Day 31, 32, & 33: On My Way Home!

My last days in England were spent scuba diving off a much less challenging beach (still so cold my hands didn't work for like half an hour afterwards), visiting family, and shopping in Truro, the nearby city/town. I don't think it has as many people as Denton (?) but it's much more dense, much more city-like: it has all the fancy shops and pedestrian areas and tall buildings, which Denton, for the most part, lacks. It's a neat town, though, Truro is.

And now I'm on the first leg of my journey home: Truro to London by train. I'll be home by tomorrow night (though for me it's slightly longer than that). So now, that Beatles song is playing in my head, "We're on our way home, we're coming hoooome!" Yay! (Seriously, there's a Beatles song for every conceivable situation. Not even joking.)

Wow. I just watched a man pull up a QR code on his iPhone in place of a ticket, which the lady scanned with a machine. I swear one day no one will need wallets because it's all gonna be in a little wallet app on our phones.

Random thought. Sorry. Anyway...

As I've been training, I've been reading the book State of Wonder by Ann Patchett. For Seeley vets, you will understand why I found it funny when I read the synopsis:

"In a narrative replete with poison arrows, devouring snakes, scientific miracles, and spiritual transformations, State of Wonder presents a world of stunning surprise and danger, rich in emotional resonance and moral complexity.

"As Dr. Marina Singh embarks upon an uncertain odyssey into the insect-infested Amazon, she will be forced to surrender herself to the lush but forbidding world that awaits within the jungle. Charged with finding her former mentor Dr. Annick Swenson, a researcher who has disappeared while working on a valuable new drug, she will have to confront her own memories of tragedy and sacrifice as she journeys into the unforgiving heart of darkness..."

Eh, eh? Catch the references? The last phrase loses all subtlety: yes, this is basically Heart of Darkness told from a woman's perspective. Instead of the Congo, it's the Amazon, instead of Marlow, it's Marina, instead of Kurtz, it's Dr. Swenson. But the fact remains that the basic plot is the same: unassuming average person is thrown into a jungle which has a mind of its own (the symbolic "heart of darkness," the potential for evil at the hart of all mankind) to find the elusive genius hidden away within, only to discover a wealth of moral ambiguity and so-called "spiritual transformations" there. Even the titles bear the same rhythm: state-of-won-der, heart-of-dark-ness. The reviews on the cover say this book is "a masterpiece," but I feel the petulant urge to argue that it was Joseph Conrad's masterpiece first.

No, no. I am too harsh. This really is a fabulous novel, and original in ways other than the obvious. The characters are interesting, the plot is not exactly identical to Heart of Darkness (though the themes are), and it explores some very fascinating issues. It's a lot more personal than Conrad's novella, more modern and intimate and accessible (and feminine). It doesn't have that heavy existential overtone, which I kind of loved in HoD but will admit was exhausting. Also, without the hindrance of being a vocal narrative or whatever you want to call it (where Marlow is telling the story in real time) it was a much more conventional read (whether that's a good thing is up to you). I really did enjoy this book; Patchett is clearly a very intelligent writer. But it was especially interesting having just read Conrad's version. So yeah. Make of that what you will.

I am including this picture because I feel obligated to include something colorful for your poor internetted minds. I promise as soon as I'm home these posts will become much more aesthetically pleasing, and arguably more interesting for some of you. Not long now!

Day 30: Rough Seas and Red Lions

After sleeping in almost ridiculously late and finishing my book (I'll get to that later) my father and I went scuba diving off Maenporth Beach. Sort of. We swam 200 meters out into the sea (in the rain, in the frigid water, each with what felt like my entire weight in equipment, and getting tossed around by rocking waves), went under for a few minutes and saw, oh I dunno, three different kinds of fish and lots of algae and lots of seaweed and lots of sand, but mostly just murky water, then proceded to fight the tide back into shore (a long swim) after deciding that it wasn't worth it in these rough conditions. Also, neither of us had enough weights on our weight belts to get us all the way down. Oh, it was exhausting! I'm glad we did it, because we've never been successful in scuba diving in England before, but god was it tough going. By the time I got out onto the beach I was lugging around an extra thick layer of water all around my body as well, and my too-big shoes were completely bloated and my fingers didn't work because of the cold water. But maybe tomorrow the weather will be better and we'll get back in our astronaut suits and dive down at Pendennis, which is supposed to be better diving. Maybe.

