Empty Cage

Sweeney will not be coming out here until May 15th… Seriously, What the hell? It was set here!

And they have the GALL to call this western civilisation. Frontier territory, that’s where I am… I mean, what do they have to do? Translate it?

However, they do have literally shelves of the Battle Royale movie. No seriously, I have a photo. In the first section of HMV there were several shelves with Battle Royale on them. Definite shock there — thus I actually did take a picture.

I’m so bored and lonely. Honestly, only old people in my hostel, again I say, YOUTH hostel, not old-bloody-age home! I just need someone to spend some time with, you know, lone ranger skit is nice but complete isolation is going to have me chatting up a volleyball.

Hey! I’m alone on an island! It could totally happen!

Possibly Liverpool on the weekend. I should do my Beatlemania thing and past-stalk the Beatles. Maybe I’ll do Abbey Road tonight to get myself warmed up.

The noisy Aussies who hated me, the Indian who was probably  too ill to be in a hostel that night as she made the most amazing sounds from the moment her head hit the pillow until she woke up, the pant(and trouser!)less wonder, Team God Bless America… you certainly meet interesting characters in hostels. Then you meet people like KiwiClare, HottieMcScotland, and ‘I’m not in Mississippi anymore’, and suddenly you remember that hostelling isn’t really all that bad.

HOWEVER. I am going to KILL my only room mate this week. KILL HER WITH KNIVES. Call my BFF Jack, teh rippxxorzxcorelollerskates.

But seriously.

This woman is probablyyyy about 60 something or 70 something. Therefore lulling you into a false sense of security. You’d THINK it would be me pissing her off, after all, I am a strapping teenager full of vitality and life.

But no. Not at all in fact, night one, I politely introduce myself and say ‘I have to sleep now, I need to work tomorrow’ Does she shut up? No! Is it general chatter? Nope! Specific questions that I feel obliged to answer in the interest of peace in the hostel? Abso-bloody-lutely!

Now, generally speaking, talking too much is forgiveable in a hostel, last night is why I want to kill her.

I go to bed nice and early after talking to Stacey on the phone, I notice her bags and stuff are still around but she’s not in yet, I figure I should sleep any ways ‘Hostel Law number five hundred and twenty four states if thou gets to thy hostel after thy first person in the room falls asleep thou shallt get thy shit together silently in the dark, in the mercy of our lord, the manager’ Which I assume she does, because I didn’t wake up when she came in.

It’s not until she turns her radio on at 3:55AM that I wake up. A talk show. First assumption is it’s a mistake, or some kind of seriously funked up alarm system, as the topic of discussion seems to be rice. Then I hear the volume and station being adjusted slightly, to eliminate static.

I am floored by this. As I try to decide if it is quiet enough to sleep through I decide I am too indignant to even try. I try to subtly get across the fact that I am no longer sleeping, by conciously tossing, and sighing. No avail. So I growl over my shoulder, ‘You mind turning that down a bit?’ She offers a gloomy half-arsed apology and turns it off. As though I am putting her out. Hello? It’s 4 AM, don’t funking mess with me.

YHA, Youth Hostel Association my…

Anyways! Ireland!

I was surprised at how ‘hardcore’ Dublin was. I imagine it has a much ‘younger’ population in London. I arrived after about 45 minutes on a plane and met up with Marilyn. Every sign is in Gaelic and English! My room at Marilyn’s was preeetty much like a hotel room (needless to say I was pleased)

Our day around Dublin was awesome, I managed to get all my touristy stuff down. The Book of Kells, Trinity Collage, and of course I am physically unable to enter a city and not see the official museum. And NOTHING makes you feel like a bad person for being English like an Irish museum. You know, every atrocity EVER was committed by the British. EVER. Nazi Rule? The Royal Family is German! You kind of feel like putting on an Irish accent just in case. The surname… uhm… O’Bagg… yes, that’s me, Caitlin O’Bagg, and of COURSE Caitlin spelt with a C and an I what do you think I am? British?

The worst part is I am Irish and I still felt bad.

After doing Dublin Marilyn took me out to the countryside to see the lambs. I nearly died of adorable overload. Especially the little black one, I relate to the little black sheep. I am the little black sheep.

Sunday was… amazing.

