I love my flatmates.

I think the only thing none of us love is the kitchen. Which, I’m beginning to see, will never be clean. It just won’t be. Time to accept it and move on (hopefully without any charges).

I got out of the shower tonight after rinsing out hair dye and the mirror was fogged up. Someone had written on it “you are beautiful” with their finger, so it only shows up—well, basically only after showers. I’ve got a pretty good idea of who it was, but the fact that someone I live with likes the rest of us enough to do something so thoughtful and kind-hearted makes me happy like I’ve just gotten a hug.

I wrote “so are YOU!” with a heart next to underneath the message. :)

I’m leaving in about six hours for the train station. I’m not done packing, and I just remembered there are about nine in-depth questions I was supposed to answer and send to my Roman World TA. Oops.

It’ll get done, though. And then I’ll sleep until I get into King’s Cross in London and get someone to take my picture at platform 9 3/4.

And yes, I’m taking a train down to London specifically to get a picture at platform 9 3/4. I’m not even a huge Harry Potter fan anymore, but skipping out on that feels like it might be blasphemy.

My Wild & Crazy St. Paddy's Day, 2011

(NOTE: this post went up on my other blog on March 17, 2011. I forgot to copy/paste it over here. Sorry! :) )

Made it to Dublin! The hotel isn’t quiiite what I’d hoped for—there’s no bathtub and the shower door doesn’t close. I have literally never spilled so much water during a shower in my life. And I can’t find the pool. I’m kind of worried about its existence.

There were so many half-drunk groups of Americans on the plane ride over. With giant hats from a Dr. Suess story and green, white and orange feather boas. These guys were dressed for a night out. Cue facepalm.

I pulled out a book and ignored them. Sometimes I think I might be better at that than is healthy.

Confession: I am sick again. So it’s definitely effecting my patience and endurance. This weekend by myself in a party city is going to be all about chilling out and recovering. The crunch-time stress will be there when I go home to Edinburgh.

Another confession: I didn’t actually make it into the city centre tonight. I know, shame on me. St. Paddy’s Day! In Dublin! Ireland! And I missed it! Aaaaaahhhhhhhh!

Not. The city’s official festival lasts until Sunday night, and since tomorrow’s Friday, I figure the chances for green beer and crazy-people watching will only increase. Instead, I went for a walk. Found the bus stop I’ll need tomorrow, and a grocery store where I can pop in and get a croissant, or something, for breakfast. (There’s a kettle in the room! I get my morning tea! :) Although it’s labeled “Irish Breakfast Tea.” Would it really kill them to just call it “English Breakfast Tea,” like the rest of the world does?)

I rather enjoyed myself today, anyway. The flight went smoother than I’d hoped for (despite the half hour delay) and I didn’t mind the wait for the shuttle to the hotel. The air was chilled and crisp, but not unbearable. The moon is almost full, and it was silhouetted by clouds in that way that shows up in movies like The Wolfman or basically any other movie that takes place in Scotland/England/Ireland but is more rare at home.

Oh, and I had a silly American girl moment. :) I couldn’t figure out which shuttle/bus to get on, so the second guy I asked called me “love” (“luv”?) as he corrected me. He was older than my parents and had a comb-over, but it made me think of a girl I used to ride the bus with in high school. She went to London one summer with her parents and went out walking by herself, and a couple of construction guys started razzing her a bit. “Hey, luv—d’you think he’s sexy?” She was too embarrassed to answer, so she just kind of blushed and shrugged. The guy cackled and turned to his friend. “She doesn’t think you’re sexy!”

She said it was a highlight of her life so far. Being called “luv” by an English guy. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t good looking—it was something to check off the bucket list!

That’s kind of what I’m banking on this weekend being. Something to check off the bucket list. St. Paddy’s Day in Dublin. I’m going to see the sights, have half a pint of green beer (I’m on antibiotics and not really a beer person, besides) and enjoy my exorbitantly priced and normally-outfitted hotel room.

Scattered

I'll try to get some pictures of Dublin up in the next day or two--probably Friday, if it happens at all--but there's a lot going on this week. A few friends from back home were kind enough to point out that even in print, over facebook, I sound like I've gone absolutely mental. Swan dive off the deep end, that's me! :)

I, like everyone else this week, has an essay with a looming due date. I'm lucky I've only got one left (finished the first one ahead of schedule, thank god, because I can't seem to stay focused long enough to get this second one done).

I think a lot of my insanity is just nerves. I'm going to be on my own--really, honestly as on my own as it will probably ever, ever get--for almost a month starting three days.

The mere thought makes me want to dive for chocolate.

