path, out of sight and away from the trail... Warning, the following pictures are graphic:













Ha!  As if I took a picture of my shit.  But seriously, I took a shit in the woods.  Luckily I had my notebook in my backpack and was able to rip some paper out of there to wipe with.  No paper cuts!  Up here in Gimmelwald, Switzerland, I truly became one with nature.

Gay Paris!

First off, let me say I enjoyed Paris far more than I thought I would.  Aside from all the French people it's a beautiful city with some amazing architecture.

May 17th - 20th - Paris
I got in fairly late because I'm a retard and didn't book a train ticket from London to Paris in advance, instead buying it the day before.  Besides costing 180 pounds sterling, the earliest train I could catch was at 5pm, which didn't get me into the city until almost 9, Paris being one hour ahead of the UK.  I did a quick walk around the neighborhood of my hostel but mostly sat in the bar drinking beer.

I managed a bit of a sleep in but woke up feeling like complete ass.  I had started acquiring a cold in Ireland and it hit me full force on Tuesday; sore throat, achy body, general lethargy.  After going to the train station to buy my ticket to Switzerland I head to the fountain at St. Michel as I was going on a free walking tour of the city at 1pm.

St. Michel kicking Lucifer down to Hell.  I'd rather rule in Hell than follow in Heaven too.

The free walking tour was put on by a company called New Europe that does tours in a bunch of cities throughout Europe.  It went for about 4 hours and covered a fair bit of the city.  Nothing too in depth but a good primer on the lay of the land and some history and interesting stories thrown in.

We went by Notre Dame, under the New Bridge, actually the oldest bridge in Paris, the spot where the legend of Friday the 13th being an unlucky day came about, The Louvre, the Champs Elysee and ended about 15 minutes from the Eiffel Tower, with lots of other places in between.

Left:  The gardens by The Louvre.  Right:  Chris when he doesn't shave for 3 days.

After the tour was finished I continued on to the Eiffel Tower where I climbed the stairs up to the second floor.  Some bitchy old American lady kept whining to her husband that she wasn't going to make it and how annoyed she was that he decided to go the stairs way instead of taking the lift.  It's about 500 stairs but come on lady, shut the fuck up, you're at the Eiffel Tower in goddamn Paris.

The Eiffel Tower in goddamn Paris

The view from the second floor of the Eiffel Tower, ruined by some ugly dude getting in the way.

The queue to take the lift to the very top of the tower, the only way to the top, had about 67,000 people in it, and what did we learn from my London entry and the London Eye?  Steve doesn't like queues.  So needless to say I said fuck it to that idea and didn't bother going to the top.  The view from the second floor was plenty awesome.

A word about tourist sites in Paris.  At all the major tourist sites in the city you'll find Middle Eastern and African men trying to sell crappily made souviners of Paris.  Think lime green plastic Eiffel Towers and Eiffel Tower keychains that are no doubt 87% lead.  These guys didn't bother me because I gave them the don't-fuck-with-me face.  On top of these guys there are scammers everywhere.  Gypsy women approaching tourists asking if they speak English and holding a piece of paper with some English writing on it.  What happens here is they get you deciphering the message for them while they or someone else picks your pocket.

From the Eiffel Tower I walked back to the Champs Elysee, Paris' main shopping boulevard, and up to the Arc De Triomphe.  The Arc is where the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier lies, along with the eternal flame.

The Arc De Triomphe and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.

At this point I'd been walking for a good 8 hours so I decided it was time to go back to the Hostel and drink more beer.  Mmmm, beer.  I know that in Paris one should drink wine but come on, wine kind of sucks.  Maybe in Italy I'll actually drink wine for a bit, we'll see.

The next day I got up nice and early and made my way to The Louvre.  There were two main things I wanted to see at The Louvre:  The Mona Lisa and the Venus Di Milo.  As in THE Mona Lisa and THE Venus Di Milo.  And see them I did:

Mmmm, gummy di milo...

The Louvre is pretty awesome.  First of all, it's huge.  It holds so many works of art; paintings, sculptures, statues... That it's impossible to see everything in just one day.  I spent about 3 hours there, getting the Mona Lisa and Venus out of the way first and then just wandering around.  I really enjoyed the Greek marble statues and the whole area showing pen and pencil graphic art from hundreds of years ago.  Leonardo Di Vinci pencil sketches?  Yes please.

 Ooh, a sculpture of a pretty woman.  Look closer:  She's got a dick, man!

