Did I mention I've missed Scotland?

24^th July 2014

2:15pm

North of Perth, Scotland, UK

I don’t think I’ll be doing that again – I think to myself as I watch a field of flock of sheep grazing outside my window. Honestly, it really sucks to leave the house after only one night. I thought it would be nice to see it on my way north. Sure it was, but it really sucks to leave so soon. This fact has me slightly irritable, or it would if I weren’t on a train to the beautiful Inverness and if I weren’t still happily in the honeymoon stage of travel. I guess I’m tired, but only the tired of a person who had to get up at half seven (which I had done), not the tired of someone who is truly jet-lagged. I guess I got that out of my system before I left.

Really it’s good to be here. I say, “Cheers!” to the guy on the trolley who just sold me hot tea in July and he doesn’t look at me funny, but simply says, “Cheers!” back as if that’s the thing to say. I suppose, that’s because it is the thing to say, but still it’s fantastic to be back in a place where such things are normal.

As I sip my tea and write in my journal, I’m listening to this adorable Scottish boy talking to his mum. The boy can’t be more than four years old, and I think his name is Cameron. Anyway one of the conversations goes like this:

“Mummy, do those horses like each other?” but he asks it in an adorable little-kid Scottish accent. The two horses in question are standing close to one another.

“I bet they do,” his mum says and I can hear the smile in her voice even though I can’t see them from my seat. “I bet they’re friends,” she adds.

“Do you think they’re in love?” he asks. At the moment, I’m listening to a love story with horses (not a love story about horses) at the moment so I find this an especially fitting conversation beyond its inherent adorable qualities.

His mum chuckles before answering, “Maybe.” I didn’t look up at the horses at this time, but I like to think they were nuzzling one another, just because it adds to the image.

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24^th July 2014

3:37pm

Inverness, Scotland, UK

“Do you know anything about computers?” the woman behind the hostel counter asks.

“Just a bit,” I admit, although I’m cautious to do so.

She tells me about her issue, and I’m really quite thrilled that I know how to fix it. So I pull out my tablet and download the file she’s missing on her computer. We get it to hers via a flash drive and in a matter of minutes she has the correct version of Firefox on her computer. There is much high-fiving and shouts of jubilation. Perhaps this is more than the occasion called for, but apparently she had been without the ability to get onto the internet all day (which made it impossible to do things with the hostel site). I was just thrilled to have actually been able to help someone with computer troubles. Normally I am either useless or somehow manage to make things worse.

I go to my room and drop off my backpack and food bag. I won’t leave my laptop bag unattended, but I’m not so worried about these other things as there’s nothing particularly valuable in them.

I go and wander about the city because I really have nothing better to do. I’ve been here before a hand full of times now, and the last time I had stayed overnight here, incidentally in the same hostel, it had been an evening just about as nice as this. So there isn’t much new to see. But still, I have an audio book and a pair of good legs and so that’s about all I need to entertain myself.

I pop into a few shops – buying a custom OS map of Ancient Sites across Britten, a pack of Jammie Dodgers, and a post card. I’d never sent a post card before, but I sent one to mom as I promised I would. I made an effort to pick a picture that I had seen with my own eyes rather than an aerial shot, or a cartoony picture of Nessie (although both were certainly at offer).

Archaeoastronomy on Hoy

25^th July 2014

5:50pm

The Island of Hoy, Scotland, UK

I’m back tracking now. I’ve dropped off most of my things at the hostel, which turns out to be nothing more than a small one level house: two bedrooms, a kitchen, a bathroom and a small central area for dining. I only have my small UK bag and my archaeoastronomy things with me. It’s so much easier to bike without all of my luggage, although I think I’ve more or less learned the art of it. That said, at one point my shoulder bag, the one holding my tablet, almost fell off the bike. The bungee cords held it awkwardly along the side of my bike tire. I nearly had a heart attack.

Anyway, I’m biking back to the Dwarfie Stane, which is my first research subject of my time in Orkney. I’m not going to go into great detail on all of the tombs I visit, because I plan to visit about 60 and I imagine that would get boring after a while. However, I will tell you about this one so you all can get a taste of what I’m doing.

I leave my bike at the parking place off the side of the road, and walk down the well walked path. Trudging through Scottish heather might just be the most efficient way to twist an ankle. By some stroke of luck or genetics my ankles don’t really twist in situations where they would for a normal person. All the same, the walk would have been awfully unpleasant if it weren’t for the path.

