Why I Really Came to Europe

Not many people know this, but I have a secret passion. I love castles. Castles on hills are even cooler. When there's cool weather around, they become even cooler. Castles on hills in mist might be the coolest thing in the world.

So it should come as no surprise that the real reason I came to Europe this summer was not to study football and politics, or for any kind of self-discovery journey, but actually to see castles on hills in mist.

Glasgow, unfortunately, is one of the few Scottish cities with no castle. It has the University of Glasgow, which is really castle-like, and the Kelvingrove Gallery, which is also sort of castle-like. But not the real deal. Oh, speaking of the Kelvingrove Gallery, see if you can figure this out:


Yeah. Just think about that for a second. The Kelvingrove Gallery is both to your left and to your right, and simultaneously, neither. For those of you who are wondering, the Kelvin Gallery is actually behind me while I'm taking this picture. I don't want to hear any more about how difficult these cities are to navigate. If the Scottish can't even figure out which direction they're supposed to go, you can't put any blame on me for not knowing my way around.

So, with my Glasgow meetings and interviews finished this morning, it was time to make my way to Scotland's most famous castle - the Edinburgh Castle. I had had enough of Glasgow by this point anyway, plus it was raining here, and I thought that escaping across the country to Edinburgh would help me get away from the nasty weather. Fun fact: Scotland's not big enough to have two different weather systems. Edinburgh is only like, an hour and a half away. It was rainy in Edinburgh, too.

One can clearly see from the rows of kilt and bagpipe stores that Edinburgh is where the tourists come when they come to Scotland. And they come for good reason. Edinburgh is a pretty city. Many of its streets are cobblestone, buildings come from every century except the 21st, and the city is shaped into a valley, with the castle towering over the rest of the city. There are old churches and other cool architecture.

I have to mention that while I'm in Scotland, I feel like eating McDonald's is okay, because honestly, what sounds more Scottish than McDonald's. It's the most Scottish name there is - aside from William Wallace.

Now, it would have looked even better, save for the fact that the weather was horrible and visibility was limited to less than 50 feet. But despite the rain, I had to pursue my destiny, to climb to the top of the city to see what I came to see.

The Edinburgh castle was cool, but a little too commercialized for my taste. It was chock-full of museums, and I could have spent hours if I was willing to read everything, but four museums about Scottish soldiers just seems excessive. It wasn't terrible picturesque because of the weather, but the mist made it especially eerie and medieval looking. Plus, when I think of Scotland, I think of gray, wet weather, so I guess that added to the effect.

The best pictures came from walking along the city and looking up at the castle, because of course, nothing is cooler than an old castle on a hill in the mist, which is exactly what Edinburgh gave me. I'm a fan of the city, and the castle (but then again, how could I not be?).



I also made my way through the rest of the town, seeing an old graveyard where philosopher David Hume was buried and the old Edinburgh observatory, which was set way upon another hill overlooking the city.

More on the trip and the exciting soccer adventures that I've been having in Glasgow, but for now, have fun sliding down the stairs, and watch out for when the floor disappears.

Why the Scottish Cheer for the United States

It's actually pretty simple: They hate the English. At least that's how it was told to me this evening as the USA lost 2-0 to England. I didn't really know what I could encounter when I walked into a local pub for kickoff, but when I found out quickly when I was greeted with cheers when I asked who the Scots supported in the match.
"Obviously we support the USA," said a nice old Welsh man. "We [expletive] hate the English? Don't you guys? I love the USA."
Even the Welsh hate the English. I thought they loved them. I knew the Irish hated the English, that one was simple, but it turns out that most people who were once under the authority of the crown don't like England.

So it was a sad night for all those countries that were once a part of the English empire when the USA couldn't beat out the English. We did it in 1776, why did we come up short this time? Maybe we're better at war than football. I think we have more passion for the former anyway. My fellow bar mates were surprised that an American was even watching football (and calling it football and not soccer, for that matter), but I think I shold get used to that for the next few months.

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

There's a great Gatorade Commercial from a couple years ago that chronicles team USA's World Cup journey to the tune of "take me out to the ball game." I guess the idea was that soccer is finally arriving in America. Great thought - but I'm not sure America will ever embrace the beautiful game like they do here.

