I'm Safe in Maple Land

Hey followers! I've been so caught up in catching up with all my Canadian friends that I forgot about everyone else around the world! I'm sorry, you all still have a place in my heart.

So yeah, I'm back in Canada with all of my limbs still intact. That's about all I have to say about that!

To make this post more interesting, I'm going to introduce you to some of the people I met along my adventures, and a couple stories to illustrate how tiny the world really is. I won't use any names and I'll leave out specific details if they don't want to be recognized in some random Canadian chick's ramblings to the internet. Either way, I hope you enjoy hearing about these people as much as I did meeting them!

In Brussels, I met a deaf Italian who was biking around most of Europe. He'd been gone for 8 months when I met him, and he still had about 9 months to go. He showed me pictures of his adventures so far - having already travelled up the west side of Europe - and where he was going next. This whole conversation took eight times as long as it normally would have, since I had to use my non-existent sign language, which I found out was pointless anyways because he didn't know English! What was the point in spelling things out to him in a language he didn't understand? Despite all this, we had an excellent time pointing at things, acting stuff out, and just waving our arms insanely. He was a great sport and obviously enjoyed the experience as well. At one point, someone else in our hostel walked into the kitchen where we were jumping around and gave us the weirdest look, turned dramatically, and walked out. It was good fun!

When I first arrived in Gent I was trying to figure out the tram system and how to buy a ticket when my highly tuned ears picked up a melody I knew: a couple speaking Finnish! It was so strange, but I felt more connected to them than the other groups of native English speakers also on the platform. None of us could figure out how the ticket machine worked, and without explanation I went up to them and spoke in Finnish. They seemed to reply out of habit at first, then realised what was going on. I had an excellent conversation with them on the tram that finally arrived and we helped each other find our respective stops on the tram. I had really missed speaking Finnish, so I welcomed the practice!

I met a woman in Gent who played cello professionally and had played at many Grammy ceremonies. It was funny how we talked about how cool it must have been, but she complained that it was terribly boring sitting in the orchestra pit for so long, without being able to take a break or even go to the bathroom! It sounded excruciating when she described it, and I will be appreciating those in the orchestra pit much more now.

When I was in Brussels for the third time I met a man who had been travelling for about two months with a backpack smaller than the one I use for school. He had a few pairs of underwear, three pairs of socks, an extra shirt, a towel, and the clothes on his back. Two months previously, he'd awoken one morning and decided he didn't enjoy his life. He left a note on his kitchen counter and abandoned his wife and two kids. He'd apparently left her most of the money he had, and was simply travelling and going to find himself a job. I had been impressed with his bare-minimum packing skills, but abandoning your family is low. He was definitely the most selfish person I'd ever met in my life, and I avoided him for the rest of the time I stayed there. 

A Canadian girl that I met in Gent told us a story about a girl she met in Germany. They got on really well, became quite good friends, and began travelling around Germany together. They'd been together for about a week when the American girl was showing my Canadian friend pictures from her trip to the Netherlands. There's a big sign thing that says "I Amsterdam" in, well, Amsterdam, and lots of people take selfies and photos in front of the sign. So the two girls were looking through their pictures when in the back of one of the American girl's photos, you see my Canadian friend. There she was, just a few feet away, taking a selfie in the background of this other girl's selfie. They of course freaked out, double checked the dates and times, and it really was her. The two photos were taken two weeks before they met in Germany, but what are the chances??? That story blew my mind until I was on the sidelines of a more impressive story...

In Brussels, I was hanging out with a group of girls for a short time, and two of the girls got to talking. They were both from the same state, and it turned out they both grew up in the same town, until one girl moved away when she was in grade one or something. They kept quizzing each other when they figured out they were actually long-lost best friends. They'd lived across the street from each other for most of their childhoods, went to the same classes, and were inseparable until the one girl moved away. This was before Facebook and everything, so they never saw each other again until they met in Brussels. Being with them when they realised was one of the coolest moments of the trip for me, as they jumped up and hugged and later caught up on ten years that they'd lost. When I left they were planning the rest of their trips together. 

