Well whatd'ya know? It's been 3 weeks already. Quite a lot has happened since the last time I posted. I got some mail, ate some peanuts, did some laundry, went to some of my classes. And most importantly, I went to Lincoln yesterday. Not Lincoln Nebraska in case anyone was wondering.
Click the title for the whole story.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Because I've got this kind of time
Well, I've been here for nearly 2 weeks, which I'm told is 14 days. Who knew? because of the anniversary of this, frankly, monumental occasion, I'm going to update my avid fans on what I've been doing at Harlaxton. I may even update you as well.
Hit the jump for the full story.
↑↑↑(just click the title)↑↑↑
Hit the jump for the full story.
↑↑↑(just click the title)↑↑↑
Sunday, January 13, 2013
London, Its a city.
Hey! I went to London this weekend!
Hit the jump for the full story and MANY pictures.
Just click the title 'London, It's a city.'
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
England - Almost Like an Entirely Different Country
Oh! Hello there!
I've been in England for nearly a week now, and I feel it.... prevalent to update those few of you still reading these on my current activities. Chronological order I suppose.
When I arrived here in Harlaxton, I was, of course, immediately taken aback by what people tell me is the majesty of the manor house. Built by.... a man..... some years ago, it serves as a..... something. I don't actually know anything about the building. What I have learned though, is the floor plan is quite complicated. When I finally had a free moment, I decided to explore the ground and familiarize myself with the outside life. However, this was a problem, as I couldn't figure out how to actually leave the manor. Over, what I imagine, has been the last several centuries, many of the doors have become disused or bolted shut. Which means that most hallways and entry rooms no longer serve any useful purpose, other than confusing people like me. Eventually however, I did manage to find a group of people to amble after. They apparently knew where they were going, and I finally made it outside. Soon though, I became bored, so I started the several hour process of finding my way back inside, and back to my room.
I have very little interesting to say about this week, as I don't do anything interesting. I still haven't taken any pictures, because I still don't have a camera. However, tomorrow I leave for London, which they tell me is a city. So I suppose I'll have more exciting adventures and stories to tell.
I've been in England for nearly a week now, and I feel it.... prevalent to update those few of you still reading these on my current activities. Chronological order I suppose.
When I arrived here in Harlaxton, I was, of course, immediately taken aback by what people tell me is the majesty of the manor house. Built by.... a man..... some years ago, it serves as a..... something. I don't actually know anything about the building. What I have learned though, is the floor plan is quite complicated. When I finally had a free moment, I decided to explore the ground and familiarize myself with the outside life. However, this was a problem, as I couldn't figure out how to actually leave the manor. Over, what I imagine, has been the last several centuries, many of the doors have become disused or bolted shut. Which means that most hallways and entry rooms no longer serve any useful purpose, other than confusing people like me. Eventually however, I did manage to find a group of people to amble after. They apparently knew where they were going, and I finally made it outside. Soon though, I became bored, so I started the several hour process of finding my way back inside, and back to my room.
I have very little interesting to say about this week, as I don't do anything interesting. I still haven't taken any pictures, because I still don't have a camera. However, tomorrow I leave for London, which they tell me is a city. So I suppose I'll have more exciting adventures and stories to tell.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Friday, January 4, 2013
Hey, would you look at that?
So I'm finally in England!
If it tickles your fancy, I'll summarize the events and subtle minutiae of my journey. But if it doesn't, well that's too damn bad.
On the 2nd of January I departed kansas city in a small 'rubber band wind-up toy` airplane. The flight was a little rough, but luckily some nice flight attendants were able to reattach my head, and most of the swelling has gone down. Upon arriving in the Atlanta airport, I thought I would get right down to the business of getting myself lost. No point in putting it off till later. Because of my intrinsic ability to ignore simple directions, I soon found myself in a large group of Asian tourists on their way to France. As I stood out so much, I decided not to go to France, and in stead found another group to follow aimlessly. Soon, pure luck found me on a train bound for the International terminal. After only managing to fall down 3 times while subway surfing, I stumbled off the train in the general direction of the terminal. I soon arrived at a flight of stairs going up 3 stories. Luckily for my still bruised shins, there was a nearby escalator. Always the fan of moving while not putting forward effort, I immediately staggered onto the escalator. Several minutes later, I realized that the escalator was moving slower than Paris Hiltons train of thought. I decided to stick with it, that maybe it got faster closer to the top. Halfway up, I was still debating the mechanics of how that would be possible, when a 1000 year old man passed me climbing up the stairs! Sticking with my guns, I remained standing until I reached the top the next day. So far in Atlanta, the airport had been pretty ratty. Sometimes quite literally. However, when I stepped into the international terminal, it was quite obvious they were catering to a different clientele. Fancy-pants stores and large plastic hangy-down chandeliers were everywhere. I even met a genuine Canadian. Worried about air sickness, I ate the least fancy thing I could find, in this case asian served in a cardboard packing box and a Snapple. Soon, I