There wasn't much time to discuss or mention this before I boosted. I found myself on an adventure out of the UK and I had six days to get my stuff in order and go.
I am now here, back in Salt Lake City. I swear I thought I wouldn't be back here for a very long time, but as fate, or rather divine intervention, would have it, I am back. For what purpose I know not, and as the story goes, I'm not going to try and work it out I just need to take it all for face value, play it all by ear and go with the flow. That's the Vikki philosophy. 'Go With The Flow.'
I've been here for 24 hours now, my bag for even less time, and I'm just so tired. Number 1 regret in life, allowing myself to get glandular fever.
Today was spent hanging about Maddie Miller's Mum's house in Bountiful, running random errands in Bountiful and Centreville, napping, going to Wal Mart in Centreville (which was strange, because the last time I was there it was under very different circumstances), bonding with the one cat in the house (there are seven dogs, and one cat), and watching Mock The Week on YouTube. Thank you people on YouTube that are so nice and diligent in adding programmes so quickly.
The travelling was alright. I thought I was going to die at passport control. It was so hot, the queue was so long, there was a Von Trap family of nine people in front of me, I was so scared, Maddie had taken both dogs through the US queue which had 0 people in it. I was actually thinking I was going to die. I kid you not.
I got through alright, and the man didn't really question anything. But as I walked away he called me back and my blood ran cold.
He then asked for my right index finger again, and then, in a curious voice, asked if I was Vikki Miller. When I said I was, he looked at me, then at his screen and then proceeded to say, Okay you're all set.
I seriously thought that something had come up on his screen, alarm bells flashing or something, red flags. I made it thought. Thank goodness.
Then we got to Salt Lake and I almost died from the heat. It's so hot. When I packed my bag it was cold outside and over cast in Glasgow. I forgot it would be A LOT warmer here. Nevermind. I'm moreso gutted that I didn't bring my lesbian sandals.
I'm stuck in a predicament though. Again with no transport I can't really go anywhere or do anything. I'm in Bountiful just now, but I was planning on shifting down to Taylorsville in a couple of days, back with Maggie and Dave. But really I would much rather just be back with Otto near the city centre. If only he had wireless it would be spiffy.
Ahhhh. I'm so undecided about everything and trying not to offend anyone.
I should probably try and sleep again or something. Or maybe do the work that needs done. I just feel so uninspired just now.
Oh I just have one more thing to comment. Aeroplanes are like miniature prisons. There are prime times to go to the toilet. If you're in a window seat you're screwed, because you have to wait for the other people to finish eating, drinking and using their tray tables. If you need to toilet while there is food and drinks being handed out or eaten then you will find yourself trapped in the aisle behind the carts or trapped in your seat by a barricade of badly designed tray tables, and semi-cooked food that only smells and is appealing because you are so hungry you are considering gnawing your way out of the temporary prison.
Anyway... i also think that families shouldn't be allowed to travel in 9s. That's taking the piss. NINE people in the queue in front, but because they are one family they only count as one? How does THAT make any sense whatsoever, it still takes the same amount of time.
But I honestly think that although it was torturous to be behind them that I was meant to be in that queue, because the guy was so laid back, he didn't ask when I was in the states last and when he asked how long I was staying and I just skirted around the issue he still let me in. What a breath of fresh air in comparison to Carlos or whatever that dude's name was. Thank you Wang. Yes, his name was Wang.
I have vanished into a land of nothingness (the nothing like in the never ending story) since I got back from Italy.
And now, it's time, for, the, Italy, blog. , , ,
I set off from my house at around 7am, I was catching the 7:30am train to Prestwick... which got me in so SUPER early that I could have had another 30 minutes in bed at least. Doh.
I always leave packing to the last minute which means I don't get to bed until a crazy time and then I don't want to go anywhere any more because all I want to do is sleep. I am a fool.
Prestwick were being idiots and they made me pay £1 for four plastic bags from a vending machine to put my lip balm in. What a joke. It doesn't even have to be in a bag. I actually had to ask a lady for a pound coin for two fifties and we were all totally held up then by the stupid bag rule. Man I was so mad. I got over it though, and went on with my life, that involved sitting. Luckily Kate called me at the airport and I was able to kill some time.
The best part about being British and flying with an airline that has no assigned seating is the strange fascination people have with queuing. It's great to sit there and watch Brits queue when they've not been told to. It happened with the Dublin flight, and then again with my own flight to London. People just started queueing because someone, around the time of boarding, got up for a wizz. It's madness.
Anyway, everyone started queueing, my flight was called, and then I hung up with Kate and nipped to the loo. I've never had to use the toilet on Ryanair and I hope I never have to.
There were perhaps 4 people behind me, the queue went by quickly, and I was one person from the front. I had just walked past a middle eastern looking man who was out of the count and a half. He was pretty much comatose on the seat. I had this overwhelming feeling that I should wake him up. So I left the queue and skipped back to him and poked him and prodded him. For a while I thought he was dead, but he finally woke up and he was, indeed, meant to be getting on my flight. So I was pleased that I had helped him not to miss it.
I had a million hour lay over in Stanstead, which I filled with buying the Catcher in the Rye (again) and eating in Pret a Manger. I love that shop so much. Their food is beyond amazing.
I also took some pictures of Donkey and Oinker. Yes I took them with me, yes I photographed them a lot, and yes they now have their own blog.