The Dwarfie Stane might actually be a bad “example cairn” because although it is a Neolithic tomb… it’s not actually a cairn. Technically a cairn is a mound of rocks and a burial cairn is a mound of rocks with an open centre which was used as a communal tomb. The Dwarfie Stane is unique in Orkney and the UK as a whole in that it’s a tomb made by hollowing out one very large rock. This quality of the tomb doesn’t cause me to change my research procedure, so you’ll still be able to get a feel for what I’m doing at all of the sites I visit.

The Dwarfie Stane as seen from the outside.

So the goal is to record the position of the opening, as well as the direction of the entrance passageway. Therefore I need a GPS & a compass (I have both so we’re good). The GPS has a 3 metre resolution right now, which is pretty brilliant even if it doesn’t sound like it. And it seems as though my iPhone’s compass still works even though there is “no signal” which means I get to take a secondary measurement on the passageway’s direction. Scientists love additional data points whenever you can get them.

I start by taking a few photos, and then I crawl down into the tomb. Sticking my arm out of the cairn, I record the GPS position. Then I begin to fiddle with both my Orienteering compass and my iPhone compass to take measurements.

The entrance points to the west, and seems to line up with the point on the horizon where these two hills meet. I haven’t calculated if there are any alignments with this tomb yet. However, it seems wholly possible that this tomb aligns with the setting sun or moon on a specific day. The celestial body would set in the crevice right between those two hills.

View from the mouth of the tomb

This is a spectacular first result, way more than I had hoped for. The inside of the tomb is covered with carvings, but all of them are comparatively modern. As I sit here jotting down the last of my notes, Ain’t no Grave by Crooked Sill plays on my iPhone. The irony isn’t lost on me.

Off on Another Pedie Adventure

25^th July 2014

1:05pm

Scrabster Terminal, Scotland, UK

If I thought it was surreal when my train entered Edinburgh, I don’t know what the word is for this moment. I am moments from boarding the ferry to Stromness, Orkney. The sky is sunny and the water is calmer than I’ve ever seen it on a journey up to the islands.

After handing the guy at the gate my ticket, I board the ferry. If you have never been to Orkney before, I cannot stress enough how nice NorthLink ferries is. They’re certainly not the only option. However, they are also the fanciest option. On my first trip, I was imagining a rickety rusty old boat. They have those, but they’re not NorthLink. NorthLink feels like you’re on a cruise. I’ve never actually been on a cruise, but this is what I imagine one to be like anyway.

I guess this picture doesn't really do it justice, but trust me it's really nice in here.

The nice thing about this particular route is that you get a boat side view of the Old Man of Hoy, but more on him later. Now the inside is nice, but I much prefer the deck. I’d forgotten what it feels like to be standing on deck with wind rushing through my hair, the boat rocking gently beneath me, and the spray of salt water on my skin. I’ve missed the ocean dearly.

The Old Man of Hoy as seen from the deck.

I meet a few Americans who are here to visit for a day. They’re not quite certain what to see, but I pull out my OS Explorer maps and give them some good tips. I have to say, it feels really good to “know what I’m doing” and to know enough to give advice. There was a part of me which thought, I would regret not going somewhere new. However, I have to say it is really nice to be helpful.

Low mist hanging over the water

So naturally, the second I get off the boat I make a B-line for the information centre to ask for directions. I’d made an appointment with the Cycle Hire shop in Stromness and I didn’t want to be late by wandering around the city aimlessly. As it would turn out, I probably could have found it since it was right off the main road.

I ride my new bike down the street and back to the information centre. Here I ask about a ferry to North Hoy. I’m in luck. There is one leaving in just a few minutes. I don’t really know where I’m going so I end up asking for directions a few times, and I think I manage to annoy the captain when I get on and don’t seem to put the bike in the right place. All the same, I’m soon off for North Hoy.

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25^th July 2014

4:37pm

Island of Hoy, Scotland, UK

You know, it’s kind of awkward to bike like this. I have my shoulder bag bungeed to the back mount of the bike. I’m wearing my backpack, and I’ve clipped my grocery bag to the back of the back pack. It’s heavy. I haven’t ridden a bike in years, and of course I had to be going uphill on the hilliest island in the whole archipelago. Several colourful words, primarily directed at myself, are running through my head right now. Ohh yeah, and I have to meet the woman who would let me into the hostel at 5:00, and did I mention the hostel is almost 6 miles away?