I met an Italian in Ireland who had recently graduated and received a law degree - or some Italian equivalent. He'd worked at a law firm for six months, decided he didn't like it anymore, and quit his high-paying job to follow his life-long dream: to drive trains. I'm not even kidding. The passion with which he described his new job as Conductor's Assistant was something I had never seen before. He'd been told his whole life that he could "amount to more," that he was "smarter than that" and "all his talent would be wasted driving trains." He'd hated every second of law school, but he had gone through with it because his family and friends pressured him into it. He told me something along the lines of this, which I decided to quote with the curses in because it just made it sound better: "it took me 25 years to realise that it's my f---ing life, and I can do whatever the hell I want with it. If I want to drive trains then by God I'm going to be the best f---ing conductor the world has ever seen. Or I'll be a terrible one. It doesn't matter, because it's my damn life." I'm not sure why, but his story really hit me more than any other "finding your passion stories." The hatred with which he described working in law contrasted with his elation of working with trains had quite an impact on me. I won't get into all of my personal junk, but I can relate to this man, and I'm sure some of you reading this can as well. I won't go as far as to say that this man "changed my life," but he certainly changed my view of my future. 

I've fallen in love with a dozen amazing people and dozens of amazing places. I laughed until I cried and I cried until I laughed. I had places exceed my expectations and experiences fail miserably in front of me. I've been lost for pretty well 77 straight days, and I'm not expecting to find my way any time soon. In this vast disorientation I learned that the only person who can save me is myself. I am the only person I can always count on. I can only be as strong as I want to be, as brave as I choose to be, and as afraid as I let myself be. I can't ditch myself somewhere, I can't break up with myself, and I can't forget about myself for a while and later have to write an awkward re-connection message over Facebook. I need to become the person I want to live with for the rest of my life, because I can become whatever I choose. 

I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.

Claire out >>>>>>

In the Land of Kilts and Haggis

Oh right, I have a blog. Oops!

So today is my 18th day in Scotland (whoa) and it's been a blast! There have been major ups and downs - literally and figuratively! I had some huge mountains to climb, both in the land of my ancestors and in the land of Claire-Needs-To-Find-A-Place-To-Live-Or-She'll-Be-Sleeping-In-A-Random-Lecture-Hall. Thankfully, I conquered both of those mountain ranges. It was not without the occasional tear and scream of anger, but there were also moments of smiles and literal bursts of joyous laughter (more on the outdoor adventure side). If you've never climbed a mountain, gotten to the top, and been so fricken happy you laughed out loud...
I don't know, I can't really criticize everyone's life, every person has different values. But I find those moments some of the most important in my life, and certainly in this little pilgrimage of mine.

I have seen some of the most beautiful sights in this country, some of these views can be found in this little album here.

Here's a quick page from the Great Big Book of Scottish Colloquialisms:

path noun 1. The smaller of two rivers; take the path that turns up and curves to the right. 2. A swamp; the path runs between two mountains.

This is the most accurate way than I can explain hiking in Scotland to you without dumping a bucket of water into your sock drawer. My tips for future travelers would be...

1. STAY ON THE PATH no just kidding it's a fricken river.
2. KEEP OFF THE PATH no don't cause it's literally a lake.
3. Just buy Gaters.

I am a cheap little crab-cake so I only alternated between points one and two. I've politely asked the family of minnows to leave my shoes but my gosh they are not accommodating at all. Oh well.

On a more cultural note, I am so thankful for the years of training in Scottish accents I received being in a pipe band and being raised by a Scottish-culture-embracing mother. I have frequently been the translator between a local Scot and some poor foreigner whose ear is not tuned to the particular nuances of their slurred, guttural growl.
I am exaggerating, but I serisouly have had to translate a couple times.

Joking aside, it's been a sort of spiritual experience being in Scotland. As I said before, I was raised pretty darn Scottish; I play the Celtic harp, I Highland dance, and I was practically raised with the help of my mom's pipe band. Though I complain frequently about the sacks of wind - as every side drummer does - I have an unavoidable habbit of running towards the sound of bagpipes rather than away. When you're raised in something that's not very common in your country you tend to gravitate towards it, seeking a connection to that large piece of your life.
It's hard to explain, but I would maybe relate it to seeing someone wearing the t-shirt of your favorite band. Only imagine that band was played at least twice a week when you were a kid and literally enveloped your life. You were trained in the ways of that band since birth, learned all about it, were a descendent of the band's founding members, and one day joined a cover band of said band.
That makes no sense, but that's pretty much how I feel.