We went to this castle ruin. Only it wasn’t a ‘popular’ castle ruin, so I had the whole castle to myself. It was breathtaking, and to be the only one there. On the way down Marilyn and I met up with a local. I think he said he was going to be doing an archaeological dig there, but I didn’t understand a word with his thick accent and the speed he was talking.

We also went to a monastery and cemetery which I would have appreciated so much more if I wasn’t still in awe of the castle.

To my commenters:

Ange, some of the Hardcore Irish boys were pretty swoonable. My joke was most amazingly amusing! My jokes always are! You said so! You have to stop hanging out with me if my jokes stop being funny! You are ultra fabby (my Britishism) Huzzah!

Daniel, Do comment more, or I’ll set… Dana on you!

From the last entry:

Emmadawn, I needed you and your ‘le 1337 (un-trois-trois-sept) skillz francais’ in Paris. I was so happy getting to see Jim <3

If you want to send me le mail de escargot you can send it here:

16 Bowling Green Lane,
London,
EC1R 0QH

And I will get it <3

Bwahahah on the evil Yellow faces which I’m still trying to figure out how to disable.

To Crystal, I know D= I misses real internets

To Amber, I have a few pages for you to start with, how many do you want at once?

To Mah, no only dead people I hero worship get that sort of love. Syd’s next.

Three big days in a row and I have yet to report on either of them. I am currently at YHA in York. I am ticked at the YHA of course, I get here tired and lost and the front desk guy asks if I want an YHA membership, as usual, I say no and of course he slides in ‘yourroomisanextrathreequidanight’ aha! The catch, doing the math if I pay the three pound a night I’m still only one pound off, but, if I decide to extend my visit then it’ll be worth it, and I can stay at a YHA hostel when I get back into London. It’s just hysterical that last little grab at money. I got a twenty-four hour internet voucher for today and tomorrow, so that I’ll be set until I go back to London. I have to go to London whether a get a job here or not unfortunately because my luggage is still in London.

But let me start at the beginning here, the day before yesterday I died and went to heaven. I went to the Mecca of History nerds; I was at the British Museum, oh my god. It was like heaven, I almost burst into tears of joy when I saw the real Rosetta stone, it was beyond the most amazing thing I had ever seen, one slab of rock that his taught us immeasurable things about the past—it makes me giddy just thinking about it. I had barely scraped the surface of the Egypt exhibit before closing time because I must have gotten lost about a hundred times before I got there. I cannot even come close to describing the sheer joy of being in that museum. Man, I am such a bloody nerd. I plan on going back and actually taking some pictures because the first time around I decided I wanted to look first. I’ve been trying to live my trip and not spend as much time snapping all the sights as I did last time. I only pull my camera out if I am really inspired. I’m sure I’ll need it when I walk York Minster tomorrow. While I do plan on dropping off CVs here I’m treating York like a bit more of a Holiday. I like my prospects of getting a job in London much more than York. I do love this town though; it’s beautiful, like living in a medieval village. I spent five hours on a bus today getting here, I should hope I like it.

The scenery around York is much prettier too; it’s a very tranquil town. Walking to my hostel was a bit of a drag though, it’s about a mile from the train station and I didn’t know what bus to take and so I walked it instead, overshot it by a lot and then was helped by an old lady who seemed to have a half German half Yorkshire accent. I have reason to believe she was both the loneliest lady in the world and a touch senile. She insisted on talking to me until her bus came, and then got the bus driver to take me there. I felt very awkward, but she was very interested in Canada and kept asking if I was sure I wanted to stay at the hostel. I was a touch sketched out, so I declined several times. I’m sure she was perfectly lovely, but all I had wanted to know was if I was going the right way! I’ll be hitting the streets tomorrow, but I think I know my way back here. This hostel is much nicer than the other one there seem to be more families and older people here than at ISH.

It’s hard to avoid being a bit disheartened, despite the fact that I’ve really only been job hunting five or six days, and only looking for actual retail jobs since yesterday. I had been relying on job boards and job websites, when really it’s probably more about just applying at places like HMV, Virgin records, Borders and W.H. Smiths, the big music and book chains. I don’t know, I just miss my family and friends now I think. That or I’m getting really nervous about not having a job.

And to my commentors

Mom, I’ll talk to you on the phone, the cover of the book in the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the galaxy is ‘Don’t Panic’ and I’m going to give that a try.

Amber, I love you and will AIM you.