Rachel, the warden of the hostel, is luckily a very thoughtful person. She is waiting for me at the intersection of a road not too far from the ferry terminal. This gives me the chance to relax a bit. I don’t rush as much to the Hostel, but still I’m in a bit of a hurry. I’m extraordinarily eager to rid myself of these bags. I cannot tell you how much it sucks to carry all this stuff. This is especially true when riding a bike which is too tall and has a seat which clearly doubles as a torture device.

Here is a photo of all my gear, from one of the times I stopped to take a break.

Despite my moaning, I cannot accentuate enough how beautiful it is here. This is not what I bargained for. This is Orkney. I was expecting blustering winds and relentless rain. Instead I’m riding through the sunny glens of Hoy. It’s summer so the heather is green like I’ve never seen it before. There are wispy low clouds clinging to the top of the bluffs. They give the island a mystical feel despite the gorgeous sunny day. I’m not an islander, but in this moment I think – I could be.

Some General Scenery from Hoy

It's Good to be Home

23^rd July 2014

5:34pm

Edinburgh, Scotland, UK

We get to the city around half five, we’re right on time and I know I have it bad because I’m getting all nostalgic over the stop in Haymarket. I’ve never even been to Haymarket. To me, it’s just the train stop on the west side of the city that I’ve never done anything but ride through. But still, I am practically gushing over the familiar grey brown buildings with their quirky old architecture. I’m in Edinburgh. There is this immensely ‘unreal’ quality to being back here again. I almost ask my friend to pinch me, but I don’t, because that would be weird, and worse it would be cliché.

We part ways, and I make my way out of Edinburgh Waverly and on to Princes Street. It still smells like Edinburgh. I mean it smells a bit different, but that’s because the warm air of summer always smells different to the cool air of winter. However, there still that unmistakable scent of Edinburgh, and it is this constant that keeps me grounded as I walk towards North Bridge grinning like an idiot. The people around me chatter in that way people make noise in cities, but their voices are unmistakably Scottish and that just makes me grin wider.

As I cross the road, I see that the 49 is already pulled up to the stop. Bus fare had gone up, so I have to scramble to get the extra 15p from what I was expecting. The bus lady was less than pleased with me, but that’s Edinburgh for you. It’s difficult to climb up to the top with my backpack and shoulder bag. I imagine I would have a similar time if I suddenly became really fat, but wasn’t quite familiar enough with my new body to know the spaces I could and couldn’t fit in. Despite all that, I climb up anyway. The view is better up here, and I always preferred to ride on the top.

Truth be told, I don’t really like the 49. It takes the longest, but I was too excited to wait for anything else. All the same, I love the familiar trip down North Bridge to South Bridge to Nicolson and on. I’m here. I’m really here. I have to keep reassuring myself because I’m irrationally afraid that, if I drop the thought, I’ll snap back to reality and find myself in my bedroom at home or sitting in class still waiting for this very moment.

The route has changed a bit, but for the most part, it’s the same trek to Dalkeith as I remember. My favourite part is always when you’re up on a hill from outside the town and about to go down to it. It’s better at night, but even in the day it manages to bring that idiotic grin back to my face.

I get off on the stop on High Street, and pull some money from RBS. Then I begin the walk towards Duchess Park and Dalkeith House. You might imagine me running joyfully through the town with a determined look in my eyes and shocked pedestrians trying to jump out of the way of this madman careening down the streets. However, I can promise that I did no such thing. I walk. I am in no hurry. I’m home, why would I need to rush? I was listening to music on my way through the town and I think it’s rather nice that Dougie MacLean’s version of Caledonia is playing as I enter the estate. If you haven’t heard it, give it a listen and you’ll get why I thought this was special.

Anyway, once you get into the park you always have two options. You can go to the left and walk along a paved road, or you can go straight and catch the house front on as you walk through a field. I choose the latter, because I don’t have any rolling bags.

There are two students sitting on the front steps that I used to sweep. They give me a somewhat sceptical look, and I ask if Patty is around. They suggest I try the buzzer (which I would have done if they weren’t around). Patty shows up a few minutes later with a smile and a bundle of train tickets that I had bought. I would have given her a hug, but I am all sweaty and I tell her so. She asks about my trip and tells me where my room is. I tell her about my train issues and thank her.

