Shallow Pockets Brimming with Granny's Irish Coffee

Jameson. Guinness. Redheads.
Three of my favorite things all contained in one place: Ireland.

The final weekend was wild and Gaelic. There must have been about twenty Techie-Oxfords that made the trip and while we were spread all over Dublin in our assorted hostels it didn't stop us from finding one another, generally at Temple Bar.


That first night at Temple Bar felt just like P.S. I Love You. There was an Irishman playing guitar and the beer was a-flowin. The one stark difference Courtney and I faced, however, was that we were only able to find American men. Nothankyou- I'm in Ireland! Gimme some ginger!

The next morning we grudgingly woke up before the sun to catch a bus to the West Coast... and that's where I fell in love. Galloway is simple gorgeous. We climbed along the cliffs, explored ancient 'castles' and hiked through the dewy flower-laden hills alongside the cows and the stacked-rock walls... the West stole something from me that day... I've been under its spell ever since.








After our hike we were invited into a local's home where we had some of their grandmother's cooking- peach cheesecake- and warmed up from the mist with a nice traditional Irish coffee (yumJamesonyum). We also got some puppy play time on the farm:




The next day we toured Dublin- and the factories. Guinness. Seven stories of beer know-how and the top floor was a circular room with only a bar and chairs inside. The whole room had floor-to-ceiling windows all the way around and it was a beautiful way to see the city. (And tasty.)








Our last big Dublin-hoo-rah finaled with Gaelic Football. What. A. Sport! It's a cross between football and rugby and hotdamn is it intense!! We battled a ferocious downpour to make it to the game but it was well worth being soaked to my very core- I have never been around such vicious, die-hard energy before! And oh the cheers and the spectator dialogue... vile! Crude! Awesome!




We spent the remainder of the trip taking a tour around the city from a true native. I just... I loved Ireland. I'm ending up there.

Shallow Pockets Brimming with (Thankfully) Absent Smoke Alarms

Caitlin, Courtney and I made it home to Oxford around 3:30am Monday morning... I was fresh for my 8am class, let me tell you. We spent a lovely couple of hours in Gatwick's Burger King while waiting for our taxi and a Whopper has never, ever tasted so good.

After another week of classes everyone around Oxford jetted off to various destinations and my skimpy pockets decided to bring me to an hour-long train ride back to bustling London. Stephen, the birthday boy from the group of Englishmen we met in Amsterdam, was kind enough to let me stay at his flat and show me around for the weekend. I was only there for two nights so I didn't do too much exploring but I did discover my very favorite part of London: Camden Town.

Camden is shopping. Open markets and food vendors galore. It's full of young, Bohemian energy and fashion and it reminded me of a much, MUCH more interesting Little 5 Points. And much larger. I think I spent the majority of both days wandering around Camden. Unfortunately I do not have many photographs... I left my camera battery in its charger in Oxford so I was THAT tourist with the disposable camera. It was mildly embarrassing and I tried very hard not to pull it out too often.









I couldn't help but fall under the Boho spell... I got a dred in Camden. Love.

Since Stephen (and his 4 flatmates) were nice enough to accommodate me invading their space I cooked a big Southern dinner for them. Fried tomatoes with creamy bacon sauce (they don't sell green ones at Tesco), country fried steak and sausage gravy, twice baked mac and cheese casserole, and salad... gotta have something healthy. And then apple crumb pie for dessert.
While I was cooking I sent the boys to grab some vanilla ice cream for the pie and that's when all hell broke loose. They came back not 5 minutes later to a flat full of smoke and a frazzled me trying to save each various food item. Luckily older London flats don't have smoke detectors so I didn't cause the entire complex to vacate the premises as would have happened in my little kitchen and, very luckily, the food was saved. The grease was not... Nor was the glass stein I tried to cool it in...

Stephen also decided to cook for me... a traditional English breakfast! I tried black pudding... aka fried, curdled pigs blood. Gross. It tasted like a hush puppy... not a fan. But the rest of it was delicious. And I got a big kick out of their orange juice. Instead of 'pulp' the Brits call it 'bits'! OJ with bits- how quaint!


I find Europe in general quaint... and such a welcome change from America.

Shallow Pockets Brimming with Sunkissed Latin Men

I am behind... an entire 2011 vs. 2012 amount of time behind. Another semester at Tech living in Atlanta and not my wonderful Europe, behind...

But I'm about to go BACK! And I would like to catch this blog up before I get my brand new Olympus XZ-1 and finally (diligently) fill it with to-the-year updated photographs.

So- the rest of my European adventure, circa Summer 2011:

After London- another mundane week of school... I say mundane, but actually I found both classes (Legal Aspects of Business and the Philosophy of Morality) incredibly intriguing... it's just studying is not nearly as interesting to the blogosphere as RyanAir-adventures.

Weekend three- Bar(the)lona. Ohhhh I loveLOVE me some hispanic men. Unfortunately I found that, unlike the rest of Europe, Spanish men are not terribly tall... and I'm a bit of a giant so that was midly uncondusive to the heels of nightlife... but believe you me- Barcelona is conducive to nightlife.

Unfortunately Caitlin had the plague for much of the trip but we did meet up with her sister, Cortney, and she and I made some memories.

Our hostel was in a really great location and we had the (mis)fortune of our 4-person room sharing a bathroom with another 4-person room next door. The other room was full of boys from none other than Croyden! Remember from last post- our hellish journey outside of London? One and the same!! The boys were a mess (as most boys in their 20s are) but they were full of laughs and dirty, English banter.

Days were spent sight-seeing of course- we were ultimately tourists and so were obligated to go on plenty of tours and put some wear and tear on our sandals (warm weather finally!).
As a major architecture nerd I instantly fell in lust with Barca. Our tours were largely centered around Gaudi- what a master of material. The Sagrada Familia absolutely took my breath away:





And of course we had to sample the paella, the beach, the nightlife and... the men (YUM). Up at 10a, bed at 7a... Catalonians have evolved- they don't sleep! Barca was non-stop yet the lifestyle was so calming. I met this native, Dani, and his insights about how life should be lived were so intriguing... That's a conversation I would like to restart anytime. ANY time.




I'm not sure if I could survive full-time living in Barcelona... I need NEED need sleep. But for its stories and its parties... it stands alone. Maybe I'll let Barca host my Bachelorette Party.