Tossa de Mar, Spain

(June 18-June 21) On our way out of the hotel in Barcelona we ran into the bride and groom who suggested we make a stop in Tossa de mar, up along the Costa Brava. We had both wanted some relaxing beach time in a quiet little town and our friends assured us that Tossa was the ideal place. The bus ride took about an hour an a half and dropped us off at a small station right in the center of town. With no maps of our own we set out in search of some type of accomodation.

We had only walked a couple of blocks when we stumbled upon a sign and an open door to a small hotel. A woman selling sea shells (down by the sea) darted out of her shop and lead us up to a cheap room over looking their interior garden patio. The strange thing about this hotel was that we found it by shear divine providence. We walked by that same door a dozen times over the next few days and only saw the lady in the shell shop once. The Spanish take their siestas seriously. Life shuts down mid-day. In fact life doesn't begin until mid-day and then promptly shuts down until evening and then barely opens after that. It's amazing that anything gets done.

We lathered up and headed straight for the beach. We walked down the narrow roads past the white washed buildings to the water. The beach is situated between castle ruins to the south and rocky hillsides to the north. In between the water is a magnificent blue. Hundreds of outdoor cafes line the small streets selling paella, tapas and sangria. Matt and I spent slow days in Tossa picnicing on the beach and floating like angels in the salty waters. One day we even watched a soccer game from an outdoor cafe with waves lapping on the beach just behind the tv screen.

Our first night going to sleep we felt so lighthearted about finding this little treasure we had no idea what was in store for us. It was as though our room was situated right in the middle of a jungle. The bird calls literally sounded like people were departing the human world and entering the animal world. Seagulls made noises that verged on human cries. All night long it was a convention of beasts trying to out bellow each other. I hardly slept a wink. Of the many things we packed in our arsenal of first aid kit nothing as come in more handy than ear plugs. We slept soundly the next few nights with those puppies in to drown out the birds.

Tossa is our favorite spot thus far. The perfect mixture of quaint town, cobble stone streets, white washed buildings, castle ruins and most importantly beach. Plenty of foreigners tend to agree with us because people from all over Europe were there enjoying little Tossa.

Barcelona, Spain

(June 14-June 18) Getting to Barcelona, Spain from Stuttgart, Germany was literally planes, trains and automobiles. Our day started dark and early at 2 am when the buzz from our cell phone shocked us back into reality. We had barely set our heads down safely on our pillows at 11pm after the France vs. Switzerland game. Not to mention we made a pit stop to see Brazil play Croatia at the Fan Fest. With screaming red eyes we waddled with our packs down to the train station going through the belly of the Fan Fest beast. We walked over a hefty blanket of rubbish and broken glasses. We had to snake past the Swiss and French fans still partying from the tie earlier that day.

The train station itself was a bit like a battlefield. Bodies were littered about, frozen in the last position they assumed as the booze that had consumed all day finally won the battle over them. Our 3:15 am train was late. We waited. The train car we boarded was almost entirely empty. At the first stop an old German man entered the train and made a bee line directly for us. Everything about him was large, including his nose which had dried blood all over one nostril. Without even pausing in his motions he unloaded his stuff directly across from us and proceeded to ask us why the train was late, or at least that's what we assumed he was asking us in German, and we politely tried to say we spoke no German. Did not matter to him if we understood or not. Of all the empty train cars not to mention empty seats he had to sit right next to us. It was so early I had no patience to make small talk with Matt let alone with a odd man who spoke a language I could not understand. When there would be lulls in the one sided conversation he would make realistic cat noises and pretend there was a cat on the train somewhere. He did this noise not once but the entire time he sat next to us. Luckily he was only on the train a half an hour.

The hour long train ride took us to a stop where we picked up a bus to the airport. The bus ride was two hours to an airport where Ryan Air, the cheap Southwest airlines type carrier in Europe, flies out of. The hidden costs of the cheap Ryan Air flights are the various types of transport you must take to these out of the way airports. Our flight said it was out of Frankfurt but in actuality it was no where near Frankfurt.

The flight was only a couple of hours and landed in Rues, Spain. Woody Woodpecker greeted us as we deboarded the plane. No kidding, Woody Woodpecker. We then got on another bus to Barcelona. From there we lugged our packs through their subway metro system to a stop close to our hotel. Then we walked in the sun, with gust of cool air off the coast, to our hotel overlooking the sea. From start to finish the trip took 13 hours with two trains, two buses, a metro and walking.