I am more than eager to get to my room and drop off my bags. So I run up stairs, enjoying the ease and familiarity of the house. It’s just as I remember, most notably the scent. It is so very good to be home. I don’t really have words to put around it other than that. It’s strange how much I’ve missed this place, or rather, it’s strange that I didn’t realize how much I missed this place until now. It’s very good to be home.

Return to the UK

22^nd July 2014

7:37pm

Minneapolis, MN, USA

“I like your hat,” a man says to me. He has just gotten in queue to board the flight to Reykjavik. He has an accent that sounds European, although I can’t tell from where. “It looks like Robin Hood,” he adds pronouncing hood like I would pronounce the vowel in ‘new.’

“I’ve heard that before,” I say smiling to myself as I remember the Turkish shop keepers from the Grand Bazaar. I haven’t even left the country yet and I’m already Robin Hood.

I get in line shortly afterwards. I see them checking some of the passenger’s bags to see if they meet the carryon baggage requirements. This makes me nervous because I am certainly pushing that boundary. However, when it becomes my turn, the woman simply glances at my boarding pass and waves me through.

I find myself sitting next to a young couple on their way to Germany for a wedding. They seem nice enough, and we swap a few travel stories. They have the window which is unfortunate because that makes the task of “getting sleep” substantially more difficult. Also the flight is only five hours long so even if I can manage to get some sleep it won’t be a full nights worth. All the same, the couple leans in such a way that allows me to watch the city shrink beneath us. I’ve left US soil, my trip has officially begun.

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23^rd July 2014

7:15am

Reykjavik, Iceland

I’m not sure if the sun ever really set. I have snatches of memory of iridescent orange cloud tops shimmering through the window across the aisle. If I had managed to sleep an hour in aggregate, I would be amazed. I think the best thing about Iceland so far is that it reminds me of Scotland. From the plane, the grasses and hills looked so similar to the Scottish Highlands that could feel a smile creeping across my face when I thought about it. I haven’t left the first floor of the airport, but still it seems like a nice place as far as airports go. Icelandair spends a lot of time advertising Iceland tourism, and normally when I spot a consumer trap like that it makes me want to run in the other direction. However, Iceland actually looks like a cool place to explore. Is it wrong that just going to the airport and spending a few minutes on the tarmac is enough to sell you on a country? All the same, it has officially been added to the bucket list.

Seriously, doesn’t that make you want to visit Iceland?

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23^rd July 2014

1:30pm

Manchester, England, UK

 Well the last hour or so has been hell. Did I get stuck in a long queue at customs? Did I miss my original train? Did the UK boarder agents give me a hard time? Did I have to buy a new 16-25 rail card? Well the answers are, Yes, Yes, Yes, & Yes…

When I board my train at 2:00, I’m not exactly happy. The lack of sleep might have something to do with it, because otherwise I would probably be walking around with an idiotic grin on my face. I don’t have a seat reservation so I find a seat next to some guy. I don’t think I’m lucky until most of the people behind me don’t get a seat.

I want to sleep on the train – so I put on my headphones, turn up the music, position my hat over my eyes and try to drift asleep. It almost works until every time we stop. I keep getting paranoid that someone will nick my bag at a stop, either someone coming on or walking off. So eventually, I just give it up and strike up a conversation with the guy next to me. He’s a banker who works/lives in the Middle East but is originally from northern England. He’s on his way to Edinburgh for a stag night (for those of you who don’t know, that’s what the Brits call a bachelor party). He’d been before, but still, I have a bit more experience with the city. So I’m able to give him some advice on things to do. I also tell him about my travel plans and he is interested in my research. Maybe I’m biased, but I think it’s just a generically interesting topic.

Father Son Road Trip Part Three: Montello

Dad and I woke up in Portage, WI the next morning. Why did we go to Portage? It certainly isn't the fastest way to Neenah. Well I requested that we go here, because I wanted my version of a trip down memory lane. Dad wanted to stay at this motel he likes in the Dells, but this is the stereotypical "cheap motel" so I shot this plan down in favour of staying in Portage. Not that there is much to see in Portage, but when we first moved to Wisconsin, Portage was where we went to do the shopping. It was the nearest proper store of any sort and so it was a common destination for us.

The Super8 here cost a bit more, but it also had a much better breakfast so I think it was worth it. We didn't spend any time in Portage however. We instead took the back roads to Montello. I have to say that Dad did not seem thrilled by this leg of the trip. However, I was much too keen to see my home town to let that get to me.

Here's me at the Waterfall right by the only stop light in all of Marquette county. Yes, Montello is in a place that rural.

