Although we had all kinds of fun and interesting things planned for this weekend, it ended up being a little boring. Apryll and I went on a trip with our school to Warwick Castle, which is supposed to be one of the best castles in England. As it turns out, it was too kid-oriented for us to really enjoy. The bus dropped us off at the castle and left us there for 7 hours until we could go back home. These hours passed painfully. There wasn't too much to see in the castle itself -- just some lavish state rooms, a dungeon and some cheesy movies playing. We ended up watching all three of the "shows" going on around the castle grounds: a birds of prey exhibition, an archery demonstration and a trebuchet firing. The trebuchet was the only good one because it launched a flaming ball of fire! Other than that, there was a garden where peacocks strutted around. We spent most of the day laying around in the field by the trebuchet because we were so bored.
Yesterday we took a bus to Wales, where we stayed the night in Cardiff. The bus ride itself was painful and so was our stay in Cardiff. Our hostel was great and we ate some amazing food, but we had a hard time finding things to do in town. We went to the National Museum, which featured an enormous display about Welsh rocks and some equally boring archaeology exhibits. There was an interesting photography exhibit as well as some Leonardo Da Vinci drawings. By the time we finished with the museum at 5 p.m., everything in Cardiff had shut down. We were so tired from the previous few days that we went back to the hostel and slept.
Today we headed down to the Cardiff Bay, which was supposed to have plenty of things to do. Aside from looking at the Millenium Center and the National Assembly, we still couldn't find anything going on. Even the Norwegian Church was closed. We walked back to town and spent the rest of the day shopping.
30 April 2007
23 April 2007
Spam and West Ham
Again, I have fallen behind on my blogging. So here's a smattering of events from the past few weeks.
Apryll and I finally made it over to Speakers Corner, an area of Hyde Park where people are encouraged to speak their mind. The Speakers (mostly crazies with strange, and often religious, agendas) bring their own soapboxes (or ladders, whatever they can stand on) and sermonize the crowds. The spectators roam from speaker to speaker, jeering and contradicting. Some of the spectators and speakers are even drunk, which makes things a little more interesting. When we were there the speakers included: a short, drunk misogynist; two elderly members of the British Socialist Party, an atheist who took spiritual cues from his four-month-old son; a Jewish guy who stood on an eight-foot ladder and sang loudly; a woman in a pretty pink dress who urged foreigners to go back to their home countries for religious reasons; a guy with frazzled hair and a signboard that read "I know everything."
On Wednesday I went to a lecture by Philip Zimbardo, the psychologist who oversaw the Stanford Prison Experiment. He was promoting his new book, "The Lucifer Effect," which deals with why good people do evil things. The focus of the lecture was on the Abu Ghraib prison scandal. Zimbardo was an expert witness for one of the accused soldiers who was eventually convicted and sentenced to something like 10 years for his role. Zimbardo had some interesting arguments that didn't entirely convince me. He definitely placed more emphasis on how the environment and situations affect people's actions than the people themselves.
That night was perhaps the best of my semester. For my birthday, I got tickets to the West Ham United v. Chelsea football game. I'm sure you all keep up with English football, so you'll remember that Chelsea is the defending premier league champion and had secured a spot in this season's championship game. They're also the Yankees of English soccer -- they have so much money they can buy whoever they want, resulting in an incredibly impressive roster. If you look at their starting line-up for a given game, you'll see all the stars from last year's World Cup. West Ham, on the other hand, is not faring so well this season. They're in danger of being relegated to the lower league (the three teams that finish in the bottom of the premier league each year get bumped down). Normally, I wouldn't consider myself necessarily a supporter of either team, but for the night I was a West Ham fan (because they game was at their stadium). I wore their colors and a scarf to show my support, because I didn't know any of the terrace songs. The fans sing throughout the entire game and most of the songs have little to do with football. Most cheers are also very rude. West Ham's main chant, which is sometimes considered the best terrace song in the league, is below:
I'm forever blowing bubbles,
Pretty bubbles in the air,
They fly so high,
Nearly reach the sky,
And like my dreams,
They fade and die,
Fortunes always hiding,
I looked everywhere,
I'm forever blowing bubbles,
Pretty bubbles in the air.
