WHAT?! Last post on the 13th September?! Madness.
This is the
beginning of a blog. Technically, ^^^^ that was. But this is the Real Beginning
of the Blog. Le Snak Deli Tomato and Basil dipper things are gross. Don’t buy
them.
That is all.
But not really!
I am humbly
returning. Slowly. And humblyly. But it is happenin’. Don’t wet yourself. We’re
all excited, but there’s no need to publically shame yourself.
Again.
Begin the
bloggering!
…
…
…
NOW, as you all
know, I have been overseas and yada yada yada.
One thing of which
you will be quite aware, young readers, if you have travelled in your days, is
that upon your happy return, there are a few questions that you will be asked.
By everyone.
You have ever or
will ever meet.
*pops out of bowl of
cookies* FOREVERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.
I am now going to
answer some of these, giving both my answers, and general rules and advice for
people approaching this topic - either as an asker or an askee.
We'll start with the
question I was asked by my younger step-brother upon my return.
"So ... what
did you do?"
Well, Sunny Sunny
Sunny Bear. A freaking darn lot. A lot. I was away for a while, and I didn't
spend it sittin' around doin' nothin'. A'ight? Apostrophe.
If you ask this,
you've not travelled enough. Travel stories are not the kind of things that
just pop out on demand *keeps away from the potentially awesome 'That's what
she said'*. They are the kind of thing that pop up while someone is talking
about something that happened in their life, which will inevitably be kind of
boring, and something they say reminds you of the hilarious and undeniably
fascinating time that blah did blah blah on the top of the blah, whereupon
you'll rudely interrupt your fellow conversationalist and delight them in the
wonders of your fantastic story. That is
how travel stories work.
Always.
If you ask me for a
story, don't get pissy when I interrupt you half an hour later. You're boring
and you asked for it. :D
"Where did you
go?"
Obviously there's no
unequivocal answer for this for everybody, unless you just want to
stick with "Somewhere much better than standing here talking to you."
If you're considering saying this, I might suggest staying away from the additional
statement of "Of course, falling into the sun or existing for the rest of
my life in a pig's trough would be preferable than standing here talking to
you." People tend to take it badly.
Someone may stick a
'kick me' sign on your back; or worse, a 'throw me off a cliff onto some
particularly dangerous looking rocks' sign. If you're superbly offensive (say,
if you manage to insult their mother at the same time) KEEP AN EYE out for the
horror of horrors - the 'lock me in a room playing nothing but a Justin
Bieber/Rebecca Black/Nyan Cat remix for the rest of my life' sign.
Aaaaaanyway the
places I went will be listed below:
*
**
***
****
*****
******
-- Just kidding. I'm
not a bebo page.
USA:
San Francisco
Boise
Orlando
New Orleans
LA
New York
Washington DC
Canada:
Vancouver
Calgary
Toronto
UK:
Wigan (Woooo!)
Liverpool
OxfordLondon
Belfast
Edinburgh
Europe:
Republic of Ireland
Dublin
Italy
Rome
Florence
Verona
Venice
Pisa
Vatican City
Germany
Munich
Dresden
Berlin
France
Nice
Paris
Spain
Barcelona
Switzerland
Lucerne/Mt Rigi
Monaco
Norway
Oslo/Fredrikstad
The Netherlands
Amsterdam
Czech Republic
Prague
Austria
Vienna
OK. I think that's everywhere. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?!
What I lucky ducky mucky Kentucky I
am, amirite?
Don’t do that. Don’t bring your
amirites here. Because you know what? Urnotrite. You might be right, but you
are sure as heckfire notrite.
“How long were you away for?”
Again, vary this answer to fit you.
Unless you just want to outright lie because you were dodging a job or a
psychopathic fish or something. If you’re a pathological liar, see how long you
can get away with saying you were away for, before people start asking their
party-pooping questions like “But … if you were away for 23 years, why have you
not aged? Why have I not aged? What is this miracle wrinkle cream I have been
unknowingly using on myself and everyone in my whole life to prevent the cruel
passage of time?”
Pour moi, I was away for nearly 5
months. 4 months and three weekaloonies. Or summat like that.
“Wow, that’s not a long time considering
how many places you went! You must have been really exhausted by the end!” says
enthusiastic conversation partner enthusiastically and conversationally. And partnerly (oo-er).
“Oh really? I hadn’t realised that. I
especially didn’t realise when, in the last three weekaloonies, my body sort of
started dying and I was almost unceasingly sick for the rest of the trip. That
was when I really didn’t notice.”
“What was your favourite place?”
Ah, this. The most frustrating of all
travel questions. This is fine if you go to Fiji for a week. You can come back
and say “Yes. On my Fiji trip, I’d probably have to place Figi as the number on
place I went, just topping out above Sydney airport and a right sight higher
than the car ride to the airport.”
This is not. At all. A simple
question. When you have been travelling constantly for (nearly) 5 months.
My advice to travellers faced with
this question would just be to either
aa) Randomly pick
one place, even if it wasn’t actually your favourite, and tell everyone that
one. At least you don’t have to think about. But make sure you also make up a reason
why, because that’s always the equally annoying follow up question (THERE IS NO REASON WHY IT WAS JUST COOL SHUT UP)
bb) Tell everyone
who asks a different place. When you run out of places either go back to the
start, or just start making up new places. Who are they to know? If they wanted
to know, they should have COME ON YOUR trip. Dickheads.
Edinburgh
New Orleans
Washington DC
Barcelona
Lucerne
Venice
Prague
were mine. In no particularly order.
Edinburgh had the Fringe, N’awlins was just a mad fun vibe, DC was beautiful,
Barcelona was fun and exciting, Lucerne was slice-my-eyes-out-and-serve-them-for-tea-because-they’ll-never-again-see-anything-this-beautiful
beautiful, Venice was intricate and fascinating and Prague was just really good
and stuff. That clock, right?
Everywhere else was good, except Rome.
I am not a Rome fan. Rome is bad. I plan on not going back to Rome. Stupid
Rome.
The “If you could live anywhere you
went, where would it be?” question is tied in with this, and I’d have to say
Edinburgh number one, because beautiful and English-speaking, and close to all
the other European places. But I’d live in any of them. Fo’ realz, shiznit.
And there you go. Adrienne’s polite,
over-whelmingly kind, tolerant and patient answers to YOUR questions.
That’s the end of the blog. It’s over.
Go home.
*waves you away*
Chk
Chk-chk-ahh.