On the plane to Naples I was sitting next to a man and lady, who switched seats half way through the journey. The man was reading the easy jet book so I offered him my Times magazine, he declined. I continued to sleep randomly in a strange and odd curled up position. I will damage my back one day sleeping the way I do on planes.
We got to Naples and I thought I saw Alexis, Donna's friend from Edinburgh, but I decided it wasn't her and then set about getting my own bag. I then bumped into the man and lady I had been sitting next to on the plane. And then I just took off.
I got outside and was looking for the tourist information or the bus depot but instead found a taxi man who bundled me in his car without my 100% consent under the pretence that he would take me to the train station for 2 Euro???
I know.
On the way there I started wondering if he was even a taxi driver. The air was so warm, and he was driving like a crazy crazy nut. He kept asking if I wanted him to drive me all the way to Sorrento for 120 Euros. To which I told him to bolt.
Rather than taking me to the big train station he took me to the dodgy one. Thank you taxi man, which was further away, and which had scarier people.
After charging me THIRTY Euros and me getting really nasty and cowish towards him – because he pretty much robbed me – he brought me into the train station and spoke to the lady behind the desk to get my ticket. I paid up and then he gave me a hug goodbye. I forgot to mention that the entire time in the taxi he kept being sleazy and weird, and kissing my hand.
So when we were parting he kissed my cheek, and gave me a half hug... THEN... THEN he went for it... he went for a proper kiss. I totally shoved him away and he was like...' no no no kiss? how much how much?'
To which I replied, NO MUCH... and then ran off down the stairs to the train station.
Downstairs wasn't much friendlier. It was vacant, vandalised and very unfamiliar.
There were four backpackers over in the corner so I sat with them and kind of eary wigged their conversation. They were heading to sorrento too, so I just decided to follow them.
The train station looked like this:
and I think this turned out to actually be our train. The inside was basic - plastic seats, lino floor and dirty windows. I sat and read the catcher in the rye with my headphones on and any scariness was gone. There were a bunch of Londoners on the train too.
We arrived in Sorrento and I walked to the hostel, couldn't find it, and kept wandering about. I found Donna and Daniel's hotel, which was pumping 'YMCA'. Amazing. And then I finally worked out that the street my hostel was on went underneath the road I was looking for a right turn. It was more of a right turn and jump. When I arrived the man at the desk knew me by name. Crazy. I went to my room and after making beds and rifling through bags I was pretty much asleep instantaneously. Man it was so hot, the air conditioning was on and at about 7am I woke up freezing. It was so odd. I had to put on a hoody while sleeping.
There was no window, so I slept in quite a bit, had a shower and then wandered about the streets of Sorrento.
Everything that is an Italian stereotype is true. It's insane. Scooters everywhere.
and tiny tiny streets with cars driving up them regardless of people. It's really crazy.
And a lot of Jesus. :)
After wandering for a bit I headed down to the shore and paddled around in the Mediterranean sea. Amazing.
On my journey I found an amazing cat, which spoke to me in Italian. I swear it did. You have to listen to the little bits the cat actually says and not me... its high pitched and slow... Very Italian sounding. Well to me anyway. Haha.
I hoofed it back to the hostel, got changed for the wedding, then set off to the most beautiful wedding either. I swear it was amazing. So pretty. How many people are ever married with grapes growing behind them. Seriously. Amazing.
I'm so pleased I went, I would have regretted it if I didn't.
While we were waiting for Donna to arrive a man and lady walked into the cloisters and I swear I knew them from somewhere. And it turned out to be the couple I was sitting next to on the plane. SERIOUSLY. And then Alexis and her friend Alexis showed up and it WAS the girl I had seen at the airport. So the majority of the non-family guests were all on the same plane from London to Naples. How crazy is that? Haha.
Amazing.
Wedding feet.
There was dinner, there was drinks, there was chatting, there was everything amazing. It was such a good day.
The next day, much to everyone's worry, I set off for Naples via Pompeii.
Pompeii was pretty cool, and they had a free left luggage, so I didn't have to drag my backpack all around that sweaty place. It was so hot, so dirty and so BIG.
I ended up following the Chinese people all around, I kept loosing them and walking off but I would always find them, or they me. It was amusing. I wish I could have spoken Chinese so I could hear their tour guide.
I hadn't eaten anything for breakfast and just kept drinking water. I had a packet of polos that I'd bought in London and kept chewing them. Then a familiar logo flashed before my eyes and I got really mad. WHEN DID NESTLE TAKE OVER POLO. That's why he spearmint flavour no longer has green bits in it. I was so mad. I still finished the packet though, and then raged about it for a while.
One of the Chinese tourists stopped and showed me a picture of a petrified person, and asked if I had seen those people anywhere. I told him, I was looking for the same thing.
Sure enough, when we parted ways, in different directions, and when I found the people, he was there too. I tell you, I was with them the whole way.
While I was taking pictures of Donkey and Oinker this lady walked past me and said 'Tiene un psycho.' I don't have to be able to speak Spanish to know what she saying about me. HAHA.
Pompeii bogging feet.
I then caught the train the rest of the way to Naples, and there was a guy on the train that kept looking at me strangely, but then not. It was one of those 'you're a backpacker, I'm a backpacker, we should be friends, we have stuff in common' kind of looks. It killed time watching him watch me though.
I then walked around Naples, here's a thought, when you give directions give people the real name of the street rather than the local made up name. Man I was so mad. I found the street, but it didn't match the name I had so I kept walking around and about. By the time I got to the hostel I was sweating to death. I swear, from the second I stepped off the plane until the rain came down I was just constantly sweating and too hot. Utter madness.
