And just like the prodigal son, I've returned. (Anyone steppin' to me will get burned)

Well, I've decided to get back into the blogging game. I know this may come as a shock to some, and you may be asking yourself, why would you do such a thing, Daniel? I thought you just created this blog for when you were abroad, what are you gonna write about now? And don't you know that blogging is kinda gay? Allow me to respond to your various inquiries individually:

A) You're right, I did originally start this blog for my time studying in London. It was a good way to avoid having to answer the same questions over and over again. I could just direct anyone who was curious about my adventures to check out the ole blog to find out what I was up to, and I also figured it'd be nice to be able to look back on it in the future as a sort of memoir or journal of my experiences overseas. I planned to stop posting once I got home, but after a couple of months I've decided to bring it back (with a vengeance). I've kind of been trying to figure out what I'd like to do with my life, since I'll be graduating next spring, and I do enjoy writing. I've also been told that I'm fairly decent at it, so I figured I might as well get back in the groove in case I ever decide to seriously consider some type of writing-based career. It probably won't lead anywhere, but its a pretty good way to kill time when I could be doing more productive things. Additionally, I'm just pretentious enough that I think that what I have to say is worth being recorded so that all humanity, present and future, may drink deeply from the fountain of my wisdom. So question one... nailed.

B) What am I gonna write about now? I wish I knew. I have no real plans for this thing, I just decided to start writing again on a whim. I figure I'll try to take things that I notice or experience and connect those specifics into more general musings on politics, society, culture, whatevs.

For example, over the weekend I went to the Sox game with three comrades and before the game we were hanging around in the parking lot polishing off a case of beverages. As we were sitting there, a rather grimey looking fellow came up and started asking us whether we'd been questioned by any authorities regarding our drinking activities, considering the fact although we were all of legal age, we looked young enough to maybe arouse suspicion. We had not been, and the gentleman explained that he was constantly being harassed by The Man and had just the other day been maltreated for doing the exact same thing we were doing, even though he was obviously significantly older than us. However, because we were a few Polo wearing white kids from the suburbs, we were left alone, while an older, moderately grungy African-American guy is constantly harassed. We agreed that this was pretty unfair, but the best/worst part of the story was that as we were talking to the guy about his plight, a U.S. Cellular Field security guard (who need to carry guns, apparently) rolled up in a golf cart behind our new friend and began questioning him. The security guard proceeded to ask us if the guy was giving us any trouble, but the guard did not feel it necessary to ask if four drinkers of a youthful persuasion were of legal age. As the great lyricist Zach De La Rocha once said, "The structure is sick, can't change it with a ballot pull."

And Finally, as for the third question,

C) Blogging isn't gay.

That's it then, folks, the first non-abroad related blog post. Hope it was enjoyable. Also, here's a couple of songs and links I've enjoyed lately.

The Black Keys- Tighten Up: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mpaPBCBjSVc

-amazing song, amazing video.

From Foreign Policy, about China's growth: http://www.foreignpolicy.com/articles/2010/08/16/chicago_on_the_yangtze?page=full "In Britain, the birthplace of the Industrial Revolution, there are only two cities with a population of more than 1 million; in the United States, there are just 10 such cities. But already in China, there are 43 cities of more than 1 million, and by 2030 there will be 221, the McKinsey Global Institute predicts." Ridiculous. We're so fucked.

Last Few Weeks/Reflections/Home (Mega Sadface)

Well, after nearly 5 months in London, I'm finally back in the ole US of A. The time flew by, yet at the same time it seemed like I had been in London forever. Flat 41E in Pooley House had truly become home. It's so bizarre being back in Elmhurst after so long and realizing that nothing here has really changed. I can sit on my couch with my dog and watch tv, exactly the same as 5 months ago. I can see this quickly becoming boring, but as of right now, its pretty nice. Portillo's for lunch today.... yessssss.

