Let the European travel log games begin!  I'm finally typing up and posting the handwritten journal entries from my grand trek across Ireland, Scotland, England, France, Austria, and Italy.  Stay tuned!  :-) 

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Looking back over the day, I can’t believe that Michelle and I were in London only this morning.  So much has happened that I feel like I’ve watched dozens of fast-paced movies right in a row!

I forced my eyelids open at 5:45 this morning and though, “AH!  It’s 5:45 this morning!”  I was supposed to be up at 5:00 so that I could do some last-minute packing and be off to the station by 6:00.  Eek!  I pounded on Michelle’s door and the two of us switched into fast-forward mode.  We were packed and downstairs by 6:15, and the ever-considerate Jeanette drove us to the tube station.  Bless her and darn alarm clocks!  J

The tube ride and train ride went without a hitch (train stations are friendlier than I’d supposed!) and we arrived at Gatwick airport around 8:00.  My backpack  (which happens to be an unwieldy monster of gargantuan proportions) was the only thing that slowed our clipping pace.   Michelle laughed at me as I swing it on and off my shoulders with manly grunts and groans.

We found our Ryanair check-in point without a problem, but after waiting in a long, boring line, we discovered that we had to join yet another line to pay for our checked luggage.  Since airlines are no longer allowing liquids onboard aircrafts, Michelle and I couldn’t carry our luggage with us.  We ended up stuffing all of our toothpaste, make-up, shampoo, deodorant, etc. into my bag so that we only had to pay for one checked item.

After some hold-ups at the desk (no—nobody was robbed; the lady at the counter just charge us twice the checked luggage amount accidentally!), we grabbed our boarding passes and headed for security.  The next hour-an-a-half were a living nightmare!  Gatwick airport is tiny and poorly organized, yet it insists on accommodating thousands of people a day.  We were patient at first as we wound through room after room of security lines, but as soon as the clock struck 9:20 (our boarding time), I panicked.  The airport staff was infuriatingly calm and unhelpful, and Michelle and I finally started queue-jumping in our desperation. We made it to the security checkpoint at last, and after being frisked and searched, we bolted to a television screen to locate our gate number.  Unfortunately, the gate number wasn't listed yet.  When it finally appeared, we tore through the halls, got caught in several more lines, and made it to our gate just as our flight was boarding.  The flight only arrived in Dublin 15 minutes late, and how that magic worked, I’ll never know.

The Ryanair flight itself was moderately comfortable although the color scheme was odd (bright yellow and royal blue?), but I don’t remember much about it.  I slept almost the entire hour!  (Ridiculous, isn’t it, that a flight from Utah to Arizona takes longer than a flight from London to Dublin?) 

Our adventures truly began when we touched down in Ireland.  Think things have sounded crazy so far?  You ain’t heard nothin’ yet!  (And it isn’t often that something is crazy enough to merit improper grammar!)  I was thrilled by the greenness of even the grass and trees around the airport (they were nearly a neon green; it looked almost unreal!), and the bus ride into the city center was quite exciting.  After being dropped off, Michelle and I wandered from street to street, giggling over our horrible senses of direction until we finally bumped into “The Inn.”  “The Inn” was actually a very un-inn-ish, fishy-scented, orange-painted affair, but we felt very young and wild and adventurous as we marched inside.

The boy at the desk was very friendly, and it soon became clear that he was trying to flirt.  He asked for my ID and I gave him my passport.  “What?  You’re older than me?  No way; you totally don’t look it.”  I was very flattered.  J   He gave us our room keys and a locker lock (gee—that sounds silly!), and we had quite an adventure stuffing my massive bag into a blue wire locker six feet off the ground.

After that, Michelle and I decided that death was not only near but imminent if we didn’t fill our bellies FAST!  As soon as we spotted a grocery store own the street, we ducked inside, ransacked the place (taking away a wheat scone, orange juice, and a blackberry yogurt each), and plopped down in the middle of the sidewalk to stuff our faces.  My vision cleared and my spirits lightened as I ate, and soon I was ready to conquer the world!

Unfortunately, it takes more than sheer will to conquer Dublin; it also takes, for example, some sense of direction.  J  Michelle and I began by just wandering the streets, admiring the graffiti on our side of the town, and taking pictures in front of what we thought was an important building (but, of course, turned out to be just a train station).  And as soon as we crossed the river, things became even prettier.  We were able to find and tour Trinity College with a funny, dramatic Irish tour guide.  (No, we hadn't paid for the tour; we just quietly tagged along!)   After looking at all the beautiful old buildings on the college grounds, we wandered the streets a bit and passed a huge Dental Hospital and some very Victorian-looking apartments.

Ironically enough, though, our favorite experiences of the day occurred in the most unlikely of circumstances:  1) Around 3:00, it began to rain.  2)  Around the same time, we became thoroughly and utterly lost while in search of St. Patrick’s Cathedral.   3)  In mere seconds, we were transformed into two, starving, wet little homeless girls.  Does it surprise you, then, that each of these inauspicious circumstances led to delightful, giggly adventures?  Let me explain:  1)  Even though rain was coursing down our faces and soaking our clothes, we were able to laugh about our predicament and duck under statues and into stores.  In one of these stores, we purchased “Turkish Delight” because it sounded to storybookish and. . .well. . .delightful!  Let me tell you, folks, it was NOT.  It tasted like alcohol-soake toad jelly crammed into a thin layer of chocolate.  I was crushed!  Actually, I wasn’t.  I was disgusted, but the whole thing was pretty hilarious.  We got the biggest kick out of calling things “Turkish-ly delightful” (as in "awful!") for the rest of the day.  J  2)  Even though we had trouble finding St. Patrick’s Cathedral, we ran into Christ’s Church Cathedral (1000 years old and the spot where Handel’s “Messiah” was first performed) and Dublin Castle along the way.  We took pictures whilst running through the rain, and it was delightful (NOT Turkishly).  We made it to St. Patrick’s in time for the choral evensong, and we got to sit in the Dean’s bench!  The cathedral was gorgeous—especially from the outside.  3)  Our rain-soaked adventure to St. Patrick’s and back upped our energy levels and we snapped silly pictures of each other in all our soggy glory as we enjoyed a quick dinner/respite from the rain at Eddie’s (an American burger joint).  I ordered a six euro (SIX EURO) BLT which I enjoyed thoroughly.

After that, Michelle and I decided to brave the fish-scented halls of home and write in our journals.  (I should add here that we had quite the adventure trying to find our way back home.  We hopped on several busses which took us everywhere but where we needed to go, until a kindly bus driver with a THICK accent finally pointed us in the right direction and then disappeared in a flurry of sparkle-dust and fairy wings!)   We were in such a giggly mood that we didn’t accomplish much journal-writing-wise.  We finally gave up writing and waited for my mom to arrive (she was flying into Dublin that night to meet us and become our newest partner in crime).  Around 10:30, I began to worry about her, so Michelle and I decided to walk to the train station.  Just as we were rounding the corner, though, I heard someone cry, “Erica!” and there stood my mama!  We shrieked and threw our arms around each other and ran back to the hostel.