The hostel was really close to the train station and I seemed to have walked the most scenic route to get there. It was run by a nice man who gave me a map and a guide to the quick walking tour of Naples.
I felt like there was so much life there, so much character. After being in tourist spots this felt like home. It was amazing. I loved it.
The hostel man also told me where to go for pizza, and I tell you, I have been spoiled, never again will I ever taste pizza like that. Not unless I go back to Naples. I swear it was the best thing I've ever had.
And it was all wood burning fire cooked by this man. He was so amazing.
After filling myself, I wandered around the streets. There was a lot of people begging for money, and a lot of people performing. I met this man who clocked me for British as soon as I stood next to him. I think it was because I was so pale.
I ended up at mass, I sat in real catholic Italian mass for about 15 minutes before going back out onto the streets. I think the secret is to not behave or act like a victim, not to stare too much at people, and pretty much use common sense, it's like being in Glasgow. Seriously.
I was walking down a main shopping street and I was so impressed that there were no major chain stores or anything. It felt so nice. I saw 0 starbucks'. I tried to communicate with a lady asking me about donkey and oinker. Spanish and English were no good. All I was looking for was the word art. But I couldn't explain it.
I wandered further down the street and these two men spoke to me for about 10 minutes. The one on the left spoke english and Italian, the one on the right spoke Italian and Spanish. So I spoke to the left one in English, The right one in Spanish and they spoke Italian to each other. It was one of the greatest things I've ever done in my life. I loved it. And I even got to say the words 'El Policia' to the Spanish speaker, because I was talking about the left guy who was a service guard or something. It was amazing haha. Just like Ben Stiller in Anchorman.
Feral Dog.
This was the outside of the pizza place I was at earlier. It was totally full when it got later. Amazing.
But I was going for Gelato.
The dark alley.
When I was leaving a Japanese girl called Masami asked if we could travel to Rome together. I said I would meet her at the train station and that I wanted to wander through the market outside. While wandering through the stolen and fake trainers and bags and people heckling me to buy their things and me telling them I had shoes and I didn't need any, there was an eruption of panicked chatter. One word repeated over and over echoing down the market. Then every dodgy person grabbed their goods and started running. They had everything in/on an easily liftable bag or table. They just started running, and then seconds later a cop car drove down the market. It was crazy. Once the cops had left all the men came back.
It was a crazy market and I couldn't resist whipping out the SLR to try and photograph it. Idiotic move.
Just as the market had erupted in chatter before, it did again, but this time to the word photographia. Now, whether they thought I was the fraud police, or whether they wanted my camera, I don't know. Needless to say, after two shots, I quickly exited.
I met Masami at the train station, and we travelled to Roma. After a 20 minute hunt for the tourist information place, we went to my hostel which was crazy, and filled with European boys half-naked in the bathroom. Shared multi cubicle bathroom? It was weird. Very weird.
I changed my shoes and set about Rome. First to the colosseum, which was large, interesting, and old.
I did seem more enthralled with my M&Ms though. The M&Ms I had to buy to get changed of a 10 Euro because the shop man refused to sell me a twix for change, and before that I had to get a 10 Euro from the bank because the machine in the station wouldn't take a card for a 4 Euro 24 hour ticket. I just didn't understand. And I couldn't locate my change purse. I decided I'd left it in the hostel. I still haven't found it, so either I was pick pocketed in Naples, which is unlikely, or I left it in the hostel in Naples. Meh.
It was a rigmarole trying to get the ticket nonetheless. When I finally got it I went to the colosseum. Then to the Vatican, and then to the Trevi fountain when it was just getting dark.
The Vatican was ace. Although it was totally the wrong religion, it was still interesting and Jesus Christ was on top of it, right above where the pope gives his wee talks.
Jesus Christ IS on top of that building, with his twelve disciples.
The inside of the Vatican.
The outside of the Vatican. (This is where I was being blasphemous.)
This shop was amazing, it was filled with Baby Jesus'. I'll let me tell you though in the video.
I then went over to the Trevi fountain and found this man:
on the way. I love that he is using a shoe on his hand. That's innovation.
The fountain was swarming with people, it was pretty and all but I was Hunger-yyy. So I started wandering the streets looking for eats. I knew that if I stayed near the fountain I would be charged a fortune for Western Italian food, and I was dying for some pasta. I've never been able to have pasta that topped the stuff I had in Little Italy in New York in 2006. So i was looking and trying.
I finally settled on a restaurant because 1. I was weary, 2. The man at the door told me what the best thing on the menu was, 3. He didn't lie.
I sat outside and they sat me next to a table with three people at it, but I was slightly outside the canopy. There was thunder and lightening and then it started to spit... the waiter told me that it was fine and there would be no more than that. As a precaution the three Americans at the table next to me invited me to sit in with them. I was pleased to, and moment later the heavens opened and the sea poured out of the sky. It was mad. The whole right side of me was wet from the constant splashing of water.
The three people were so interesting though. They were from the university of Tennessee and they were there for a diabetes conference. I was telling them all about me, my life, my research etc etc and they were discussing mormonism with me and how one of the guys they work with is a member and they used to work with another guy who moved to Idaho so his children would marry members. It was brilliant, and there was never any awkward silences, and the pasta was incredible. IN CRED IBLE. And then I ordered hot chocolate. The air was warm, the rain cooling and hot chocolate was a perfect weight, temperature and flavour that just made the moment I drank/ate it the best of my life. I swear.
