Oh Look, I'm Abroad

I love to travel. On most of my trips, I keep a travel journal where I write about what I did that day and what it made me think about. You know, interesting things. Interesting to me, anyway. I've decided to have it online now, because it's easier for me to type than to write. I also want people back home to see what I'm up to.

[ohlookimabroad]

Hello, followers! Some of you requested that I keep blogging. I just started another blog, where I may or may not post things about my life.

The URL is dontlookimnotabroad.tumblr.com.

See you there!

[study-well]

Hey. Do you have any tips/advice for students who are thinking of applying to student exchange programs (mostly application-wise)? please signal boost this? thanks :)

Hello! I don’t have any personally, but I’ll definitely signal boost for you. I’ve also found some articles which might interest you:

How to write a personal statement to study abroad

3 tips for your study abroad essay

Make your study abroad application essay shine

How to prepare a strong application 

[ohlookimabroad]

I don’t know what kind of advice you’re looking for. With regard to the application, be REALLY organized with all of your paperwork. Also, be very patient when it’s being processed. Having paperwork processed takes a while, especially if there’s a language barrier. Leave plenty of time for paperwork to process. You will get very frustrated at some points, or at least I did. Keep your eyes on the prize and be patient. Have faith that everything will work out.

I had a really good exchange advisor who helped me with the applications and paperwork, so my experience was a lot better than it could have been. The best advice I can give you is to be as patient as possible.

[ohlookimabroad]

Hello, followers! There are more of you since I last came on, which is funny because I haven’t posted anything.

I might post things periodically, but I’m not abroad anymore. I’ll still check occasionally, so if you have any questions about my study abroad experience, send me some mail! It doesn’t even have to be about study abroad; you can ask me about anything, really. Ask about the weather, my school life, or my opinions on the Oxford comma. It’s totally up to you.

[ohlookimabroad]

Hello, followers!

I’m still here. I forgot to update you with the end of my journey. I’ve been home for a few weeks.

Well, I had a flight from Alicante to London, and then another one from London to Orlando, FL. I was originally supposed to have an hour between flights, but my first flight was delayed, so I only had about half an hour between flights.

Lets see. I remember that the flight wasn’t that early. I left at about 7 that morning. The cabs were lined up at the cab stop already. I got to the airport and had to check both of my suitcases, unfortunately. I had left my euros (the ones I was going to spend on gifts at the airport) in my suitcase that I had to check. That was sad.

I got to the airport hungry because I didn’t have any breakfast. I drank an orange juice and ate something, I think. I hope I did.

Hm. My flight was delayed. I remember I was waiting at the gate sitting next to some Brits with such strong accents I had trouble understanding them. The flight was not a Ryanair flight, so I wasn’t afraid for my life. (For those who don’t know, Ryanair is a budget airline. REALLY budget.)

When I got to Gatwick, I had to go through another security scanner. I had liquids with me (I bought a bottle of sangria and a small jar of orange marmalade for my family). They were sealed in the duty-free airport store’s bags, but they still needed to be scanned by this machine. Unfortunately, the machine wasn’t working, and the security guard had to call a maintenance person to fix it. I knew I didn’t have a lot of time until my flight, so of course I was nervous. I think eventually they got it to work and gave me the bag back.

When I went to Manchester earlier in the year, my brother had requested that I bring him some authentic British tea. Since I forgot to buy it then, I was excited to have another chance. I went to the duty-free store at Gatwick and bought some tea. I had to run to my gate and I got there as soon as my rows were boarding.

This trip is over, but I’m still on a journey. Every day’s an adventure, from which I can learn and grow as a person. I’ll just hopefully be doing it in English from now on.

[ohlookimabroad]

Half of studying abroad is repeating what others say to you for clarification. The other half is wishing they’d do the same.

[ohlookimabroad]

I started studying Spanish my freshman year of high school and I never expected to like it. I took it all four years and had my favorite teacher for three of them. I found a passion for languages that I never knew I had, and I have Spanish to thank. I grew so passionate about it that it became an obsession for me. It got to the point where I would walk out of Spanish class crying every day because I couldn't do it. I wasn't perfect at it, and I never would be, and that bothered me. I've been studying Spanish now for six years, and I have a pretty good grasp of it.

I've been studying in Spain now since January, and I've noticed this weird social anxiety. I'm terrified to speak in Spanish. It's not that I think I'll mess up, or that I have an accent. I know that I'll mess up, and I don't really care about the accent. I don't know why I'm so afraid, but I am. I want to lock myself in my room and curl up in a ball most days. I adore the language, and that's why it's hard for me. I feel like there's no way I can do it justice.