So yesterday I headed across town to Celtic Park to catch my first live European football match. I wanted to see if it lives up to its reputation of being as crazy as it's hyped to be. The boys of Celtic played Motherwell as a tribute to a player, Phil O'Donnell, who died of cardiac arrest on the pitch last December. The team also lost it's manager and former player, Tommy Burns, earlier this month.

Despite the losses, Celtic were this season's Scottish Premier League champions. In fact, they've been champions the past three years. In fact, only Celtic and their cross-town rivals the Rangers have been Scottish Premier League champions. Since 1998, there has been only one year where the two teams failed to occupy first and second. But more on this in my actual research project, because it goes to the heart of it, and probably isn't interesting for those who don't like football or economics.

I had to enter through the "neutral/visiting team" entrance, since that was the only ticket I could procure. But no worries there, I was surrounded by Celtic fans, and since it was a tribute match to great players, everybody was in friendly spirits. Security is tight at Scottish football matches. I had to enter through a turnstile that I could barely fit through (and I'm not sure some fat people could. Once in my section, it was very difficult to get to the next over. And the stadium was overrun by security guards, even for a tribute game. When I get pictures downloaded, I'll put them up, but at one point there was a ring of security guards spaced about 5 feet apart all the way around the field. Then there was one at the bottom, middle, and top of every section. I don't quite know what they were protecting against, but I don't think I wanted to be around.

My seat was very high up and there was a railing in front of my face, but that didn't bother me too much because it was cheap and I could still see everything. In the first half Celtic was scoring on my end of the pitch, which was quite exciting as they put up three of their goals that half.

The stadium is huge, holding more than 60,000 people. To put that in perspective, the RBC Center holds fewer than 19,000 for Hurricanes games. And every seat was full yesterday. I was embraced by a nice family next to me, who wanted to make sure I was a Celtic fan before I left. I'm not quite sure they're my favorite, but it was an interesting experience and I now have a soft spot in my heart for the Scottish Premier League champions.

But the game was incredible. Before a full house the Celtic boys won 5-1. But despite it being a blowout, the fans were into the game the whole time, singing rousing cheers to Phil and Tommy and the rest of the team. Everybody in the stands was decked out in green and white, the team's colors (with a little orange thrown in from the Irish flag). People draped huge flags from the upper levels and some were on their feet the whole time. The game ended with the teams taking a lap around the stadium with took about 10 minutes, and every second of it was filled with applause.

After the game, the team's current captain brought out their recently-won trophy, and the crowd went crazy again. After the game, the stadium emptied out into the streets. Since most fans come from the city, there wasn't much traffic, only a mass of people all walking down the same street. While it was only 4:30, many people went to pubs, which I thought was funny.

Though it was a wonderful experience, it made me wish I was here for the real season and possibly and "Old Firm" match with the Rangers, which is supposed to be the cream of the crop when it comes to crazy football fandom. Though for the sake of my health and safety, it was probably best I wasn't there.

I know you're speaking English, but I have absolutely no idea what you're saying

And other hasty judgments about Glasgow...

I can't understand these people. I listen to them and it sounds like they're speaking German or Swedish or some language I've never heard. But every now and then I'll catch a word of English thrown in their mumbo jumbo and I make an even more concerted effort to understand some semblance of what they're saying. Alas, it has been fruitless.

But on to other things:
First off, this city isn't too big. After coming from London, where it was too far to even walk into the city center from where I was staying, Glasgow seems tiny. Yesterday, I actually walked all the way across the city without realizing it. The surrounding area expands for ever, but everything interesting is really centrally located. It's a five-minute walk to the city's major streets. Odd that the city has two train stations though.

The people here are intimidating. I don't know what it is, but Scottish men (and women) seem to be much more intimidating than Londoners. They're bigger, drunker, and I can't understand them, which is a triple threat for lonely, insecure Kevin.

On that note, the people in the Hostel are really friendly. They're an eclectic mix of mostly gap year students, though there are a few older men thrown in. I thought I wasn't going to like it much in the beginning, but it has turned out to be a much better time than I thought. It's nice to have somebody to talk to about nothing - it kind of reminds me of college.