But despite the incredible atmosphere and hilarious fans (one of my favorite aspects was seeing how much West Ham fans hate Lampard, one of Chelsea's players), West Ham lost the game, 1-4. As a hammer support, I was outwardly disappointed. But inwardly, I was overjoyed at seeing Didier Drogba score a goal and just seeing the rest of the team on the field.
On Saturday I went with the school to Brighton, which is on the southern coast of England. The weather was beautiful and we spent most of our time there laying on the beach. Other than that, we checked out the eastern-inspired Brighton Pavilion, which was once a royal residence. Also, we walked along the pier and visited a very funky market street.
Today was St. George's Day, England's national holiday. You know how English people are a little nutty.... They decided to celebrate by showing British comedy on a huge screen in Trafalgar Square all day and top it off with a world record attempt. I went down to the square tonight after my history class, where London was trying to beat the record for the largest coconut orchestra, inspired by Monty Python's Spamalot. Over 4,000 people registered and were given coconut halves, which we were given detailed instructions how to play. After thirty minutes of rehearsal with the cast of the musical and Monty Python's own Terry Gilliam and Terry Jones, the crowd coconutted along to "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" and broke the record. It had been previously set by New Yorkers, with a paltry 2,000 participants. After the record-breaking, they showed Monty Python and the Holy Grail (the unedited version, they promised) on the big screen.
After classes end this week, I'll be taking a day trip to Warwick castle and a brief trip to Cardiff, Wales the next day.
Apryll and I finally made it over to Speakers Corner, an area of Hyde Park where people are encouraged to speak their mind. The Speakers (mostly crazies with strange, and often religious, agendas) bring their own soapboxes (or ladders, whatever they can stand on) and sermonize the crowds. The spectators roam from speaker to speaker, jeering and contradicting. Some of the spectators and speakers are even drunk, which makes things a little more interesting. When we were there the speakers included: a short, drunk misogynist; two elderly members of the British Socialist Party, an atheist who took spiritual cues from his four-month-old son; a Jewish guy who stood on an eight-foot ladder and sang loudly; a woman in a pretty pink dress who urged foreigners to go back to their home countries for religious reasons; a guy with frazzled hair and a signboard that read "I know everything."
On Wednesday I went to a lecture by Philip Zimbardo, the psychologist who oversaw the Stanford Prison Experiment. He was promoting his new book, "The Lucifer Effect," which deals with why good people do evil things. The focus of the lecture was on the Abu Ghraib prison scandal. Zimbardo was an expert witness for one of the accused soldiers who was eventually convicted and sentenced to something like 10 years for his role. Zimbardo had some interesting arguments that didn't entirely convince me. He definitely placed more emphasis on how the environment and situations affect people's actions than the people themselves.
That night was perhaps the best of my semester. For my birthday, I got tickets to the West Ham United v. Chelsea football game. I'm sure you all keep up with English football, so you'll remember that Chelsea is the defending premier league champion and had secured a spot in this season's championship game. They're also the Yankees of English soccer -- they have so much money they can buy whoever they want, resulting in an incredibly impressive roster. If you look at their starting line-up for a given game, you'll see all the stars from last year's World Cup. West Ham, on the other hand, is not faring so well this season. They're in danger of being relegated to the lower league (the three teams that finish in the bottom of the premier league each year get bumped down). Normally, I wouldn't consider myself necessarily a supporter of either team, but for the night I was a West Ham fan (because they game was at their stadium). I wore their colors and a scarf to show my support, because I didn't know any of the terrace songs. The fans sing throughout the entire game and most of the songs have little to do with football. Most cheers are also very rude. West Ham's main chant, which is sometimes considered the best terrace song in the league, is below:
I'm forever blowing bubbles,
Pretty bubbles in the air,
They fly so high,
Nearly reach the sky,
And like my dreams,
They fade and die,
Fortunes always hiding,
I looked everywhere,
I'm forever blowing bubbles,
Pretty bubbles in the air.
But despite the incredible atmosphere and hilarious fans (one of my favorite aspects was seeing how much West Ham fans hate Lampard, one of Chelsea's players), West Ham lost the game, 1-4. As a hammer support, I was outwardly disappointed. But inwardly, I was overjoyed at seeing Didier Drogba score a goal and just seeing the rest of the team on the field.