But what a place we ended up at! Not that one needs a reason to visit Spain but my good friend Josie was getting hitched there and since we were already in Europe we could hardly pass up the opportunity. Her inlaw-to-be arranged the hotel for us and we felt blessed. A very chic and modern hotel with a bed larger than a California King with air conditioning and an ocean view. We were both invited for a separate girls and guys night out. A last hoorah for the bride and groom. We tried to rest up but slept lightly for fear we would never wake up. It was a night of paella, cava, wine, tapas, sangria and dancing until 4:30 am. It was deliriously fun and I finally went to bed at 5am, Matt crashing in a wee bit earlier at 3:30.

Somehow we managed to wake up in time for the famous breakfast buffet served down in the hotel restaurant. There were eggs, bacon, proscuitto, breads, cheeses, fruits, freshly squeezed juices, coffee, sweat croissants, etc. We filled our bellies and then retreated back upstairs for more sleep. Matt's goal everyday is to watch as many soccer matches as possible and since the games start at 3pm we usually try to see what we can before we post up at a bar to watch the game. Since we were christened Spainards the night before with our late late late night our time to explore we severely decreased. We managed to walk the Ramblas in search of outfits for our friends wedding. We passed over a dozen finely painted street performers. They are much more sophisticated than the guys that paint themselves gold and silver down by Fisherman's Wharf.

We eventually made our way back to our hotel to rest up. Spain, we could tell already, was going to be experienced in small doses in between naps. That night I looked up a tapas bar and so we took the metro there. It was a small place that was hopping with people. We didn't wait long for a table. We put our trust in the waiter's hands by asking him to bring us a sample of typical tapas. When he brought out 3 dishes we felt confident but then when a second waiter followed him up and placed a total of 11 small plates in front of us we felt defeated before we even started. There were two types of iberico ham, two types of sardines, cheese, tomato & olive oil bread, calamari, peppers, olives, eggy potatoes and bread. We tried to swallow all of the salty food down with our glasses of wine straight out of the barrel but even that was not enough to quench our thirst. I love salt. Sometimes I fantasize about having a salt lick like a horse. All of the salty, pickled food was even too much for me.

Matt and I managed to eat 10 out of the 11 plates but we were both visibly sweating and Matt even had to loosen a button on his pants. We waved the white flag to the waiter and he seemed to understand that we could simply not finish the mound of iberico ham on our plate. As we sat there unable to talk after all that food the waiter came by and brought us a shot of some 30% herbal alcohol that is supposed to help with digestion. It nearly made me puke is was so strong. Then he brought out a creamy flan type dish with honey dripping all over it. We couldn't refuse him because we were at his mercy and these, he told us in broken english, were his gift to us, his suckers for the night. The straw that finally broke us was a shot of Frangelico liquor. He was a glutton for our gluttony.

The wedding we attended was nothing short of spectacular. It was situated at a Spanish villa just outside of Barcelona with beautifully old stone buildings and sweeping terraces. We ate, drank, watched some flamenco dancing and partied in true Spanish style until 3am. Our last day in Barcelona we spent gawking at Gaudi's amazingly fanciful and whimsicle architecture. Spain definitely captured our imagination as well as all of our sleep.

World Cup Part II, Stuttgart, Germany

(June 9-13) It was hell leaving the game at Gelsenkirchen. Despite German´s reputation for order the tram station was chaos. Like cattle we followed the herd to a tram stop and saw the masses swarming the platforms. Trams that passed by were already full. Buses that stopped nearby were mobbed so Matt and I walked to the stop we were originally let off for the game. It required us to cross a very busy street with speeding cars, cross over a train track and even scale a fence. Our situation was no brighter once we got to that tram stop. There appeared to be more people waiting for a tram than physical space allowed. As soon as a tram approached and we were on a walkway above Matt and I made a mad dash for an open door. We´ve quickly learned that lines do not exist here. We´ve been curtious in the past but our weary legs and bodies needed to get home and we still had a half our train ride to consider.

At the very last car we managed to squeeze in like sardines. Our bodies pressed up against other sweating fans. There was no A/C and the windows were only open enough to give you a tease of air and no more. We were cruising along steadily, making small talk with other fans when the train abruptly stopped. Not understanding German we had no idea why it was we stopped or when it was we would continue on our path to the train station. We stood on that train staring at each others nostrils for 20 minutes. I tried not to think about being hot, tired, and about to faint from the clastrophobia of so many bodies in so little space. Finally someone released the emergency switch and we were freed into the fresh air. Not knowing the way to the train station we power walked with others hoping we´d find it one way or another. We walked for another 20 minutes and finally sank onto our seats on the train.