They love death here, apparently. There is a huge cemetery that looms over the city. And when I say huge, I mean massive. Big gravestones and tombs, all situated high above the city. I ventured up there yesterday evening. It made for cool pictures but also gave a very ominous feel.

And when I say evening, I don't really mean that. There's a lot of sunlight here. I guess that's because we're so high up on the globe, but days are long. It gets light really early (like, 4 or 5) and gets dark around 10:30. It makes for little sleep and lots of daylight, but I've learned that I'm much happier when there is sunlight, so I'm not going to wish it away. And we haven't even hit the longest day of the year yet.

Things are cheaper! Thank god. I can get lunch for much less here than in London, which makes me much happier, and more full. I got breakfast yesterday for less than two pounds, which blew my mind.

Unfortunately, I haven't found anywhere to go for a run, though I'm not quite sure I would want to go for a run on my own around here. I think it would be even easier to get lost here than in London. It has fewer green spaces than London (no heaths), and the air feels a lot grittier and grimier. Glasgow kind of reminds me of an old rust belt city, where there's not a whole lot of progress. But I actually have no idea.

I can't believe how little time I'm spending here, but I'm heading back to London Thursday, and catching a train to Belgium Friday morning. I guess that will make all of this seem like it's going really quickly. And I guess it is.

Aside from a few museums, there doesn't seem to be a whole lot to do here, except for football, but more on that later.

A Northbound Train

The incredible coincidence of this post is that I'm actually on a train. One has to love that the world has become so wireless that this moving vessel can have full wireless access so that I am able to update this blog.

So, where am I off to, one might ask. Well, I am beginning this second leg of the journey heading north among rolling hills and tiny boroughs of the British landscape. I'm leaving the land of limeys, pence, boiled food and the Queen, and making my way to Scotland, home of haggis, kilts, bagpipes and violent sectarian soccer. After realizing I overpacked for this adventure, I forsook several shirts and a pair of shorts in Marion's closet. I probably should have parted with my DTH sweatshirt as it takes up a lot of room, but my love for it is too strong, and I've already lost it once, twice would be too much. Though I picked up a jersey, new toenail scissors (probably the fortieth pair I've ever bought), a combination lock, and a new book, I set out from the Boulicault's humble abode several pounds lighter (in both the monetary and weight terms), and I'm off to the second country in this wonderful, football-filled journey.

On that note, is Scotland a country? What is it's official designation. They're part of the United Kingdom, I know that, so they're not really a country. But at the same time, they, along with Wales and Northern Ireland get their own team in the World Cup (and European Cup for that matter). Scotland has it's own devolved parliament, but they still report to the England crown. So what are they?

And on that note, I'm just now realizing how far north Scotland is. Have you ever looked at it on a map? It's up there. I mean, it's not Greeland or Iceland or Sweden north, but it's up there.

Amazing that its going so quickly. I'm coming up on two weeks on Tuesday. But what's more amazing it how much further there is to go. I feel like I've been away for a while, but there's so much more, and I've barely scratched the surface. Several countries and even more cities yet to come, with no familiar faces until Germany. Also, no more privacy for a while as I move to hostels and dorm rooms (and even some sleeping on trains) for several weeks.

In honor of all the English teachers I've ever had I went and saw a show at the Globe last night. While it wasn't traditional Shakespeare, it was a traditional sixteenth-century good time nonetheless. I'm kind of glad it wasn't one of the long ones, because standing for three hours might have been difficult.

Anyways, keep sending me emails because I miss you all dearly, and will need to hear some friendly voices as this solo part of the trip begins.

A Project, A Game, and A Tourist

I haven't done well keeping this up as much as I would like, though I guess that's a testament to how busy I've been these past few days.

A project
The past few days were devoted to this project, which I suppose is shaping up well. I've had a few solid, good interviews with academics this week, as well as some vital email conversations. I would have to say the Rosetta Stone of this whole project was meeting with a man who used to be a CEO of Southampton FC and Fulham FC. He clued me in to some resources that will prove exceptionally helpful, and we had a good long chat about football and its future. He's currently in the market for a new job, so he told me to ask around and see if I knew any professional football teams that needed new CEOs. I told him I'd ask around.