Then we came home and I tried to rest but instead ended up making Easy Bars and Flapjacks, two Australian snacks which are delicious. I will include the recipes, because recipes are one of my things.

EASY BARS

3/4 cup brown sugar
200g butter
1 1/2 cup flour
1 egg
1 cup chopped dates/dried fruit

Melt butter and sugar in a saucepan. Remove from heat. Add flour, eggs, and dates. Spread in a greased pan and bake at a moderate temperature (maybe 350F?) until they look edible.

FLAPJACKS

6 tbsp Golden Syrup
200g butter
12 oz oats

Melt butter and syrup in a saucepan. Add to oats and mix to coat. Spread in a greased pan and bake for a while at a good temperature until they look edible. Haha.

But seriously, both these things are delicious and worth making for easy picnicking.

Blah blah blah then we eventually went to dinner with some friends of my grandparents, Mike and Sheila Golding, at the Red Lion, a really neat old restaurant that was built in 1500 or some such ridiculous year a million years ago. It had a lot of ambience,, and some really nice candles that made for wonderful entertainment, until I stuffed it out on accident. But food was good. Lots of olives.

Now I'm in bed and I desperately want to go to sleep and I want all this orientation nonsense to sort itself out because, no, UNT, I will not be attending both Orientation 5 and Orientation 6, and I would like it very much if you would realize that before I "miss" the first one and you freak out on me. Also, I wish you would save all the classes I need for me, but I doubt you will, so blah.

All of this nonsense is so confuuuuusing. :-/

Oh, and I was going to talk to you about Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger! Overall I thought it was okay - not nearly as good as The Tie Traveler's Wife, but Niffenegger is clearly a talented writer with a very distinctive style that I happen to love. While this story was less...I dunno...charismatic? than her first, it certainly wasn't a waste of a novel. But it was more depressing, and not in a the cathartic, life-affirming way of TTW. Just straight up depressing. As in, it will make you depressed. It was one of those books that kind of leave you feeling ill because of the complete moral ambiguity and the horrible dilemmas and ultimately the decisions that the characters make that, despite the element of fantasy (ghosts/afterlife), are so prevalent in real life, even if they are kind of hidden (because they suck). So yes, it was a valuable read. But not an uplifting one and kind of a stomach-curdling one, too. And I don't usually like ghost stories, so I don't know if this is something a ghost-story lover would enjoy, but just...have caution. I didn't really like any of the main female characters, either. I kind of loved the main male characters, each for different reasons, but they were ultimately disappointing (in an entirely human way - I'm not blaming the author for this). The girls, on the other hand, all had that weird mental/personal feverishness that made them hard to connect to and almost repulsive, as if their personalities are diseased. I'm not sure if that makes sense here, but if you read the book you'd know what I mean.

I don't mean to sound so critical - the book was legitimately good, a fascinating look at some of the weirdest kinds of relationships, from twin sisters and their twin parents, romances with massive age differences, dead lovers, spouses struggling with OCD. It was truly absorbing, just incredibly hopeless. So, read with caution. But do read.

Day 29: Dramatic Arts in Dramatic Places, Frenchy Frenchness, and Scholarly Payoff.

