Germany

Austin and I walked around Wuppertal on Tuesday night, drinking beers, eating pizza, and having a good time.  Things took and interesting turn when, on our last beer of the night, an old German man started buying us shots of some nasty anise liquor.  Long story short, we stumbled.

Wednesday, we ate potatoes and went to Dusseldorf.  We attempted to watch the sun set over the Rhine (clouds interfered).  We chilled in a brewery and lamented the absence of our modmates.  We found an Irish pub, where Austin acquired the nickname Liam from a drunk who was enjoying Oasis on the jukebox.  We admired home appliances and decor in storefronts, and wished we had chic home to decorate, and the money to decorate it with.

On Thursday, Charles showed up, as did Turkey Day.  We ate an obscene amount of food at Tobi's apartment (bitchin' apartment).  It's very difficult for me to articulate how completely and totally wonderful it was to see Bryce and Charles and Austin and Kate and Jon and Luna and everyone else all at once.  Check out Kate's blog for pictures.  It was amazing.

Friday, and another trip to Dusseldorf.  This time, for Christmas markets, and gluhwein.  It was a freezing and jolly beginning of the Christmas season.  Later that night, we went to a hookah bar where Luna works.  I had to leave early, to spend 12 of the worst hours of my life on trains, planes, and automobiles, making my way back to Derry.

I guess holidays and reunions and gluhwein wouldn't be as sweet if we had them all the time...

In Transit

I woke up super-early on Tuesday to catch a train from London to Paris (under the English Channel).  I was asleep for most of this.  In Paris, I caught a train through Brussels, Belgium to Cologne, Germany.  From there, I took a train to Wuppertal, Germany, to meet up with Austin, and prepare for Turkey Day.

For those of you keeping track, that's four countries in one day.  Not that I did much in any of them, but I WAS THERE.

London

Last Saturday, I took an early flight from Derry to London, to visit my cousin Jason.  Weird adventures ensued.

On Saturday afternoon, we walked around London a little.  The London Jazz Festival was taking place, so we tried to go to a show from that, with some friends of Jason's.  Unfortunately, by the time we got there, it was sold out.  To regroup from this tragic derailment, we did the only thing one can do in such a situation: we went to a pub.  Then a psychotic, packed-house, screaming waitress Italian restaurant.  Then a very hip club called the 12 Bar.  The 12 Bar tiny, and dingy, and, in general, exactly the kind of place I enjoy.  That night, it was the host to the seasonal Antifolk UK Festival.  Jason described it as though, "they let the freaks out for a night and put them up on stage."  We heard ukulele and screaching and bubbles and party poppers and drunken ramblings concerning deadly scorpions, digital accordions, and time-travel in DeLoreans- all in one song.

We tried to go to Westminster Abbey on Sunday, but it was closed.  However the National Portrait Gallery was open, and showing an Annie Leibovitz exhibition, which was absolutely badass.  Later, we saw the Robert Mitchell 3io as part of the London Jazz Fest.  They did a cover of "Teardrop" by Massive Attack, and I nearly crapped my pants in excitement.  That night I watched the second half of Superbad, all of St. Elmo's Fire, and a short documentary on Howard Hughes.  Before I went to bed, I stood on the balcony of the apartment and breathed in the air and view coming off the Thames.

Monday, I went out with the specific goal of overwhelming myself, and did not fail.  Among other things, I:

-toured the gorgeous Westminster Abbey and saw all the cool dead people there (there are a ton),

-checked out the 1700-1900 portion of the National Gallery (Van Gogh, Renoir, Seurat, Monet, Cezanne, etc.),

-still in the arty mood went to the Tate Modern (Lichtenstein, Picasso, Rothko, etc.),

-Shakespeare's Globe Theatre (a reconstruction of the Elizabethan playhouse), and

-experienced the London Underground at rush hour on a Monday.  INSANE.

Particularly during the art galleries, I wanted Susan and Kate around.

Then came Germany...

Wednesday

The sun comes around 8 in the morning here, and starts going down at 4 pm-ish.  It messes with my head.