I think I might do a separate blog to hash out what I'm learning from the project, since it's cool and interesting, but probably not what most people reading this would want to read. Then again, I haven't really been able to keep up this one, so I don't know how two would work out. However, I have found that I know more about economics, the EU, political systems, sports industries, American sports, and of course, football, as a result of being here less than two weeks. I'm excited for what the next few months bring.

Monday I dragged myself out of bed early to go cross town to Emirates Stadium, home of Arsenal, to meet with the team's historian. I'm not quite sure why all of these teams have historians, but it seems to be a well-paying, easy-going job. Their stadium is beyond belief, and while I was there the grounds keeper was doing his annual digging up and replanting of the field, which slightly blows my mind. When I talked about Chelsea, I mentioned how I was not impressed by their media treatment. I take that all back with talking about Arsenal. They have a plush media room, including a full-service bar and restaurant, all paid for by the club.

I also made my way to Craven Cottage - the Fulham F.C. stadium - to see how people do things when they're not at the top of the league. It was much more low-key than Chelsea and Arsenal, and they definitely didn't have a club historian. Though they were a lot nicer, and even though I didn't have an appointment or meeting set up, I found someone to sit down with and talk about the club. It kind of seemed like the management had nothing else to do, which I suppose makes sense because Fulham didn't make any post-season play, and just barely saved themselves from relegation this season.

A Game
Last night was one of the best nights I've had in a while, though I must admit that the result wasn't what I had particularly hoped. After a day of train rides and cricket watching (see the previous post), I came back to London just in time for kick off of the first all-England Champions League final, which was being played in Moscow. At a wonderful Irish pub called O'Malley's (No relation to the Pina Colada song) we had to watch as the Blues lost to Manchester United in penalty kicks to lose the Champions League final. I thought we had it when goalkeeper Peter Cech stopped Manchester United superstar Christiano Ronaldo, but the ill-fated Chelsea had a stroke of bad luck when captain John Terry slipped on his kick and hit it just wide. We watched the game with a group of students from Texas A&M who are here for the summer to work. I don't think they were quite prepared for the European football experience, though they got a crash-course last night.

While the result wasn't what I hoped for, watching the game was certainly fun. Such a back-and-forth match between such great teams makes for quite an exciting atmosphere. I don't think anything really compares to watching a football game among Europeans. The people actually care. And it's not just the people who have been rooting for either team throughout the season. When it comes down to the final game everybody picks a side cares. It's incredible contrasting this to, say, the Super Bowl, which a majority of people only watch for the commercials and because everybody else is doing it. No, watching this game here was phenomenal, and I can't wait for the Euro Cup.

Don't worry, mom, I had nothing to do with the riots in West London. Though I must admit that being in the area would have done wonders for both this blog and my "research" this summer. But alas, I was on my way home moping with the rest of the Chelsea fans on the tube.
One thing that shocked me about the coverage of the game was that so many people were complaining about how expensive Moscow was, which blows my mind because prices here in London are through the roof, so I can't possible imagine what they would be in Moscow to put people so on edge.

On that note, I'm continually amazed at the coverage football garners here. The Times ran 12 pages of post-match coverage, but, no, that will not suffice. Tomorrow their sports writers have combined their strengths to put out a 16-page supplement to tell me everything I could ever have wanted to know about last night's game, how the teams got there, what the future holds for both, how the drinks were in Moscow that night, why the grass appeared better than it actually was, why that guy in the first row wasn't wearing a shirt. Really, how much analysis can you do of a game? The answer: never enough.

A Tourist
So now for the recount of the rest of the time:
I finally saw Buckingham Palace, which I must admit wasn't that spectacular. It's a rather unimposing building with drab architecture and a complete lack of character - though I guess that goes a great distance in describing the royal family. I must admit, though, Britons love their Queen. She's on the money, posters, the national anthem. And people actually still do things in the name of the queen, in her honor. It blows my mind that in such a developed world, we would still believe that one family is vastly superior than others, though I must admit that they almost feel the same way about the sex and the city actresses and Amy Whinehouse that they do about the queen, and the latter probably gets more news coverage.