Anyway, the last few weeks since my dad and Jen were in London were fairly eventful just doing fun stuff around town. I saw Ted Leo and the Pharmacists and Third Eye Blind in concert, which was sweet. I'm not particularly a fan of either of them, but if you've got a chance to go out and see a concert in the greatest city in the world, why the hell not? Also went to my second Premier League football match, between perennial powerhouses Fulham and Stoke City. Stoke City pulled out a 1-0 squeaker with a late goal, despite a stellar performance by everyone's favorite Yank, Clint Dempsey. Going out at night has been great as well (crazy night at Roxy definitely a great time), but I think the highlight of my final few weeks was the weather. Especially the last week, it was sunny and nice everyday and being able to hang out with a great group of people along the canal, playing some sports and having some drinks, is really all a man can ask for, though falling into said canal should probably be avoided. I also think I did pretty well on my exams, though I wasn't particularly worried about them.

So, thats it. I've been home for 12 hours (woke up at 6 am, damn time change), and I already miss London. I figure while its all still pretty fresh in my mind I should list all the things I can think of that I'm gonna miss about my time abroad, so without further ado, here it is in no particular order:

London, the Tube and Tube shenanigans, Doner, Nando's, British politeness and humor, the beer, Wetherspoon's, the Palm Tree, Flat 41, Flat 46 pong, the smell of Mile End, Regent's canal, Queen Mary, Cristina Von Hodenberg, running along the Thames, Dixie, random overseas encounters with people I haven't seen in years, Brick Lane, Low Cost, wandering around central London at night trying to get home, the 25 bus, the Bangladeshi's (sorta), getting in arguments with foreigners about how awesome America is, travelling, British accents, the beautiful women, Sainsbury's, exploring London, Draper's, and more than anything, the people I met. So in summary... I miss everything. Crap.

Well that's it then. I guess this is the end of the overseas portion of this blog. I might update it every once in a while, but I've got no real plans for it. Perhaps I should change the name. Whatevs. Thanks for reading everybody. If you're someone from home, I look forward to seeing you this summer, and if you're reading this from back in London town, I miss you already.

The Emerald Isle and Big Dan in London

Well this post is sorta old news, as its been a week since the events transpired, but you're gonna just have to deal with it. Anyway, this tale begins back in December as I was getting ready for my trip. My dad decided that he wanted to come over and visit, as he'd never been to foggy London town, and since my sister Jen would be graduating in May, a trip across the pond seemed like a solid graduation present. Additionally, since Jen had been to London in high school, we decided that she'd come over a few days early and that she and I'd take a little side trip to Ireland before rendezvousing with pops back in London. Jen was to arrive early Monday morning, then we'd catch a flight to Dublin that afternoon and have 2 and half days in Ireland (including a day trip to Galway and the West coast).

Unfortunately, her flight from the Chi was delayed over 4 hours and we missed our original flight and had to pay a ridiculous fee to get on one later in the day (the entire Ryanair corporation is made up of douches). So instead of getting into Dublin at 2 pm, we arrived at like 8. After checking into our hostel, we walked around for a bit and grabbed dinner (realizing that Dublin is paradoxically more expensive than London) and met up with another studying abroad old friend, Katie McLean, for some drinks (read: Guiness) before turning in. Jen was wiped out from her absurd travel day, plus we had to get up early for our bus to the west coast.

Now I'd been a little skeptical of the merits of taking a 4 hour bus ride (at 730 am) to the coast when there was so much to do/see in Dublin, but the tour we were on was amazing. Our hilarious/awesome/perverted old Irish guide was the man and the sights were fantastic. Millenia-old Celtic forts and tombs, castles, medieval cathedrals, and the Cliffs of Moher, which are in competition for my favorite things I've seen over here. Ireland is probably one of the greatest places on earth and the Irish people are fantastic. I'm really not a fan of guided tours, I'd rather just figure stuff out myself, but given our limited time I was definitely happy with this one. We also stopped for lunch at a great little pub in the coolest/tiniest little town where I had one of the greatest meals of my life consisting of Irish Stew, chips (fries), and a Guiness. After that full day of sight-seeing, we got back to our hostel in Dublin pretty late and hit the sack for our full day in Dublin.