Well, earlier today, my roommate locked her door and left her key in her room. I don't know how she did that, but she couldn't open her door. She asked me if I could call the landlord and tell him what happened so that he could bring a key for her (the landlord doesn't speak English). Now, I don't like making phone calls in English, let alone in Spanish. When my roommate handed me the phone and pressed "call," my heart stopped beating. I was terrified.

BUT I DID IT. I told my landlord the situation, he understood me, and he came by to open her door.

The pride I felt from that phone call is unlike anything else. I faced my fear and punched its lights out. I won a battle against myself today and it was a huge step closer to winning the war. I feel like I can do anything now.

[ohlookimabroad]

Any story--whether it’s a novel, a play, a movie, a poem, anything--needs an ending. Even a conversation needs an ending. Something that says, “This (poem, story, conversation, etc.) is coming to a close. The story is finished.” An ending makes a work whole and complete and allows a reader (or listener, or watcher, etc.) to put the book down (or turn off the movie, leave the conversation, you get the point). The reader now can put the book away and be satisfied with the ending. (Or throw the book across the room in a rage. Whichever you prefer.) Without an ending, we can’t “put the book down” because we feel like it’s still going on. The events in the book are still happening. There’s no sense of finality or closure. You feel like the events in the book have been paused because there’s nothing happening, but you’re left waiting for them to resume because you didn’t feel like the book ended.

Most of the time, life ends without an ending. There’s nothing to say “I’m done now.” Credits don’t roll. There’s no epilogue. Life just cuts off and it feels like you’re holding your breath, waiting for something. Waiting for an ending. But it never comes.

Which is why we create one. A funeral is an ending. It’s a period at the end of a sentence, it’s the credits rolling by at the end of a movie, it’s the hilarious couplet at the end of a Shakespearean sonnet. It gives a sense of resolution to the story that has just passed before you. It allows the mourner to have a sense of finality about their loved one. The story can now be resolved and the reader isn’t holding their breath anymore. The events are finished and the reader can do something else.

I was incredibly lucky to be able to watch the ceremony. At first I was apprehensive--the Wi-Fi at my apartment cuts out sometimes and I didn’t know what the Wi-Fi was like in the funeral parlor. I had never been to a funeral before and I had certainly never e-ttended anything that important. (Can we make that word a thing? I think it’s kind of clever.) I’m really awkward on camera, anyway. I don’t really know what to do with my face.

Well, it was a beautiful ceremony and I’m REALLY glad I got to see it. It was like there was an itch that I needed to scratch and that ceremony did a really good job of it. It became real for me, I mourned, and then I was done. It was an honorable and dignified closing to an honorable and dignified life. Grandpa deserves nothing less.

A post about closings that I don’t know how to end. Irony at its finest.

[ohlookimabroad]

I think maybe, just maybe, your grandfather made when last stop on this earth before he went on to his final destiny. Maybe that walk with a strange dog, was not just with a strange dog at all. I'm thinking it was a walk to be WITH YOU! Don't ever stop posting the tiniest of details. Those little oddities are the spice that makes it all worth it!

Thanks, anon! I’ll add more details about the dog, I guess.

The dog wasn’t exactly walking with me. He was just kind of walking in the same direction as me. He was walking faster than me; he would stop and sniff at things occasionally. We continued walking in the same direction for about three blocks, then the road split. He went one way and I went the other. Take that however you want. I appreciate the thoughts!

[ohlookimabroad]

Over the weekend, my grandfather passed away. I wanted him to know how I felt about him, which is why I made the shout-out. Unfortunately, he passed away before I posted it and I didn’t know yet. But I’m fairly confident that he knew how I felt about him.

The funeral is tomorrow and I am hoping that my family will stream it for me, or I can Skype in. It’s after all my classes, but I’m skipping my last class anyway. I know that I won’t want to go to it.

I’m sad that this happened, yes, but part of me is glad I wasn’t there for it. My whole family is crying and being around people who are crying just makes me feel awkward. I can’t really process this kind of thing while around crying people.

One of my friends is coming to study here next year and she started a blog for it, like I did. One of her concerns is someone dying while she’s away, as I’m sure most other people’s are. I didn’t really think about it happening, but at the same time I kind of knew it would. His health had been declining for a while (not very long, but not very short). He had been in the hospital a few times and told my grandmother that he didn’t want to go back.