You know what my favorite word is to begin an email? Congratulations, because it's usually followed by "You have been selected to receive" and then a sum of money in the form of a scholarship. I thought all of my congratulations were in the past (until I apply for a second round next year...ugh -_-) but this morning I had the lovely surprise of an email from UNT Scholarship Services informing me that Follet Store College Fund has awarded me $2000 for next year, as long as I write them a nice letter of thanks. So that's wonderful. There's nothing like the feeling of twelve years of work and stress finally paying off. Literally.

Then I also learned that I got a (bum bum ba-BUM) three on my French AP exam! I am psyched because I half thought I failed it. You know, a four would've been nice (five being completely out of the question), but I passed. I PASSED! This is the test I have been dreading since freshman year, and now it's over and I passed and that's that. Yes! Also, I'm sure I can max out the credits on the CLEP test no problem, so it was never really about the credits. Mostly about the shame of failing and the validation of passing. Oh god yes.

Other than those adventures, we went to the Minack Theatre today. As I'm sure few of you understand the significance of that, take a look at the pictures below. This theatre, built in the 1930s pretty much single-handedly by a badass woman named Rowena Cade, is situated spectacularly over the sea on a Cornish cliffside near Penzance. It's a very dramatic backdrop for a very dramatic place; the round stage with its various levels and columns and arches is very aesthetically pleasing and a perfectly versatile set for the variety of performances that grace it each week. The seats are reminiscent of ancient Roman theatres, sunk in terraces down the hillside, forming a kind of half bowl. And the show itself - Moliere's The Hypochondriac - was brilliantly done: witty, lively, ironic, and well-played. Although, it was the only show I have ever seen that had a chorus member on book the whole time, calling lines where necessary (which wasn't much, but still). Oh, it was hilarious, though! Seriously, if you get a chance to see (or be in) a Moliere play, jump on it. Or, you know, if you get the chance to come to the Minack. Absolutely spectacular.

Day 28: Adventures in Fruit Pickin' and Park-n-Floatin'

We started today with a trip to Chyreen Farm, a pick-your-own fruit farm with an abundant bounty of black currants and gooseberries. Luckily it wasn't raining, so we were able to pick almost 3 pounds (or was it kilograms?) of both fruits, which you can see me carrying below :)

Then we went down into Falmouth and rented a small boat to take out for four hours. We (my dad, mostly) drove the poor little 6-horsepower thing all over the bay (in the freezing wind) to Smuggler's Cottage, the cute little coastline pub we've been coming to forever. Recently, though, it has changed hands and lost some of its homey charm, though the food was still good. The significance of the place, actually, is that Eisenhower stopped there to have a meeting when all the boats converged there to set out for D-Day. So that was nice. Then we took it back, trying desperately to beat the high tide. We made it.

When we got home, my grandmother and I made black currant jam. It's actually not difficult. Just a cup and a half of water boiling with a pound of black currants for twenty minutes, then for ten minutes after adding four cups of sugar. We put them into four hot jam jars, and tomorrow they will be cool and ready to eat! I will also be taking some home with me, of course. :)

And that's about it. I have four busy days left before I take the train up to London for a night and leave the next day. Phew! It'll be nice to be home. :)

Day 27: Shopping in Falmouth Town

First of all, I would like everyone to join me in admiring the new shoes I bought at ASDA (UK's WalMart), as long as you ignore my horrible TOMS tan. I am glad to welcome a pair of floral flats to my admittedly large (shut up) shoe collection. Yay! I feel cute! :D Maybe I will actually fit in with the classily floral-clad youth over here instead of my usual bedraggled (but practical!) vacation attire that I am so sick of.

I also bought a new swimsuit at ASDA, as I do almost every time I come here, because swimsuits over here fit my figure so much better than American ones. American swimsuits seem to be blind to the fact that some of us do actually have boobs and need more than just little fabric triangles to be comfortable. So thanks, Britain, for your innovative swimsuit designs! Huzzah!