One of the Americans walked me back to the Metro station because he was going the same way, we ran through the streets of Rome soaking wet with the cities finest entrepreneurs selling us umbrellas that they must have had in reserve at home waiting for the rain to pour. Amazing.
I think I can honestly say that I will never run through rome again soaked to the skin, with a university lecturer from American that I met 2 hours before. It was brilliant.
We parted ways at the Termini station and wished each other those fake pleasantries for future travelling etc etc.
I headed back to the hostel and almost died I was so tired.
Masami had spent the day getting her plans together for the future days. She is my utter hero. She's 34, she was an office worker, and one day she quit and she's been travelling since May with no real time of when she's going home. Possible October, possibly not. She's been to Cambodia, Thailand, India, England, and now Italy. I'm not sure where else in Europe she'd been but I'm sure she had been other places too. She is my utter hero.
I met a tonne of solo backpackers. People that would just quit and travel, Australians and Americans mostly. It inspires me to do it. The leaving would be the hardest, but once I was on the road, I would be fine, I think. Amazing.
While I was brushing my teeth that night I stood at the open window which opened onto a bit of a balcony. I stood there and watched the rain trickle down, and I watched the beginning of 'Snatch' on a TV through another open window, and I watched another person hang their clothes in their house. It's moments like that, that make my life I think. When things are so peaceful and the world is just getting on with it. I think it's beautiful.
While I was away, the entire time I was worried that I might have been talking in my sleep. On the fourth night in Rome I woke myself up about 6am when I was trying to say some kind of long sentence, what I remember saying was something like 'well, I don't think that's very nice at all, you... '
I can't remember how it was going to end though. But I woke up and got really embarrassed haha. But then I got over it and went back to sleep.
When I woke up for real for real Masami and I got ready and left together, and I decided that I had six hours so I could see a couple of things and get another hot chocolate a pizza then hit the road for the plane station.
My left foot hurt a little, but I thought nothing of it, Masami and I parted ways and I headed towards the Trevi fountain again to see the Pantheon.
As I was walking off the metro my foot started to agonise. It felt like nerves were catching in the bone. It was the sorest pain. What took me 5 minutes to walk the night before took me about 20 because the pain was so much and it kept increasing.
I ate some random pastries outside the Trevi Fountain where I chatted to a man from Holland. And then continued my walk to the Pantheon via pharmacies and sports shops. Finally I found some kind of bandage for my foot, which I put on outside a church that someone was getting married in. I'm lovely.
My foot was lovelier. Haha.
I ambled my way to the Pantheon where this amazing video was filmed.
I then thought of trying to go to the park near the colosseum, but by the time I got back to the metro there was only really time to go back to the hostel, eat some pizza and catch the bus. While eating pizza I happened to chat to two Australians, again solo travellers that had found each other, one was hanging about until he went to Johannesburg, the other was off to work in the UK for 1 - 2 years. Either London or Glasgow. He was nice, I wish I had been a true Scot and given him contact details in case he was up this way. I suck. I never even got his name. I think that's the beauty of backpacking though. People start to get realistic. They realise that they can't keep in touch with everyone, so they enjoy each other's company for what it is, a few brief hours, one night, and then just keep the memories. No complication, its like the unwritten rule of backpacking. It's just like wee John told me, It's easier to get from A to B if you make friends along the way. That drunk man knew his stuff.
I then got myself tipsy in the airport on a liqueur. AND if you thought Prestwick was bad, try flying out of Ciampino. It was horrid. After getting tipsy, the plane being delayed, and the travel pills kicking in, I was almost unconscious in the airport.
I finished reading the Catcher in the Rye on the train to central, where I had my mum come pick me up because I was in so much foot pain agony.
I even met another solo traveller on the train to Central and he had a strange accent, but he was actually English, living in Inverness, and was in Rome for the diabetes conference too... AND I kid you not, he said the reason he had a strange accent was because he had been in Italy for those few days and he picked up the accent. OH SHUT UP. No one picks up an accent that quickly...
It's almost been a week since my last update, so instead of getting ploughed in to the work I have to do I've decided to update my life. Oh yes.
The thing I love about being on holiday in America and knowing so many people is that I suddenly become integrated into a way of life. Rather than just being a tourist. It's brilliant.
I've been seeing my old 'haunts' and 'stomping grounds' and pinning for the days that I was apparantely the happiest. The two months I spent here before, although there were ups and downs, were, in fact, possibly the happiest and best 2 months I had every experienced.
So being back just makes me miss something I can never have back or do again. I'm sad that it was all nipped in the bud before it had time to flourish. Maybe in the future we will see what that seed would have grown in to but right now, it's pretty much gone.
Last Wednesday Chris Daines drove from Provo so I could have lunch with him and some of his friends. It was such a good day because we ended up in the mountains at Sundance and mount Timpinogos. I love mountains, and trees, and being outside. It just makes me so happy. I hope I have the chance to explore those mountains more fully in the next two weeks.
That evening I witnessed my very first softball game (I've been to three others since then) which took my by surprise. Sporting events in Britain are pretty much empty fields that people go play on if they want to. This was ORGANISED. I've seen nothing like it. Proper baseball fields, score keepers, bleachers. It was impressive and exactly like something straight from a movie.