Well, enough rambling. The day he died, I didn’t feel like cooking so I went out to eat at this restaurant called 100 Montaditos. I’ve been there before. Their food is really good and really cheap. They have deals two days a week where everything’s one euro and another day a week where everything’s 50 cents. It’s a wonderful place. I went on Sunday thinking everything would be 50 cents, but it turns out that’s on Mondays.

Yesterday I went exploring. I rode the tram to the end of the line, past my university. I walked around a bit in the city. There was this cool restaurant I wanted to try, but I walked past it. I decided to try it on the way back, but I couldn’t find it again.

I ran into these two British ladies on the tram who didn’t speak Spanish. They couldn’t figure out how to buy a ticket, so I helped them. I’m always glad to speak in English to someone.

The city was just a city. Not ugly, but not beautiful. There was a stray dog that I walked past and it walked next to me for a few blocks. I thought that was kind of cute.

I took the bus back instead of the tram because the bus stop was closer. While on the bus, I ran into my Spanish teacher who doesn’t speak English. We talked for a bit, but I was extremely nervous so I didn’t say much. He told me that my final grade was good for Spain (there’s a different system of grading here) and if it didn’t convert to American grades, he could go back in and fix it. I don’t think my grade is going to be recorded by my home institution until it’s too late though, unfortunately. We can see.

That was my weekend.

[ohlookimabroad]

I’d like to make a shout-out to my grandfather. He’s a wonderful guy, the type that you could feel his presence when he walked into a room. He commands respect from people in the most dignified way that I’ve ever seen. He’s really laid-back and pleasant to be around. He’s one of my biggest role-models, actually. I have so much respect and love for him.

The way  my grandmother and my mother interact is like a sitcom, and Grandpa and I would sit back and watch and laugh. It was good times.

I love you, Grandpa.

[ohlookimabroad]

I’m going to start by saying my Ask box is open. You 50 lovely followers can ask me anything and I’ll do my best to answer.

I’ve been back in Spain for a few days. I spent the weekend recovering from my trip and I was right: I'm ready to go on another one now.

Going back to school after two weeks was not the greatest feeling in the world, especially when I had to wake up early today. It isn’t that hard for me to wake up, it’s just annoying. But I am glad to be back here. It’s familiar. I have my own room. I have a shower that I know how to use. I’m not living out of my suitcase. I don’t have to figure out how to order or pay at restaurants.

I can cook again. I’ve kind of missed cooking. I like doing it.

I have a new roommate now. She seems nice. She’s from the Netherlands too, so her and my other roommate just speak Dutch to each other. I usually stay in my room, out of their way.

In honor of my 21st birthday, on Sunday I went out and bought a bottle of Sangria. It’s really gross and I now regret my decision.

Study Abroad kind of feels like syncopation. When you’re playing an instrument, playing a syncopated beat feels really weird at first. It goes against your normal pattern of things. After a while, you get used to playing the syncopated beat, but it still never feels right. It starts to feel like it needs to be resolved. This just feels like a really long syncopated beat. I’m kind of ready to go back to the U.S.

I’m also kind of not ready. I like being on my own. I like cooking for myself. I like choosing when I go out and when I stay in. I like how easy public transportation is and how close everything is. I like how everything has a history here.

But I definitely miss having sweet iced tea.

[ohlookimabroad]

So I was too tired to write anything yesterday. It was a long day/night.

Alright. Here goes.

I got the airport at around 11. It wasn’t too hard to figure out how to get there. I got there and found that there were a lot of people there, including some lying on blankets on the ground. I was shocked at how many people were going to sleep there.

Most of the restaurants were closed and I was pretty hungry, but I wandered around to find one. It’s worth it to note that security was closed, so I had to keep my stuff with me and there weren’t very many shops or anything to begin with. I was pretty much at arrivals, which was kind of an ugly place, if I’m being honest.

Well, I checked the board that said “Departures.” My flight wasn’t on it. Looking at my boarding pass, I realized that I had my days wrong. My flight had been earlier that morning, not the next morning. I panicked and went to a payphone that made international calls.

(Side note: BBG Luxembourg is a company. Try to avoid it.)

I stuck three euros into the coin slot and dialed my house. No answer. I left a message. I stuck another three euros into the slot and dialed my mom’s cell phone. No answer. I left a message. By this point I was out of cash, so I used my debit card. Big mistake. But I’m not here to rant about the ridiculous charge. My dad and I are going to fight it, anyway. I might write about it in a different post.