Thirdly, I bought yet another book for under three pounds. This will be my fourth book purchase of this trip and I'm beginning to be concerned about space, but not concerned enough to not read anything for the next week when I'm on such a roll! I have read five books so far -- FIVE books in three weeks, four of them in the last five days! Oh my god, I had almost forgotten what it was like to have time to read. The book I bought is called Her Fearful Symmetry and it's by Audrey Niffenegger, who wrote Time Traveler's Wife. That's honestly the only reason I picked it up (it was fate, I swear - I walked into the shop, picked up a book, saw her name, and was out of there in three minutes, prize in hand), but I trust her completely to have written another brilliant read.

Other than that, we wandered around Falmouth's High Street, looking in Cornish shops and watching the water. At one point we found the Falmouth Theatre Company's rehearsal space, and we went in and talked to the three people who were building the set for their upcoming show, Theft. Too bad I won't be around to see it, but their program seemed remarkably -- and charmingly -- similar to Denton's Campus Theatre. They were very cute, though. One old man who was talking to us must have lit five matches to light his pipe but each time they'd burn out before he'd stopped talking long enough to use it, so he'd just throw it on the floor and light up another one. It was very quaint. :)

Unfortunately I couldn't take pictures of any of this because my phone was dead. So just use your imagination, I guess.

Then we went to the beach for a while. Enjoy these pictures.

Day 26: Baileys Reunite! Maenporth At Last! (attempt no. 2)

So for the record, this is my second time writing this post, so I am quite frustrated. The first one was long and detailed and interesting and written in my new foldable bluetooth keyboard for the iPhone. But when I was finished, said iPhone failed to save the post, and all of my glorious work was lost. Due to my general anger at this piece of machinery, I'm not even going to attempt to replicate it, and just highlight the important bits.

1) I'm with my family again! And yesterday our relations, Jennifer and Roger, visited, and it was very nice to meet them - such interesting people!

2) I'm having fun but looking forward to coming home in a week. Maenporth is my last stop on this glorious journey, and a good last stop at that. But it will be nice to get back in the swing of things, focus on college, and makeup for missing hanging out with my dear friends and boyfriend for a month.

3) Stuff about how Maenporth is awesome. See picture below. Also, credit goes to the grandparents for owning the house and letting us come here basically all my life.

4) Sea kayaking. We did it in Maenporth bay. Saw the shipwreck (decaying but still extant), a purple cave-tunnel, and fluorescent blue seaweed that turned brown outside of the water.

5) Was accosted by a small Siamese cat with bells on to be his personal masseuse until further notice.

6) The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. Ohmygod just read it. I probably wrote an entire page about this book and now that's gone and I want to cry so just read the freaking book and be amazed by how beautiful and intense and well-written and deliciously long it is, and be confirmed in your humanity and blah blah blah whatever else I said it would do to you. Especially if you're Anna or Laura. And then come talk to me about it. And no, I don't give a crap if you've seen the movie. Just do it.

7) Books are amazing and I wish I could just read books all day and make money instead of getting a job. Oh wait, that's why I'm becoming a publisher. Cool. We're good.

Day 24: Ugh Travel.

Today is my travel day from Liverpool and uuuuuuuuuugh it has not gone well.

The challenges really started last night, when for some reason a whole series of Asian girls decided to show up scattered throughout the night in two hour increments, starting at about eight. And for some reason, unlike everyone else in the world, Asians don't have a problem turning on all of the lights in a room where five other people are asleep at 3AM. So that happened a lot and I hardly slept at all. -_-

Then I was almost late checking out because I was on the phone for longer than I had anticipated, but that was totally worth it, so it's okay. :) Except then I learnt from the reception dude that I couldn't get to the train station by bus, which wasn't a big deal until I turned around to see that outside it was pouring Texas-style. You know in cartoons when the person is walking along the side of the road and then someone drives by and they get soaked? Yeah, that was my life for about half an hour as I walked the half mile to the train station.