Before we left town, I had dad stop at the Church. I suppose there isn't a lot to say about it. For me it's more about the memories, and so the fact that I didn't get in nor did I really take any pictures make much of a difference to me. Although I imagine it's not all that interesting to hear about.

We continued out of town until the turn towards White Lake. The farmer guy who has the lot right on that corner finally got a new sign advertising the sale of firewood. I remember whenever Noel, our first dog, was riding with us somewhere this is the part where she would start to get excited because she knew we were almost home.
We turned onto White Lake Ct. It looked mostly as I remembered it. Before we got to the house, we turned off to go to the White Lake Ponderosa which was the private beach that was reserved for us (when we lived there) and our neighbours. The water was high, but the water was crystal clear over soft white sand. The weeds were gone. It looked just like it had when I was a kid.

I wanted to take some of the sand home with me, but I would have needed a little bottle and a stopper. Maybe someday I'll go back and take home a bit of the beach.

After we left the beach, we drove past the old house. My Mom always called it a Frank Lloyd Wrong... The dopey thing was corbelled together and it had this awkward piece meal architecture. But I loved its quirkiness. When we lived here, there was a camp fire almost every night in the summer. Endless rides on the golf cart in the back woods and I would make elaborate mazes out of raking pine needles. When it was ours it was blue, but it still felt like home.

f

I miss my room in the attic the most.

Before we left White Lake, we stopped by Scharenberg's, the resort on the lake. They are famous for keeping peacocks and we were lucky enough to be there in mating season.

When we lived here, occasionally they would wander through our yard.

Our last stop was by the Vaassen's old house. I took pictures of peanut pond. When we were little. Cameron, Kaleb, Tom, & I would spend hours catching tadpoles and frogs and playing made up games. In a small way, some of these games inspired several of my writing topics later in life.

Although you can't see all of it, the pond is shaped like a Peanut. I don't think the pond has an official name, but that's what we always called it.

Father Son Road Trip Part Two: Down the Mississippi

The night before we found a Super 8 motel in Red Wing, MN. The room had avocado coloured walls large pictures of what looked like the north woods of Canada hanging above the beds. The room was cheap enough and it came with breakfast so that's a plus.

Once we were checked out, we made our way into the town so that Dad could show me the St. James Hotel.
We crossed the street and went into the hotel, which was quite a big deal back in the early days of the town. Although it has been renovated and modernized they still have retained or restored much of the classic Victorian charm.

Here's dad across from the St. James Hotel.

Here is the classic lobby of the hotel with it's front desk.

This is a drawing room complete with a collection of beautifully old books.

When we were done we wandered around town for a bit before circling back and visiting the UFFDA Shop.
A long time ago, my whole family had made a similar road trip and so right away I recognized the UFFDA Shop where we had bought some Ole and Lena books. If you don't know who Ole and Lena are then you're probably need to take in some Scandinavian culture.

This link goes to a joke that is well worth anyone’s time:

The L.C.

Also in the shop we found these glasses.

The fun part is that your glass get's sloshed before you do!

While still in Red Wing we decided to go down by the river, strolling through a park and looking out at the water. On our way back to the car we stopped at the old train station which hosted an art gallery painted by local artists. Some of the colours and paintings used were simply stunning, and that's coming from someone who could probably live without visiting an art gallery.

We eventually left Red Wing (although we had a fair amount of difficulty in actually achieving this goal), but once we did we were treated with the picturesque views of the bluffs that boarder the Mississippi on both sides.
By the time we made it to the next town, Lake City, it was time for lunch. We found a bar advertising "The best burgers this side of the Mississippi" considering the bar was situated a mere 50 ft from the bank of the river, we thought they were a bit cheeky (although admittedly I'm the only one who phrased it like that).

The bar actually was a bank once upon a time, and they really did serve a good burger. 

After Lunch we went to some thrift shops, because I like thrift shops and more than that I love old books. It took two shops and several miscellaneous antiques later, but eventually I found a book that tripped my fancy.

With Answers!

From here we continued on past Lake Pepin and crossed the river to make it to the "Damn Saloon" formerly known as Freddy's Float.

For the record, I did not encounter Danger, Romance, or Fish. However, I was already on an Adventure so  1 out of 4 isn't terrible.

I seem to recall this place as well on the aforementioned previous road trip. However, I appreciate the place quite a bit more this time. We had a drink out by the water and watched the fish swim up to the surface. I was getting fairly tired by this point, and the alcohol wouldn't help, but we trudged on. I knew I would catch another wind eventually.

