As tagged by Chimera and Dutchcookie
1. I'm not a morning person in the least. Contrary to my disposition, I cannot hit the snooze button on my alarm; unless I tear myself out of bed the second my alarm goes off, I won't at all.
2. I passionately dislike the colour yellow. The lighter it is, the worse it looks.
3. I drink way too much coffee.
4. I am cursed with hangover Russian roulette: I might get hung over from one drink, or I'll be able to drink way too much and be fine the next day. I can never tell which it's going to be until I wake up the next morning.
5. I'm scared of bears. I do like them, but only in nature documentaries. I once ran 2 km faster than I would've thought possible because I came across bear tracks in the snow and couldn't get away
6. I like playing poker, but I'm not very consistent at it: I either strike gold or suck badly. But at least that throws other players off.
7. I don't know enough bloggers to play this tagging properly--or at all, for that matter.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Leiden, Amsterdam, Queensday and WT Pissup
After a week of trying to get over a bout of viral tonsillitis and an ear infection, not to mention my first week of work, we were on our way to Leiden and Amsterdam to spend a leisurely Bank Holiday weekend with Dutchcookie and the Mr, as well as other assorted WTers.
We were truly blessed by awesome weather, not to mention awesome hosts; we literally walked off the plane, took a train to Leiden, and sat down at a barbeque. A good start to a good weekend, and it did definitely set the tone for our entire trip.
On Saturday we headed off to Amsterdam with Dutchcookie, to meet up with Clichy & Splodge, Cheshirekat and Machiruda. After a leisurely day of canalboat touring as well as a very impressive sightseeing walk (courtesy of our hostess), we had dinner at 11, a funky restaurant overlooking Amsterdam on the top floor of the old Post building.
We had a fun day, but as all our previous traveling was starting to catch up, we spent the next day lounging around in Leiden (not to mention sampling fresh stroopwafels and pannekoekjes. Ahh. The Dutch certainly know their food.
As the temperature obediently hovered around +26C, we sat out in the sun, reading newspapers, sipping wine and meticulously recharging our batteries for Queensday, the day when all Dutchies celebrate the birthday of their queen, turn orange, gather on the streets of Amsterdam to both sell things (fleamarket style) and buy, and walk around. Not to mention general merrymaking and fun.
After bravely maneuvering through the mass of orange people, we met up with Clichy and Splodge (bless mobile phones) and headed to a park, along with thousands of other people.
We sat on the grass, ate yummy food from the stalls (ok, I did), had a couple of drinks and listened to various Dutch bands perform on stage. I have been informed that a Queensday tradition almost as inevitable as the orange people is rain, but there was not a single cloud in the sky, and it really felt like summer. 
Eventually we had to tear ourselves away from the relaxing masses, and headed for the airport. I had a pink drink (in honour of our hostess) and MrPicky got his last kroketten before we headed home, our suitcase filled to the brim with Dutch breakfast bread (the name of which escapes me), dropjes and other Dutch delicacies.
Despite the fact we’d spent the previous month traveling for various reasons, we had an absolutely fantastic time. It was great to catch up with familiar faces and meet new ones; and again many thanks to Dutchcookie and MrDutchie for putting us up (as well as putting up with us).
I do think we should do something similar again. But perhaps not for, say, another six months, because I refuse to leave Nottingham any time soon.
We were truly blessed by awesome weather, not to mention awesome hosts; we literally walked off the plane, took a train to Leiden, and sat down at a barbeque. A good start to a good weekend, and it did definitely set the tone for our entire trip.
On Saturday we headed off to Amsterdam with Dutchcookie, to meet up with Clichy & Splodge, Cheshirekat and Machiruda. After a leisurely day of canalboat touring as well as a very impressive sightseeing walk (courtesy of our hostess), we had dinner at 11, a funky restaurant overlooking Amsterdam on the top floor of the old Post building.
We had a fun day, but as all our previous traveling was starting to catch up, we spent the next day lounging around in Leiden (not to mention sampling fresh stroopwafels and pannekoekjes. Ahh. The Dutch certainly know their food.