After The Louvre I took myself to the underground catacombs, home of thousands upon thousands of skulls and bones; remains of people who died hundreds of years ago.  Basically, Paris had a number of mass graves around the city and decided that those locations could be used for further development.  So, they dug up the graves and took all the remains to the old stone quarry and lined the bones along the walls of the tunnels.  Super creepy and super awesome and super worth it.  Possibly the best place I visited in all of Paris.

  Pictured:  Maybe your great, great, great granfather.

And that's it for Paris.  A bit of a whirlwind tour through such a large and magnificent city but c'est la vie.  The next day I got on a train for Switzerland and here I sit, in the Swiss Alps in a town called Gimmelwald.

The Swiss Alps

A Paris update is coming soon but for now, I leave you with this:

Foreigners

No matter where you travel in the world, I'm convinced, you'll find the same kinds of people.  For example:
- Assholes who don't get out of your way when you're walking right towards them,
- Groups of little bitch children,
- Slow-walking Chinese people,
- And fuckers who stand on either side of the escalator.  Walk left, stand right!

I will be happy to leave these big cities for a few days to relax in the Alps.

More Ireland

Killarney to Ennis - May 9th
First, a caveat:  The hostel I'm currently in only has "internet terminals" rather than actual computers.  This means no way to connect my camera or memory card to download photos, which furthermore means no photos for this update.  Which is a shame because I've got some good ones.  Also, this is a long one.  If you have a short attention span, give up now.

Up bright and early (when I say bright I mean it, the weather was incredible for the entire tour) and out of Killarney.  Most people were hungover, I was not.  This is either because I'm older and wiser, or older and lamer.

The scenery along this route was magnificent.  Ireland is a truly beautiful country.  Green as far as the eye can see with a coastline to rival any other's.  Details on these first few days are a bit hazy and since I was lazy and didn't write anything down I'm afraid I'll be missing some stuff.  As mentioned before we went along the Dinlge Peninsula.  Dingle, or as some of us affectionately called it, Dongle, has some of the best ice cream in the world.  Or so I was told.  Naturally I took this as a challenge and had some ice cream in Dongle.  I mean Dingle.  It was delicous.  It tasted far creamier and milkier than ice cream back in Canada.  Probably because it's made from the milk from cows right there around Dingle.  All the cows in Ireland by the way are grazing cattle, fed on grass.  No feeding factories here forcing the cows to eat an unnatural diet of corn and anti-biotics.

We then took a 20-minute ferry ride across the River Shannon into County Clare and to Ennis.  Ennis..... I don't remember a lot of.  This was the first night I really got drunk so far on my entire trip.  Drunk as in still drinking at 3am and having to be up no later than 8.  The pub featured a local band that was quite good doing covers of everything from Pink Floyd (yes!) to Tom Petty and Johnny Cash.  I would later learn that every single Irish cover band does Johnny Cash's 'Folsom Prison Blues.'  Every single one.

Ennis to Galway - May 10th
The Cliffs of Moher.  I wish I could put pictures in this update.  This was one of my favourite stops on the tour, despite the bone-chilling wind.  The Cliffs are on the short list to be one of the new 7 Wonders of the World.  It's like standing on the edge of the Earth.  Hard to describe without pictures.  Here, I'll try:  They are cliffs and they are high and it looks neat.  See?  Hard to describe.  Words don't do this part of the world justice.  If you are ever in Ireland and you miss visiting the Cliffs of Moher, you've failed in life and deserve to die a slow painful death involving spoons and alligators.

On the way to Galway from the Cliffs we stopped at an Irish fairy meadow-type thing.  Carol, the tour guide, and Brenda, the driver, both 100% Irish, took this place very seriously.  You could walk around the fairy area, but you couldn't go into it.  Going into it would bring bad luck to everyone involved.  They told us of stories from other tours where someone balked at this superstition, ran into the fairy circle, and then the bus broke down and everyone came down with herpes, or something like that.  I don't believe in stupid shit like this but I figured since I was a guest (albeit a paying one) in their country I would respect their beliefs and keep my smartass to the outside.

We got to Galway and did some exploring in the city.  I was craving pizza at this point and convinced some of the others on the tour that they wanted pizza too so we ordered pizza and had somewhat of a pizza party.  Since the night before was a long one this was another easy, early night for me.