I also got to see Westminster Abbey, which simply blows my mind in its oldness. People were being buried in that building more than 500 years before my country even existed. That's crazy. I was slightly let down that nobody solved the mystery of the Da Vinci Code while we were there (remember, Newton's tomb), but there were some cool sculptures and famous people. I am a little disappointed that I couldn't remember more of the names I saw there from AP European History (sorry, Ms. Yamauchi), though I knew a remarkable number of those people buried in the "poet's corner."

On that note, one of the theaters downtown is showing Equus - my favorite horse-blinding, psychopsychotic, coming of age play about how parents completely mess up children - and I only learned this today. Had I learned earlier, I would totally have been there, but tonight I'm off to the Globe Theatre to catch some Shakespeare, and there's just no more time.

Britons love American movies. As I sat through the previews for Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (a film I would highly recommend), I noticed how there really aren't any popular movies made outside of the United States. I suppose you could say Bollywood, but it's really only Indians who watch that. No, if there is one aspect of this crazy world where foreigners still love the United States, it's action-adventure-comedy with incredible special effects, and Sex and the City, of course.

Today I'm off to the local library (I know, wonderful way to spend vacation) to look a few things up and make some copies of a wonderful book I was allowed to borrow, and must mail back to the original owner, unfortunately.



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Oh, and since Marion requested that I mention her in this blog, I thought it was only appropriate to thank her and her family for letting me stay with them. The best way of doing that? By putting up a picture of little blond Marion that has been lying around her room.

A Note on Cricket

I've liked sports my entire life, and I think I understand them well. Especially the obscure ones. The first time I saw curling I was hooked and learned the game fairly quickly. I understand the intricacies of diving and even Jai-Alai, but while I've been in London, one sport has eluded me greatly: Cricket.

They love it here. It gets it's own page in the paper every day. There are bars and channels devoted entirely to it. They sell jerseys and flags with cricket team logos, and the national team competes all over the globe. Apparently, it's the second most popular sport in the world.

Here's the thing about cricket: It's the only sport I can watch for two hours and still have absolutely no idea what in the world is going on. It's stupid.
I sat and watched a match at Loughborough while I was waiting for a meeting yesterday, and the whole time I sat there scratching my head. Any nobody else understands it either. I asked the people around me what was going on, and they used uncanny, fake terms like wickets and overs, and something known as the popping crease. I think Marion's right - it's a conspiracy - nobody actually has any idea what cricket is, the British just do it to confuse us Americans. It must be their response to American football.

So here's what I gathered from sitting there for two hours:
I don't know how long into the match I showed up, since there is no clock or scoreboard, and nobody ever looks like they're into the game. There are about 35 people standing around this field, not really paying attention. Two of them have large fraternity paddles and body armor. I think the iron men are on the same team, but I'm not sure.

So play starts when a pitcher (I think he's called a bowler, but not like the hat or the PBA) runs about 300 yards and chucks a small wooden ball. Now when I say that he runs, I don't really mean that. He tends to trot, not really full speed, and he does a funny little dance right before he throws. Like I said earlier, I don't know if the guys he's throwing to is on the other team, since everybody is wearing white and are essentially indistinguishable. Anyway, he throws this ball at the ground, it bounces, and then another guy swings a fraternity paddle in hopes of hitting this. Alternatively, it looks like he occasionally tries to peg the batter for no apparent reason. Sometimes the batter misses, and the ball hits these sticks poking out of the ground, and everybody cheers. But that doesn't really matter, because the people who actually know what's going on cheer at random points when it appears that nothing happens.

So when the ball gets hit, everybody runs in a circle. Except when the guy hits it far enough (when you think he would run a lot), but in that case everybody just stands around watching it. It takes about five minutes for play to resume after that. The ball comes back to the pitcher-like guy, and the whole thing starts over. Unless they don't want to, in that case they just stand around talking. I'm not quite sure who the ref was, either, since he was wearing white too.

