Saturday, September 10, 2011

Un peu fatigue, peut-etre.

I'm not entirely sure how to do accent marks, and I don't have enough energy to look it up right now.

I have arrived! My day started very early yesterday morning. I woke up around 7:20AM with the inability to sleep any longer. Fighting an insane amount of nausea, I completed all of my last-minute errands before we set off for the airport at 12:30PM. We must have been running late because, after a bit for Dad to find us again, I didn't manage to make it through security before my boarding said the gate closed. Added to this was the group of Brazilians in front of me who had on an inordinate amount of accessories and carried a ridiculous amount of stuff. Naturally I was in a panic and ran to the gate. Yes. I ran. How surprise are you right now? Obviously I made it before the gate actually closed, and I learned a very important fact in the process. Airports never give you the correct time. Departure, arrival, anything. They run on their own little clock. I'll explain that more later.

My flight to London was uneventful. I did have a nice chat with the woman sitting next to me, Natalie, and she became my airport buddy. She was on her way to Newcastle visiting family, and her second flight happened to be at the same time as mine. Airport buddies are great. If you can find a good one, keep them. I slept most of the way to London because of the headache and nausea medication I took, and I only woke up when meals were served and bodily functions became more primary than catching a few z's. 

We arrived in London early, which is nice for some short layovers and inconvenient for long layovers. Me and my airport buddy spent the next billion years (it seemed like it, anyway) looking around at all of the expensive airport shop stuff, grabbing a snack, and waiting for the magical time board to tell us our departure gates. Another example of  airports running on their own time, there. The flight to Edinburgh wasn't as uneventful. I sat next to a couple of middle-aged German ladies, and we seemed to linger a while before the captain came on to tel us that some of our luggage hadn't yet made it to the plane due to a chemical spill. After the great flight debacle of 2008, I didn't mind so much. I went to sleep. The next time I woke up, they were handing out snacks, and we were 100 miles from Edinburgh.

I managed to snag my luggage with only the usual amount of difficulty and caught a bus to Waverly Station. Bus driver guy said there was some sort of demonstration going on, so the bus ride took a little longer than usual. I trekked down the walkway to the station and boarded a train to Stirling. Then a taxi to this B&B with a man I will greatly respect and admire for the rest of my taxi-riding days. He managed to turn into a drive with about 2 inches of clearance between the van and a brick wall on either side. The B&B, Lorraine B&B, is a few blocks from my future apartment and not too far from the University. The weather has been cooperative so far rather than "coder than a mother-in-law's kiss", as a Scot on the plane to Edinburgh remarked. He followed that up with the statement, "I'm always right. Except for once when I though I was wrong, but I was mistaken."

My plan for the next two days is to recover from travel. This B&B is nice and quiet, with a pretty nice view from the attic where I'm staying. Unfortunately I forgot batteries for my camera, so no pictures today. Now, on to shower and food! 

Until next time,

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