Okay, let's take the intensity down a little and talk about my favorite part of Scotland: the Isle of Skye!
I haven't been anywhere in Scotland that I haven't liked, and some places have been so amazing. I have at least 200 photos of the Glenfinnan Viaduct (that bridge the Harry Potter train goes over for the scenic shots) and I giggled the whole time I was there in pure nerdy joy (check out a video of me butchering the Harry Potter theme song). Even considering this, the Isle of Skye still takes the cake.
The Isle of Skye is very small population wise - 10000 on the whole island - and it gives off a small town feel. Everyone there is overwhelmingly friendly and kind to counter balance the sometimes unforgiving landscape.
Because Skye is so small, public transport is virtually nonexistent. I ended up having to do something I've never done before: hitch hiking. Sorry dad, I know I said I wouldn't, but literally all the travellers and locals I talked to said you have to hitch if you want to get anywhere and don't have a car. Obviously, I survived, and I ended up having way more fun than I would have alone!
I'd had my thumb to the sky for about 20 minutes when I was picked up by the funniest Germans I've ever met. They ended up driving me all around the Isle, taking roads we probably shouldn't have and having staring contests with cows. We chased sheep, climbed unreasonably steep hills, and almost attended a craft fair. I had a blast with them and would highly recommend hitch hiking if you ever find yourself on the Isle of Skye; you meet the coolest people.

I just arrived in St Andrews today for the St Andrew's Day festival! St Andrew's in St Andrews? Count me in :D
I make no promises on blog posts until the very end of my trip. I want to enjoy every last piece of this haggis- I mean country.

Claire out »»»»

My Lovely Land of Green

I had a lot of good Crack in Ireland! No mom, not crack cocaine, but craic! Craic is the Irish Gaelic word for "fun". If something is "good crack" it's "good fun".
You can breathe again, I'm not a drug addict.

I never realised how much I didn't know about Ireland until I actually arrived. Here are some examples of stuff I didn't know, but I'm sure you worldly folk will adjust your bowties and chuckle at my ignorance.

First off, English isn't Ireland's first official language, Irish Gaelic - or simply "Irish" - takes the first place there. All the official government signs, road signs, stuff in airports, it's all in Irish and English. Children going through the Irish school system start learning Irish in elementary school, though most never use what they've learned after leaving high school. The Irish constitution is written in the Irish language, and it's a big plus if you speak fluent Irish when working in a government job.
I think this is fricken awesome. Most Irish folk find it more annoying than anything, but I think it's amazing to hold on to your history and culture like that, it really shows character and adds so much to the country.
I only learned a couple words whilst in Ireland:

I listened to a lot of Canadian folk music growing up, and a lot of the stuff coming from the East Coast is strongly influenced by Ireland - it's essentially Ireland part two. Although we do tend to lean more towards the Scottish side on the West Coast, I've listened to my fair share of Maritime and Irish bands. In these songs, they always mention the "lovely land of green" and such the like. I don't know why, but I always just assumed that had something to do with leprechauns and their flag? I honestly never thought about it. I knew it rained a lot in Ireland, but I never once thought "hmmm, lots of rain, I bet they have a lot of grass and plants!"
"Lovely land of green" does not even begin to describe this breathtaking country.
You can see photos from my trip to the Cliffs of Moher here, along with other various photos that my crappy phone does not do justice. You can get the idea, though.

I will quickly talk about the Giant's Causeway before I move on in my ignorance about Ireland.
Alright so I've wanted to see the Giant's Causeway for as long as I knew it existed. Once I found out there were tours that went up to Belfast and the Cliffs I actually danced in a circle. So, I paid 65€ and I did a 13 hour tour to get to this crazy rock formation. The Giant's Causeway was the last part of the tour, we got in around 14:00. I tried to control my excitement, but I was literally vibrating in my seat. I shit you not, I ran the 2km to get to the Cliffs, giggling like a schoolgirl. I get to the bottom of this giant hill, come around the corner and...
You know how they say "never meet your heroes"? It was sort of like that. It would be like meeting Steve Irwin and finding out he's a total prick and doesn't really like animals, he just does it for the publicity.
What I'm trying to say is: the Giant's Causeway sucks. Okay, maybe that's a little harsh. Lemme try again: the Giant's Causeway is built up a lot and made to look like a large wonder by clever photography tricks and angels. Where I thought it was a giant field that stretched on a little while, it was actually two mini little hills.

I am a grown woman - cough cough - but I almost cried when I rounded the hill. I did climb the hills, look around, take a few pictures, but I was pissed. My anger came from disappointment. I'd built the Cliffs up too much in my mind and I was slapped in the face with reality by a freezing cold, wet towel.
Thankfully, in my anger, I stomped off up a hiking path that ended up giving me a spectacular view.
The tour ended up being worth it, I'd say, but the Giant's Causeway gets a 5/10 from me.