As the temperature obediently hovered around +26C, we sat out in the sun, reading newspapers, sipping wine and meticulously recharging our batteries for Queensday, the day when all Dutchies celebrate the birthday of their queen, turn orange, gather on the streets of Amsterdam to both sell things (fleamarket style) and buy, and walk around. Not to mention general merrymaking and fun.
After bravely maneuvering through the mass of orange people, we met up with Clichy and Splodge (bless mobile phones) and headed to a park, along with thousands of other people.
We sat on the grass, ate yummy food from the stalls (ok, I did), had a couple of drinks and listened to various Dutch bands perform on stage. I have been informed that a Queensday tradition almost as inevitable as the orange people is rain, but there was not a single cloud in the sky, and it really felt like summer. 
Eventually we had to tear ourselves away from the relaxing masses, and headed for the airport. I had a pink drink (in honour of our hostess) and MrPicky got his last kroketten before we headed home, our suitcase filled to the brim with Dutch breakfast bread (the name of which escapes me), dropjes and other Dutch delicacies.
Despite the fact we’d spent the previous month traveling for various reasons, we had an absolutely fantastic time. It was great to catch up with familiar faces and meet new ones; and again many thanks to Dutchcookie and MrDutchie for putting us up (as well as putting up with us).
I do think we should do something similar again. But perhaps not for, say, another six months, because I refuse to leave Nottingham any time soon.
The Emerald Isle from Top to Bottom
I’ve been meaning to write up a travel post for… well, over a month now, but somehow I just haven’t found the perfect balance of time and energy to get around to it. In other words, I’ve been procrastinating. Again. Bad girl.
Anyhow, after four days of jetlagged existence post-America, we were off to Belfast, somewhat reluctantly to be honest. Not because we didn’t want to go to Northern Ireland, but because we would rather have gone there later. Like in a few months. But the conference wouldn’t wait, so off we went.
We stayed in a cheap but... well… cheap hostel between the university and the centre of Belfast, which didn’t really improve the situation. We didn’t really do much in Belfast as such, apart from visiting a few pubs and walking around, but we did take a bus tour to Giant’s Causeway up the eastern coast, which was absolutely breathtaking.
I don’t know if this is something I should be concerned about, but I’ve always found rugged, raped-by-winds-and-rain type of scenery the most beautiful, magnificent even; razor-sharp cliffs plunging into the waves, dark mountains reaching for the ominous clouds and trees fighting a losing battle for their mere existence against the wind, all exuding somberness. Not to mention the restless sea, washing onto menacing rocks and deserted beaches. In a word: lovely.
In addition to the Giant’s Causeway, another breathtakingly impressive place, our tour took us past castle ruins, a rope bridge (which I wouldn’t have gone on had somebody paid me a million pounds) and to the Bushmill’s distillery in Bushmill. Although I am not much of a whiskey connoisseur, it was definitely fascinating (not to mention fun for MrPicky, who at that point was suffering from a very nasty cold. Call it self-medication.).
After four days of Northern Ireland, we were ready to head down to Ireland and on to Cork, our second and last leg of the trip. We collected our rental car and headed south.
Now, here’s the thing: I’d been told the road infrastructure in Ireland was not quite at par with the roads in England, even, but nothing truly prepared me for the major arteries which would suddenly bring you to the high street of a sleepy village, the narrow almost paths, winding their way through the Irish countryside. Again, beautiful, but you will want to reserve quite a bit of time.
On the way to Cork we decided to do a bit of a detour, and instead of driving straight to Cork we stopped in Kilkenny. It turned out to be quite the fluke, considering neither one of us had really done much research on things to see on this trip (call it jetlag induced denial), but we stumbled onto what I daresay must be one of the quaintest places in the world. Well, in our humble opinion anyway. Not to mention the fact that MrPicky could finally get himself a pint of Kilkenny IN Kilkenny.
We drove past Waterford and other assorted places, and eventually ended up in Cork. Again, another beautiful town. Nothing had prepared us for the steep roads in the centre, though, and in many ways Cork reminded me of San Francisco. Well, if you replace the quirky people with… um… Irish people, I suppose.