The next morning we took a very crowded train to Stuttgart for our second match game that we had tickets for on June 13. We stayed at a clean and very modern hostel a few minutes walk from the city center of Stuttgart. We played the parts of June and Ward Cleaver in our dueling twin beds but at least we had our own room complete with a 5" TV to watch a game or two in privacy. The next few days in Stuttgart were spent killing time walking around the city or large central park until games kicked off at three in the afternoon. Then we´d either watch a game at the Stuttgart Fan Fest with beer and sausages, at a beer garden with 1 liter steins of beer, or in our hostel room with cans of beer. We were in Germany so we felt we had to eat as much sausage as we could muster. I tried little fat brotwursts with small weany buns, 1/2 meter long frankfurts with slightly longer buns and all sizes in between.

The weather in Stuttgart had been our most splendid. Clear, sunny and hot with a cooling breeze in the shade. Unfortunately Matt´s allergies were on the attack and he resorted to walking around town with a bandana wrapped like a bandit below his eyes. People stared, I laughed and took his picture. One day as we killed time before one of the matches we walked high above one of the neighborhoods in Stuttgart. We could see the sweeping views of the city and surrounding area. We could even see the soccer stadium in the distance. Then we heard music floating through the air. We couldn´t tell where the sweet melodies were coming from and then we figured that the stadium was rehearsing for the France vs. Switzerland´s opening ceremonies.

Getting to the game at the Stuttgart Stadium took us about 10 minutes on a tram. Our seats were right behind the goal about 30 rows up. The stadium wasn´t quite as big as Gelsenkirchen´s so fortunately for us we were considerably closer to the field. We were in the throngs of Swiss fans wearing fire engine red. Two of the best players in the world play for France, Henri and Zidane, and Matt and I were gitty to see them play. The Swiss fans outnumbered the French fans and were nuts. They cheered and sang and we were forced to stand the entire game. Despite large cow bells and trumpets the game was scoreless. The Swiss kept their neutrality with France. Lackluster as the score may have been it was still remarkable to be apart of it.

World Cup, Germany

(June 8-13) When we got off the train in Duisburg, Germany we could hear the chants and cheers of drunken fans (at 2pm, no less) in the train station and we knew we had finally made it to soccer paradise. Our hotel was conveniently placed right at the train station so we didn´t have to lug our gear very far. I won´t waste time describing Duisburg because there isn´t much to say. Maybe the honeymoon phase of our trip has ended but stepping off the train platform in that industrial gray German town did not sweep me off my feet. Duisburg provided us a room with a shower and our own bed so we were grateful for it but not enamored by it.

On the opening day of World Cup Matt and I had tickets to see the Poland vs. Ecuador game in Gelsenkirchen at 9pm. Not wanting to miss a thing we left Duisburg at noon. Even though we were told you could set your watches to the efficient German trains we didn´t want to take our chances. As it was our train was a half an hour behind schedule. That still gave us nearly 8 hours before the match kicked off. On our train we saw flashes of red for Poland and the bright yellow, blue and red for Ecuador.

Off the train we followed the well marked signs to the FIFA World Cup Fan Fest. The Fan Fest is where the sponsors seduce you with large screens to watch the games, with thousands of other fans, while not so subtly pushing their wares down your throat. Matt and I were willing victims. We came to Germany to immerse ourselves in all things soccer and no better place to do that in the belly of the corporate beast. We arrived at the Fan Fest before it opened up and as we waited we saw the Ecuador and Poland fans slowly growing in congregations paying homage to their beloved countries. What impressed me right away was the true spirit of brotherhood. Fans from opposing teams sang together, cheered together and snapped hundreds of photos together. Love for the beautiful game united the hearts of all.

About an hour before the Germany vs. Costa Rica game started the Fan Fest finally started to fill up. Matt and I found ourselves seated right in between German and Polish fans. We had no idea about the anomosity between the two countries but we soon got a big taste of it. They each took turns chanting their country slogans and cheers each time growing in volume and hostility. Both sides even resorted to cheering for the team that their enemy was playing against. Never in my life did I imagine German fans cheering for Ecuador and visa versa. We felt somewhat secure in the event that fights broke out because we were flanked by the German military and police.