By the time I got there I was soaked and I had to struggle through the stupid turnstile to the bathroom with my luggage to get dry(ish) and then sit around in the freezing cold station with my wet bags for two hours. During that time I went to get lunch, but the couscous I bought spilled all over the floor and the pudding thing I got was awful. So that sucked. And to make things worse, that stupid train station - I kid you not - had exactly zero trash cans in the whole gigantic place. Not one. When I finally found a maintenance person and asked them why, he said "Security." I personally am not afraid of trash cans, but if I were a safety officer at a train station I'd be just as worried that someone would hand the poor custodians a bomb. And what's to stop them from leaving them under the seats? Or lying around as litter? It was frustrating. :-|

When I finally did get on the train, to my dismay there was not a space to put my luggage, so I had to ride with it all under my feet the whole three hours. And then when I got to London and taking two underground lines, I still had to walk half a mile uphill over cobblestones, then up six flights of stairs with my luggage to get to my room. Ugh.

But then I discovered that there's a white duck and a family of black sonethings and their six babies! Auntie Hannah, can you tell from my pictures what they are? They have spindly legs and a red beak, and the babies are very fluffy and awkward! :)

After I watched them for a while I walked through Holland Park to Kensington High Street, got some dinner at a little Arab-run patisserie, then walked around some and bought a £3 book (Time Travelers' Wife, because the movie was cute) at the Oxfam, a really cool kind of upscale good will that's all for charity. It's really cheap but good quality. Someone should invent that in the States. After that I just dirt of wandered, going into one store having a going-out-of-business sale. They have CRAZY good sales here, it's ridiculous. Don't you just hate it when you find something that's cute, useful, and totally on sale but you don't have the means/intention to buy it? That's what happened. I need to learn just not to go into stores when I don't have money, but this giant polka dotted canvas rolling duffel bag for £15 compared to its usual £75 was just so tempting! I didn't buy it of course, but I wish I had had it back when I was packing for this trip. It would have been perfect. Sigh....

Anyway, now I'm just going to go back up to the (rather strange) Holland Park hostel and relax and read and stuff.

Also, there is definitely an opera happening in the park right outside my window. Wut? O_O

Day 23: Liverpool, City of Beatle Pride (duh)

I went on a guided tour of John Lennon's childhood home, Mendips, where he lived for eighteen years, and Paul McCartney's childhood home, 20 Forthins Road, where he spent maybe ten years after his mother died. Both have been restored to their original 50's glory, as accurate as possible to John and Paul's homes. A neat old couple, both of whom know Yoko and Paul personally (who donated the houses), guided the tours. It was fascinating comparing the stories and anecdotes they shared with the movie Nowhere Boy (excellent movie, by the way) about John's teenage years. Though they got some stuff wrong (where were the students Mimi boarded in their house to supplement her husband's meager income?) the vibe of the place definitely came through in the movie. It made me laugh to look through the passport John used as the Beatles started traveling and seeing a young rebel with Elvis hair staring back challengingly - that part the actor portrayed perfectly. It was also neat to see the memorabilia: John's school reports (often "shows promise but lacking in effort"), a photograph from the 60s legitimately signed by all four of them, and photographs taken by the (enormously talented) brother of Paul, Michael, of their family and home life, which made me really want to get my vintage cameras working. I stood in all the places John, Paul, and George would rehearse and write in on Sunday afternoons (hm, that reminds me of someone... :-P) : Paul's living room, John's parlor, and John's bedroom, the room in which, as he told Yoko, he "did his dreaming in" as a boy. Overall, a very neat tour, but I couldn't take pictures of the inside.

The rest of my day was pretty simple: wandered, wondered what to do, got food, wandered, ended up at the Cavern Club, watched some music, wandered, got lost, went back to the room, got bored, wondered what to do, wandered, got food, ended up at the Cavern Club, watched music, came home. Now I'm exhausted, even though that doesn't sound like much, it's a lot of walking. The Cavern is not really near my hostel at all. But that's pretty much it.