On Saturday I went with the school to Brighton, which is on the southern coast of England. The weather was beautiful and we spent most of our time there laying on the beach. Other than that, we checked out the eastern-inspired Brighton Pavilion, which was once a royal residence. Also, we walked along the pier and visited a very funky market street.
Today was St. George's Day, England's national holiday. You know how English people are a little nutty.... They decided to celebrate by showing British comedy on a huge screen in Trafalgar Square all day and top it off with a world record attempt. I went down to the square tonight after my history class, where London was trying to beat the record for the largest coconut orchestra, inspired by Monty Python's Spamalot. Over 4,000 people registered and were given coconut halves, which we were given detailed instructions how to play. After thirty minutes of rehearsal with the cast of the musical and Monty Python's own Terry Gilliam and Terry Jones, the crowd coconutted along to "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" and broke the record. It had been previously set by New Yorkers, with a paltry 2,000 participants. After the record-breaking, they showed Monty Python and the Holy Grail (the unedited version, they promised) on the big screen.
After classes end this week, I'll be taking a day trip to Warwick castle and a brief trip to Cardiff, Wales the next day.
14 April 2007
American Cravings
It's less than a month until our program is over, and lately I have been getting attacks of American cravings. I'll be sitting in art history class when suddenly all I can think about is Taco Bell. I don't even like Taco Bell. I'll walk down the street to the tube and suddenly an urge for Denny's overcomes me. I'm having a hard time escaping these cravings to drive a car, go to a mall, pay less than $40 for a meal out. So tonight to address these longings, Apryll and I went to eat at the Texas Embassy, a Tex-Mex restaurant on Trafalgar Square. The food wasn't quite like back in Oklahoma, but we felt at home in the restaurant. It's strange how just being in a place with a Mexican flag on the wall and tortilla chips makes me miss the good things of America less.
Although it feels like we've been here hardly any time, finals are just around the corner. I only have one paper, a presentation and three finals left before I'm done with the semester (and undergrad). Still, I have a fairly busy schedule for these last weeks. Wednesday will be perhaps the greatest day of my semester (and life). I have a ticket to watch West Ham United play Chelsea -- watching a premier league game has always been a dream of mine. Then on Saturday, I'm going to Brighton for a day trip with my school. The following Friday is the last day of class and Saturday is a day trip to Warwick Castle.
Although it feels like we've been here hardly any time, finals are just around the corner. I only have one paper, a presentation and three finals left before I'm done with the semester (and undergrad). Still, I have a fairly busy schedule for these last weeks. Wednesday will be perhaps the greatest day of my semester (and life). I have a ticket to watch West Ham United play Chelsea -- watching a premier league game has always been a dream of mine. Then on Saturday, I'm going to Brighton for a day trip with my school. The following Friday is the last day of class and Saturday is a day trip to Warwick Castle.
11 April 2007
Since Spring Break
I haven't been up to much since the big trip to Italy. I was planning on going to a book reading that featured Ian McEwan but it was sold out long before I could get a ticket. So instead, Apryll and I decided to continue in that literary vein and go to a poetry reading at a cafe in Soho. Strangely, the cafe was full of old people. Most of the work was surprisingly good (including a five-person poetry troupe that performed a 30-minute routine) aside from a 20ish actress/artist with ratty pink hair who read a dirty poem. The following week I went to a Shins concert in North London. For my birthday I saw Monty Python's Spamalot, which was incredibly funny.
Edinburgh
For Easter, my school gives us Good Friday and the following Monday off, so I took a solo trip to Scotland for a few days. On Thursday, I left town on a night trip -- an uncomfortable and mostly sleepless nine-hour ride I spent squished between a Swede and the window. I arrived in Edinburgh at 7 a.m. -- hours before my hostel's reception would be open. I spent an hour or two in the train station with a cappuccino and set off to fine my hostel. By the time I had walked there it was nearly 10 a.m., but the reception was empty. I waited about an hour before giving up and set off to see the city with my heavy backpack.