When the game finally started and Germany was the first to strike blood the crowd was literally foaming at the mouths with excitment. I have to admit I felt a pange of regret for not having a ridiculous hat and my face painted in honor of my country. It wasn´t enough to be there in Germany supporting your country you also had to wear the part.

We left at halftime with Germany ahead to get to the stadium to watch our match. Our seats were in the nosebleeds where we practically needed oxygen. We felt fortunate to be placed in the Ecuador section because they were literally outnumbered by the Polish fans screaming, Polska, nearly ten to one. We thought the underdogs needed some loving. The game, the fans, the fury was everything we thought it could be and more. We both had a bit of an out of body experience. Two years of planning for the biggest soccer celebration on earth. The Ecuador fans went nuts when the final whistle was blown with them clenching a 2-0 victory. You would hardly guess that Poland lost because the fans were celebrating and congratulating each other just grateful to be there in the world´s arena.

Luxembourg City, Luxembourg

(June 6-8) Since we had a few days to kill before we had our date with destiny in Germany, I suggested to Matt that we go to Luxembourg. I have to admit that the idea to Luxembourg did not float freely into my head. It was planted there by Rick Steves. Maybe it's his smart little silk shirts or his whispy light brown hair combined with those know-it-all glasses but I admit he made Luxembourg look tempting and I eagerly took the bait. It was an easy train ride there from Brugge with a brief stop in Brussels to change trains. When we first stepped off the platform I took a deep breath because as we rolled into the station I wasn't impressed with the skyline. Luxembourg looked more modern than what my nerdy dreamboat Ricky showed me on PBS. Outside the doors of the station there were panhandlers that stared us down like prey. We hadn't really encountered that on our travels.

Like turtles we waddled through town away from the seedy train station and were immediately impressed with the large stone arched bridges and the emansive fortress walls. Our Youth Hostel was nestled right underneath one of the arched bridges. In fact we weren't sure how we were going to sleep with the trains passing by right outside our windows but we were saved with the earplugs in our traveling pharmacy aka our first aid kit. The hostel was a far leap from the previous two spots we stayed at. It was very institutional in it's appearance and especially how it was run. The upside being it's practically brand new and clean as a whistle. We dormed it up in a room with just one other couple from Boston. Our room had a toilet and a shower which is a total luxury.

Luxembourg is without a doubt spectacular. In it's hayday it was seriously fortified against enemy attack. Over the centuries various leaders improved upon and upgraded the fortifications. During a treaty around the late 1800s it was forced to dismantle most of the fortresses but a vast majority remain. It's hard not to walk around and see ancient building of significance. Valleys cut through the city with small rivers and creeks snaking about. The various fortress walls and compounds sit upon the steep hillsides giving them a larger than life feel. Down below in the valleys it seems as though time has stood still. Small farmers have vegetable plots trellised along the waters edge. You get an idea what life must have been like in the belly of the formidable fortress.

Hidden within the fortress walls and underneath the city is a virtual labyrinth of tunnels and caves called the castements. Soliders lived and fought out of these castements. We took a tour of one of the castements just below the financial hubbub of Luxembourg. It was dark, dank and about 15 degrees colder inside the castements. We walked down steep steps along slimmy walls. It was good we had a guide because we quickly got turned around with the fingers that pop off the main tunnel. At times we found ourselves peaking out at foot level with the outside yet people outside were unaware of our gazes. We got to explore another casement right near our hostel called the Broc Castments without a guide. It was larger than the small tunnels but still had it's own series of complicated tunnels within tunnels. At times we found ourselves endlessly spinning up and down spiral staircases climbing and decending through the elevations of the city within the castments.

We played a game with ourselves the two days we were in Luxembourg. We tried never to walk the same path twice. There are a multitude of walking paths that take you up, down and around the city. It's comforting because you can't really get lost because it all circles back. With so many landmarks it's even easier to pinpoint where you're at. Our legs got tired from the hills and the countless steps but the weather finally changed from misty murk to sunny clear skies so we happily abandoned ourselves to the walking paths outdoors. Sometimes being outdoors is like a fulltime job for us. We left the hostel at 9 am and didn't return to regroup until 5 pm.

Luxembourg City was a shiny gem. One I will pull out of my memory banks from time to time and smile at the way it glistened for me.