found myself bored looking for something else to do. I ambled across the lobby and sat in my terminal. After an awkward interaction with a very vocal local reading my 'letters from home', I found someone else going to Harlaxton How about them apples? After a short wait, we soon boarded the flight that would take us to London Heathrow! Luckily, I managed to get an isle seat, so I was able to avoid the tediousness of getting a good nights sleep. Every time I would start to drift off, the captain would come on the loudspeaker and say something trivial like "we are at 30,000 feet" or "3 hours till touchdown" or "the engine has exploded". Delirious from sleep deprivation, the next thing I remember is standing in line in customs. The next several hours I remember is standing in customs. Then a light black out. Then several more ours standing in line in baggage claim. However, my new Harlaxton buddy and I were able to steal our bags back from a vagrant. We then ventured off into the wide wide world of London bus routes. After several frantic minutes, I managed to locate a bus that took me to a Hotel in the same 5 block radius as my Hotel. After a bus ride that had the same hair raising qualities as a shuttle launch, I arrived at the wrong hotel. I then proceeded to navigate the most complicated crosswalks I've ever seen and fall across the threshold of my hotel. I spent a large portion of the evening trying not to sleep, then a large portion of the night trying desperately to fall asleep. In the morning, I walked the several miles back to the neighboring hotel, met my buddy, and we boarded the bus back to the airport. We had soon ricocheted our way to Heathrow, where we spent a confused hour randomly boarding trains. By happenstance, we found ourselves at the pickup point. A dull 3 hours later, a large group of us took a bus to our home for the next 4 months. Most people spent the majority of the trip snapping pictures, which I may have done, had my camera not been at home. Now that I have arrived, I plan to collapse in a heap on my unpacked clothes.
If it tickles your fancy, I'll summarize the events and subtle minutiae of my journey. But if it doesn't, well that's too damn bad.
On the 2nd of January I departed kansas city in a small 'rubber band wind-up toy` airplane. The flight was a little rough, but luckily some nice flight attendants were able to reattach my head, and most of the swelling has gone down. Upon arriving in the Atlanta airport, I thought I would get right down to the business of getting myself lost. No point in putting it off till later. Because of my intrinsic ability to ignore simple directions, I soon found myself in a large group of Asian tourists on their way to France. As I stood out so much, I decided not to go to France, and in stead found another group to follow aimlessly. Soon, pure luck found me on a train bound for the International terminal. After only managing to fall down 3 times while subway surfing, I stumbled off the train in the general direction of the terminal. I soon arrived at a flight of stairs going up 3 stories. Luckily for my still bruised shins, there was a nearby escalator. Always the fan of moving while not putting forward effort, I immediately staggered onto the escalator. Several minutes later, I realized that the escalator was moving slower than Paris Hiltons train of thought. I decided to stick with it, that maybe it got faster closer to the top. Halfway up, I was still debating the mechanics of how that would be possible, when a 1000 year old man passed me climbing up the stairs! Sticking with my guns, I remained standing until I reached the top the next day. So far in Atlanta, the airport had been pretty ratty. Sometimes quite literally. However, when I stepped into the international terminal, it was quite obvious they were catering to a different clientele. Fancy-pants stores and large plastic hangy-down chandeliers were everywhere. I even met a genuine Canadian. Worried about air sickness, I ate the least fancy thing I could find, in this case asian served in a cardboard packing box and a Snapple. Soon, I found myself bored looking for something else to do. I ambled across the lobby and sat in my terminal. After an awkward interaction with a very vocal local reading my 'letters from home', I found someone else going to Harlaxton How about them apples? After a short wait, we soon boarded the flight that would take us to London Heathrow! Luckily, I managed to get an isle seat, so I was able to avoid the tediousness of getting a good nights sleep. Every time I would start to drift off, the captain would come on the loudspeaker and say something trivial like "we are at 30,000 feet" or "3 hours till touchdown" or "the engine has exploded". Delirious from sleep deprivation, the next thing I remember is standing in line in customs. The next several hours I remember is standing in customs. Then a light black out. Then several more ours standing in line in baggage claim. However, my new Harlaxton buddy and I were able to steal our bags back from a vagrant. We then ventured off into the wide wide world of London bus routes. After several frantic minutes, I managed to locate a bus that took me to a Hotel in the same 5 block radius as my Hotel. After a bus ride that had the same hair raising qualities as a shuttle launch, I arrived at the wrong hotel. I then proceeded to navigate the most complicated crosswalks I've ever seen and fall across the threshold of my hotel. I spent a large portion of the evening trying not to sleep, then a large portion of the night trying desperately to fall asleep. In the morning, I walked the several miles back to the neighboring hotel, met my buddy, and we boarded the bus back to the airport. We had soon ricocheted our way to Heathrow, where we spent a confused hour randomly boarding trains. By happenstance, we found ourselves at the pickup point. A dull 3 hours later, a large group of us took a bus to our home for the next 4 months. Most people spent the majority of the trip snapping pictures, which I may have done, had my camera not been at home. Now that I have arrived, I plan to collapse in a heap on my unpacked clothes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)