After the game I was hanging out with Pedro and his many fraternity friends. So good. There was ice cream, driving, scooters, and a lot of lactose invovled. And the most amazing man who had a genuine old original copy of Mein Kampf. In German. AMAZING. It was there that I accidently spilled my strange admiration for Hitler, and it seems I'm about to do it again. I do not agree that he killed millions of people. I hate that, I don't endorse that at all, and I think his ideals of ayrians and hatred towards the Jews was completely unnecessary. I also believe that if he was allowed to go to Art School none of this would have happened.
But I also like the fact that the man had a dream (although it was psychotic and disgusting) and he did everything in his power to make it come to fruition.
I also find it interesting that given his creative and artistic background that he was able to accomplish so much in the face of the politicians that would have had more of a traditional and academic orientation to their jobs. Is there something in that? Is my theory of creatives running the world actually true. I honestly believe that if artists and creatives were in power the world would be a much better place.
Anyway.
Thursday was spent cleaning BrettEr icksen's bedroom. Oh yes. I was roped in.com. I helped him hang guitars and pretty much hang his clothes haha. It was actually strangely fun though. The best part about it though was that the first thing we did was go to a hardware shop to buy hooks and raw plugs. How many people can have too much doing that? Just me I think. I love going to places like B & Q and smelling the wood and having the desire to drill things and make things. Although I can't make anything, and I would end up cutting the plug off my phone charger because in my head I believe I can fix it. Which I did yesterday by the way. Idiot.
Thursday was also filled with two more softball games, which were amazing, and then Friday was all about the water.
I went swimming, and here come the stats... if I can remember.
200 yds front 200 yds breast 100 yds back 100 yds one armed fly 200 yds front kick only 200 yds breast kcik only 100 yds back kick only 100 yds front kick only 200 yds front w/ paddles 200 yds breast w/ paddles 100 yds back w/ paddles 100 yds one armed fly w/ paddles 100 yds front 100 yds breast 100 yds back 100 yds one armed fly 100 yds breast 100 yds front 100 yds swim down
Total: 2500 yds = 2290 meters.
After swimming I went to the temple, and then headed down to the gateway to rip Urban Outfitters apart. I then sat and watched the little kids run in and out of the water fountain at the gateway, which was truley bizzare. People even brought picnics. Brett has been calling it the white trash water park Pah HA.
Amazing.
I then went to see the Queers and OH MY GOSH I almost flipped out. They were incredible. I want to go to another punk show pretty much immediately. I have a new appreciation for punks that had been quashed before now. I was actually at the front with my stomache pressed against the stage standing at the foot of the bassist (basser for Richy's benefit) and it was incredible. The Queers were wonderful. The four bands that preceeded them were also incredible and all in all it was one of the best shows I've ever witnessed.
Brett was a total gem.5 and came to pick me up afterwards, which was so lucky because there were tonnes of creepy people outside that I was convinced had guns and I had decided they wanted to shoot and rape me. They were that creepy. Before the creepiness though I met some random people that had been at the show and they were so nice. I have one of their numbers now, I should really go make more friends in the Utah :)
You see where I'm coming from? You come once and make friends, then come again and make more friends, then you make more.
PAH.
Saturday, I was working on some shizz for Ruf' then I met up with Kyle and we drank hot chocolate in the sun. That is my Saturday night. I love hot chocolate from Starbucks on a Saturday. It makes me pleased. We then took some time to drive through the mountains. Oddly enough through my favourite part of the moutains. well where I would end up going myself when I was here before.
Sunday was mega, it was all about the church and motorbikes. Brett-a-licious has this amazing black bike that I now officially in love with. If anyone actually knows me they will know how much i love Top Gun and Tom Cruise. Specifically the part with the motorbike and car chase through Oceanside. Amazing. We were hanging out with brett's amigo CJ as well, an awesome guy with a fawn coloured beard :)
We went to this amazing wee apartment where i met two of the nicest girls ever. I think i was surprised because it was Utah and they were nice. I know, what's going on there?
Ha.
Amazing though.
Then at icksen's parental's gaff we had el barbeque and played Shanghai. I suck profusely at that game. I am so good at Gin Rummy, switch, anything... but Shanghai. No. I suck. So sad. One day though, i will be the master.
We totally went on a night ride on the bike as well. Seriously. Loving it, where we actually ran out of petrol and the bike came to an utter stop pah ha. There was a reserve tank so we didn't have to push it or anything, but that would have been a story and a half. After filling up the bike and getting attacked by random bugs, we pitched up at Stu's girl's house and watched the last 3 minutes of Indiana Jones, with my beloved Sean Connery. Oh yes.
And that was pretty much Sunday ;) ;) ;) mmmhmmmmm. Give or take a few other things that I might blog about in a private blog... sorry guys :)
And then there was yesterday. A day of work, and sitting in the mac store attempting to have my mac fixed although it was never broken, aparantly. Hmmm. So at least that is kind of good. No more money and it means I might be able to sell it for quite the packet. yes, GASP the 17inch mac Daddy might have to go. It's just so slow in comparisson to the intel macs, and I should shift it before it looses all value. i will be sad. But I will love the new one as much as the old the one. And the old one will find a good home I'm sure.
Long live the 17inch Mac Daddy.
I also found the B-boy at the Mac store and proceeded to ride on the back of his bike, sans helmet, with a pair of sunglasses that were, moments later, ripped form my face with the speed of the wind. Amazing though. I will miss those oversized glasses but I'm over it. There can be no better way to loose glasses. I honestly wonder where they ended up though. I hope they didn't crack someone's windscreen. Eep.