Brugge, Belgium

(June 3-6) Our backpacks seem to get heavier each time we hoist them to our backs. You would think they get lighter as the days and weeks go by but such is not the case. We stood out in the small sleepy streets of Brugge as we lugged our gear to the hostel. I had called a few nights earlier to make a reservation at the Snuffle Hostel but when we arrived, a few hours past the time I had told them we´d arrive, we were met with confused faces and a blank reservation. Lucky for us they had two roll out beds in emergency situations like this. Matt and I got to push our rolly beds together and sleep in a room filled with 6 other bunks. We were grateful to have a bed and not have to trek to another hostel at the opposite end of town.

The Snuffle was alot more down key than the previous hostel in Amsterdam. There was a bar right when you walked in but it had windows to allow circulation of the plumes of cigarette smoke. In general it was alot more open with an outdoor patio than the honeycombs of the previous hostel. Plus it had a kitchen we could cook our own food in which we are finding to be a real bonus.

Brugge is a romantic town. Sure there's the lure of quality Belgium chocolate and good Belgium beer but there's so much more packaged in such a small radius. Our first morning walk we were serenaded by the Church bells of Wit Sunday as we strolled along the canals watching the swans, almost if on que, glide past in the calm waters. There are trees that dangle over the canals like waterfalls frozen in time. The houses are cute out of fairy tale books with the front roof lines look like steps to heaven. There are enormous front doors in vibrant primary colors. Door nobs are often a bronze hand of a woman and the door bells are the tounges of a lion's mouth.

Our days in Brugge were our laziest yet. Since we practically walked the town the first night we knew we didn't have to push ourselves to see all there was to see. Instead we lounged, we napped, we saw windmills, and we sampled the beers. One night I even got to speak alittle of the old Wolof from my Peace Corps days at a bar run by a Senegalese soccer player. Brugge with it´s waffles drenched in hot liquid chocolate was a vacation within a vacation.

Amsterdam, Netherlands

(May 31-June 3) The cabbie picked us up at 5:15 am to taxi us to the Leeds/Bradford Airport. With the twilight light it seemed as though it was later than it actually was. It was the same cabbie who took us to the station on our trip to Edinburgh. He was a friendly chap who had a knack for the back roads. He took us through some wonderful countryside. The day could not have been better. The skies were cloudless and there wasn't even a hint of a breeze. Nicest day in Leeds is the day we leave.

Our hour flight to Amsterdam dropped us off about 20 minutes by train away from Amsterdam Central. At the train station we deposited our luggage in lockers. We wanted to walk freely through the streets and secure lodging without the excessive weight or attention on our backs. We found hostels harder to come by. We assumed in Amsterdam that you would trip on them but that wasn't the case. The weather didn't help. Mr. Rain Cloud our traveling companion decided he wanted to check out Amsterdam too. He's been the one constant in our lives. After criss crossing over canals we finally found our home at the Flying Pig.

The Flying Pig in Uptown is an interesting spot along the Vondal Park. Matt and I have alot to learn on this trip and the language of hostels is one I hope we master. This being our first real hostel experience we didn't have our savoy shoes on. We agreed to a double bed thinking it came with our own room, little did we know we'd be sharing a double bunk with about 16 other people in the room. We didn't just get splashed in the hostel we dove right into the middle of the beast. Since school seems to be out all over the world the hostel is already filling up with hormones and most of those hormones coming straight from the states.

Matt and I are mostly invisible at the hostel. We blend in like the wallpaper. It's good to be anonymous. Since we rented bikes we zip in and out of the hostel like ghosts. There's too much to see to get caught up with the scene at the bar located at the base of the hostel. The bikes are a godsend. Aside from dechiphering the street signs in Dutch we managed to navigate around the canals and small streets with ease. The freedom of the road under out wheels is like nothing else. Amsterdam is a charming city by bike and by foot. Nearly everyone gets around on bikes. Mothers peddle up to 4 children at a time. It's really a family city despite the reputation as a city of ill repute.

Our days here have been spent trying to accomplish one task at a time. It's amazing how you can spend an entire day doing one thing. We usually pick up fresh bread, cheese and some fruit for lunch. We picnic along our bike path and soak in the surroundings. I love all the cafes that spill out from the restaurants to the town squares and along the canals. They are tragic and sad too because it's too cold yet for people to enjoy lounging in the sun. At night, which doesn't actually get dark until about 11 pm, the city comes bursting alive with people and lights. The street lights have a warm orange glow. It's like everyone becomes a member of the Holland National Soccer team under the street lamps. National pride for their squad is hard to miss around here. Many cafes and restaurants are drapped in orange banners, streamers and even orange balls. I can only imagine how it will be when we finallly get to Germany.