The next morning we wandered around the beautiful campus of Trinity College and went to the National Gallery of Ireland, as they were both really close to our hostel. Next, on our walk towards Dublin Castle and St. Patrick's Cathedral, we ran into a kid we went to high school with, Brooks Smith, randomly while walking down the street. Now this is not the first time this has happened during my travels, but it's still absolutely astounding. What are the odds of running into someone you haven't seen in years, completely unplanned, while just walking down the street in a major foreign city? Anyway, he was in town from Budapest visiting a friend, but since she was in class, he joined us for the rest of our sightseeing. After the cathedral and the castle, we headed towards what I perceived would be the highlight of our day, the Guiness Brewery Tour. After my disappointing experience at the Heineken Brewery, my hopes weren't too high, but it was definitely pretty sweet. Plus, after 2 and a half pints of Guiness, wandering around is just that much more enjoyable. We bid Brooks adieu afterward so he could go meet his friend, and Jen and I went to have a picnic at Phoenix Park, which is apparently the largest enclosed park in Europe. It used to be the private grounds of the English royalty/their representatives in Ireland before the Irish kicked those bastards out. Anyway, after that we had to head to the airport to catch our evening flight back to London, and after some more travel difficulties, we finally made it back to my place late Wednesday night.

After an invigorating nights sleep on the floor, as I had gentlemanly allowed Jen to have the bed, we went to meet the padre at Heathrow and got the two of them checked into their hotel (lesson learned: if a hotel seems surprisingly cheap for London, don't expect much). After lunch at the pub, we did one of those lame, super touristy bus tours of the city, which was actually sort of interesting, though as a London quasi-resident, I have trouble admitting that. After a nice English dinner of bangers and mash by Liverpool St. (nice to have someone with money around, I ate better the 5 days my dad was here than I probably have the rest of the trip combined), we hit up the pub for a few drinks and caught the end of the Liverpool/Atletico Madrid match on tv. The next morning, we went to the Tower of London, which I haven't been to these past 4 months. I think I've become sort of immune to the cool-ness of seeing really old stuff, but I think dad and Jen really enjoyed it, and the Tower was still pretty sweet. Next we went out to Greenwich for the rest of the day, one of my favorite places in London, to check out the Royal Observatory and Royal Naval College grounds. Also had lunch at the Trafalgar Tavern on the river, which apparently big shots like Charles Dickens used to frequent back in the day. After Greenwich, we went to Covent Garden for the ultimate in London touristy-ness and had a nice Italian dinner in Soho before grabbing drinks at a bar in Covent Garden.

Saturday, Jen and dad had the pleasure to experience the great Danny Schufreider London walking tour, as described in previous posts. However, as Big Dan was present, an amazing lunch at the top of the National Gallery was included, as was actually going inside Westminster Abbey. Also, since it was May Day, there was a wacky Anarchist/Communist protest going on outside Parliament, so that was neat. After deciding against going up in the London Eye, we headed back to Mile End for dinner at the Greedy Cow, probably my 'hood's best restaurant, and a night out at the ole Palm Tree in Mile End Park, the capital's finest night spot, which my dad really seemed to enjoy, though Jen may not have. Sunday, after a breakfast trip to Brick Lane for some famous bagels, we judged it best to make it a museum day as the weather was pretty shitty. Despite having been to the Museum of London and the British Museum before, I definitely enjoyed the return trip, being the history nerd that I am. For dinner, we went to Rule's near Leicester Square, billed as the oldest restaurant in London. I got the venison, which the menu boasted may contain lead shot, but alas, no such luck.