The night was filled with yet another Softball game, which was amazing, and then a random movie with Big Bob Redford in it, which left me kind of confused, but I was fine with that, and then some watching of the Youtube videos. Youtube is an interesting form of entertainment.
more often than not I have found myself in social situations at home and abroad, where Youtube has become the entertainer and main feature. I wonder how that will progress, and what that actually means.
So good though. So good.
I pretty much slept in today and I have some work to do before I meet Marcus and go shop shop shopping.
I can't believe i've almost been here for a week.
I love it here. I really do.
I also am suffering from some crazy cramps today, but yet again the universe makes sense. this happens all the time. I have a miserable week i think my life is coming to an end and then the cramps appear with their friend Aunt Flo and then the universe makes sense once again. Irrationality suddenly becomes explained.
For the past two weeks all I've been able to talk about is going to Utah, and, for those of you on facebook witnessing my status updates, what I am drinking.
Well right now I am drinking Peppermint and elderflower tea, while I sit on a bed which is drapped with the most patriotic quilt I have ever seen. It is all red and white stripes, with white stars. Yes, I am in the United States, Yes, I am in the republican state of Utah.
Getting here, however, was quite the ordeal. Unlike the last time I flew I was in quite a bright mood, wide awake and raring to go when my Mum dropped me off at the airport.
Off I went for another adventure (dragging my pink and black Leopard print suitcase too. Amazing). From Glasgow I flew to Amsterdam(n it) and then onwards to Minneapolis St Pauls.
The long haul flight took around 8 hours, so when I arrived in Minneapolis I had been awake for 15 hours already, and I was just thankful to be standing and moving. I was accompanied by a new friend: a large german man that had travelled a lot and who lived in munich - we had my love of Munich in common. We were waiting in the passport control line while a beagle went around sniffing everyone's bags.
Then security opened all the queues up for visitors to the US. My German friend legged it to the opposite end of the hall to wait in another queue. I stayed where I was. The saddest part about this story is that I thought I would get to say my parting words to that German when we went to collect our baggage. Little did I know I would never get to see him again.
After another 10 minutes of waiting I decided to join another queue and then I became the last person in that queue. My biggest mistake.
I was called forward and asked my purpose in the United states, I said pleasure and when questioned about the last time I was here informed the man it was 6 months ago. He then proceeded to take my photograph and finger prints and then after a few more questions and when I told him I was a Latter-day Saint (mormon) he handed me all my documents back and told me to follow the green line of death to be questioned further.
I had to take a ticket like I was waiting in Clarks shoe shop to be measured and given the correct pair of shoes for my feet.
The numbers were called one after the other, and I was just terrified at this point.
I was called forward by this short angry Mexican looking man who proceeded to write down everything I said, continuously asked me if I had a boyfriend and wouldn't believe me that I would be allowed a 'break from work'.
I failed round two and then was brought into a tiny room and asked even more questions, over and over again. I had to give the man my entire life history, tell him how I managed to be a Scottish Latter-day Saint, tell him about everything I had ever done in the United States.
With eveything I told him he would just keep asking 'is that your boyfriend? did you work at that wedding?' Yeah, I payed £400 for a flight to California to work at a wedding for 10 days.
Sincerly. It just made no sense whatsoever. He was cleary lacking in common sense. Someone sneaking into his country planning to do illegal things will have a back up story that they have rehearsed. Their story will not sound as flakey as mine. Mine truely just kept sounding weaker and weaker.
It was horrific.
on the first occasion that the man lef the room I sat there and just put my head in my hands and tried so hard not to, but I did end up shedding a tear. I didn't want to show weakness in the face of the tiny man with too much power, but when he came back it was obvious by my red eyes that I had been leaking from my eyeballs.
Then he said 'Don't cry, you'll make me cry' SHUT UP. You're the one keeping me here, for no good reason.
His boss that looked not too far away from an ugly version of this guy demanded that I get my luggage. Once I got it they proceeded to ask me to remove all the money I owned, then they took everything my handbag, backpack and suitcase. Took it all. They asked if there was anything sharp or dangerous and I said 'my scalpel happy finding' to which they said 'why do you need a scalpel' and I was like to do art things. Spanners. Like a scalpel would be a genuine artifact of prosecution, well it would be in a murder trial of the victim had be scalpeled to death.
So off my luggage went and the questions continued. My questioner kept saying things 'You see where I'm coming from though, you come once and you make friends, then you came again and make more friends, then you make more friends. You see?'
No actually I don't. Is it a crime to have friends.
Another thing he said was 'if you were just coming to minneapolis you would have been fine.' Why? because aparantley Utah is just so teaming with illegal scottish immigrants.
There was not much I could say to plead my case. I just had to keep answering every question honestly, telling him names, telling him everything I knew about anything. Repeating things over and over, watching him blow things out of proportion. So what? I've been in the states 4 times in 4 years and this is my fifth. How is that a crime.
I have no idea.
The thing is, if I had lied I would have been out there in seconds, If I had been travelling with other people or I knew no one in Utah I would have been out in seconds.
But no.
two hours.
The man that confiscated my luggage came back with my bottle of astragulus and was like 'what's that' Seriously. and then he came back with my laptop and demanded I turn it on. The other man was like 'I'm going to read your emails, get them for me'
Only because I had mac mail would this plan work. Shoot.
