King Lear at Shakespeare's Globe

As "groundlings" we have to stand through the whole performance, but we get to lean up against the stage, close enough to have fake blood sprayed all over you when one character ripes the other characters eyeballs out. Like the poor peasants back in olden times, we can only afford the cheap standing tickets accompanied by a complimentary rain shower.

Ah, London.

I just got back from a weekend trip around the English country side, again. It was nice and pretty, but I was glad to get back to the city. Now I cant remember why. I'm sitting in my flat next to an open window downloading my pictures onto a computer for my blog. I can hear from across the street that one of our neighbours is having a nice cocktail party from the sounds of their guests chatter from their balcony. There is one woman in particular, I can tell she's American, now out of college, freshly in the professional job market seeking a job where she can use her ingenuity as a young bourgeois, wanna-be Londoner. She has various speculations on attending law school and men, and I can tell she's full of shit and trying to impress the guy with the tie standing in front of her. This is more information than I care to know about any of my neighbours guests, especially bitchy American ones. So I glare at her outside my window and catch her eye to which she says to two other party guests whose ears must be bleeding now from her boring conversation, "Look at that weirdo staring at us." Then to this loud-mouthed American I say "I don't care to know about your schooling and career, can you keep it down?" "What?" she replies. I lean my head a little further out the window to ensure that she hears me as well as I can hear her, "I don't care about your life. Keep it down!" At this her snobby senses have been hurt and she whips her body around to recount this interaction to the other guests. I much prefer the shy girl with the black skirt who isn’t talking.

Aw, London. With is jam-packed buildings and neighbourhoods. There are seven million people inhabiting this relatively small area, and there's just no room for complete comfort and privacy. All this city exposure has left me sassy, and often cheeky, depending on how pissed off the people make me. All I can do is laugh and be glad that the big bad city doesn't scare me, or I would have reason to pee my pants at least three times a day. Oh look, someone’s car alarm is going off. Just another London evening in posh Kensington.

The Cliffs of Moher, west coast of Ireland, next to the amazing blue atlantic

These cliffs were the reason I went to Ireland. They left me speechless. They are over 700 ft. at their peak. Many people have died, deliberately and accidentally. I absolutely loved this trip.

Peaking over the edge. I dont recommend it. I froze with fear, and my feet started sweating, I was like a sweaty statue--it scared the shit out me.

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It was very windy up there--my hair doesn't normally do that.


The Burren, just north of Moher, a giant limestone field.

Blarney Castle and Druid forest

Cave

Wicked cool forest

The wishing stepts. Allison and I walked down and up these stairs with out eyes closed, concentrating only on our wish. Later on that night mine came true. You all will have to wait till I get home to find out.




Witch rock

Howth Peninsula

Tidal pool

Cave

The Irish Sea and me.


The cute coupled I traveled with this weekend.

I think this is a wart

I stared at this all the way to Ireland trying to figure out what it was.


Dad, I'm glad you got yours removed.

Dad, you were right.

When I first arrived it was misting outside (because it doesn't really rain here as far as I can tell), and it was super overcast. It was what I expected, and didn't seem all that great. Then we started getting lost and people around the town were so friendly and helpful. Even our waiter and the security gaurds at the resturant last night were more than willing to share a joke with us and point us toward a local pub with live Irish music. Needless to say, the pub was awsome, and the music even better. London has nothing on Dublin. I love it here, and want to move here as soon as possible. My Dad said it all, when I told him I was going to Dublin he immidiately said "You will fall in love with Ireland." And I haven't even been out of the city yet! In a few minutes I'll be catching a train to Cork to visit Blarney Castle, you all know what that means! And if you dont I'm not going to spell it out for you.

So I'm staying in a hostle where I have to share a room with 5 other people. I thought that was bad, but the Green's (the married couple on the trip) have to share a room with 18 other people. When I arrived at the hostle my roommates weren't there and I had a chance to orient myself in peace. I didn't get a chance to meet them until 3 a.m., well actually it was 3:30, because last call in the pubs around here is 3. I believe they are from Sweden, and they are all male. Some might consider this lucky or scary, I consider it karma for better or worse. First impression, I thought they were the KGB for some reason, maybe it was their scary, wierd, Russian sounding language. They had aparently been to a Bruce Springstien concert, as well as visiting the pubs. I had barely fallen asleep because I was so anxious about sleeping in a room with strangers from God knows where, and I tried to act asleep in avoidance, but they knew it and I knew it, so I sat up and introduced myself as they prepared for bed in their tight fitting underwear and Bruce Springstien tee-shirts.

"My name in Indigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die."

So this past week I've been very tired. I'm pooped! Being a tourist/student/Londoner is hard work. I've been reading lots of Jacobean plays about tragedy, revenge, rape, incest, death, blood, deception, love, lust, loss... the list goes on. It's all very classic stuff, and often I think of my favorite movie, "The Princess Bride," when studying these tales of woe and seduction. I want someone to sword-fight for me....

Speaking of The Princess Bride, I'll be leaving for Ireland today, and on Saturday I will be visiting THE CLIFFS OF INSANITY!!!!!!!!!!!! That's right. The cliffs of Moher are opposite the island from Dublin, and I will be taking a train to visit these cliffs where they were filmed for the movie. I may come back as a princess, with long blond hair, and the name Robbin Wright--you never know what fantasy land will do to a person. I'm so damn excited I might cry right now. So if you don't here from me by Tuesday you'll know I became overwhelmed by the power of the cliffs and flung myself over for no apparent reason. Just kidding, Mom, I'll be safe.

I went to Stratford-upon-Avon...

ya know, Shakspeare's birthplace. It sucked. The only good part of the trip was the honeymoon suite that Al and I got to stay in at the B&B. It was heaven.

The Disneyland of Castles-Warwick