Damn ginger-haired, royal bastard.
Thursday morning starts with me sleeping through breakfast, dashing to Starbucks (holla at my mom for that Starbucks card!) and then hauling ass to the cafe around the corner to meet with our group and get a lecture from a foreign correspondent.
And eat cake.
I remember the cake well.
The lecture not-so-much.
After the lecture about corresponding foreignly we, of course en masse, walk in the beautiful sunshine to the Saatchi Museum where we get a brief tour and then get a chance to the Sunday Times exhibit.
Cover photos from some of their renowned issues are displayed and explained.
It comes highly recommended!
And I think myself and Roger & Ebert would give it 5 stars or two thumbs way waaay up or whatever it is they say.
Afterwards a group of us find our way to the Camden market.
Which is a funky. Awesome. Frighteningly intense in the bartering department place.
The prices are low and the food vendors give out free samples.
Did I mention the free samples and good food?
NOM.
I split a pizza with jack whilst Dianne eats her long awaited crepe.
She'd been determined to get one since we arrived at the market and I really didn't give a crepe. [did you see what I did there? did ya? didya didya didya?]
After getting our nom on and finding the most epically perfect Starbucks/Star Wars shirt that I almost buy, we enter Cyberdog.
Not sure what to expect, we find a rave store.
Compiled of three floors and clothing that I'd only ever seen in Lady Gaga music videos.
Rumor has it that the lowest floor is all sex toys, but I was afraid to go check it out for fear of running into a local businessman legitimately trying to buy a whip or choke chain...
After leaving the fine 'cash only' establishment we head to Jamie Oliver's restaurant in the city where unfortunately, he is not present.
I order a pasta that has 'chili' sauce, not expecting the painful, painful FIRE that my mouth is about to endure.
I take a forkful and chug my water.
Then I accidentally eat a pepper and almost cry.
I ALMOST CRY.
LEGITIMATE TEARS.
So I stop eating it and stuff myself with bread and the fried-whatnots that were served as appetizers.
And of course, the dessert.
Not to mention the DIS complimentary long-island iced tea.
After dinner we head back to the hotel where we commence the Danish warm-up, American style. (i.e. sitting in someone's hotel room and trying to get tipsy off of the cheap alcohol before going out).
There is discussion of going to a club called Fabric, where the entrance fee is almost $25.
If I am too cheap to buy a beloved 5pound Starbucks/Star Wars shirt, I am most certainly going to be too cheap to pay for this club.
But as fate would have it, we don't even leave the hotel until midnight, when four of us decide to walk around the Earl's Court area in a search for a cheap place to dance.
And boy do we find one.
So cheap that it's free!
And let me tell you why it was free....
....it was empty save for two gay couples and a couple of creepers.
Needless to say I owned that dance floor.
I decided this was my one and only opportunity to run around in leaping circles in a "club" without risking pissing off a whole lot of drunk and grinding partiers.
It was spectacular.
Just ask Jack, Dianne, or Hannah.
So once Dianne's song request was played and we convinced her not to request it again, we decided to head back to the hotel, after peeing at the local McDonalds occupied with construction workers.
They cat called as we left the fine eatery, but we weren't sure if it was directed at us females or at Jack.
At the hotel Dianne tells us she wants to sit on the ledge by the fountain.
There is no fountain.
A ledge, yes, but it just sits about what I'm pretty sure was the entrance to the parking garage.
Obviously a successful night.
The morning is met with frantic
And then we head to meet our tour guides for a bike tour.
And I think I fell in love with our charming, Irish tour guide.
I'd follow him on a bike anywhere.
Especially since, in all seriousness, the bike tour was phenomenal and probably my favorite part of the trip.
DIS then feeds us one last time and it's time to meet our bus to take us to the airport.
I always get a melancholy feeling when I leave a place that I love, but then I remember how much I spent there and the feeling passes.
When the exhaustion hits, we are on the plane and I am ready to go home to my Danish family.
And I am suddenly aware that this is home now.
We were going home.
And then I was home!
Where there were snacks in the kitchen and free internet.
And now I have consumed too much free coffee and am sitting in my history of ballet class pretending that I'm not blogging.
I wonder what everyone thinks I'm doing?
Probably writing the paper that was due in this class today.
Suckers.
I got my shit done on time.
Thankyouverymuch.
Now it's time to do as they do in Amsterdam.
Check out some hookers...and whatnot.
12:11pm Denmark
7:11am USA
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