I walked through the Princes Gardens, which gives an ideal view of Edinburgh Castle on the hill above. It's also filled with statues of famous Scots, including Sir Walter Scott (and his enormous monument) and David Livingstone. There's also a functional clock in the landscaping made of flowers. I hiked up to the Royal Mile, the stretch connecting the Castle with Holyroodhouse Palace, one of the Queen's three official residences. Here I saw St. Giles' Cathedral and a slew of other statues including a pensive David Hume. Up towards the Castle is the Scottish Whisky experience and Camera Obscura. I also hunted down the tiny plaque on the castle's esplanade walls that marks the spot where witches were burned at the stake. I walked the entire mile down to the Queen's Palace, which is right across the street from the newly-built Scottish Parliament building. Nearby is a stretch of grassy craggs, topped by Arthur's seat, the tallest hill outside the city. I wandered around central Edinburgh until I found the Sherlock Holmes statue and then walked back to the hostel, which by then was open.
After chucking my bag in my room (a tiny space crowded with three bunkbeds), I hiked up the hill to the castle and paid too much to enter it. Inside the castle features several museums (most of them dedicated to various military regiments, veterans and prisoners of war), chapels and gift shops. Down the hill I found the Writer's Museum, which commemorates the work of three of Scotland's great writers: Walter Scott, Robert Burns and Robert Louis Stevenson. The entire bottom floor was dedicated to Stevenson and included pictures of him at Kiribati and various other islands around the world. I also visited a weaving mill where I saw tartan manufactured. Sadly, there was no Abbott tartan for me to purchase.
After lunch I climbed Carlton Hill, which is filled with monuments. There was another huge tower erected to honor Walter Scott, as well as the Scottish Monument. This unfinished monument is meant to resemble the Greek style with its enormous columns. However, a lack of funding meant the project was abandoned, leaving it unfinished and sometimes called the National Disgrace. A little down the hill is a cemetery that houses David Hume's tomb and a monument to Scottish-Americans that features an Abraham Lincoln statue.
I search New Town for Stevenson's and Scott's homes, which were within blocks of each other. I found the general area, but both the buildings were unmarked. There was another monument to Prince Albert in Charlotte Square a few blocks away near a preserved Georgian House.
The next day I got up early, intending to hit all the museums in town. My first stop was the National Gallery/ Royal Scottish Academy (mostly modern art). Though small for a national art gallery, this one was stuffed with amazing paintings. And since it wasn't enormous, I didn't feel the pressure to rush through so I could see everything. I especially liked their Rembrandt self-portraits, Monet's hay stacks and a couple Van Gogh's. The entire bottom floor was reserved for Scottish painters -- the landscapes were incredibly beautiful. Next door was full of modern art, most of which was alright but not especially noteworthy. I stopped at the Museum on the Mound, which chronicles the Bank Of Scotland's history. The highlight was a glass case full of one million pounds (in cancelled notes) which wasn't much of a highlight.
I stopped in St. Giles' Cathedral and was disappointed with the Scottish Library's one exhibit about some random cartoon I'd never heard of. Next I saw the Royal Museum/ Museum of Scotland which sprawled over six stories and contained everything from Scottish history to Egyptian artifacts. There was just too much information to process, but I did enjoy the rooftop terrace with its view of the city. I had to visit Blackwell's, Edinburgh's largest bookstore. And next I went to the less interesting museums -- the Museum of Edinburgh and the People's Story Museum -- and toured the church where Adam Smith was buried.
After lunch I went back to the Queen's Palace but decided it was too expensive to tour. Even the art gallery was expensive and I was a little irritated with the Queen. I've already toured Windsor Castle outside London and that didn't excite me too much, so I wasn't really upset about missing out on Holyroodhouse.
I spent most of the afternoon climbing around the craggs outside the city, which proved to be one of my favorite things about Edinburgh. The weather was beautiful and the hills were full of other people hiking around. I had only set out to climb the first crag that overlooks the city, but once I got to the top I saw another, higher hill. So, of course, I had to climb this second one. And at it's summit I saw another, even higher, hill to climb. I eventually made my way up to Arthur's seat, the highest point outside the city, which was windy and cold. On my way back to the hostel I stopped in at Jenner's, Edinburgh's famous department store, in the same vein as Harrod's or Fortnum and Mason in London. These stores don't interest me much so I left after about two minutes.
Glasgow/ Highlands
The next day marked my departure from Edinburgh. I checked out of my hostel in the morning and decided to spend my time waiting at the train station instead of traipsing around the city with my bag again. After an hour-long train ride I was in Glasgow.