They proceeded to read my emails without me knowing which ones. I could hear them mutter words and then they would ask who certain people were and how I knew them and if they were my boyfriend. SERIOUSLY. I don't have an effin' boyfriend. Deal with it.
I was starting to get frustrated at that question.
Then the wee man was like, well I think you're okay, but I need to talk to my boss.
He came back and he was like, this decision is up to me, and I think you told the truth. So I'm going to let you in.
'but remember that you are a pretty girl so there might be people out there that would want to marry you, strange men out there.'
Prior to this remark about my looks, in response to one of my replies that went like 'I just like meeting people, I've even liked meeting you - it's an experience' he said 'I've liked meeting you too, perhaps under different circumstances.'
SERIOUSLY.
his mean boss told me to repack all my things, everything had changed bags, and I felt so defiled and voilated my things were just in a mess.
When I unpacked here in Utah I began to understand the magnitude of their search. They read my notebooks, journals, daily planner/diary. I just think this kind of treatment is unacceptable. What are they honestly looking to find? An essay I wrote about how i plan on moving to the US illegally? Because one doesn't exist, because I don't plan on doing anything illegal.
The most terrifying thing ever, and it totally puts me off ever wanting to come back here. Their economy is in dissary and so is Britain's, yet, I choose to spend my wages in the states and not the UK. How is that a crime. They should be thankful for my custom.
They let me go though, and it wasn't on a plane back home, so I had to be thankful for that.
As I wheeled my stuff up to customs and handed the white form over I was like 'Oh looks like I beat the queue' haha. Trying to make light of my tragic ordeal.
Then I spent the next ten minutes talking to the security staff who were so lovely. They knew why I was so delayed, and they were just so nice, and so cheery. One of them even took my bording pass and found my gate number.
I made my connection. I'm so greatful that I had a couple of hours as a lay over.
I had no idea if my bag would make it, and as I told Marcus McBride (who is not my boyfriend) when he picked me up, the lady at the boarding desk told me that there was no way to track my bag and I would find out when I got to Salt Lake if it had made it.
On my arrival I was bouncing off the walls and so Marcus and I hit the outlet malls at Park City for 30 minutes. It was amazing because I had been awake for 25 hours and my speech was slurred and I kept spoonerising everything.
When I got to the home of the people I was staying with and told them of my difficulty getting into the country they proceeded to talk about writing to the senator to complain.
Like it will do much good, they're just going to say that innocent people get caught in the crossfire. That is the American way isn't it? As long as they get the bad guy it doesn't matter how many innocent people they terrorise on their path to success.
I left Utah holding a shoe, belonging to my wee brother, and when i got to New York I was clutching the same shoe.
I was a mess.
But annie found me, and I was so happy. FOUND. HAPPY.
JFK was a state.
We got back to her apartment and I crashed out 100% after meeting a guy called dream flower.
That day was spent doing washing, and making pizza. It was so good. it was like New York reality, rather than tourist.
Sunday was church, and who else would I see in New York but Mark bloody Hedingren. Crazy. He came with Annie and I to see the world's largest menorah, and then he went back to church while we continued to have multi-religious day. We went to see the tree at the rockerfellar centre where one women proclaimed, while taking a picture, 'You're in new York F*****g smile' to her kids.
We then ate some Jewish food, and toured around the streets a bit. I loved that day. It was mega. MEGA.
Jewish food is amazing.
We then went looking for my awesome kick ass belt. To no avail. They had my belt in white, but not in black. I did get some crazy brooches from that same shop though. I love old brooches.
Monday was all about the work. I got to see Annie's work, and help her out a bit. And her boss, who is Chinese, made us lunch which was amazing. AMAZING. proper chinese food. I've never tasted anything like it. So good.
We watched southpark that night too.
Tuesday was all about me leaving. We slept in a bit, and then did a spot of work before I was new york driven to Newark. Once I said bye to Annie face, and cried again, I took down the Brits and their stupid queuing. They love to queue too much.
And then spoke to Bretter until the plane was due to leave. I was on the plane next to two wee welsh boys and spent ages talking to bretter until I was told to turn my phone off. Then the plane sat on the runway for two hours while they reshuffled bags. I am cursed. It just meant the wait time in London was shorter.
I could see France as we flew in over the white cliffs of Dover with the sun rising and reflecting pink in the water.
I should be doing one million other things, but right now: I feel the need to finish this chapter of my travels.
(Written in April 2008)
This might actually sound like more of a list because the finer detail (which i strive on) has been lost.
Thursday 29th
Brettformer robot in disguise called me and asked if I was free for lunch... free I was, ready I was not. After having to decline his offer due to lack of make-up and non-pyjama apparel, he appeared on my doorstep with bagels. Bagels that I continued to crave for a week afterwards. Fact.
* The rest of my notes and writing say 'Brett's house. Greek' or something that looks like the word Greek.*
Friday 30th
OH MY GOSh I was so on time it was unreal. I was so proud of how on time i could be. I met the B-meister outside the Apple store before going to the one and only Sky Box (where I first met Brett - when I thought he was an idiot in leopard tights - and then when i watched the last 38 seconds of the football game). We met two of his housies (this joke has only come into fruition in the past few weeks thanks to the Orange Cinema advert), and watched the Jazz kick some basketball ass on a massive screen.
The night continued with a possibility of dancing, which dissolved, and then a cheeky wee gaup at Back to the Future. Stunning movie. MEGADAZING.