And the game didn't end in the time that I watched it. The games must go on for days, because I read in the paper that they have tea breaks, and that someone took two wickets on a jimmy in the fifth to put the bowler up before lunch break, whatever that means. And the score, you can forget me trying to keep track of that. In fact, I wasn't even quite sure it was an actual game. It could have been a scrimmage or practice, and I would have absolutely no idea of the difference.

The best part of cricket is reading it in the paper the next day. They talk about achievements like "centuries." Also, scores tend to be astronomical numbers, and nobody understands how they get there. The other day New Zealand beat England 176-5. I'm not quite sure how that happens, but they tied the next day, though N.Z. seemed to have two scores.

The Blues, Lots of Green, and a Woman in Black

The Blues
Thursday morning I thought it would be best to start this thing called a research project, so I went down to Chelsea to speak with some people. obviously I had to start there, since they're going to win the Champions League on Wednesday. First things first I took a tour of the stadium. So, I've always heard these rumors that European football press boxes are crazy luxurious, and that the clubs went to great lengths to treat the press right. But I wasn't overwhelmed by this stuff. It was very similar to the press rooms at places like the Hurricanes and the Red Sox. Still, it's pretty much a dream job to get in there.

So the first guy I talked to was Frank. He works for Chelsea and has been a fan for like, 40 years. He showed me and a couple other people around the stadium. He really knows his stuff, and it was cool to talk to him. He told me about how the image of the club has changed during recent years, since this oil magnate Roman Abramovich bought the club.

On of the guys there with me was from Nigeria. His real name is Akin Okunola, but he preferred to go by Billy Boy. He's developing a magazine to be distributed across Africa, and possibly the world, that focuses on African footballers playing in the Premier League. Africans are nuts about the Premier League, and they're all about the Africans playing here. Billy Boy was a huge Chelsea fan because of John Mikel Obi, who's also from Nigeria. He gets to travel all over Africa talking to people, and he gets to come to Britain too. He's also hoping to turn it into a television program. I really hope his project works out, because I think it would be really successful, and a really cool thing for Africans.

When I was all finished they let me watch a developmental game. I also talked to this kid in Chelsea's developmental program from Ghana. He's 17 and he's been playing in their programs since he was ten. He came to the country when he met with scouts in Ghana. His story will probably make a good biography when he makes it big one day.

Lots of Green
I spent today wandering around Hampstead Heath. This had absolutely nothing to do with my project, it was just something I wanted to do. I wandered in way further than when I've been running through there. The day started off really sunny and warm, but that kind of digressed into a cold and gray afternoon, which was unfortunate since I wore a t-shirt and shorts.

You never think of cities of being natural, but they all seem to have some cool natural area in which to escape. The Heath is awesome. I wandered into it and just kept walking. I stopped in a couple places to read and such. It has swimming ponds that are segregated into mens' and women's, which I found quite hilarious (though, the actual funny part is that people were swimming, and it was quite cold). There was also a great sign that said watch for mating geese, which made my day, since I can imagine a funny image of geese attacking swimmers.

From the south end of the Heath there's a really cool view. It overlooks the city and is a great place for taking pictures. I spent some time up there hanging out, reading and writing. It was very meditative. There were a lot of people with kites and their dogs. I want one. A dog, not a kite.

So, by about hour 5 I was pretty lost and tried to make my way back to where I'm staying. I was getting really hungry, and I managed to stumble across a little girl with ice cream. Then there was another one. And another. And finally I came across an ice cream stand, which made me incredibly happy, and I learned that my mood is incredibly impacted by ice cream, in a positive way.

A Woman in Black
I saw this play last night. It's called the Woman in Black, and it played at the Fortune Theater. So the big deal about this play is that it's supposed to be really scary. And it was. It scared the crap out of me. It did a really cool job of utilizing sound and silence to get the audience all suspenced and freaked out.

Other than that my wanderings in London have been joyous. The city is really cool, and an interesting mix of history and modern.
Londoners have this problem with walking. They can't quite figure out which side of the street to do it on. In the tube they make people walk on the left, which is confusing as crap. But on the street people walk on the right, or just walk wherever they want. I thought I had it figured out, but every time I guess which side to talk on, I guess wrongly, and have to do the infamous sidewalk dance.