Monday, their last day, I got to sleep in as they were going to the Wartime Cabinet Rooms/Churchill museum and I'd been there twice already. I met up with them for lunch (at Nando's, YES) before they had to head off to the airport for their flight home. It was awesome having them visit however. These past months have been the longest I've ever been away from home (by far) and though maybe I should grow up and get used to it, it was nice to have some family here for a visit at least. As great as it was to see 'em, it's also gotten me thinking about the bittersweet moment coming up in a couple weeks (only 2 more weeks, holy shit). I really am getting ready to go home and see everybody, but at the same time I love London and am going to miss the people here. It is definitely going to be tough to leave, and at the same time, I know that when the time comes I'll be ready to go (though after like a week home, I'll probably be ready to murder my family and bored out of my mind). So on that lame/sappy note, peace out hombres. Look for at least one more post before I go home, as May has included/will include some neat London happenings. Schuuuuuuf OUT!

Euro Spring Breaking Part 1: Peeing in the Mediteranean, Smelling Like Ass in the Prado, and Other Spanish Shenanigans

Well, the big day had finally arrived. After a moderately boring week in London after the end of classes, it was Thursday and I was ready to start my 10 day sojourn through Barcelona, Madrid, and Amsterdam. Unfortunately, my flight was actually on Friday, which I luckily realized just before buying a bus ticket to the airport (those of you who read the Amsterdam post, will recognize this travel difficulty as a nice foreshadowing of greater issues to come). Anyway, I finally got to Barcelona on Friday evening and was promptly greeted with some alcoholic beverages, as everyone else had already begun pregaming for the club. In Barcelona, I met up with Ryan Rauh, who had come down from Madrid for the weekend, at the apartment of his friends, Tom Sullivan and Eddie O'Connor (shout out to Tom and Eddie for being awesome guys and letting a dude they just met stay at their place for 2 full days after the mutual friend had left, and showing the aforementioned dude a great time). I forget the name of the club we were originally going to, but its really not important because our group ended up going somewhere else since stupid Ryan wasn't allowed in after getting in a fight with the bouncer about drinking a beer in line. Anyway, the club we ended up going to was called Catwalk and though, as mentioned in previous posts, clubs really aren't my scene, being idiotic, drunk, dancing Americans can be a good time (for an image off the club, picture expensive drinks, beautiful/douchey spanish people sweating all up ons each other and ignoring the dumb americans, and hot girls in lingerie awkwardly doing model poses on a stage at the club and refusing to give a lap dance to Tom even after his impressive offer of 2 euros).

The next day, I had probably one of the greatest days that a man can have. It was absolutely gorgeous out, 75 degrees, and without a cloud in the sky; weather I had not experienced in quite a while, having spent the majority of the past 4 months in London. Thus, we headed to the beach, full of beautiful Spanish women (with and without tops, crazy Europeans) and the clear blue waters of the Mediterranean. One of my goals for the trip had been to take a dip in the ole Roman Lake, and though the water was a bit chilly, I'm happy I got to accomplish that goal, something I'll remember for the rest of my life. Plus, I peed in the water! Suck it, Europe!

After the beach, we went back to Tom and Eddie's apartment (ran into 2 girls from Fenwick on the way back, Europe is crazy small), where every Saturday they apparently have a barbecue on the awesome terrace of their apartment for their friends in Barca. Now this day apparently, with its combination of awesome weather and El Classico later that night, led to the greatest, best attended barbecue they'd had thus far, and I must say, it was awesome. Grilled meats all over the place, live music courtesy of the hosts, beer, mimosas and scotch flowing like wine, and though I hate to admit it, Ryan Rauh makes a mean patatas bravas. After the barbecue, we all headed to a bar/former warehouse to watch El Classico, which is the nickname for the match-up between Barca and Real Madrid, and as you can imagine, it's a huge deal. The game was amazing, with Barca winning in a commanding 2-0 shut out, and the atmosphere of the place was out of this world; hundreds of Barca fans singing and just going nuts. Back at the apartment, people worn out from the sun, excitement and drinking all day crashed all over the place after a failed attempt to watch one of my new favorite movies, In Bruges. I, myself, ended up sleeping on a comfy pile of dirty laundry...

