Popcorn anyone?

When we got to the hostel in Edinburgh, Scotland, the girl at the front desk told us there was a free walking tour everyday at 11am and a free popcorn everyday at 7pm. We did the walking tour this morning. We visited a castle in the afternoon. We painted a little. At 7 we rushed back to the hostel for that free popcorn. As we busted through the door, someone said, "Are you guys ready for the pub crawl?"

Pub crawl? Pop corn?

Either we are really naive or they don't speak English properly.

An artist's pilgrimage

School's out meaning there's only one thing left to do. You know.

This time it's over to Scotland, Poland, Hungary, and the grand finale, Paris. I'm taking off with my Prague buddy, Mademoiselle Courtney. However, at the end of our trip, I'll tackle Paris alone. Well, not Paris but close. Giverny (i.e. Monet's Gardens). I'm taking the pastel pencils along this time.

Walking down the streets of Aix, I feel dazed. Where does time go and why does God let us lose our memory? So I'll take the pencils along to capture what I can, and the rest I'll leave to my imagination.

What's that you say?

Beware of little French men whispering in your ear

Third year down, how many more to go?

I finished my last exam! There's no other point to this post other than to really rub it in, you know, milk it for all it's worth.

Ireland

Precisely

The edge of the world (Part II)


My cousin Sean

Tradition

Aix is fountainous. There are a great number of fountains found in various plazas, nooks, and crannies. There is a tradition, too. Well, maybe it's not a tradition, but I like to think so. As a student in Aix, one has to make a tour of the fountains at least once. By that I mean one waits until an unspeakable hour in the morning and one goes swimming. In the fountains. In an hour, we hit 9. There was, after all, some delay with police and so forth. The highlight of the evening? We trodded through the murky waters of La Rotonde, this city's largest fountain and postcard landmark.

I knew a girl once who studied French. She took countless classes in French grammar, phonetics, history. She studied abroad to become fluent in the beautiful French language. She lived with a French woman and ate French food. She rockclimbed in French. She sang in French. Finally, her year abroad came to a close. As she got off the plane, she saw her parents waiting there at the gate. She ran into their arms and kissed their tear streaked faces as she said,

"Mom and Dad, I want to herd sheep."

The homeland

I've been spending the weekend in the homeland. For those whose don't know, think of rolling green hills, red hair everywhere, the Blarney stone, and a Bailey's coffee. I am in love with this country. It's interesting how, for once, I feel a sense of belonging in a place. It's a kind of belonging that runs deep, deep through the veins, through your toes, into the damp soil. Is this what it's like to have roots?

I'll start you off slowly