So, until next time, I expect you all to send me emails and all that jazz. Also, I'm kevinkiley on Skype, if any of you use that and want to call.

Tourism in England

I'm pretty sure this is travel rule number 1, but I wasn't really paying attention during that DEA guy's presentation before heading off: Never go running in an area that you don't really know anything about. That's what I did last night and ended up taking an almost 2-hour run because I couldn't find my way back. But the awesome thing is that I was lost in Hampstead Heath, which is like London's Central Park, but more beautiful and historic. Luckily there was a nice old man to steer me home.
I did a little better this morning, but it wasn't such a good workout.

So, since I hadn't really set up meetings or anything like that during my first few days in London, I thought I should take some time to do the tourist thing in London. I saw the Tower of London, the British Museum, Big Ben, Westminster, and almost anything else I could do for free. It has been a wonderful time. I feel like such a tourist.

In my time here, I've noticed some thing that Londoners love. Londoners love:
Londoners love Sex and the City. It's everywhere. They even write crazy articles about how to visit New York like one of the "fab four." They're on buses, buildings, boats, the ground, anywhere.
Londoners love their celebrity gossip. It's all over the newspapers - more so than actual news. The love Paris Hilton, Posh Spice, and a bunch of British people of whom I've never heard. They even love Amy Whinehouse. It's all over the front page, second page, and then they have a whole separate section for celebrity gossip. There's definitely more celebrity news than real news, except maybe sports.
On that note, Londoners love sports. More importantly, I love how much Londoners like Cricket, because it's an absolutely ridiculous sport. I love reading about it, because it makes absolutely no sense.
Londoners love horrible traffic. Their roads wind with no particular pattern. Clearly, the roads had to develop around a city that had already been here for a while, but its like they made no effort at all. Trying to throw pedestrians into that mix makes it even worse. People get hit all the time. Apparently one teenager dies daily from getting hit by a car. That seems excessive.
Londoners love fitting perfectly into British stereotypes. I don't know why, but I feel like I've seen all Londoners before - in a movie or television show.
Londoners love Sir Walter Raleigh! They credit him with everything - he's like the British Benjamin Franklin. Even now, I'm watching a show on how he brought the potato to England. It's so funny to hear about his work here, since we know him so well on our side of the pond.
Londoners love not being from London, or England for that matter. Nobody I've come across is actually from London. There are Indians (like, from India), French, Germans, Africans, but not that many people form England.

Alright, that's all I've got for now. More to come later.

Cheerio

'Ello friends,
Greetings from across the pond, where I have taken my first steps in this wonderful world known as Europe. It's hard to imagine that a little more than a week ago I was taking tests, and now here I am backpacking across a completely different continent.
I'm spending my summer studying soccer, which is basically the coolest thing that any 11-year-old boy who plays for the local recreational league could dream up (which is largely because I dreamed up the idea as an 11-year-old boy in a local recreational league). So I'm spending part of my time talking with big-wigs and researchers and the rest of the time will be spent being an absolute, no holds barred tourist. I'm hitting up the UK, Belgium, Switzerland, Austria, Germany, and the Czech Republic, finally making my way down to Croatia for some well-deserved R&R.
The weather here has been wonderful. I was expecting cold and rainy (actually I had no idea what to expect), but it has been sunny and 75 both days I've been here.
I was completely jet-lagged yesterday, so I spend it bumming around and napping. I even took a nap outside and got sunburnt, which is clearly a good first day. However, being refreshed, I spent today wandering around London seeing the sights (and when I have the energy, I'll put up pictures).
I'm here in London until the 22nd, at which time I'll be making my way north to the wonderful kingdom of Scotland.
In an effort to make all of this remotely related to soccer: Boo to Zenit St. Petersburg for beating Glasgow's Rangers in the UEFA Cup Final, especially since I'm heading up there soon.

All of you should stay in touch, because I already miss all of you terribly. This blog is no excuse for individual emails, I care as much about what you're doing. kkiley@email.unc.edu.