Note: My trip to Scotland took place between December 27th and January 4th. However, despite what my father's Christmas letter insinuates, I do actually attend real, live university classes that have official things like tests and professors and shiz. I have had no time to update my blog! However, my father's Christmas letter got one thing right: Wineries in Tuscany better hire additional wine-stompers for when T&T come to Italy in April!!!
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Things I’ve learned so far on this trip:
Nota bene: I left my house 20 minutes ago.
1. Never, no matter what time your flight leaves, get to the Gugliemo Marconi airport in Bologna before 4:30 AM. There is nothing to do, nowhere to sit, and creepy pictures of puppies that just seem to be staring at you.
2. When in Italian cabs, wear a seatbelt. While you should always wear a seatbelt, it is especially important when in Italian cars or with Italian drivers. My cabbie just ran several red lights in order to see “how fast he could get to the airport.” I thought I was going to die.
3. As a matter of fact, I may have died on the cab ride here. At least my heart stopped beating several times. If Gugliemo Marconi Airport is Heaven, God has a sick sense of humor. If it’s purgatory, it seems fairly legit (although then I don’t know what Dante was talking about…). If it’s Hell, I’d say the Bible mislead us for how bad it would be (it’s still bad, though).
4. 3:57 AM is way too late/early to be blogging.
5. I may get turned away at Security for having too much stuff. A backpack, an unsually large purse that should not actually count as a purse, several jackets, and another, more sensible purse. Thankfully I can fit all of this down to two items (wear the coats, shove sensible purse inside of backpack, carry Pursezilla). They still might think I’m some sort of terrorist… or maybe just high maintenance. I would like to think I’m neither.
Okay, so that last one wasn’t a learned fact—more of a light worry. While waiting for security to open, I just keep watching and re-watching the only thing being shown on the TV: the TSA check-list for carry-on baggage.
… And I just saw a flight attendant walking by with 4-inch heels on. Whatever happened to having a pair of sensible heels for work, Boo? I suppose if you’re feet are going to be in pain for 8 hours, you might as well let ‘em hurt in style.
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Twelve Hours Later:
I got to Scotland safe and sound, even after a minor blip that had me running like mad through the Amsterdam airport and a more-than-minor flub at the UK Passport Check that had me spitting lies at the guy checking my passport (long story short: You need a specific “Going-to” address within the UK. If you don’t have it, you could possibly get denied entry into the country. I panicked and went the, “I’m meeting friends of my cousin and they never gave me an address. I have their home phone number, will that count?!” route.) Even though Jessica isn’t technically my cousin, and I technically had a cell phone number, both white lies worked well enough to get me into the country. Lindsay: 1, Scotland: 0.
Jessica’s family-friend Adeline and her 9-year-old daughter, Kaydi, were waiting for me when I passed through the gates. They are both absolutely lovely, and I knew I would feel right at home in their house even before I got there. Sure enough, Adeline was super nice and made me scrambled eggs with salmon and toast on the side when I said I could go for a “snack.” It was super delicious. I then spent 2 hours playing Harry Potter Clue with Kaydi and her 7-year-old brother, Rodden. Adeline then fed me a delicious lunch of home-made lentil soup and crackers with a variety of cheese spreads. She then told me to go take a nap, seeing as how I’d been up since 2:30 AM, which is actually 1:30 AM in Scotland-time. I happily obliged.
Adeline and I went to pick up Jessica after having a dinner of leftover curry takeout. So good. When Jessica got in, we ended up staying up until about 4 AM and having a few glasses of wine with Adeline and Alastair. Then it was back to bed for the both of us…
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