In Scotland, that is. Yes, after a stellar two weeks back in my hometown, I braved and survived (obviously, as I am updating) 3 flights (totaling 13 hours) and 2 layovers (totaling 14 hours...that sucked), and 1 shuttle ride (totaling approximately 25 minutes), and I was back in my flat on Richmond Place. That was a solid two days ago at this point, so what, you may be asking, have I done with my two days back in Scotland?
Well...
...sleep, mostly. A solid 24 hours of traveling (in which I got maybe 3 hours of in-flight sleep...I get fair too tense whilst flying to sleep properly) left me so knackered that I slept for 15 hours without the aid of sleeping pills (normally a prerequisite to restful sleep for me). But I did not immediately go to sleep, no no. When I first got in, I set about repairing my computer, which had become infected with a couple persistent viruses. They are now gone, and my computer is almost back in tip-top shape.
As my plane was coming into Dublin (where I had a 10 hour layover, in which I walked in a circle around my terminal in an effort to stay awake), I uncharacteristically braved a look out the window , and I was impressed; it looked beautiful. Normally the area immediately around an airport is, you know, awful, developed and uniform and what not. This was not, surrounding the Dublin International Airport (or whatever they call it) were vast green fields, what looked like farm houses, and rolling hills. It was gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous. And I don't know whether it was my extreme exhaustion or something that the Irish have done, but their airport seemed to peaceful and calm compared to every other airport in which I've ever spent time, ever. Airports normally have this palpable sense of tension: people in a hurry, people in a rage, people being just generally unpleasant because they are, in short, miserable. I didn't get that from Dublin; I actually spent a good deal of time sitting at a window, watching the sunset with a bunch of other travelers, and stayed there and watched the twilight descend, and it was one of the most peaceful moments of the last couple weeks for me. So, kudos to the Irish for whatever it is they've done to make their airports seem peaceful in an otherwise stormy world.
Scotland was cold when I arrived, at or below freezing (probably below). It was fantastic, I just stood out in the cold for a while.
Still haven't unpacked, which I need to do at some point (hopefully tonight, as they're coming to clean my flat tomorrow...but I can just load my suitcases onto my bed and be done with it, I think). I did sleep a lot today, too, more on PST than GMT, which is bothersome, but I'll dose myself tonight and start correcting the cycles.
Well, I can't seem to upload a photo right now, due to an 'internal error.' But man, was it a good photo. I mean, wow. Just...wow.
Here's a vocab word that has crept into my vocabulary, which I didn't notice until I was in California, where people don't say this: bloke. It's pretty straightforward, a bloke is a man, a guy, a dude...but not a boy. Bloke seems to be reserved for men over the age of 18 or so...'lad' seems to be the term for boys below 18. More on that later.
I'm off to see if I can't sort the last few issues with my newly fixed computer. I played some WoW with friends who shall remain nameless, at their request. But I stumbled across this, and I feel that my friends should not feel ashamed. Stand proudly!
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Update:
Here's the picture I mentioned above. This is from the Boxing Day Christmas Cabaret, at Karri's Home for Lost Children (I think I was easily Rufio in this little Lost Boys thing...and if not, then I was definitely No-Name). This is me (on the left), Tubbs (in the middle), and Benji (on the right) hanging out and listening to the live musical styling of whomever was playing. This was an awesome night.
And sorry this is late...I was asleep all of Tuesday.
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