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A mummy-hand holding, (former) biker gang affiliating, hippie influenced semi crunchy granola mom's ramblings and reminisings on an off-kilter life

Monday, June 11, 2012

..but i have to leave for italy in a week!.....

..but i have to leave for italy in a week!.....

in 2000 i went to the uk, my ancestral homeland. i had a college friend studying abroad in norwich, so i went for a spring break visit. little did i know my dreams of quaint cottages, tea time, accents like my grandmothers, green field and flower gardens, all that is the uk, would be washed in gray.

we had signed up for a 3 day tour of scotland, the haggis tour. we left on a train to edinburgh where we ended up seated next to some drunkards who proclaimed that when i reached for my luggage and yawned, that i was sexy and turning them on. one was named stuart, i remember because stuart just sounds like the nerdy creepy 40 year old that he was. stoo-wart. anyways, they did offer beer so i went for one.

we get to edinburgh without being raped. we get to our tour bus and due to foot and mouth disease, our itenerary is altered. this means we miss out on seeing important sites which escape memory. we do see loch ness but that was...unique. we pass a house where creep satanic or whatever, alister crowley lived and where stairway to heaven was written or thought up or something. we go on to the lake itself and disembark the bus to look for nessie, snap pics, and take a sip of the dark loamy water. my friend refuses to move. she proceeds to scream, with lots of expletives of which i will spare you, that who wants to see a stupid lake and how dare we not stop to see the stairway to heaven house. our trip to the lake is brief because our tour guide is stuck on the bus trying to prevent a 5150.

we return from scotland to my friends dorm and i get ill, violent stomach spasms. i just want t o lay down on the bed and die but she had laundry on the bed and refused to move it because she was waiting to do her laundry and couldn't disturb the dirty laundry on her bed. just great. we go have a beer which makes no sense if you're ill but i was ill, feverish, delusional. i order what my frend is having and one gulp in i realize its raspberry beer. i am allergic to raspberries, so i spend the next 12 hours wondering when im going to die and how healthcare works abroad. the next morning i am set to leave for home thank god.

my friend accompanies me to london and at kings cross, she says good bye. but wait, i say, i have to get to my hostel, you know where it is at and how to get there, and i feel like crap. she says, sorry i cant take you, its getting dark and i need to go back to my dorm. im going to italy in a week and i have to pack.

too ill to say what the farkbot you witch, a week is a week away, help me, i just wimper and walk away. i end up leaving kings cross,thinking the hostel cant be too far on foot. it is dark and begins to rain. i trudged through near freezing rain, lugging 45 lb luggage, alone, fighting the urge to spew chunks in the dArk london alleys. i somehow by the grace of god find the hostel and weakly crawl into bed. the blanket is thin and scratchy and my room mates return at odd hours, drunken and disorderly. i end up sleeping on my suitcase for fear they'd steal my belongings. i wake up at dawn and check out, and they hand me a complimentary breakfast of cereal and an apple. i decide to eat it outsde on the go and i trip, get a bloody knee, and my cereal and apple go rolling into the street. i realize i am running late and yet i sit on the step and just bawl my eyes out.

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