Well, I got a hold of my dad and he told me to stay there and they’d find me a flight to catch in the morning. I went to sleep at 2 AM, lying on a towel, cuddling one of my hoodies, another hoodie on top of my backpack, which I was using as a pillow. I slept in the clothes I had worn that day. Note to self: Don’t ever sleep in jeans again.

I woke up at 4:00 AM and walked over to the Ryanair check-in desk, hoping they’d be able to put me on a flight for no extra charge. The desk didn’t open for another hour, though, so I sat down on a seat and listened to music for a bit. One of the cafes was open, so I got a cup of tea as well.

When the check-in desk opened, I asked the lady what I should do. She didn’t speak English very well, but she sent me to the ticket counter, telling me to buy a different ticket. I figured I couldn’t get them to put me on another flight, so I walked up to the ticket counter.

The ticket counter didn’t open for another half hour (5:30) so I had to wait more. I did crossword puzzles on my phone (which was also a bad idea--more about that later) until a window opened. I was the first in line for it and bought my ticket without a problem.

Well, I checked in, got my boarding pass, checked my luggage, got through security, then went upstairs to find my gate. The upstairs blew me away. Downstairs was kind of ugly, but upstairs was really nice. There were tons of shops and there was a large cafeteria. There was a VIP lounge as well, but I think a lot of airports have that. The upstairs had big glass windows and plenty of seats. It was very modern-seeming.

I love being in airports. I like the feeling that I’m going somewhere. I like the idea that everyone else is going somewhere, too. Everyone has somewhere to go. Everyone’s leading a different life and has their own story to tell. Everyone’s going to a different place and been to different places. Everyone has different reasons for traveling. I love imagining all the possibilities.

I guess the only tickets they had left for the flight were priority seats, because I got one. Turned out that I got a normal seat with more legroom, which didn’t make a difference to me. I’m really short, so I always have enough legroom.

So I got to the airport in Valencia and felt oddly relieved. When you go to a country that doesn’t speak English, obviously all the signs are not in English. You don’t know what’s going on. You can’t read anything. You can’t talk to anyone to ask them what’s going on. It’s tiring.

Well, getting back to Spain made me feel relieved. Everything was in Spanish again, so I could read it. I was familiar with the accent and the names of stores. I knew what was going on. I knew how to act again. I knew what to expect from people. It was comforting after not knowing for so long.

Well, finding a way to a train that took me to my host city was something of a challenge. I had saved a map of the city on my phone, but it was dying, so  I couldn’t really use it. I got a physical map of the airport, but it didn’t tell me where I was. Finding out street names is challenging in Europe. Instead of being at every traffic light, road names are on plaques on buildings. They are not on every corner, either. They’re hard to find sometimes. I asked for directions from someone from the airport and again at the subway station. I found my way to the station that my phone told me, called Valencia del Nord (I think.)

Even though I was tired, I perked up just at the sight of the building alone. It was beautiful. There was a bullfighting ring next to it that looked like the Roman Colosseum. It was amazing to see.

When I got there, I ate lunch. I was starving because I hadn’t had anything to eat since my veggie panini the night before. When I get hungry, I get grumpy, so I was having kind of a sucky day until then. I went up to the lady at the front desk and asked for a ticket to my host city, and she said the next train didn’t leave for another couple of hours, and I really didn’t want to wait. She told me about another station that had a sooner train, but she said it really fast and I didn’t understand the name of the station. I asked her what she said several times, but she never gave me the name of the station again. She just told me how to get there, so I followed her directions.

I made it to a subway station, and they gave me better directions. I’m bad at speaking Spanish, but I’m also bad at asking the right questions in any language. So that was fun.

I found the train station and bought a ticket for a train that would be leaving in about half an hour. I love traveling, I really do, but I got sick of it after a while. I was tired of living out of a suitcase. I was tired of being afraid my stuff would be stolen. I was tired of being around other people and not knowing how to act toward them. I was ready to be in my apartment watching Netflix.

The train ride was about two hours and I sat next to a window. The Spanish countryside is beautiful. We passed a bunch of mountains and farms. It was all starting to grow and be green, but you could still see the land because the trees weren’t covering everything yet. It was so pretty.

When I got to the train station, it took a second to figure out where I was, but I found my way. I’m really glad to be back. I’m sure I’ll be ready for my next trip in two days, but I’m glad to be back for now. I have laundry to do.

[ohlookimabroad]

Alright. I’m posting now at 4:30 because I’m about to start the night. I’ll call it Flughafen Nacht (Airport Night).