Moving on, the third thing I didn't know was how truly friendly Irish people are. I'd heard from other travellers about Ireland and it's friendliness, but I was not prepared.
I jumped on a bus immediately after I got of my plane in Dublin to get to Galway. After a four hour drive, the bus driver called me to the front and chatted with me a bit, found out where I was staying, and dropped me off directly in front of my hostel. I was greeted by the hostel worker who said I looked very tired and carried my 20kg bag up a flight of stairs to my room. Those are the most notable examples, but I was constantly greeted by lovely people on hiking trails chatting with me and giving me directions. I had a man walk 2 kilometers with me to my hostel because he didn't want me to be lonely on my last night in Dublin.
I hope to one day to be as kind as an Irishman.

The fourth thing I did not know about Ireland isn't really about Ireland, but Northern Ireland. As part of the Giant's Causeway tour, we spent time in Belfast and did what is called a "Black Taxi Tour". 3-5 people climb into an old English taxi and get a tour of Belfast. It's not a city tour by any means: in fact, you leave the city almost immediately and head over to the residential area of Belfast that is separated by a wall that is five metres high in some places. Why is there a wall separating the residents of Belfast? I didn't know until the tour.
I won't go to much into detail, you have Wikipedia, you can Google the current and pat turmoil that exists in Belfast and most of Northern Ireland, but I'll give you a brief summary of what I learned from my amazing driver Patrick: Ireland was occupied by Britain for a long time and eventually they wanted independence. The British knew they couldn't win against the Irish, but they kept 6 of the 36 province-like areas of Ireland for themselves and renamed it Northern Ireland ("NI" from now on). Although some may think what is happening in NI is a religious war, Patrick explained that it is nothing at all like that: it's a war between Loyalists - those wanting to stay apart of Britain - and Republicans - those wanting to separate and join the Republic of Ireland.
You may have scoffed earlier when I said "war", thinking "this is a first world country, there are no more wars in first world countries!" but you would be mistaken. Patrick, my driver, is a Republican and the only reason he can drive into the Loyalist areas without getting shot is because he is in a Black Taxi doing an informative tour. Even in the taxi, you could tell he was on edge whilst on the Loyalist side of the wall.
To make make matters more intense, during our tour many roads and even an entire section of the residential area was shut down; cops had their cars blocking the road and patrolled the area with very stern and unforgiving faces. I still have no idea why the area was shut down.
I don't want any of this to deter you from visiting Belfast: I want to encourage you to visit. Do one of these tours. They're phenomenal.
Please, understand that I didn't get this information from a book, but from a man driving a taxi. I'm just relaying what I remember; it's not 100% accurate. If you are interested, please read up about it. I'm not trying to mislead anyone, I just want you to understand the experience I had in Belfast.

On a happier note to end the blog, I spent my last night in Dublin with the biggest grin on my face as I spun in circles dancing traditional Irish stepdance to a live band. It was the most fun I've had in a very long time. Normally the average tourist doesn't get to dance with this group, but I met one of the men before they began dancing and he volunteered me to dance when one of the other dancers was without a partner. Thank god I have some background in traditional stepdancing or I would have been nervous of all these tourists and visitors taking photos and videos of us. We had an absolute blast and I seriously had an ear-to-ear grin on my face the whole two sets I danced. It was a fantastic night and I hope one day I can return to O'Shea's Merchant's on a Monday and join in the festivities again!

Slán mo Éire!
~Claire

My Feet are Famous

Hey guys!

I just arrived safeLY IN GLASGOW OMG I'M IN SCOTLAND THIS IS NUTS I'VE WAITED A DECADE FOR THIS AAAAAAAAAHDBSOAHDNFOFUSBAKFNS

Right then.

In other news, I've got a blog post about Ireland in the works that should be up in a few days, weather depending :P I've posted some photos in a new Facebook album which can be found here, which can tide you over. Hopefully that link works, let me know if I messed up!

In more exciting news, MY FEET ARE FAMOUS. I also chugged beer on tv. Confused? Check out The Independent's page right here, it's a video all about Gent that happened to be filming while I was there. We ran into the tv crew a couple of times, but at around the 13 minute mark you can see yours truly chugging beer. You can also see my feet, one foot has a giant hiking boot, the other just a sock. The other set of feet is a good friend of mine. Try not to get our feet confused :P

So yeah, that happened.