Inis Mor (Aran Islands) - May 11th
Inis Mor is the largest of the Aran Islands.  We rented bikes and rode around the island.  I met a very friendly horse that I fed grass from just outside his reach on the other side of the fence.  He liked it and I liked him.  I love horses and could've hung out with that guy the entire day but alas, there was more biking to do.

I got sick of biking pretty quickly and myself and a few others turned back towards the inhabited part of the island to check out the shops and grab some lunch.  The Aran Islands are where big, knitted woolen sweaters originated from.  Well maybe not originated but definitely perfected.  This kind of sweater:

http://www.irish-genealogy-toolkit.com/image-files/aran4.jpg

If they didn't weigh 67 pounds I would have bought one just for fun.  They would definitely make for a good Christmas sweater; not overly bawdy with lights and pictures of reindeer, but corny enough to be subtly hilarious.

After Inis Mor it was back to Galway for another night.  On this night I partied.  The details are somewhat blurry but the next day was not one I was keen to begin at 8 in the morning.  Bed time came around 5am.  I'm too old for this.

Galway to Derry - May 12th
Finally we make our way to Northern Ireland.  Northern Ireland is a part of the UK, whereas Dublin et al is its own country, know as the Republic of Ireland.  This is the source of The Troubles in Northern Ireland.  The Catholics are nationalists, wanting all of Ireland to be it's own, one country, and the Protestants are unionists, preferring Northern Ireland being a part of the UK.

If it were up to me I'd be a Nationalist.

Along the way we stopped at the grave site of world-renowned and Irish poet W.B. Yeats.  I'm not much into poetry but I admit it was kind of neat to see an historical person's grave such as his.

Derry, in a word, was incredible.  The hostel sucked balls but who cares.  We went on a walking tour of Derry where the guide, who has relatives who fought and died on Bloody Sunday, explained to us the city and it's history.  It was everything I could do not to cry in front of everyone.  The history is so sad and so emotional.  There are murals on the walls throughout the city explaining the sad and violent past.  I won't get into it, as I could go on forever, but I implore you to look into the history of The Troubles in Northern Ireland and what went on during such events as Bloody Sunday.  And yes, the song 'Sunday, Bloody Sunday' by U2 is about that fateful day in Derry.  I stood on the same streets as those who died fighting for their rights and what they believed in.  It was very powerful.

Once again, the night before was long so this day was a short one.  Bed early and very welcome.  I attempted watching a movie at the hostel and lasted about 10 minutes before dozing off.

Derry to Belfast - May 13th
I was really looking forward to Belfast.  When one thinks of the problems in Northern Ireland they invariably think of Belfast, home of the most bombed hotel in the entire world, The Europa.

We stopped at Dunluce Castle, built on the side of a cliff.  At one point during it's medievel history, during a big dinner party, the entire kitchen area of the castle collapsed into the ocean below -- before the main course was even served!

From here it was to the Giant's Causway, a natural wonder of the world.  The Irish have legendary stories for everything and this place is no different.  The Irish giant, Finn MacCool (awesomely his real name), decided to build a walkway from Ireland to Scotland so he could fight the Scottish giant.  The Giant's Causway is 40,000 or so columns of hexagonal rocks, extending from the coast out into the sea.  It's pretty awesome.  In real life it was formed by underwater volcanoes or something but the Irish explanation is more fun.

Finally in Belfast it was time to explore for a little bit and then to party.  Everyone met at a local pub since it was our last night and we had food and drink.  Some of us decided after the pub closed to go to a nightclub.  I hate nightclubs and this one was no different.  Typical European thumping house music with pushy guys and skanky girls.  Upon leaving the club we were met by a drunken Irishman who decided we were all friends.  He jumped into our cab with us while smoking a cigarette and this pissed the driver off something fierce.  The driver hauled the fucker out of the cab numerous times (he kept trying to get back in) before people on the street intervened.  The cab driver was not a small bloke either, he could have done some damage but showed great restraint.  We asked to be taken to somewhere with food since the drunk-as-fuck Aussie guy wanted a kebab and luckily were dropped, randomly, about 3 blocks from our hostel.  The kebab Drunk-As-Fuck ordered was ridiculous.  No lie, it weighed about 5-pounds.  There were three of us and in about 2 hours we still hadn't finished eating it.  At this point the sun was cresting over the horizon and it was time to go to sleep.  Another too-short-until-morning ahead.