My hostel was an enormous hotel-like building that sat right on the river. I had booked a bed in an 8-person room, but when I checked in they had bumped my reservation. Instead they assigned me to a 2-person room -- at no extra cost -- and I didn't have a roommate either night. It was too cold and wet outside to do much that evening, but I spent a few hours walking around Glasgow. I decided there wasn't too much to see; the city reminded me too much of an American city -- very commercial. I returned to the hostel early and got some sleep for the next day.
Monday I was up early to catch a bus tour through the Scottish Highlands. We left Glasgow at 8 a.m. and headed north toward our first stop at Glencoe, which featured some creepy, treeless hills shrouded in fog. After several more hours on the bus (most of which was filled by corny commentary and Scottish music), we arrived at Loch Ness, the highlight of the tour. Here we paid to enter Urquhart Castle and took a cruise across Loch Ness. I don't like boats in the first place, so this little jaunt was a little miserable. It was cold and the lake was choppy and I was stuck outside on the platform. And Nessie was nowhere to be seen. After a few more hours on the bus, we arrived at Inverness, the capital of the Highlands. There wasn't much to do there but walk around a look at the modern, red-stone castle on the hill. We stopped again at some tiny town called Pitlochry before heading back to Glasgow.
My last day on holiday I took a train out to a suburb called Blantyre. Here was David Livingstone's birthplace and a museum about his life. It was definitely my favorite part of Glasgow, although there weren't any other tourists in sight. It looked like the kind of place that didn't get many visitors. I spent some time walking through the gardens and talking to the guy in the gift shop who recommended one of the Livingstone biographies. When I got back to town, I visited the gallery of modern art, the Glasgow Cathedral and St. Mungo's Museum of Religious Art. Finally my time in Scotland was up and I caught a train to the airport for my Ryanair flight home.
Edinburgh
For Easter, my school gives us Good Friday and the following Monday off, so I took a solo trip to Scotland for a few days. On Thursday, I left town on a night trip -- an uncomfortable and mostly sleepless nine-hour ride I spent squished between a Swede and the window. I arrived in Edinburgh at 7 a.m. -- hours before my hostel's reception would be open. I spent an hour or two in the train station with a cappuccino and set off to fine my hostel. By the time I had walked there it was nearly 10 a.m., but the reception was empty. I waited about an hour before giving up and set off to see the city with my heavy backpack.
I walked through the Princes Gardens, which gives an ideal view of Edinburgh Castle on the hill above. It's also filled with statues of famous Scots, including Sir Walter Scott (and his enormous monument) and David Livingstone. There's also a functional clock in the landscaping made of flowers. I hiked up to the Royal Mile, the stretch connecting the Castle with Holyroodhouse Palace, one of the Queen's three official residences. Here I saw St. Giles' Cathedral and a slew of other statues including a pensive David Hume. Up towards the Castle is the Scottish Whisky experience and Camera Obscura. I also hunted down the tiny plaque on the castle's esplanade walls that marks the spot where witches were burned at the stake. I walked the entire mile down to the Queen's Palace, which is right across the street from the newly-built Scottish Parliament building. Nearby is a stretch of grassy craggs, topped by Arthur's seat, the tallest hill outside the city. I wandered around central Edinburgh until I found the Sherlock Holmes statue and then walked back to the hostel, which by then was open.
After chucking my bag in my room (a tiny space crowded with three bunkbeds), I hiked up the hill to the castle and paid too much to enter it. Inside the castle features several museums (most of them dedicated to various military regiments, veterans and prisoners of war), chapels and gift shops. Down the hill I found the Writer's Museum, which commemorates the work of three of Scotland's great writers: Walter Scott, Robert Burns and Robert Louis Stevenson. The entire bottom floor was dedicated to Stevenson and included pictures of him at Kiribati and various other islands around the world. I also visited a weaving mill where I saw tartan manufactured. Sadly, there was no Abbott tartan for me to purchase.
After lunch I climbed Carlton Hill, which is filled with monuments. There was another huge tower erected to honor Walter Scott, as well as the Scottish Monument. This unfinished monument is meant to resemble the Greek style with its enormous columns. However, a lack of funding meant the project was abandoned, leaving it unfinished and sometimes called the National Disgrace. A little down the hill is a cemetery that houses David Hume's tomb and a monument to Scottish-Americans that features an Abraham Lincoln statue.