Alright I'm done with the internet, I gotta go soak up as much Scottish rain as I can!

~Claire, the (up and coming) movie star

Searched for Dirt, Found Beer Instead

1.11.2015 09:00

Data log entry 10

Reporting officer Claire Stanhope

Log details:

It's been 164 hours since my arrival in Gent. My mission has been somewhat a success, but mostly a disappointment.
Three patches of dirt have been located, invaded, then trodded upon. These dirt patches, however, proved to be unsatisfying, as they were surrounded by cobblestones, tall buildings, and cars.

My search continues.

End log entry

--------

Since that "log entry" I did, in fact, find a park with a lot of dirt. I was very happy.

Despite not having very much real dirt or shelter from the city, I fricken love Ghent. IT'S HOGWARTS!! This is a city you don't need shelter from - most of the time.

I stayed at a phenomenal hostel where I met many very cool travellers. At one point I had a large group of friends and that group lasted almost three whole days, which is very long for hostel standards. Most of our little group - consisting almost entirely of Canadians - had only planned on staying one or two nights, maximum three. Almost everyone extended their stay at least a night, some two, some four!

I had originally only booked 5 nights and ended up staying 8. I knew both the weekday and weekend staff, both of which were surprised when they'd come back after three days off and see that I was still there. I was so comfortable in the hostel and with the staff that other guests thought I worked there as well! It was the longest is stayed in one place for so long, and it was so unnerving to have to leave again after becoming so comfortable and familiar with the hostel and the city. I only got lost 1/15 times, which is very good for me!

Unfortunately, most of my photos are on my camera which I cannot access without a computer. You'll have to wait on the photos until I find somewhere to transfer them. I'll let you all know when I do, though!

My time in Gent consisted of a lot of beer drinking. No mom, I don't have a "problem", but as a tourist in Belgium it's kind of required to try all these interesting beers! I also had that big scavenger hunt from Riley that I had to do and exploring for myself.

The beers were all fantastic and the bars all had excellent character and charm... but I won't bore you with the details. I will, however, tell you about the most unique bar I went to:

De Dulle Griet is a bar in Gent decorated in the classic style of Belgium: wooden furniture and walls, giant wooden beams, random signs and photos all over the walls, and strange objects hanging from the ceiling. This bar had a particularly strange object hanging from the ceiling: a bucket full of it's patrons' shoes. Why? So that the beer drinkers don't get any ideas about taking the giant 1.3L test tube glasses their beer is served in. Confused? Let me explain.
This bar has a gimmick where you can order 1.3L of 7% beer in a giant glass shaped like a test tube. The glasses are very unique, and after a while people got into the habit of stealing the glasses - how they managed this is beyond me, the glasses are huge - and the bar was losing money. The solution? Anyone who orders a "Max" has to give one of their shoes and place it in the bucket hanging from the ceiling. You get your shoe back when you return the glass.

I will admit, I participated in the delicate consumption of this beer twice and both times I ended up needing a bathroom break half way through the beer. Thankfully I have large feet and could borrow shoes from other people sitting with me.

I also went to Bruges for a couple of days, which was a nice city, but I just missed Gent most of the time. It was, however, very cool when I'd notice places that were in the movie In Bruges, which I hightly recommend if you like dark comedies with Irish people. My Irish accent is terrible, but I quoted that movie all day.

And now I'm back in Brussels. I stay one more night here, then I'm off to IRELAND! Gah! So exciting :D

Alright, I gotta go visit Brussels one last time. Au revoir!
~Claire

The Uppelink crew

Spiral staircase selfies!

All the Single Travellers

Being a single traveller is really cool.

No, I don't mean "single" as Beyoncé means it, I mean a lone vagabond: someone who's hopping from place to place without any ties to their normal life in the country they reside.

When you're travelling alone you can be whoever you want. You don't have to be "Claire the 20-year-old Canadian" anymore, and it's really fun. I've been "Claire the engaged 18-year-old," "Claire the professional sculptor," and "Klaara the Finnish girl running away from home."

No, I'm not becoming a chronic liar. No, I'm not harming anyone with my lies. These are people at the supermarket I will never meet again, or random travellers I encounter in a line-up for a tourist attraction. I love telling stories, as you may have figured out, and sometimes I make up characters and pretend to be them. It's just an entertaining pastime.