Our next stop was Winona... or rather Garvin Heights. Its a bluff that overlooks the city on the Minnesota side. There are roads to the top with a small park that are designed to maximise one's ability to get up to the edge and look out without falling the nearly six hundred feet to the city below.

I ran back to the car to get my omnoculars from my jacket. This would mark the only time I had ever actually used them to any real effect.

It was late afternoon now, but we still had a fair bit of travel to do. Our original goal involved at least LaCrosse so that was our next stop. According to my phone, LaCrosse has the world's largest Six Pack. For the record, it does not surprise me in any way that this is in Wisconsin.

The sign explains that this six pack has enough beer to give one person a regular sized six pack a day for 3,351 years. I am doubtful as to the state of this recipient's liver.

LaCross has a great many more things to offer than my Dad and I saw. It was late in the day, and so most of the shops were closed. Even still we wandered around the place for a while before we stopped at a place called The Bodega Brew Pub which boasts over 400 different kinds of beer. Is anyone else noticing a theme here. Anyway, I had a Strongbow on tap which pleased me to no end.

Father Son Road Trip Part One: Surprise Road Trip

“I think we should get going back,” Abby says, now that we’re standing up again anyway. “It would be bad if your dad got to town and we were stuck out here.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I say, even though I’m not exactly ready to leave.

We turn to face down stream where we mutually remember that we had climbed a waterfall to get here. With a small sigh, I go down first, using the hand holds from the way up. The spray from the south fork of the Kinnickinnic splotches my knees and elbows as I lower myself to the rock at the base of the fall. I point the hand holds out to Abby, only moments before my phone begins to ring. It’s dad; he’s off the high way and on his way to River Falls. Looks like Abby has good timing. I tell her so after she joins me on the rock.

The hike back to Glen Park is rushed, but even still Dad calls again to say he’s ‘here’ by the time we make it to the swinging bridge. So we begin to climb. At the top we say our goodbyes while we wait/look for my Dad’s car. After several minutes, he calls but he’s on the wrong side of the park. It’s a short jog from here, so I tell him to stay put. I’ll be there soon.

I see him on the bridge that overlooks the largest fall. So I jog the rest of the way over and throw him into a hug.

“Some view,” he says gesturing to the waterfall.

“I know a better one,” I say smiling. “Wanna jump a fence?”

“We did that last time I was here,” he reminds me, “but sure we can do that.”

So we walk off the bridge and along the seemingly private land that leads to the short fence with a locked gate. Maybe I’m impressed easily but a 61 year old man hopping a fence has got to count for something. Anyway, we walk down the narrow path towards the best view in town. The cliff is probably 60 feet in the air overlooking the Kinnickinnic River glimmering in the late afternoon sun.

“So what do you want to do?” Dad asks once we’d settled on the rocky ground.

“I don’t have anything planned. I told everyone that I’m effectively gone as soon as you get here,” I respond.

“Would you want to road trip back?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation. I haven’t gone on a road trip in ages.

There is an old friend of his, from his days in the band, that plays in Minneapolis, so we’re going to see if we can drop in for a show. We climb back over the fence and make our way to Kasey’s apartment via his car. I had been living here all summer, and although it never really felt like my place (because it wasn’t), I was certainly going to miss it.

When we walk in the door, Kasey is potting a collection of stolen baby spider plants in various stages of growth. She seems to have two of each developmental stage. Earlier today, she told me of her plan to see if letting the plants watch Rhett & Link influences their growth. I wonder if she’ll vlog about it.

Anyway she is surprised to hear that I am leaving tonight. The plan was that I would stay there until Thursday morning. However, I had packed my whole room up that morning so I suppose even my subconscious knew that I wasn’t going to stay there. The three of us are quickly able to load my stuff into Dad’s vehicle. All of my clothes and personal effects fit into a small backpack and a shoulder bag. That would have been it, but over my time in River Falls I had somehow managed to accumulate several (well four) very large bags of books.

It feels wrong how unceremonial Kasey and my goodbye was.  There was a tight hug and generic well wishing, and although I do not know what could or should have been added. I can’t shake the feeling that there should have been more to it. Maybe it’s just because I come from a family that takes forever to say good bye.

All the same, I will miss my roommate and best friend. I hope she doesn’t go ahead and finish Sailor Moon without me.