in case you're interested

I've started blogging back at my regular home:

don't tell me you don't know

Michelle sometimes blogs at:

Pretty Much. Life, the Universe and Everything

Obviously, our lives at home are EVERY BIT as exciting as our lives in Europe.

Coming Home

We flew out of Dublin at 8pm local time, and landed at Paris Beauvais just before 11. Paris Beauvais is to Paris Charles de Gaulle as Abbotsford airport is to YVR, so we knew it would be a bit of a journey to get from one airport to the other. We did not, however, realize that the trains would no longer be running when we landed, and that we would need to take a bus. And then another bus. And finally, one more.

We arrived at CDG at about 2:30am, and by 3 we had found a spot to sleep, in a little out of the way alcove sort of thing, with four chairs along each wall and enough space for 3-4 people to lie down in between. We actually slept impressively well, and didn't wake up until almost seven, to find the airport mayhem in full swing. We had not been the only ones sleeping in the airport, but unlike London Luton, we seemed to be the only ones at this airport with enough sense to bring sleeping bags on our trip, so we got a lot of stares as we stuffed our bags. I stayed with the stuff as Michelle went to the washroom, and then we switched. When I returned, however, our spot had been overrun by at least 40 uniformed school children, led by a woman who was loudly and inefficiently handing out croissants.

"How the hell did this happen?" I asked loudly, before I could stop myself. Michelle just sort of shrugged, and I climbed over some kids to get to my stuff, which I then set about re-packing. "They just started showing up here," Michelle explained, fully aware that they were all English speakers and could understand us perfectly if they chose to pay attention over the shouting of the croissant woman. A boy then asked Michelle if anyone was sitting beside her. "It's a table" was her pointed response. He didn't seem to understand the distinction, and sat down anyway.

After some reminiscing about our previous experiences with irritating children and stupid chaperones (why wouldn't the woman at least give us some warning that she was going to block our exit?), we put on our backpacks and stood up. But our exit was very much blocked, burgundy-sweater-wearing kids six deep.

"OKAY KIDS, LET US OUT!"

I wasn't angry, but those kids didn't doubt I meant business. They parted like the red sea.

From there we went to check-in, where we learned that our flight was at least 2 hours delayed. After going through security, we sat down at our gate and took a little nap, and woke up to realize that we were lying in front of the currency exchange window, which would explain why there were transactions going on directly above my head. Good times.

We ended up leaving Paris three hours later than scheduled, which of course caused us to miss our connection in Montreal. We instead caught a 6:00 flight out of Montreal, which then was ground delayed because of storms in Ontario.

We finally arrived at YVR just before 10, fully 35 hours after leaving Dublin, and five and a half hours later than anticipated.

But we slep in our own beds, and it was wonderful.

Some Numbers

Days: 57

Cities: 21
Countries: 8

Hostels: 17
Planes: 9
Trains: 18
Buses: 9
Ferries: 4

Cups of coffee: upwards of 100 (each)
Jars of Nutella: 4
Bags of Haribo Candy: 11

Hours until we get home: 37

PS - apparently Ryanair found my bag. Now we'll see if they can get it to me.

How they do it in Dublin

Extreme Drunk Irish Guy at the next table, just turns around and starts poking Heather in the shoulder: "I'm going to have you tonight, you know that right?"

Heather, raising an eyebrow: "Is that so?"

EDIG: "That's right. Tell your mates, now, go ahead. You're a lucky girl!"

Heather, turning away: "Uh-huh"

Later, after someone halfway across the pub drops some silverware, she feels someone obnoxiously poking her again.

EDIG: "You start dropping stuff and I'm not gonna have ya. You be careful now."

Heather: "Thanks for the tip."

We decided to move to a different table.

tempting fate

I guess if you try to visit 20 different cities in 8 weeks, including 7 flights, you are bound to have a luggage problem sooner or later. Mine happened later, but two days before we fly home, Ryanair has lost my luggage. That's right, we were only in the air for 35 minutes between Glasgow and Dublin this morning, but somehow my bag didn't make the trip.

Woohoo.

Fortunately, all my valuables were in my carry-on, and while I'd be disappointed to lose a couple of souvenirs that were in there, there was nothing totally irreplaceable. And really, I pretty much expect that it'll be at our hostel when we return in a few hours.

Oh the adventures.

a bunch of stuff that happened

I'm not gonna lie to you, we have pretty much run out of steam, and our lack of ambition seems to applying to our blogging as well. So here's a general overview.

Tuesday we went on a really cool pilgrimmage all over the island, although we switched from the off-road route to the on-road route when the two crossed over, since the borrowed boots were making Michelle's feet quite unhappy.

Wednesday night was a Guest Concert where we got roped into playing a song, so we pulled out U2's '40', Nelson Boschman-style, which seemed to go over pretty well.

Thursday was our roommate Amy's 21st birthday, so we talked some of our group into coming to the pub to celebrate after evening worship, which was pretty fun. What stands out to me about that night is Phyllis trying to avoid some fisherman who seemed to take a bit of a fancy to her ("I'm a sixty year old woman, and I made it quite clear that I'm married.") and also Peter mocking me for drinking gin with 7up instead of the apparently divinely sanctioned tonic. Whatever to you, Peter.

We left Iona yesterday morning and arrived in Glasgow by dinnertime. We met up with Kevin, Stacy, and Amy from Iona for pub food and a movie, as the rain made touristing pretty unappealing. We actually ran into Peter at the movie theatre, as he was looking for a way to pass the time before his night train to London, and Stacy also ran into Margaretta at her hostel this morning, on her way home to Sweden. Apparently Glasgow is a small world.

This morning we met up with Stacy and Amy again, (Kevin left early this morning on his quest to visit the northern tip of Norway) and have spent the day wandering around Glasgow. We happened to visit the Cathedral just as a seemingly high-brow wedding was finishing, so we hung around and watched the people mill about in their hats and kilts and suits. Then we wandered the City of the Dead, a huge old graveyard with all sorts of old-style grave markers.

Now we're just doing some internet time before we grab some dinner and go to bed early, because tomorrow we fly to Dublin!

Craig the Canadian.

When discussing with the group composed of mostly Methodists, the fact that both Margaret Thatcher and George Bush, much maligned for their lack of compassion, are Methodists, "Their hearts were strangely warmed."

When discussing unfortunate Mennonite names, "They also have names like Harder and Peters. No wonder they were persecuted!"

There was another, but I forgot it now.

This guy is a riot.