Day 22: Liverpool, City of the Sea.

In Liverpool, on the very edge of the Mersey River waterfront, are three imposing decorative old buildings, known as the Three Graces. Atop one sits two giant birds, cormorants of sorts. These are the Liver Birds, the only two of their kind (though they are, of course, made of brass), sitting six meters tall on the roof high above the town. The female faces the ocean, calling the sailors home from rough seas, and the male faces inland, watching over the city. It is said that if they were ever removed from their perch, the city of Liverpool would cease to exist.

I learned this charming tale as I took the helpful advice of good ole Gerry and the Pacemakers and "Took a fe-e-rry ... 'cross the Me-e-rsey" today. Though it was raining, Liverpool looked beautiful from the water and I had many interesting buildings pointed out to me by the audio tour. Definitely worth doing if you're ever in Liverpool, as well as the U-boat tour you can choose to do if you're into WWII history, but I decided to save that for another trip. :)

I also went to the other half of the Beatles' Story museum, because my ticket covered it, at Pier Head. The exhibition included an almost astoundingly lame "Fab 4D" show which I guess would be more entertaining for children but was clearly aiming to be all romantic or something and still seriously sucked. I have no idea what it had to do with the Beatles except that it had out-of-context covers playing the whole time. But there was also a fascinating gallery of the lost photographs of some sixteen-year-old guy who did a photo essay on behind-the-scenes Beatles before they were so famous, then forgot about it until two years ago. There were some neat candid shots, and some that sucked but were interesting because they were the Beatles. So that was cool.

Then after a while I decided to walk to the big cathedral to go up the bell tower because I had nothing better to do. Except I didn't exactly gauge how far away it was (or how to get there...or how far uphill it was) but I persisted! Even though I had to go through a pretty crappy part of town to get there. But I did pass through the gates to Chinatown, which is the oldest Chinatown in Britain, if not Europe. Anyway, eventually I got there and eventually I went up the tower (3 elevators and 145 steps later). On the way up I passed through the reverse side of the church's arched ceiling, which was really interesting, as wells the (gigantic) bell chamber. And on the top, I got a 360° view of the city. Then I came back down, glancing at an embroidery exhibition on the way, and browsed through the displayed entries to the city's annual photography competition. Some of it was pretty good, mostly typical nature stuff and some portraiture, mixed in with cultural stuff and avant garde nonsense. But it was neat.

Then I returned to the hostel and collapsed, feet hurting. I read for a long time (The Heretic Queen by Michelle Moran - thoroughly good ancient Egyptian historical fiction) before wandering out again in search of dinner. By this time, though, it was pretty late (by shop standards) and the only places I could afford were closed. So I ambled around Albert Docks for a bit, wishing I could go down to the waterside where the sea had receded for low tide. Then I ended up at McDonalds, out of sheer desperation. And I didn't even end up eating all of what I got because it made me feel sick. I still don't feel great, but now I'm also hungry. Thanks McDonalds. -_-

Oh also, Happy Independence Day, America.

PS - I'm not even gonna bother messing with these photos. The thing with the ferris wheel is Albert Docks. If it has birds, they're Liver Birds. If it looks like a church it's the Cathedral (which apparently has the largest pipe organ in the world with 10,000 pipes. But I forgot to look at it. Poop.) if its something else, take a guess, you're probably right.

PPS - Oh and if you're ever driving in England, watch out - apparently there are some rogue zebras that like to do it in the road.

PPPS - Yes, sometimes I am immature. Shut up, you would have taken a picture of it too.

PPPPS - But did you catch my Beatles reference there? Eh? Eh? ;)

Day 21: Liverpool, City of the Mersey Beat!

This city is so proud of its (rather awesome) musical history. Seriously, not only is everything a reference to the Beatles, but everyone legitimately loves them. The city has retained, through decades of pilgrimages of tourists, the badassness that made the Beatles who they are.