Belfast to Dublin - May 14th
In the morning we took a Black Cab tour throughout Belfast.  The tour guides are normal cabbies, but in this city they offer a special service where for 8 pounds they take you around Belfast and explain The Troubles, the murals and life on either side of the huge wall separating the city; the Catholic and Protestant.

The wall down the middle of the city is called the Peace Wall.  Strange, because it's erected to stop violence from occurring from one side to the other.  Houses behind the wall have protective cages built onto the backs of them to guard from rocks and other projectiles thrown over.  More sad history.  The tour wasn't near as good as Derry's but definitely something to consider if you ever find yourself in Belfast.  After this we had some time to ourselves to explore Belfast before heading back to Dublin.  I walked around some, kind of aimlessly, before getting back to the bus.

Back in Dublin I had a simple night.  Out for dinner with tour folk then early to bed.

Dublin - May 15th
On this day I ventured to do the things in Dublin I had yet to do, mainly the Guinness Storehouse.  Guinness is incredible in Dublin, so much so that it's kind of ruined for me anywhere else.  I was never really a big Guinness fan but I reckon I especially won't be drinking too much of it anywhere outside of Dublin from now on.  I'm not exaggerating, it's really that much better.  At the Storehouse I happened to run into more people from the tour randomly so we hung out for the rest of the day.  At night it was a group dinner and then off to the pubs and another nightclub.  This club was better than the one in Belfast as it actually played songs rather than simply thumping bass with a moron DJ yelling nonsense overtop.  I didn't even bother to sleep tonight as I jumped on a plane early Sunday morning back to London.

I spent my last time in London doing laundry (that shit was stanky) and just relaxing.  The next day I hopped on a train through the Chunnel (an uneventful and unmentioned 20-minutes) to Paris, France where I currently sit.  I did a shit-ton today that I'll write about soon.  On Thursday I'm off to a mountain village in Switzerland.  No internet, no TV, only mountains and fresh air.  I can't wait.

Green Grass And High Tides

Well, green grass anyway.

The Ireland tour was, in a word that's used way too much to explain things that hardly meet it's standard, epic.  A whirl-wind 7-day tour of the entire country with a company called Shamrocker Adventures.  But first, let's go back to Friday, May 7th.

Dublin - May 7th

I arrived in Dublin... At some point in the afternoon.  I can't even remember now.  After wandering for what seemed like ages to find my hostel I laid down for my customary "New City Let's Nap" nap.  Little did I know I would be sharing a room that night with someone who would be joining me on the tour.  More on him later.

After napping I strolled through Dublin a bit and stopped for a pint of Guinness and a plate of bangers and mash at a pub in the Temple Bar district called Farrington's.  Guinness really does taste better in Ireland, Dublin specifically.  My camera was dead and charging so I've no pictures from this day.  Later in the evening I went out for a couple more pints by myself, then retired early to the hostel as I had to be up and at them early the next morning.

Dublin to Killarney - May 8th

I met a few of my fellow travellers in the lobby of the hostel before boarding the bus for an 8:30am departure.  We visited the Mitchelstown caves, which sadly doesn't allow pictures inside.  Story goes an Irish farmer dropped a crowbar out in one of his fields one day and discovered a network of caves.  These caves make for a natural amphitheatre with incredible sound.  One of the ladies on the tour sang a few verses of a song, no electric amplification needed.  Any write up I try to do on these caves will only be selling them short and since there are no pictures I'll reluctantly move on.  One of my favourite stops on the entire tour though, that's for sure.

Oh wait, I found a picture, kind of.

From the caves we went into the rebel county of Cork and to Blarney Castle, home of the legendary Blarney Stone.  I forget the entire history of Blarney castle and the Blarney Stone but it goes something like this:  Queen Elizabeth (?) wanted Blarney Castle.  Those who lived there said no.  She called it, 'a bunch of blarney!'  Get it?  Blarney/baloney.  Anyway.

Blarney Castle

Legend has it that kissing the Blarney Stone gives one the "gift of the gab."  In order to kiss the stone you have to lay flat on your back and hang over the edge of a wall and streeeeeeeeeetch your face and lips over to it.  It's completely safe, there are bars below you and a guy lovingly grasps your hips and holds on to you, but it's such a strange feeling to be hanging upside down that I'd be lying if I didn't say it was a little unnerving.  Did I get the gift of the gab?  I think I already had it, though I'm sure many will call it the gift of being a dickhead.

From here we went to Killarney for our first overnight stay of the tour, stopping at a beach along the way.