The next day, Sunday, Ryan peaced out back to Madrid, and in the afternoon I met up with Darcy Johansen, a fellow Wildcat studying in Barcelona, for some much needed sight seeing. I got to see the famous and beautiful, work-in-progress, Sagrada Familia Cathedral, the neat old Gothic quarter architecture, and some ruins of the wall that used to surround Barcelona's ancient Roman predecessor. After bidding the Darc adieu, I went back to Tom and Eddie's, where they were preparing to celebrate, as it was Eddie's 21st birthday. Now apparently they perform and have become regulars (like in an, awesome "Cheers" sort of way) at an Irish bar called McCarthy's in Barca. So we went there for the celebration; just a great time, singing, yelling, old Irish men, and even a complimentary birthday bottle of champagne.

The next day, after sleeping in (I managed to secure a couch) and going to a pretty good pizza place for lunch (Eddie had won 5 free pizzas in a drawing since he correctly guessed the score of El Classico, I tell ya, these kids are living the dream), I think we just hung around the aparment playing video games. This may sound like a waste of an afternoon, but I have been unable to just sit on a couch and play video games for going on 4 months now, so it was definitely a worthwhile experience. That night, I met up with Sarah Gallo, another Wildcat in Barcelona, for a dinner of Tapas and Sangria before going back to the apartment where Eddie and Tom were sustaining their first night sober since they'd arrived in Barcelona (living the motha fucking dream).

The next day, I headed to the airport for an afternoon flight to Madrid, to meet up with Rauh. Upon arrival, we immediately headed to the basketball courts for some ball against a couple of his buddies before a night of drinking with his friends in his apartment and Ryan getting yelled at by his crazy landlady's sister who lives in the apartment (this will have some significance coming up). The next day, after Ryan had returned from class and I was just waking up, the sister informed Ryan that the landlady was coming to talk to him and his friends about their shenanigans. I waited outside once the landlady arrived, as visitors crashing at the apartment was not permitted. Anyway, turns out the landlady informed Ryan and co. that they could no longer drink in the apartment, and after a brief argument, RyGuy was evicted. 2 weeks to find a new place. The only reasonable course of action we foresaw after this was to pick up a bottle of Scotch and go sightseeing. We went to Retiro, a huge, beautiful park in Madrid once reserved only for the royal family and had a couple drinks there before heading over to the Prado to check out what Goya, Velazquez, El Greco, and the rest of the gang had to offer (because Ryan had gotten into a fight with his landlady, I was unable to shower at his apartment, thus by the time we got to the Prado, I was smelling pretty rank, hence, the title of this post). That night, after polishing off the Scotch, we met up with Ryan's crew and went to a crazy tapas bar called El Tigre, where with each relatively cheap drink you buy, you get a shitload of delicious tapas; just an amazing place. We had to peace out early so I could grab my stuff from Ryan's apartment and get on the metro to the airport before it closed for the night. Upon arriving at the airport at like 1:30, I napped for a couple hours on some comfy benches before jumping on my 6:50 flight to Amsterdam. Little did I know what kind of shitty luck I was in for....

Euro Spring Breaking Part 2: Amsterdam...Solo?

