They call me Captain Trips

Though probably for different reasons than they did Mr. Garcia.

In a huge change from the previous week, these last...I can't believe it's only been...four days of my life were about as intense as possible, in the best way possible. I suppose I'll start at the beginning...

Whitstable. Located about eight miles north of Canterbury, directly on the North Sea, it was an easy 20 minute bus ride away so Steph, MC (short for Mary-Catherine) and I decided to check it out. It's pretty much the perfectly quaint fishing village you've always imagined English coastline being full of, with narrow streets lined with shops and fish and chip mongers on every corner. So yes, I did finally eat real fish and chips (wrapped in paper, smothered in vinegar) and it was spectacular. Oh, also we swam in the North Sea. In September. It was cold and salty as you can see. After a day spent romping around town we went home for a good night's sleep - the next stop on our tour of Southern England was a doozy.

"London is markedly larger than Canterbury," Sandy said, eyeing row after row after row of kebab shop on the outskirts of London. We had already been on the bus for an hour and a half, the last 30 of which had been, according to the signs, in London. So yes Sandy, you're right - London is a tad larger than Canterbury.

Despite not being able to book a youth hostel, despite the expenses and difficulties of planning a trip with seven people (two of whom don't speak English as a first language), we simply had to visit London sometime before school started. So MC, Steph, Sandy, Ciro (from Italy), Bea (from Spain), Fernanda (from Ecuador/America) and I booked a single hotel room, hopped on a bus, secreted everyone up past the reservation desk to the hotel room, dropped our bags off and found ourselves in the heart of Europe's Global City.


I could blather on about how much I loved London for paragraphs - about how, unlike New York, it still feels manageable, despite its size. How, unlike Boston, the confusing layout adds to the charm instead of frustrating it. How, unlike pretty much every major city in the U.S. I've been to, there are no ugly, "straight to business" looking streets - almost all of the architecture fits and around every corner could be the sunny, tree lined alley or the park you'll spend the rest of the day exploring. This is the city for me.

The first night, Sandy and I felt that the only fitting way to spend a Friday night in London is in Soho - first in the pubs, then in the theater, then back to the pubs. Eventually we ended up at the Palace Theater, which was showing? What else but Monty Python's Spamalot The Musical! To call it hilariously spectacular doesn't quite cut it and it was worth every pence. After the show, we met up with the rest of the crew who had spent the evening sightseeing and together wandered around a few Soho pubs before calling it a night.

The Hotel Cavendish, our cramped base of operations, was a 10 minute walk to the British Museum. Not knowing much about the museum itself aside from its cost (free!), we decided to check it out, allowing ourselves three hours to see it all. I spent every single minute allotted.

I've been trying not to be overly dramatic in describing the museum to people. You all know museums; rows of old stuff with placards telling you just how old it is. Walking into the Grand Hall of the British Museum, I first knew that this would not be anything like one of those. My next thought was that this was one of those moments I'll think back on at 70 and still mark it fondly as important to my life. Yeah, it was that impressive.

These pictures don't quite capture the scope of what you first see upon entering the museum, but the place is simply massive. I wandered over to one of the wings and what artifact should greet me but THE Rosetta Stone.
Nothing could really top seeing the real, live Rosetta Stone up close and personal, but everything else came close. I wouldn't know where to begin in describing what else I saw in a blog-size blurb, but if you're into history, drop me an e-mail and I can go into detail. I DID see Cleopatra's final resting place and held a stone tool from 350,000 years ago, which was fairly mind blowing. All in all, deciding to stop by The British Museum was one of the better choices I've made recently.

The rest of the day was spent in pretty much the best way possible: relaxing in St. James Park and checking out the touristy spots. We walked by Westminster Abbey and Parliament and all around that part of town, feeling pretty much on top of the world and killing time until our 19:30 (that's 7:30pm to you) train back to Canterbury.

So that leaves me at Sunday, on which the University of Kent had planned a short bus ride North to Leeds Castle for the day. Don't get excited, it has nothing to do with the classic Who live album and is named after an entirely different town of Leeds. Now, I won't say I was disappointed by Leeds Castle - that'd be way too harsh. It was a pretty excellent castle, with suits of armor and a dazzling library and sprawling grounds...the whole deal. Just, after the sensory overload which was London, I don't think anything could be impressive. Still, the place was pretty historic and quintessentially English.

So that was how I spent my weekend. Exhausting, awesome - and I still don't even start classes until Thursday!

Finally, a post from the UK

Believe me when I say that I simply have not had time to make a post from this part of the world yet. Since I arrived on Saturday morning I've had to completely set up my room, buy everything I'll need for nine months that I couldn't fit in the three bags I brought, explore the campus, explore downtown, check out as many of the on campus pubs as I could, meet...everyone. I've been a busy guy. Anyway, I'll do my best to summarize the last fourish days.
I hopped a tiny tin can from Rochester to Dulles then, after a two hour layover, upgraded to a Boeing 767 which was slightly more imposing, what with its 245 seats (I was somewhere near seat 243).

The flight was long - somewhere in the area of six and a half hours, and took me over Newfoundland, through five time zones and past a whole lot of water and darkness. My neighbor - a grizzled looking, middle aged Englishman - wasn't much of a talker (though he had no problem burping continuously and rather disgustingly throughout the flight) and I wasn't in the mood to watch Shrek 3, so I did my best to rest my eyes and pass the time by watching the people around me try and do the same.
Dawn began to peak over Ireland and by the time we were above Wales the sun was up in full and the clouds were indiscernible from the sky, everything being red and orange and beautiful. This picture doesn't entirely convey it, but the sunrise was the most perfect "Welcome to the Islands" I could have asked for. We flew in low over downtown London, circled once (seemingly for effect, but probably for some more practical reason) and landed, past Twickingham Rugby Stadium and into Heathrow.