Also, for the first time on this trip (besides the Canadian cyclist girl in Stratford whom I helped book a cheap train ticket to the coast), I made some friends! Sort of.

First is Jen. She's from China and her name is unfortunately too complicated for me to pronounce. So, Jen. She has lived in Sweden for four years and so has a very strange accent, though she speaks good English. Today we went to The Beatles Story museum together, though we ended up losing each other and going separate ways. But the museum was kind of neat - very processed, if that makes sense, but I learned a lot. It did, as my guidebook said it would, gloss over some of the grittier aspects of Beatles history, like the influence of drugs and sex on their music and personalities. And there was not one unconservative picture of John and/or Yoko, which disappointed me because the edgier pictures are some of my favorites. But generally I love Beatles/early rock n roll photography because it's so characteristic and raw and gritty, but there's something clean about it too, something un-alarming, unlike the music photography of, say, the 80s and 90s (think Nirvana). Not that I don't like that kind of photography, too, it's just...different. And I liked the black and white better. :)

Anyway, my second "friend". This one I hesitate to call a friend because I suspect he may have ulterior motives (very strongly suspect, in fact). He asked to sit with me at breakfast (which was weird because I was having a very serious phone conversation at the time) and then proceeded to flirt unashamedly with me (which was confusing because I looked awful, and I'm not making that up - I literally looked at myself in the mirror this morning, flinched, then said, "Eh. Who am I trying to impress?"). So this poor guy's from Beaumont, Texas (go figure) where he studies history. I get the impression that he came to Liverpool exclusively to go to clubs. He's nice, in an arrogant sort of way, I suppose. We talked again before dinner (about his school plans, his affected British accent, his trip, his love of cars, his clubbing adventures...you get the idea). But at least he's someone to have a conversation with, and at least I can be reassured that three weeks of silence haven't totally numbed my social skills. Still, I wish Skylar was here to reciprocate his flirtations. (hahaha just kidding. Sort of. :-P)

But that's basically totally irrelevant, so I will get back to my day. After the museum, I wondered around for a while and eventually got on the Magical Mystery Tour bus, guided by a super awesome Liverpudlian man who played John Lennon in the film 'In His Life: John Lennon". He was incredibly knowledgable, and his accent, coupled with his very Beatles-esque humor, had me laughing the whole time. Seriously, if you're ever in Liverpool, this is the tour to take. We saw the church where Paul auditioned and failed to join the church choir, the stadium that was built for Paul, the original sites where the Quarrymen played, all of the houses they each lived in in Liverpool, all of the parks and roads and shops that had any relevance at all to them, Penny Lane, and, of course, Strawberry Fields. I swear I learned a ton of stuff about them, but it's not the kind of stuff I can just spout out, or I would - it'll come to me randomly when the context is right and I'll be able to show off my superior Beatles knowledge. :)

The tour ended at the Cavern Club, which, to my surprise, is not primarily a tourist destination but still functions as an operating club, pub, bar, and venue for artists famous and brand new. Everyone you've ever heard of has played there, from Bo Diddley to Bob Dylan to Adele. When I went in a guy was playing (really good) acoustic covers of Beatles and Beatles-related songs. That the sound is awesome down there was a definite plus. I will certainly have to go back there one might to see a big performance.

Anyway, that's basically it. Liverpool's a really, really neat town, and there's a lot to do, but it's really not an easily navigable place by public transport. Walking's okay, but the hostel is just far enough away that it's annoying to walk that far to go anywhere. And I have there full days here, so it will be fine. Still, this would be a really fun place to come with friends - full of dancing and music and stuff. But oh we'll. Next time.

PS - The Penny Lane sign is barely a day old. In fact, I'm sure that particular sign is no longer there. The city has to replace it almost every day. Haha.

PSS - As you can see, I have given up on taking good pictures. I'm completely sick of my phone camera. Ugh.