The semester is winding down, and consequently, there isn't much exciting to say.  I work on coursework, to make sure I get it all done before I come back, and that's about all.  I'm going to London on Saturday for a few days, and straight from there to Wuppertal, for a very Bethel Thanksgiving.  It is difficult for me to articulate how much I look forward to seeing those folks.  I'm sure that trip will make for a good blog post, in about a week and a half.

I'm going to be in Convo on Friday.  Hello, Dale Schrag.  So get your asses in there.  I will answer every question you've ever had concerning the relationship between the book The Medium is the Massage, and it's corresponding LP, both by Marshall McLuhan.  Seriously, I know, like, everything.  EVERYTHING.

I've decided that my happiness is directly related to how much Count Basie I listen to.

Friday

Received a package from my mother today.  I always love getting mail, but I found this one particularly noteworthy.

It was a box full of Halloween candy, and a "Vote Obama" pin that I ordered months ago.

This is what we call "comedic timing," folks.

Dublin

I haven't posted in awhile, but don't worry.  This one is gonna be a doozy.

I barely slept Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, because of paper-writing, and election-watching.  On Wednesday, I departed for Dublin.  Brilliant chaos ensued.

Wednesday evening:

I witnessed the brilliant spectacle that is the Celtics fans of Dublin watching their team get barely defeated by Manchester United.  The anger surging through the room is indescribable.

Thursday Morning:

I got out of bed, and walked around what can only be described as most of Dublin.  Among other things, I visited the Jameson Distillery and the Guinness Storehouse.  Jameson was quick, quaint, and relatively museum-ish.  That is, unlike the Bushmills Distillery, it was merely a reproduction, without an operating distillery.  I did get to participate in the whiskey tasting, though.  Guinness, on the other hand, was a veritable complex.  It took up a square city block, and the part that I toured had seven stories: one for paying admission, one for shopping, one for the ingredients, one for the brewer, one for drinking responsibly (we've gotta be PC, folks), one for drinking, and one for drinking more.

Thursday Night:

Hung around the main bar district (called Temple Bar).  The first pub I went to had a balding, mustached Irish man playing 60's classic rock songs, such as "Barbara Ann," "American Pie," and "Hotel California."  Brilliant.  Next, I baby-sat a plastic bag full of booze owned by a barely understandable homeless guy, who went to buy rolling papers.  When he got back, he tried to give me some hash, and asked me to roll us a joint.  I politely declined.  Then I wandered into an art gallery opening, which happened to be an Oxfam benefit with free wine.  AWESOME.  Then, Jen Beck (a friend from high school, coincidentally in Dublin, on vacation from studying in England) called to invite me down to another pub.  I obliged, as it is always fantastic to see a little hint of Kansas.

Friday:

Walked around Dublin some more, this time, with Jen and her friend Sara.  We went to the James Joyce Centre (lovely), St. Stephens Green (fucking beautiful), a bookstore, and every other damn street in Dublin that I had missed the previous day.  That night I went to see Okkervil River in a little venue on Abbey St.

Saturday:

My study-abroad advisor set up a meeting for me with a novelist who lives and works in Dublin.  We talked for a couple of hours about books and Dublin a little, but mostly just female singer/songwriters that we both have crushes on, i.e. Gillian Welch.  It was great.  After that, I walked around Dublin until it started raining like hell on me.  I ducked into a lovely little pub called Queen Maebh's.  They ironically had "November Rain" by Guns'n'Roses playing.  In November, while it was raining.  I nearly burst into tears because of the absurdity of it.

That night, I wandered around a few pubs with Sara and a some other folks.  The last pub was essentially an old apartment, which gave the whole thing the feeling of a house party.  It was brilliant.

A hung-over Bradley McKellip was last seen stumbling to the Dublin bus station on Sunday, undeniably in a daze.

Songs:

"From the Levee's Peak" by Mr. David Viner

"Shiver Me Timbers" by Tom Waits

"The Trapeze Swinger" by Iron and Wine

"Whiskey in the Jar" a traditional

"So Come Back, I Am Waiting" by Okkervil River

Books:

On the Road by Jack Kerouac

Crow by Ted Hughes

The Love Letters of Dylan Thomas by Dylan Thomas

The Draughtsman and the Unicorn by Tony Glavin

Monday

It's been a hazelnut day.