Here’s an embarrassing confession: my geography stinks.
In school when national exams came up, I happily substituted geography for English literature even though NONE of my teachers taught it. With two months before the exam, I had to steal notes from my cousin’s literature class. For the first time, I found myself tackling the bewildering but fascinating language of Julius Caesar, Romeo and Juliet and the Pearl. It was my first exposure to literature beyond the swashbuckling tales of Robin Hood and King Arthur.
I got a B for that exam. And as you can imagine, I couldn’t tell you where Germany is on the map and the only reason I know where Norway is is because I once tried to conquer it in the Crusader Kings war strategy video game.
Therefore it shouldn’t surprise you that I did not expect the ferry.
I honestly thought that one gets from England to France by a long, long BRIDGE. Hey, Malaysia has an island called Penang, accessible by a nifty 13km bridge. San Francisco, a beautiful windy city that reminds me of Edinburgh, also has a 2.7km Golden Gate Bridge.
Bridges are cool. Bridges are awesome.
Naturally there’ll be a bridge connecting Dover and Calais, right? Right?
“So ulu (backward) are you,” my mom remarked at me later, shaking her head.
This (supposedly artistic) picture just doesn’t do it justice. I can’t wait to get up close to the Eiffel Tower.
Plan for Day 2: Ditch the parentals to go on a solo Paris adventure 😀
Damn, London is wet.
But the air is cool and refreshing on top of a moving bus! In Malaysia, you’d be promptly baked in two seconds if you were to try this under the blazing sun.
Why would anyone sit and look at London through the rain-blurred glass of a window? I’m beginning to wonder if the water here has stripped the tourists of their sense of adventure…or if it’s simply that I am a loon.
It has finally happened. After a year of planning, I am actually visiting Europe! I’ve been in the UK for three years now, and as much as Edinburgh is gorgeous, I have also wistfully eyed the magical-seeming lands of Paris and Switzerland, and clung to the tales of seasoned travellers.
And now it’s happening. My parents and family friends have landed in Edinburgh, and in two hours we will be making our way to Glasgow, and on to London where our month-long coach tour will begin. I wonder what will happen?
Will I see Italian hunks as beefy as Scotland’s?
Will I stalk the flowers of Florence and the stems of Slovenia?
WILL I GET TO HUG A GRECIAN COLUMN?
Time will time! Seriously, I don’t know how the coach tour guides do it. After only two days of showing my parentals around Edinburgh, I am dead tired. And I hardly did anything but point them to places and utter, “This historic. This pretty. Take pictures of it.”
I don’t plan to be idle on my Europe journey, however. I’ve got my novel simmering in my netbook, and I hope to tinker with it, editing-wise, in my spare time.
(What’s that? Are those knowing snickers I hear in the background?)
Onwards and upwards!