We did try to take a trip to Killarney (70 km from Cork), but when we had been on the road for two and a half hours (I kid you not) and were approximately 25 kilometres from Cork, we decided to admit defeat and turned back.
On our final day, we had to start heading back to Belfast at 5 am, to catch a flight back home at 1pm. Needless to say we were somewhat eager to get back, and therefore didn’t want to take any chances with potential delays on the roads.
We made it to the airport nicely on time, and after an announcement of having our flight delayed by two hours, they decided to board on a moment’s notice and off we were, heading home.
I do have to say that although I was not in the most optimal state for traveling, and despite the fact we would rather have been at home, it turned out to be a very good trip. The Emerald Isle definitely left a lasting impression on me, and I’m sure we didn’t see the half of it.
Anyhow, after four days of jetlagged existence post-America, we were off to Belfast, somewhat reluctantly to be honest. Not because we didn’t want to go to Northern Ireland, but because we would rather have gone there later. Like in a few months. But the conference wouldn’t wait, so off we went.
We stayed in a cheap but... well… cheap hostel between the university and the centre of Belfast, which didn’t really improve the situation. We didn’t really do much in Belfast as such, apart from visiting a few pubs and walking around, but we did take a bus tour to Giant’s Causeway up the eastern coast, which was absolutely breathtaking.
I don’t know if this is something I should be concerned about, but I’ve always found rugged, raped-by-winds-and-rain type of scenery the most beautiful, magnificent even; razor-sharp cliffs plunging into the waves, dark mountains reaching for the ominous clouds and trees fighting a losing battle for their mere existence against the wind, all exuding somberness. Not to mention the restless sea, washing onto menacing rocks and deserted beaches. In a word: lovely.In addition to the Giant’s Causeway, another breathtakingly impressive place, our tour took us past castle ruins, a rope bridge (which I wouldn’t have gone on had somebody paid me a million pounds) and to the Bushmill’s distillery in Bushmill. Although I am not much of a whiskey connoisseur, it was definitely fascinating (not to mention fun for MrPicky, who at that point was suffering from a very nasty cold. Call it self-medication.).
After four days of Northern Ireland, we were ready to head down to Ireland and on to Cork, our second and last leg of the trip. We collected our rental car and headed south.
Now, here’s the thing: I’d been told the road infrastructure in Ireland was not quite at par with the roads in England, even, but nothing truly prepared me for the major arteries which would suddenly bring you to the high street of a sleepy village, the narrow almost paths, winding their way through the Irish countryside. Again, beautiful, but you will want to reserve quite a bit of time.
On the way to Cork we decided to do a bit of a detour, and instead of driving straight to Cork we stopped in Kilkenny. It turned out to be quite the fluke, considering neither one of us had really done much research on things to see on this trip (call it jetlag induced denial), but we stumbled onto what I daresay must be one of the quaintest places in the world. Well, in our humble opinion anyway. Not to mention the fact that MrPicky could finally get himself a pint of Kilkenny IN Kilkenny.
We drove past Waterford and other assorted places, and eventually ended up in Cork. Again, another beautiful town. Nothing had prepared us for the steep roads in the centre, though, and in many ways Cork reminded me of San Francisco. Well, if you replace the quirky people with… um… Irish people, I suppose.
We did try to take a trip to Killarney (70 km from Cork), but when we had been on the road for two and a half hours (I kid you not) and were approximately 25 kilometres from Cork, we decided to admit defeat and turned back.
On our final day, we had to start heading back to Belfast at 5 am, to catch a flight back home at 1pm. Needless to say we were somewhat eager to get back, and therefore didn’t want to take any chances with potential delays on the roads.
We made it to the airport nicely on time, and after an announcement of having our flight delayed by two hours, they decided to board on a moment’s notice and off we were, heading home.
I do have to say that although I was not in the most optimal state for traveling, and despite the fact we would rather have been at home, it turned out to be a very good trip. The Emerald Isle definitely left a lasting impression on me, and I’m sure we didn’t see the half of it.
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