Since it’s an hour ride to the airport and my flight is at 7:00 A.M., I’ve decided to go to the airport tonight and sleep there, instead of waking up at 3:00 in the morning. I’d feel safer there, anyway. This hostel is not great.

So today I was so tired from traveling that I took a day off. I read a lot and then ate lunch at a pizzeria. I had pasta and mushrooms (it’s odd, but I’ve missed mushrooms! I eat them so much). I’ve just been reading for the most part. I’m not sure what I’m going to do for dinner.

I know I’m in Italy and I do want to explore, but I’m just so tired. I’m tired of living out of a suitcase. I’m tired of hostels. I’m tired of not knowing if the Wi-Fi’s going to work or not. I had fun, but I’m ready for it to be over. I’m ready to be able to read all the street signs and understand things again (understand things for the most part, that is). I’m ready to go back to Spain, although I’m not looking forward to sleeping in the airport. Everything’s an adventure to me, though. Adventures are exciting and fun, so this’ll be exciting and fun in its own way.

[ohlookimabroad]

Hi again from Milan!

I went into the city center today. I rode the metro there, which was actually really easy to figure out. The ticket machines had an English option (most do) and there were maps that showed me which direction the trains were going. One side of the rail had one part of the route highlighted, and the other side had the other part, so I knew which side of the track to go to. It was really easy. (Sorry for that mess of a sentence!)

As soon as I came out of the station, I was assaulted by salespeople. Some guy tried to tie a bracelet around my wrist, saying “Good luck and good life from Africa!” All of the salespeople were so aggressive. It was nuts. There were so many people there, too. I think Milan is having some kind of event this week. It seemed like every single person on the Earth was there.

I guess Milan is hosting some kind of world expo, so new things are being built everywhere. There was a lot of construction, or at least more than I expected.

But I saw some pretty cool things and took some pretty cool pictures. There was this indoor alleyway kind of place and the buildings were all white and gold and arched. They were so beautiful.

I found my way to this castle, Castle Sforzesco, built in the 1200s (I think) by the Sforza family. That’s a super cool family name, if you ask me. Force in English is esforzar in Spanish, and Spanish and Italian are really close to each other, so the word in Italian (I think) would be close to the name Sforza. (Just looked it up. It’s esercitare. The noun, esfuerzo in Spanish, is sforzo in Italian. That would be our word “effort,” but I feel like the Spanish word is stronger than that.) That’s why I think it would be a cool name.

Ignore that mess of a paragraph. My computer is dying and I don’t have an outlet near me.

The castle was pretty interesting to see, but it didn’t really have anything in it. Just a lot of walls and archways.

After that, I just came back here. Living out of a suitcase is getting pretty old, especially because I forgot a bag to put my dirty clothes in.

I ate dinner at this bar and the owner (I’m guessing he was the owner) spoke English. That was nice. The pasta was good too. I’m getting tired of pizza, but it’s pretty hard to find other things for me to eat.

[ohlookimabroad]

Hi from Milan!

I woke up at 5 AM to get to the train station at around 6:15 for a 7:00 train to the airport. Early, I know, but I always leave room for error. Well, I left at 6:00 and got to the airport at around 6:10. There was a train to the airport leaving at 6:30 instead of 7:00, so I took it. I got to Manchester airport around 7:00 for a 9:20 flight, but since I checked a bag and that took a while, I wasn’t waiting long at my gate.

When I checked my bag, they asked me some questions about how long I would be staying, what I would be doing, etc. They told me that they ask me these questions before my flight so that they know I won’t be sent back. I took it as practice for when they would ask me questions at customs in Milan, and answered all of them confidently.

Well, they didn’t ask me anything when I got here. I handed them my passport, they stamped it, and that was that. I was incredibly relieved, let me tell you.

The flight was supposed to be two hours, but I read the whole time, so it did not feel long at all. I’m almost done with Robinson Crusoe.

When I landed, I tried to find the bus to the city center. I figured I’d have lunch in the center because it’d be much cheaper there than at the airport. Well, the bus to the city center was not leaving for another 40 minutes, so I figured I’d just eat. I was hungry.

Well, I got pizza and a Coke from the airport. The pizza was reheated and I could tell it was just crappy airport food, but it STILL blew Pizza Hut out of the water. The crust was the most wonderful thing I had ever eaten.

You know the Coca-Cola experience at EPCOT, where you can try different Cokes from around the world? You know how the Italy Coke tasted there? It’s actually pretty accurate, but the Coke here is much less bitter. I’m of the opinion that even American Coke is better than Italian Coke, and American Coke is not very good. I’m spoiled, though, because Spanish Coke is the best.