Saturday was bewildering. Departing from an international flight into England, one is shuffled around through a number of stairwells, herded through lines (queues, as they are called here and shall be in this blog henceforth) and generally made to feel like very tired, very ragged cattle. I made it through customs and, after grabbing my luggage, met up with the rest of the University of Kent int'l students. We waited for an hour or so for the bus to arrive, boarded and were basically too tired and generally out of it to talk much. I just stared out the window at the English countryside, panicking occasionally until I realized that, no, we weren't moving headlong into oncoming traffic, and that I had to grow used to driving on the opposite side of the road.

I spent the rest of the day meeting my flatmates - two girls from the U.S., an Italian guy and two other girls from Spain and Germany - and setting my room set up. After a long nap, I went out with my new friends to some of the on campus pubs then came home and slept for a very long time.
The next few days were filled with orientation meetings and wandering around campus and the town. UKC has a fairly modern campus - lots of concrete and weird architecture in the style of 1960s sci-fi, but some rather pleasant wooded walkways and some spectacular views of downtown. Also, rabbits - tons of rabbits everywhere.


Canterbury itself is a charming mix of touristy, crowded shop filled streets and olde English buildings, dating from anywhere between the days of the Romans (yes, THOSE Romans) and the 18th century, with lots of dark brown wood and white painted 16th century facades (like those on the right in the above picture). With walls, a castle and cathedral each around 1,000 years old, the city is paradise for history nerds like myself.

With so many side streets and tiny coves like the one on the left, I feel like I could spent an eternity exploring this city. It's pretty daunting, figuring out where to begin - I haven't even begun venturing into the multitude of pubs yet (I heard a rumor that it has somewhere over 300 - the most per capita of any English city). As far as English beer goes...I've tried a couple classics, but I'm having trouble figuring out just which temperature they should be served at and haven't gotten a full idea of their flavors yet. I had a skunky Newcastle last night, which was disappointing, but the Wynchwood Hobgoblin Dark Ale was very tasty and very local. Meanwhile, everyone on campus seems to drink Foster's and we have Budweiser in the fridge (leftover from "American Night" where we cooked burgers and fries for a whole slew of European students).

Anyway, so far so good here in the UK. Everyone has been extraordinarily friendly and genuinely interested in meeting real, live Americans - folks have been more interested in discussing politics than yelling at me about them. There's been a little segregation by country - I've hung out with many Americans and don't live with a single Briton - but that seems to be more due to differing schedules than anything more serious. With school starting next week, hopefully I can meet more actual English get into a more regular posting schedule. Until then, here are a couple more pictures from around Canterbury...A garden near the middle of downtown - I don't remember the exact details of it, but I pass by it often and will take more pictures and have a little more info later.


Like I said, downtown Canterbury has an incredible number of pedestrianized, dead end side streets filled with crooked houses and old buildings. Mom, you will fall in love with this town instantly.

Finally, I suppose it wouldn't be a trip to England without at least one picture of yourself inside a bright red phone booth. I felt like a tourist, but I guess at this point I still am.

That was Vermont, next up...

...in less than 6 days, will be England.

I took one last look at the Green Mountains and their state last weekend, having driven up with Danielle to make the rounds, see people's new (and generally pretty awesome) living spaces, climb a mountain and say goodbye to everyone. I knew it'd be a little emotionally tough, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't get a little choked up saying goodbye to the last big group of my friends on Sunday night.

That said, it was a whirlwind (the awesome kind of whirlwind) weekend, and a well documented one at that...

Drove across I-90, up 87, across some combination of 9N, 22, 2 and finally up 7 to Burlington. Danielle (my very able co-pilot and moral manager) had control of the camera during this portion of the trip.

Saw these fine folks (and Charlie, of course, who is behind the camera) on the first night...and yes, Gibby is pretty naked in that picture, with only a towel between us and him. Reminds me of what the Sistine Chapel would look like if Michaelangelo were a 20 year old college kid.

I spent Saturday with Braelyn and went to bed early as Bam, Tomani, Watson and I had a hike scheduled the following day. Now, "hike" implies a leisurely jaunt through some pleasent, chipmunk filled nature trails. But this is Vermont, and Ellison Park is a long way away. We climbed Mount Mansfield which, at 4,393ft, is the highest mountain in Vermont. We decided on taking the Long Trail route to the top (despite the alluringly named "Profanity Trail") and made it in around two, two and a halfish hours.

Mount Mansfield has some of the only remaining Arctic tundra in Vermont, leftover from the last ice age and the receding ice. This is a shot of the summit from oh-so-close yet oh-so-far away.

The view from the top was, as you can see, nothing short of stunning. This is looking West across Lake Champlain and into New York and the Adirondacks.

I'm not positive, but I think this is Sterling Pond, a hike which I did with Brae last year. Labor Day weekend was perfect in terms of weather, with green stretching in every direction to the hilly horizons.

Of course, my group and I weren't the only ones who thought the day was perfect for a hike. There were probably 50 people at the summit and at least one or two people that each of us knew in one capacity or another. Still, for the most part people were respectful, clean and quite careful to obey the signs which warned not to step on the rare tundra flora under penalty of death (as is the tradition in Vermont).Looking South from the peak - somewhere out there is Camel's Hump.

So that was Sunday. I spent the night saying my goodbyes and left Monday morning, not to see Vermont again until sometime next summer. Like I said, a bittersweet visit, but I can't think of a better way to bid farewell to my favorite place in the world (and yes, Vermont has become my favorite place in the world) than to stand on its roof and see it as never before.

Next time you hear from me I'll be 4,000 miles away and 5 hours in the future.