 

Steve: Completely unable to pose for a picture without looking like a tard.

Killarney is a neat little town.  Think Irish town and you've got it.  The plan for this night was to watch a local entertainer tell a supposedly entertaining story.  Myself and two others from the tour went to the pub where the entertainment was to take place upstairs but were so enamoured with the band downstairs that we skipped story time.  The band was a singer with an acoustic guitar and another guy with an electric guitar and they played Irish folk songs as well as some covers, such as The Gambler by Kenny Rogers, which I'm completely convinced now was written with traditional Irish folk in mind.  The guy singing was an incredible natural, looking so relaxed and like he'd been singing and playing guitar his entire life.  He had an amazing voice, pronouncing every word with that awesome Southern Irish accent.  Tonight was another early night for myself as I was still maybe feeling a little jetlag. 

Tomorrow we went to the Dingle Peninsula and overnight in Ennis but first, some of the people on the tour:

- Matt; the completely fucked-out-of-his-mind-drunk-every-single-day Australian guy.  Obnoxious and crass, he ended up growing on me in the end.  This guy literally drank every single day, usually starting around lunch time.

- Ian The Scotsman; Ian never wore pants and rarely wore a jacket.  "I'm a hearty Scot!" he would bellow.  About 40 and looking like a typical Scottish bloke with long hair and a beard and calf muscles the size of my head.  This guy was a riot to talk to because of his awesome accent.

- Penny and Meredith, The 50-somethings Aussie Chicks; These ladies had the time of their lives on this tour and consistently had the best stories the morning after.  Fantastic senses of humour on these broads.

Carol, The Tour Guide and Brenda The Bus Driver; I'd be remiss if I forgot these two.  Carol guided the tour and made everything a blast and Brenda's ability to guide the bus through the winding roads of the Irish country side at breakneck speed is a marvel unto itself and always got us to our destinations on time.

Unfortunately I'm now running out of internet time and I'm already almost out of Pounds Sterling so I'll have to cut this update off right here.  Wow, a full update on only one day in Ireland.  Brevity it seems, will not be my strong point.  Tomorrow afternoon I jump on the Eurostar train across the English Channel to Paris, France.  Yeah I know, stinky French people.  I'm getting out of there after only three days, don't worry.

London Calling

A note about long airplane trips: They suck.  It doesn't matter how many movies they offer you (on this occassion I watched Shutter Island and Crazy Heart) flights are always uncomfortable and boring.

London - May 4th
Getting on the tube from Heathrow airport I was immediately amused by the terminus station of the Underground line I was on:  Cockfosters.  Every time the announcement came on, "This is blah blah blah line, en route to Cockfosters..." I giggled like the immature juvenile I am.  I found my hostel pretty easily and dropped my bags and went for a wander through Old London Town.  I hit Westminster, Soho, Camden and along Oxford Street, and more.  Jetlagged and tired I stopped for a pint and some British pub food in some random pub with a name like the Cat and Frog or Moose and Axe or something like that.  Jetlagged as I was I wasn't much able to enjoy my steak and ale pie with mashed potatoes and ended up leaving most of it on the plate.  I picked a random ale to sample and was surprised that it was bright green.  Of course, I forgot to bring my camera along on my first excursion into London so no photo documentation of this nuclear-coloured beer.

After this I had a short nap at the hostel, grabbed my camera and went to the British Museum which was right across the street from where I was staying.  The British Museum is goddamn huge with so many different artifacts and historical pieces it was impossible to see it all, especially since I was ridiculously tired.  One of the museum's best pieces is the Rosetta Stone:

THE Rosetta Stone.  If you don't know why that's cool, I suggest looking it up.

The British Museum has lots of statues of naked people.

After about an hour in the British Museum I could no longer handle my fatigue and retired back to the hostel for a massive sleep that lasted a good 14 or so hours.

London - May 5th

Up at 6am and out the door by 8:30 I made my way to the Tower Of London.  I took the free Yeoman Warder's (Beefeaters) tour which was awesome.  The tour guide's name was Dickie Dover.  I can't make shit like that up.  Mr. Dover was funny as shit and the tour lasted about an hour with him explaining the bloody and violent history of England.  The British, it seems, were really fond of executing people.

The Tower Of London houses, among other things, the Crown Jewels of England.  Unfortunately no pictures are allowed of the Crown Jewels but they were worth the price of admission alone.  Jewels and scepters and scepters with jewels and jewel encrusted jewels.