I didn't know what to expect when I got to Amsterdam but I really felt connected here. We keep imagining ourselves living in each place that we stop in but this place feels so subdued that and accessible I think I could actually live here. Walking and riding through the streets I hear so many different languages spoken. It just seems to draw so many walks of life and I love the melting pot atmosphere.

Today we're off to Brugge in Belgium via train. We'll leave with pancakes in our bellies and await waffles!

Edinburgh, Scotland

(May 27-29) Ali had booked us seats to Edinburgh, Scotland on a train that stopped through York. It was bank holiday weekend which meant everyone and their mother were planning gettaways on the train. We were sandwiched between a young boys football (soccer) team and a loud slightly intoxicated hen party (bachlorette party). Our heads were completely numb by the time we got into Scotland with all the chatter. The weather of course was toying with us. We fought cold, rain, wind and sun. As soon as you layered up it was time to take it all off again. Ali had rented a furnished apartment for the four of us for the weekend which was at the vortex of the old and new parts of Edinburgh.

I became completely enchanted with Edinburgh especially the castle towering above the town. At different points in our wanderings we would walk down small cobble stone streets and other streets would be absolutely bustling with shoppers. The trains cut through the center of town like a backbone. A greenbelt lined the valley with fountains, flowers and children playing. Gothic churches, roman columns and mediterrian style homes, Edinburgh was a hodge podge of so many styles spaning so many centuries. There were gaggles of people from all over the world with cameras cocked to snap photos of it all. I went nuts myself.

For dinner we dined at a small Brazilian restaurant. It was smoky, hot and low key enough for us to bring our own wine. We were all so worked from the days traveling and exploring that we just crashed back at the apartment. Our place was next door to a hard core punk rock bar so we were treated to some seriously engineered mohawks.

The next day we had brunch at a place called the Scotsman. It was a mixture of old traditional style with modern decor. It was one of the fanciest meals we had and one of the most appetizing. Matt dove into the Scotish breakfast complete with haggis. I'm more of a blood pudding fan myself. The next few days we continued to eat well and get lost in the city. What was so great about Edinburgh was that it was big yet so inviting and easy to roam about. It had a different feel than England one that felt more inviting. As soon as you'd get to a vista point not only could you take in all of Edinburgh with one breath you could also savor the ocean just off in the distance. It's wind reminding you exactly where you're at.

Leeds Day Trips

Our first trip by ourselves without Ali and Jay to hold our hands was via bus to the Harewood Home where the Lord and Lady Harewood live. It was dumping rain and I was completely drenched by the time we boarded the steamy double decker bus. We were rescued partly up the drive to the home by one of the staff. In a tent serving snacks we dried ourselves out next to giant blowers. All warmed up we walked the inside of the home. It was lovely but we got trapped behind a tour group and there's only so many glorious paintings and moldings one can appreciate before getting bored. The rain was absolutely unrelenting but we walked the grounds anyways. After we had enough of battling with the weather we went up to Harrogate to have a pint of beer. One pint lead to a couple and then we made our way back to our hosts.

The next couple of days was much of the same as far as weather. It became a running joke everytime we tried to step foot out of the door. As soon as we would put our shoes on it would rain. If it was already raining it would pour down harder with a furry. Like a concerned mother Ali would plead with us to stay in and watch a movie. We managed another day trip by train out to York but by Wednesday we just took it easy. We were tired of being wet and cold. Thursday was the only promising day so we ventured further by train out to Scarborough, a fishing village a couple of hours a way. We had a fantastic day walking along the beach and above by the castle. The main strip down the beach was like Fisherman's Wharf in SF but the views of the ocean were spectacular. We ambled around with our picnic lunches and later found a pub to refresh ourselves with pints. We each slept on the train back to Leeds tired from the beer and the walking. That became out mode of operation in England. Take a trip, walk, picnic, enjoy a pint, walk, trip back, sleep and arrive back to the comfort of our friends.

A couple of the nights Jay took us to some of his favorite smokeless hang outs. Matt and I are weak to the excessive cigarette smoking. My California lungs can't take a night out let alone my hair and my clothes. One night we walked down to Chaple Allerton to watch England play in a friendly against Belarus. England is coming apart at the seams with excitment about the World Cup. It only intensifies our desire to get to Germany and for the games to begin.