Saturday 1st December
I went to see the missionary that baptised me and his entire family. It was one of the most real and amazing moments of my life, and I think I also ate an Arby's sandwich which was another moment in my life that I won't forget.
When i left the house my friend Clayton called to see if I wanted to go to the Christmas broadcast with presidento Hinckley. OF COURSE. SERIOUSLY. Landing on my feet Miller.
That night I hung out with Marcus and we went to get Curry. So good. SO GOOD. We had to wait absolute ages for a table, but it was actually such a good night... and we both were leaping about the snow because it was so thick and we were getting so wet. So much fun.
The night ended with him in my strange shaped window ledge, and also watching about 3 episodes of heroes. Seriously. So good.
Sunday 2nd December
I went to church, then met Clayton and his hermana and compadres. We were going to pilfer food from their ward's break the fast, but it wasn't on that month, and we ended up breaking in to his grandparent's house and eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. My first, and more than likely last. There is no need for those two spreadable items to ever be mashed together in a sandwich. I know I used to eat sandwiched with hundreds and thousands on them, but still... peanut butter and jam... not so good.
Then oh my gosh, we queued outside the conference centre and I actually got to see Gordon B. Hinckley (before he died in January) mental. Actually I could see him. It was one of the best moments in my life. I was meant to be there. And so close to the front, thank you Todd Wynder. Oddly enough it all sounded exactly the same, but it was amazing to hear. Exactly the same as the broadcasts. But so amazing. Everyone kept sneezing and coughing though, I wanted to tell them all to shut up haha.
After it ended I headed to Brett's house and engaged and imposed myself on his family while playing a game of shanghai, something like Gin Rummy and Phase 10 mashed in to one. Seriously. If I had my bearings I would have been a lot better than I was. This easter I actually kicked some mega Gin Rummy ass... bring on the Rummy... I DARE YOU.
Anyway... Brett had to kick me out because he had to study... one of those things, porque I don't know when to leave, and it seemed i had my ticket. Boot.
Monday 3rd
This was the masticating mango monday. During which I watched 'meet chuck and larry' with Brett and his housies. I think that's what it was called. It was on this day that I realised that Brits find entirely different things funny to what the Americanos do.
That morning I had gone swimming, and what a session I had. SERIOUSLY. Amazing. First time in ages, and I kicked some ass. I thought I could see general authorities floating about in the pool and I went home and checked my ensign. One guy was giving me some Glasgow banter because he was quite cynical towards native Utahans. Another guy told me that I had a really pretty stroke, and when I told him thanks, and that I was from Scotland he said 'that explains it then'. Ha. I love people.
Tuesday 4th
Book the flight, or not, book it or not. I was havering all day about booking my flight out. I can't do it.
I went to institute though and it was incredible. There was such a powerful end with Superman references and the concept of what I actually am. It was astounding. If there was no other reason for me to be in Utah it was to hear that last lesson. yes last lesson. i timed it nicely for the end of the semester.
I then met Brett after institute, and went to his gaff before he went to play basket ball where i started my 'blessings and gratitude journal'. Then finished the night in his gaff watching random TV.
Wednesday 5th
I booked my flight this morning. Lame. I don't want to leave.
Packing should commence. I went to find a TK maxx to buy a cheap bag to put all my presents and what not in. I was totally late getting back, and then persuaded Brettastico to get Thai food. Oh yes. Masaman curry, that's what it's all about see. Then we watched Hero at his gaff, and I had this feeling that it was the last night, even although it would have been the second last. Gutted. I watched Hero and loved it though, i love chinese movies. I cried at it. And then drove home and begged kate to get online so I could tell her everything about everything.
I think I went swimming this day as well.
Thursday 6th
Packing day. I went to see Doug and Clayton sing at the U of U, and I got a parking ticket. Awesome.
I also saw Brett for all of 30 minutes (which I was pleased about) before he went to play basketball and i went to see Paul, Tyler, and Rob. Rob had work to do, so Paul and Tyler and I hit up some crazy coffee place, and drank hot chocolate. Then we watched scrubs until the early morn, and when everyone started falling asleep. I said my sad ass goodbyes and went home to pack.
I went to see Otto to tell him I was leaving as quickly as I came.
Friday 7th
Hours ticking.
I went to the temple with Clayton to kill two birds with one stone. It was a wonderful time, and the man in the temple kept calling me his wife. Pah ha. I would have gone with it for a laugh, but Clayton corrected them.
I then went home, and I was supposed to see Ryan Goodwin and see his design office and possibly charm him into giving me a job. But it fell apart.
Then Brett came, and it was all about him from then on in. We ate bagels, sang songs, ran in the daisies, plaited each other's hair. or something close to that.
We went to see maggie and Dave and i was in hysterics, and then I was sad when I left otto too, and then dropped the car off. Then I had to say bye to Marcus.
All that day I had been praying for snow so that I couldn't leave, and it snowed. BIG TIME. even so much that I couldn't drive. I made the plane though, and all that happened was that I was delayed an hour on the runway.
We met up with Brett's friends and ate frozen yogurt or something like that, and I just couldn't eat. I was so sick from not wanting to leave, and nervous. It was how I was leaving for utah. Insane.
By Midnight, I was gone. A crying ball sprawled across three seats, with four blankets, watching the cartoon network on the Delta plane. I was so sad. I cried so much it was unreal. unreal.