The Tower Of London and the hilarious Dickie Dover.

 

 

Left:  Look at that codpiece!  Whoever wore that suit was either hung like a goddamn horse, or that's the medieval version of buying a Corvette.

Right:  Where medieval men went to masturbate.

Following the Tower Of London I hit Tower Bridge, which is way more interesting and neat looking than the more famous London Bridge.

Crossing Tower Bridge I then walked all along the South Bank, along the River Thames, which is something like 4 kilometres.  I stopped at the Tate Modern art museum and quickly discovered I don't give two shits about abstract or 'modern' art.  10-minutes and I was out of there.  At the end of the South Bank is the London Eye, the giant ferris wheel which apparently offers incredible views of Lonon.  I say apparently because, unlike the British, I'm not a fan of queuing and didn't want to wait in line for 80 million years.  Maybe next week when I'm back in London for a day I'll go early and give it a whirl.  Get it?  Ferris wheel, whirl?  Good one.

Across the river from the London Eye is Westminster Abby and Big Ben.  At this point my back was stiff and in lots of pain so I didn't explore around here too long and just went back to the hostel for some rest.

In the evening at the hostel was a pirate themed party for one of the workers, Robyn.  Unfortunately I left my peg leg and eye patch at home so I didn't dress up.  The party was fairly low-key and I met some fellow Canadian travellers.  So far, every Canadian I've met has been from Ontario.  This is lame because Ontario sucks.  Later into the party a group of brown guys from either Canada or the US showed up.  They were, naturally, carrying a bottle of Crown Royal.  Ten bucks says they brought a crate so they wouldn't go through withdrawl.

London - May 6th

Buckingham Palace and the changing of the guard.

The changing of the guard is neat and all but it seems much ado about nothing to me.  The guards don't really do anything, they just stand around, sometimes they march, but mostly they stand around.  The whole changing was a grand spectacle and went on forever.  A parade of guards marches up to the palace with a brass band.  They then stand around for a bit while someone yells at them.  Then they march around some more and more yelling until finally the guards actually change.  Then the band plays on and on and on.

After this I went to Pickadilly Circus, kind of the Times Square of London.  Unfortunately the Circus is undergoing some repairs or something so I didn't take any pictures.  While here I went into a sporting goods store and bought myself a soccer.. No, sorry; football jersey.  Team:  Chelsea.  Player:  Drogba.

From here I continued walking to Trafalgar Square and went into the National Gallery.  If you're wondering why I keep going into museums and stuff it's because in London, they are free!  They actually have donation boxes around but come on, as if, right?  Anyway, the National Gallery is huge and contains many works of art from hundreds of years ago.  This kind of stuff I can appreciate; portraits, Bible themed paintings, landscapes.  I wasn't sure if I was allowed to take pictures, and I didn't see anyone else taking any inside, so I didn't.

When my dad went to London for business one of his favourite places for a beer and some food was the Sherlock Holmes pub, being a big Sherlock Holmes fan and all.  I managed to find the place and stopped for a couple of pints.

There's also a Canadian pub in London called The Maple Leaf that serves Canadian beer and Canadian food.  On this day they were showing the Canucks game from the following night so I watched the second period and drank myself a Moosehead.  Strange they didn't have Molson Canadian though.  Not that I'm missing Molson Canadian or anything but you'd think they'd at least have that.

Later in the evening I went to a theatre and watched Iron Man 2.  In England, at a movie theatre, you get assigned a row and seat number.  Naturally I was assigned, in an empty theatre, a seat next to a snuggling couple.  Needless to say I sat elsewhere.  Good movie by the way.

And today, the 7th, I was up early and on a plane to Dublin, where I sit now.  I've already had a Guinness and ate some sausages and mash in a pub.  Tomorrow I embark on a 7-day tour of Ireland that will take me around the entire country.  Killarney, the Blarney Stone, the Cliffs of Moher, Belfast... Fuck yeah.

Testes! Testes! 1.. 2...... 3?

This is merely a test post to make sure the photo posting function works properly.  I'd hate for everyone to miss out on my sure-to-be-awful pictures of sure-to-be-awesome sights.

The Snow Snow.  She's cute.  She's staying at my mom's for the duration of my trip.  Have fun dealing with her hair shedding taking over your place, mom!  Check under the bed in month, there will be enough hair under there to make another cat.