Anyway, the bus ride was about forty minutes long and there wasn’t a lot of scenery out of the windows, so it isn’t really noteworthy. Suburbs are suburbs.

I couldn’t find the Metro when I got here, so I had to take a cab. 20 euros for a 10 minute ride. Also, the cab driver told me I was really white. He also invited me to a nightclub and asked if I was married. It was a little bit weird.

I walked around the city a bit, but I’m really tired, so I’m not going to do much tonight. Milan is gorgeous from what I’ve seen. The city is beautiful. Everything was closed today, though, because it’s Sunday. I’m probably going to go to Bologna tomorrow.

[ohlookimabroad]

I went to the Museum of Science and Industry today. It talked about planes, the cotton industry, trains, electricity (which I didn’t go into) and a couple other things that I can’t remember right now.

I rode the free metro bus to it, but I couldn’t find the bus stop to go back. Everything’s on the wrong side of the road here and it confuses me. I walked back, and it was a long walk. More than a half hour, I think. I didn’t mind because it was in the old-ish part of Manchester, so all of the architecture was cool to look at.

I fly to Italy tomorrow, so I’m just going to pack all my stuff up tonight and prepare to wake up at 4 AM again. I don’t like early flights.

I guess I should mention that it’s April 11th.

[ohlookimabroad]

I had a cool day today. I went to Liverpool.

Ok, so first I woke up and lied in bed for a while. I went down to breakfast and there wasn’t any bread, so I just ate a piece of fruit, which didn’t fill me up at all. I went down to the train station early and bought toast, tea, and another piece of fruit there for 2.50, which is the cheapest “meal” I’ve found here. I caught my train and got to Liverpool with no problems.

Across from the train station, there’s a shopping center called St. Johns. It made me happy because the shopping center right next to my university in the States is called St. Johns.

I walked around the shopping center for a bit and found a pound store (equivalent to a dollar store). I found I could buy a SIM card for my euro-phone for a pound, so I did. I haven’t figured out how to fill it (it’s pay as you go), but now my phone works here at least.

After that, I tried to find Albert Dock, which is the main tourist area of Liverpool. There are two Beatles museums and a bunch of other museums. I went to the main Beatles museum first, called The Beatles Story. It basically catalogued their rise to fame and then their breakup. It was very cool.

After that, I had lunch at a random place. They gave me a ton of veggie lasagna. It was good, though.

People say the portion sizes in America are big. The portions here are enormous. I’ll order a lunch or something, and it’s enough for two people. They’re gigantic.

Anyway, after that, I took a short bus tour of Albert Dock. They drove us around the area and told us the stories of some buildings.

Turns out, the Titanic was from Liverpool. We drove past the building where they worked on the Titanic. Most of the employees from that building were crew members. When the ship sank, they gathered the families of the crew members to that building. Management was too afraid to come downstairs and tell the families on ground level, so they broke the news from the balconies. It doesn’t sound all that interesting, but when I saw the building, it was.

Anyway, after the tour I went into the Maritime museum. I was going to start at the top and work my way down, but it was already 4:30 and the museum closes at 5:00. I realized that all the museums probably did, and I wanted to see the other half of the Beatles museum, so I hurried out of the Maritime museum.

Turns out, the Beatles Story was open until 7, but I’m glad I got there when I did. The other part of the museum basically talked about Beatlemania and British rock music’s influence in the United States, but it also talked about American rock music’s influence on the UK. There was also a short 3D movie that was not informative in the slightest, but it was a little entertaining.

After that, I went back to the train station. Everything of interest had already closed, so I didn’t see any reason to stay.

The trains here are not very good. It’s common that a train will be delayed, sometimes for a while. I found a train that was going to Manchester Piccadilly and waited at the platform for a while. It seems there was a fire at Piccadilly or something, because the train was delayed about forty minutes. Then someone came on the intercom and said that the train had moved to a different platform. But they said it right as the train was pulling up, so I had to run to the other platform so as not to miss it.

Well, once I got on the other train, the conductor came on the intercom and told us we had to take a different train that was arriving at the platform I had just left. Which had also pulled up right as he was speaking. It seems there’s not a lot of communication there.

I was going to go to the event that the hostel was putting on tonight, but I couldn’t because I didn’t get here in time. The WiFi is out in my hostel as well, but I’m getting it from the sister hostel down the street.

Today was an adventure. I hope tomorrow will be as well.