I search New Town for Stevenson's and Scott's homes, which were within blocks of each other. I found the general area, but both the buildings were unmarked. There was another monument to Prince Albert in Charlotte Square a few blocks away near a preserved Georgian House.
The next day I got up early, intending to hit all the museums in town. My first stop was the National Gallery/ Royal Scottish Academy (mostly modern art). Though small for a national art gallery, this one was stuffed with amazing paintings. And since it wasn't enormous, I didn't feel the pressure to rush through so I could see everything. I especially liked their Rembrandt self-portraits, Monet's hay stacks and a couple Van Gogh's. The entire bottom floor was reserved for Scottish painters -- the landscapes were incredibly beautiful. Next door was full of modern art, most of which was alright but not especially noteworthy. I stopped at the Museum on the Mound, which chronicles the Bank Of Scotland's history. The highlight was a glass case full of one million pounds (in cancelled notes) which wasn't much of a highlight.
I stopped in St. Giles' Cathedral and was disappointed with the Scottish Library's one exhibit about some random cartoon I'd never heard of. Next I saw the Royal Museum/ Museum of Scotland which sprawled over six stories and contained everything from Scottish history to Egyptian artifacts. There was just too much information to process, but I did enjoy the rooftop terrace with its view of the city. I had to visit Blackwell's, Edinburgh's largest bookstore. And next I went to the less interesting museums -- the Museum of Edinburgh and the People's Story Museum -- and toured the church where Adam Smith was buried.
After lunch I went back to the Queen's Palace but decided it was too expensive to tour. Even the art gallery was expensive and I was a little irritated with the Queen. I've already toured Windsor Castle outside London and that didn't excite me too much, so I wasn't really upset about missing out on Holyroodhouse.
I spent most of the afternoon climbing around the craggs outside the city, which proved to be one of my favorite things about Edinburgh. The weather was beautiful and the hills were full of other people hiking around. I had only set out to climb the first crag that overlooks the city, but once I got to the top I saw another, higher hill. So, of course, I had to climb this second one. And at it's summit I saw another, even higher, hill to climb. I eventually made my way up to Arthur's seat, the highest point outside the city, which was windy and cold. On my way back to the hostel I stopped in at Jenner's, Edinburgh's famous department store, in the same vein as Harrod's or Fortnum and Mason in London. These stores don't interest me much so I left after about two minutes.
Glasgow/ Highlands
The next day marked my departure from Edinburgh. I checked out of my hostel in the morning and decided to spend my time waiting at the train station instead of traipsing around the city with my bag again. After an hour-long train ride I was in Glasgow.
My hostel was an enormous hotel-like building that sat right on the river. I had booked a bed in an 8-person room, but when I checked in they had bumped my reservation. Instead they assigned me to a 2-person room -- at no extra cost -- and I didn't have a roommate either night. It was too cold and wet outside to do much that evening, but I spent a few hours walking around Glasgow. I decided there wasn't too much to see; the city reminded me too much of an American city -- very commercial. I returned to the hostel early and got some sleep for the next day.
Monday I was up early to catch a bus tour through the Scottish Highlands. We left Glasgow at 8 a.m. and headed north toward our first stop at Glencoe, which featured some creepy, treeless hills shrouded in fog. After several more hours on the bus (most of which was filled by corny commentary and Scottish music), we arrived at Loch Ness, the highlight of the tour. Here we paid to enter Urquhart Castle and took a cruise across Loch Ness. I don't like boats in the first place, so this little jaunt was a little miserable. It was cold and the lake was choppy and I was stuck outside on the platform. And Nessie was nowhere to be seen. After a few more hours on the bus, we arrived at Inverness, the capital of the Highlands. There wasn't much to do there but walk around a look at the modern, red-stone castle on the hill. We stopped again at some tiny town called Pitlochry before heading back to Glasgow.
My last day on holiday I took a train out to a suburb called Blantyre. Here was David Livingstone's birthplace and a museum about his life. It was definitely my favorite part of Glasgow, although there weren't any other tourists in sight. It looked like the kind of place that didn't get many visitors. I spent some time walking through the gardens and talking to the guy in the gift shop who recommended one of the Livingstone biographies. When I got back to town, I visited the gallery of modern art, the Glasgow Cathedral and St. Mungo's Museum of Religious Art. Finally my time in Scotland was up and I caught a train to the airport for my Ryanair flight home.
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