I have apparently become the official ghost of alberstlund, because while it might seem I'm here all the time, I apparently vanish "from all human sight, guy"-- as when I decided fairly last minute-ish to ditch Denmark and head to the land of William Wallace, Haggis, Hairy Coos, and Emily and Annie of course. (Oh and in other news I'm also known here as the official wine guy here in my block. Everybody knows that if I have alcohol here, its wine, and I got asked by several different people this weekend for a wine opener- "How did you know I had a wine opener?" "...Duh.")



Not too many Scot pics, as I kept forgetting it in St. Andrews with Emily and by the time I got to Stirling the poor thing was on its dying gasps. Likewise, I had little time to bust out the sketchbook as Scotland was all go-go-go; spending two nights per city made things fly by at a neckbreaking pace. I love this picture of Emily; the colors just pop and it looks like she's in Hogwarts, because mainly she is. That robe isn't hers cause she's not a full year student but all students have robes and the whole place has a very old and charming air about it-- it's the fourth oldest academic institution in Europe if I remember right.



Her experiences lately kinda put my bitching and stress in perspective-- I think I would die or quit school if I went to St. Andrews (and especially if i was a TRUMAN SCHOLARSHIP WINNER, haha). Chilling with Emily was really relaxing, as all we did was basically talk about life, studying abroad, futures, all in dorm rooms, in cemetaries, castles, beaches, and of course, golf courses. Until she left me in this dark hole:





And then all of a sudden I was on a bus to Stirling, at which point the entire flow of the trip changed.





Considering it had been a little less than a month since we've had our Italian Extravaganza, little time was spent on introductions and we cut right to the chase, so to speak. I met Kevin who was incredibly cool and ended up babysitting me basically for most of the trip as Annie had to compensate for her slackerness (ha!). Where St. A's was quiet and deep talk, Stirling was hikes, smoke, vodka, whiskey, cheerleader luau parties, a girl who has LIVED in Nicaragua, nakedness, killer swans, soccer stealing, soul jazz records, beard trimming, and ungoldy amount of fish 'n' chips. In fact, until right now, I've remembered very little about it.





I was blown away how gorgeous it was when I visited-- supposedly it was the best weather they had in months, right in time for St. George's Day. Trees looked this pink everywhere I went, and the bus ride to Stirling made me even give a little prayer of thanks. I wasn't expecting the Scottish countryside to be as beautiful as it was-- and for some reason it never occurred to me to take a picture on the bus. I guess that's a good sign.



I saw Braveheart last night on TV with Johnson and another Cameroonian friend, along with Rob. Shared my wine with everybody, and I realized that I'm gonna miss a lot about this place. It sounds weird and little, but I'm gonna miss how Johnson's friend kept reacting to the movie- whooping and hollering and gasping- I guess just the different reactions and little idiosyncrincies that are harder to see in the states. But I probably won't miss waking up at 7am because of another brawl outside my room. Albertslund really can be ghetto sometimes.