More Photos from Ireland

Swam in the Serpentine at Hyde Park today. And, on request from my father, here are more Dublin photos.



I'm sure this guy has some significance. Taken at Trinity College.



There are beer kegs everywhere in Dublin. The pubs are all about the Guinness and the Jameson's. My brother would love it here.



Dublin also loves creepy statues.



Christ Church Cathedral. I believe St. Stephen is buried underneath. If I'm wrong, I'm sorry. When I walked through this church, I really needed to use the loo, and the Church is so old (1180), it didn't have one on the premise.



View from Powerscourt; a garden and a castle near the coast of Ireland.



Rocks by the Irish Sea.

Pog mo thoin, I'm Irish!

And was born in South Korea, but adopted by an American Irish Catholic family. And proud to be the only person who knew the words to "Molly Malone" and "Wild Rover" on the coastal tour bus. All the world is bright and gay when these Korean eyes are smiling.

But I think that's the extent of my Irish heritage. Except for maybe the fact that I love Guinness (but some days, Smithwick's is better) and Jameson's.



Will post more pics when the Internet isn't acting slow.

Norwegian Adventure via Bruce Air!

So, believe it or not, there are people crazier about Iron Maiden than me. Like, I definitely would not have flown Bruce Air if I wasn't already in London.

[Disclaimer: I may or may not have been in class on Tuesday. I could have been invisible.]

But some people on this 757 (not tricked out with Iron Maiden decals, thanks Africa. Eddie's only been around for like 30 years, you know.) One couple came from Japan. And one person flew overnight from D.C. and flew back the day after Bruce Air!



Greatest pilot in the universe.

And most people were in their late 30s and 40s. Which makes me feel much better about myself, but I do wonder, when does Bruce Dickinson fandom end? Does it ever end? Will I be giddily obsessed for the rest of my life?



The cult that is Iron Maiden fandom.

Like, as we were approaching Norway, Bruce told us how long it would be until we touched down in Trondheim and the weather, and I almost melted in my seat.



All of Bruce Dickinson's dreams came true. He finally met me.

And apparently, it's not a fashion faux pas to where an Iron Maiden shirt to an Iron Maiden show in Europe. Because almost the entire town of Trondheim wore Maiden shirts.

Trondheim, Norway is a very strange place. It's this small fishing village, surrounded by mountains and fjords. I would think even if it was sunny and not a cloud in the sky, it would still be a VERY gloomy place. Black metal totally makes sense, now. I think 80 percent of the town's population was at the Maiden show.



View from a river path in Trondheim.

Also, the English language is more widely accepted than I thought. I tried ordering a hot dog at Lerkendal Stadium in Norwegian; it was like "Bolognassee" or something. The woman gave me a blank look and said, "You mean the hot dog?"

Right. But you know something that isn't that widely accepted? Dancing your butt off at Iron Maiden shows.

The Norwegians could not handle my moves. Most of them took one look at me, and either backed away slowly or ran the other direction.

And now, off to Dublin! I will be the first Fossett to step foot on the homeland. Grant it, it's the adopted Korean one, but still...

Museum Displays, yay.

Still recovering from the train ride to Hadrian's Wall, so did nothing except school work. On Tuesday, we took a field trip to THE British Museum. It was nifty seeing objects that I studied in Art History I at DCCC, but after awhile, all the pots and sculptures look the same.



The Soundbox of Lyre (Hell yeah, I still remember the name. Thanks, Bertha Gutman.) It's Sumerian.



Some Buddha. And being the wonderful Asian I am, I can't tell you squat about it.

In other news, across the street from THE British Museum is a comic book store called Gosh! (they put the exclamation point there, not me). Purchased Manga Shakespeare: Hamlet and Coraline the Graphic Novel. Haven't read Hamlet, but Coraline is delightfully frightening.



The one and only picture I took during the Hadrian's Wall adventure. Newcastle, UK.

So Hadrian's Wall...

...isn't exactly what you would call a tourist attraction or something you could do as a day trip without a car. I think everyone (meaning the native Brits that I encountered) knew that, which is why I received headshakes and doubtful "Okay, I'll sell you these train tickets."

I was expecting something like a national park with pieces of the wall and trails for both the casual walker like myself and the hardcore ones who are walking the entire 80 miles of the wall.

The Web site said that Hadrian's Wall (which back when the Romans ruled Britain, Emperor Hadrian build a wall at the border of England and Scotland to separate the free Celts and the Celts under Roman rule) was accessible by rail, if you got off at the Newcastle stop, which seemed like a pretty happening town. I will get into that later.

That Web site said absolutely nothing about taking an hour and a half bus ride to a small piece of the wall. Nor did it say that the actual part where you can hike around for a little bit is almost three hours away.

Or that Hadrian's Wall really is for the hardcore hikers. Like people with sticks and tents and ponchos on their backs. And willing to spend a week hiking the 80 mile wall. (Which I would love to do. I could do that and swim the English Channel.)

But when it all came down to it, I enjoyed Hadrian's Wall. I saw Chesters, which is pieces of a fort, a bath house by the river, and part of the wall. I think Scotland was on the other side. Grant it, English country side looks like Pennsylvanian country side, except greener with sheep. And giant purple clouds.

But, no roar of the city. I heard the water rustling. I saw Scotland on the other side of the water and structures that have existed since the Roman era.

Lovely.

And of course I left my camera on the bus.

British hot dogs...

...are not very tasty. Nor is British mustard and British ketchup. British hamburgers aren't very good either.

But eating a not very tasty British hot dog in front of Big Ben is pretty darn nifty!



Me after eating said not very delicious British hot dog.



The London Eye. Not sure if it's worth the money, but I'll probably go in it eventually.



This is not the London Bridge that is falling down, my fair ladies. But it sure does look like it. (It's Tower Bridge.)



A raven at the Tower of London.

And in other news, I have finally decided that I like the new Weezer. Really like the new Weezer. It's like "My Name is Jonas" good. And I'm not ashamed to admit it, either.

Found Photo!

Well, sort of. I took it; just rediscovered it on iPhoto. Called "You Got a Long Way to Go."