I'm not done planning. I haven't booked a return. I've got a train ticket to London, a plane ticket to Athens--hostels booked for both, thank you, papa, for helping with the London one--and I booked a plane ticket from Athens to Bucharest today during lecture. (I couldn't pay attention to the boring, soft-spoken woman who wouldn't use the goddamned microphone, so I figured I might as well get something done.)

I can't figure out a route from the Bucharest airport to the Gara du Nord (the train station at the center of the city). I don't have any idea how much it'll cost to get from Bucharest to Brasov, don't have any idea where I'll stay once I get there, or even where to go from Brasov. My main goal in Romania, though, is to see Vlad's castle. That can't be too hard to find, right? I mean, how many tourists do you think go through Transylvania and don't want to see that thing?

Probably most importantly, though, I haven't figured out how to get back.

I could be stranded in Transylvania.

Hmm. (At least I bought a phrasebook yesterday?)

As much as I adore learning about Alexander the Great, and reading books and articles about him--he was a fascinating guy. Absolutely never someone I would want to meet or hang out with, but completely capable of bending the entirety of the known world to his will through sheer force of personality.

Anyway, as much as I enjoy reading and learning about him, I don't want to write this essay. I want to read my Greece and Romania guidebooks! Why does that feel like too much to ask?!

If you see me this week, I could use a hug. A real one. Like, a bear hug.

Planning, planning.

Well, that cooking spree didn't last long. I tried. Still sort of trying. Mostly I can't be bothered to spend so much time preparing food. I've got stuff that has to be done and stuff I'd like to waste time on. :)

I've been trying like mad to plan out my spring break plans. (It's not technically "spring break"--apparently that's another Americanism. It's just the three weeks between the end of lectures and the beginning of exams. So: spring break.) Originally I was thinking a weekend in London (British museum and an international friendly between Brazil and Scotland!), followed by a flight to Athens and a week island hopping in Greece, then a few days in Istanbul, then a few more days--maybe as many as five or six--in Romania (Transylvania--and yes, I fully intend on visiting the castle Vlad the Impaler may or may not have ever visited, and if he did it was only for a night or two), then an incredibly cheap flight to Paris and a train to Normandy/Mont Saint Michel, then home to Edinburgh. Three, almost four weeks.

I've been doing research, though, and the more I read about Istanbul the more hesitant I am to go all by my lonesome. The travel guides make it sound like it would be the equivalent to going to Tijuana by myself (which I would never do). It's unfortunate, because I desperately want to go. I'd also like to see some of the rest of Turkey, though, so if I do cut Istanbul out of this trip, that's all it would be--cutting it out of this trip. There's nothing to stop me from going back in the future.

What to do with my three or four extra days, though? I could maybe spend some more time in France. My French would improve, and that always makes me happy when I pick up more of a foreign language. (French is the only one I can construct broken sentences in. The rest are just phrases I've memorized from books, or single words I've picked up from friends and flatmates.) Or I could go visit Stonehenge/Nottingham/York/the Scottish highlands. It's something I definitely ought to do, but it feels like cheating myself out of an adventure.

It's not that it wouldn't be fun to see the rest of the UK. It's more just that I already speak English.

In the meantime, it's a struggle to keep up with schoolwork. I think I'm just being lazy. It's not that I don't care about the material, because for pretty much the first time this year, I do care about the stuff we're learning about. (Philip II, Alexander III (the Great), and the Ptolemaic dynasty!! Hellenistic Egypt! And murders and emperors and conniving sons and mothers in imperial Rome, and the books in Scottish lit are fantastic. Sunset Song, by Lewis Grassic Gibbon. Go read it.)

I'm definitely just being lazy. I don't want to read a textbook. I want to read a historical fiction account of how Ptolemy I Soter held onto his throne. Stories are easier to digest and memorize than sterile facts.

Next Thursday, though, I'll be abandoning all responsibilities for three days. I'm flying to Dublin (by myself) and staying in a fantastic hotel with a real bed and an indoor pool (by myself) for St. Patrick's Day. :)

Oh, and there will be sightseeing as well. And a parade and a festival. But there will also be an accessible swimming pool. And a real hotel room. (Everything cheaper was already booked, but I think I'll survive the weekend luxury. Somehow.)

I wish I had a fun book to read. Something adorably fantastic and girly would be nice. I'm in one of those moods for sugar in my fiction. No more of this gritty unhappiness nonsense in Lanark, which needs to be read by Tuesday morning for Scottish Lit.

Hm. Scatterbrained? Yes, definitely. There's a lot going on, and even more to avoid working on, at the moment.