Well, before I get into what actually happened, let me tell you how the Amsterdam trip was supposed to happen. I was to arrive in that fair city from Madrid at 9:50 am on Thursday morning, having booked a cheaper flight earlier in the day than everyone else. I had to book a hostel by myself for Thursday night, as the sweet boat hostel we found only allowed bookings in multiples of 2 and there were 3 of us for Thursday night. I didn't see this as too much of a problem, as I figured that it was only one night and that because we'd all go do whatever it is kids do in Amsterdam these days, and then I'd be able to fall asleep no problem in my cheapass hostel bed in a room with 11 strangers. Ryan and his friend were supposed to arrive in Amsterdam from Madrid late Thursday afternoon, and then when our 4th arrived on Friday, we'd all be in the same hostel for Friday and Saturday night. The way it was supposed to work out, I had a few hours Thursday to kill by myself. So once I arrived Thursday morning, after grabbing some food, wandering around for a while (stumbled upon the I Amsterdam sign and a schnazzy little market), and eventually finding my shitty hostel, I decided to take a nap, as I had only gotten a couple hours of sleep on a bench at the airport the night before. When I awoke, I saw I had a couple missed calls from Ryan, and the astute amongst you may have guessed what those calls were in regards to. Yep, everyone else's flights had been canceled because of the goddamn Icelandic volcano, and thus, I would be solo in Amsterdam until at least Saturday morning.

The first day/night were by far the worst, as during the day, myself and my would-be companions tried to figure out what was going on and whether they'd be able to get on another flight. Ryan found out that he could get a flight Saturday morning at the earliest (though that too was eventually canceled), while the other two gave up hope. That night, I went to bed sober and though I was exhausted, I barely got any sleep because shit-faced Europeans kept coming back and being loud at all hours of the night/morning and also because the dude on the bunk below me looked like the French version of Charles Manson. After that restless night, I checked out of that miserable place and headed to the place that everybody was supposed to stay at for Friday and Saturday, but which in reality I was the only one who would get to enjoy it. After convincing the wonderful manager that I should only pay for myself, even though we had booked 3 nights for 2 people and 2 nights for 4 people, I decided I might as well go out and enjoy Amsterdam. I judged it best to forego the coffeeshops for now, as partaking in their goods and then wandering around by myself might have ended with me waking up naked in a field in Belgium or something, so instead I did some nice, wholesome touristy things; went on a free, 3 hour walking tour of the city, which was actually pretty cool and then headed over to the Anne Frank House. Even though it was really crowded, it was actually pretty intense/interesting.

That night, I sat around and drank with some of the other guests in the hostel, which wasn't too bad. Now, mind you, these are the kind of people who stay in on a Friday night in Amsterdam rather than go out, so not the wildest bunch, but it was still rather enjoyable. I also arranged to meet up with a few of em at a coffeshop the next day, which was exciting. So Saturday, after sleeping in nice and late in my comfy single bed (I at least ended up with a single room, which was nice), I hit up the Rijksmuseum, which has some neat Vermeer's and Rembrandts' (Nightwatch ftw) before heading over to the Heinken brewery for the tour/tasting. Although you do get 2 and a half beers out of the deal, the tour ("The Heinken Experience", as they call it) really was kinda stupid and not really worth the 15 euro. Anyway, next, after over 48 hours in Amsterdam, I finally got to enjoy some of the city's famous "coffee" with the group of Americans I had met the night before (thank you, david, mark, heather and sarah, wherever you may be, for taking pity on me). So that was nice. After that, I just went back to the hostel and crashed, ready to get back to London after 10 absurd days on the continent. Now that may seem like the most boring weekend anyone has ever had in Amsterdam, but all in all, I had a pretty good time just chilling and enjoying the actual city, rather than just its lax drug laws (though by saying that, I may permanently forfeit my already meager f-r-a-t-s-t-r credentials).