I love being able to be whoever I want. I can create another version of myself, like trying on new clothes. I can make myself into whoever I want, and I am treated differently in the process. I am completely judged by what I've done in the past - or at least say I've done. It doesn't matter who I am now, the events of my past have made me who I am and others will formulate what kind of person I am based on that.

Sorry, that was really random. I just had a thought, wrote it out, and figured I'd share it with you.

I'm writing another real blog post, and will hopefully have it up in a few days.

~Melissa, the 26-year-old lighting technician from Wisconsin

Cobblestones Are EVIL

Hey guys! It's been a really long time, and I figured you deserved a real update of my travels so far! I wrote this in my hostel dorm in Prague as I tried to sleep, but was kept awake by the really loud people in the courtyard. Hope you enjoy:

Since my last real blog post, I've visited Amsterdam, Brussels, and I'm currently in Prague. It's only been 10 days since I left Copenhagen, but it may as well have been 10 months, judging by how much I've seen and experienced! I'll try not to bore you with lame details, so I'll just give a quick summary which will probably not be a summary at all, but a collection of thoughts slightly pertaining to where I visited cause that's apparently how I write. 

Anyways. Amsterdam. Alliteration. Unfortunately, my day was rather uneventful. I had an excellent tour - a Sandemans tour, for those wondering - and I had a great meal. It was honestly very regular, and even the entry of my journal is only two pages long (trust me, that's short).
I did enjoy my two-ish days in the Netherlands, despite not having much to report. I stayed with my good friend Rebekah, with whom I attended high school. She is currently studying International Food Business in Dronten, a little Dutch town about an hour's train ride from Amsterdam. We decided to travel together around Europe for her week-long autumn break, which pretty well everyone in Europe gets (lucky bums...)

Another friend I went to high school with gave me a list of places to visit whilst in Belgium. I can't really qualify this as a list of recommendations, really, 'cause it's more of a beer scavenger hunt.
I like to think of myself as a beer enthusiast, but Riley is a real connoisseur; he lived in Belgium on a Rotary Exchange (the same program that brought me to Finland) and while he was there he was immersed in the extensive beer culture of Belgium. He actually has a blog, wherein he gives tasting notes on different beers. It's a very entertaining blog, check it out if you're interested.

I think I speak for Bekah, as well as myself, when I say Brussels was awesome. I loved the city - which is not common for me - and had an excellent experience. I ate Belgian waffles, saw the most amazing town square I've ever seen, drank lots of beer, and simply explored the city. I plan on coming back later before I run away to Ireland, and I can't wait!

Prague was also mega cool. The old town was beautiful and the food was delicious. I can't really go into detail about what the buildings looked like, so you can check out photos from our trip here. Bekah and I had lots of fun tourist dodging, eating plain pasta and salt (because budget), and making dumb faces in photos. I loved spending time with my favorite weirdo, and without her I would have had to rely on my sense of direction, which was nonexistent in Prague. Thanks for sharing an amazing week with me Bek, you're the bomb!

 

On a sort-of random note, did you want to know what Copenhagen, Amsterdam, Brussels, and Prague all have in common? Sure, they're all in Europe, and I'm certain they have many other similarities, but the common ground I'm talking about is just that: ground. More, lack thereof. Alright, I'll just say it: I MISS DIRT.
At first, I thought the cobblestones were really rad - totally tubular, even - but after spending the last week-and-a-bit walking on them, I've concluded that they will be the death of me. They're all uneven, the technology is so outdated, and they have absolutely no give if you happen to trip over a stone that decided it wanted more sun than the rest of it's neighbors. No, I haven't face-planted quite yet, but I can see it looming over me like a dark cloud of death. 

I'm directing my hatred at the cobblestones specifically, but really I just miss small towns: it's quiet, there's parks, they have dirt... This country girl just doesn't belong in a big city. 

Thankfully, I arrived in Ghent on yesterday, a smaller town in Belgium that hopefully has dirt. After that I'm off to Dublin! I can't wait to see the city, but I've got way more mountain trekking planned (okay, when I say "planned" I mean "I have a vague idea of what I might want to do, but I haven't budgeted it or looked at a map or thought about where I want to go")

In any case, I'll try and update you again, which will most likely be on my flight to Dublin, since I seem to write all my posts then. *casually blogs at 10 000 feet* *flips hair that hasn't been washed as often as it should be* I'm fabulous. 

Well, it appears I've run out of things to say! I guess I'll leave you all to the rest of your day now. 

sbohem ted`

~Claire