So Sunday, rather than have to worry about finding some way home because of the stupid volcano, all I had to do was worry about getting on the ferry, as I was able to outsmart the volcano by booking my Stena line ticket almost two months before the trip. This was no easy task however as, door-to-door, it took me 14 exhausting hours to get back to London. After waking up at like 10:15 (9:15 London time) and walking to the Amsterdam Central Train Station, I caught an 11:10 train to the ferry port at Hoek van Holland, where I arrived at 12:45 and waited around for my 2:30 ferry. After laughing at all the stranded Brits waiting on stand-by as I got on, I hunkered down for the 6 and a half hour ride to Harwich, on the east coast of England. It's really not a bad way to go if you got the time, though probably more enjoyable with a group... So upon arriving in Harwich at 8 pm (London time), I had to take an hour and a half bus ride to central london. Then after a quick jaunt on the ole Tube, I was able to get back to my room at like 11:30 pm and sleep for like 12 hours after the ten day trip that can only be described as "absurd". It was definitely a success, the 6 days in Spain were just insanely fun, and despite the retarded-ness that the volcano wrought, even touristing solo in Amsterdam was enjoyable enough.

So, though I'm happy to be back in the relative calm of London, I'll still be busy in the coming weeks. Got some big time school work and job applications to work on (a little late?) and then next Monday, sister Jen and I head off to Ireland for a few days before meeting Big Dan back in London for the weekend; should be a spectacular time and I'm looking forward to seeing the partial fam. After that, I've got a week or so to relax before I've got to start prepping for exams, which start on May 13. Then only a couple short weeks, later I head home (May 26, barring any volcanoes or other natural disasters).

It's absolutely absurd how quickly the time has flown by these past few months, and the fact that I'll be home in just over a month is just mind-blowing. It seems like I just got here, and even though I still have a ton of exciting stuff going on before then, I'm already beginning to think about what I'm gonna do once I get home (eat everything even remotely resembling food in my house) and also about all the things I'm going to miss about London. Expect more on those thoughts, in future posts, but for now.... thats all folks.

The Epic March Post

Well, its been a while, team, but I've finally sacked up and returned to the wonderful world of blogging. The past few weeks have definitely been eventful, even though I haven't traveled outside of London. Then again, as Samuel Johnson once said, "When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life." (Bonus points for appropriate usage of intellectual literary quote!) Anywho, if I may start with some recent news before looking back in time at the rest of the month, I've finally admitted that my nearly two year old, brown, Nunnbush loafers are done for; the sole is falling off and completely worn down and they are starting to hurt my feet when I wear them, in addition to the fact that they just look like shit. Sad day. So I figured I might as well head over to Harrod's , the world famous department store, to see the place and check out their selection. I kinda anticipated that their selection would be out of my price range, but the prices completely blew my mind. The cheapest pair I saw was 110 pounds ($165ish). I have always felt that paying more than a hundred bucks for some kicks is dumb, so this scenario was mind-explodingly retarded. While I'm on the topic, I don't see why anyone would buy anything from Harrod's; you could almost certainly find the same thing of equal quality somewhere else for cheaper. You're just paying for the name to show that you can afford their over-priced stuff, which is a pet peeve of mine. Rich people are dumb. Rant over.

So this month, I've actually had a lot of school work to do, which is disheartening, but I've also had more time to explore London, which is nice (appropriate Carl Spackler quote, not as many bonus points). I've explored different areas of town, checked out a couple of London's other markets, though Brick Lane is still my favorite, and saw a couple more of London's awesome free museums, including Tate Modern, the modern art museum. I've never really enjoyed modern art, and though I did actually like some of the stuff at Tate Modern, I think I appreciate the talent required for more traditional style art over the free-thinking, adventurous style required for modern art. I've also started running again, and even tentatively agreed to run in the Milwaukee marathon in the fall, though that will require a lot more intense training over the summer. Running is a great way to explore the area around Queen Mary, and the path alongside Regent's Canal is great, either north up to Victoria Park or south towards Canary Wharf and the Thames. Last week, I was supremely proud of myself when I manged to run from Queen Mary to Tower Bridge and back, a trip of about 8 miles. All this has been on top of your standard going to class/drinking routines, though I've definitely cut back on my going out, as my finances begin to dwindle.

March has also brought a couple of visitors to jolly ole, which also forces me to do/see things I haven't done yet in London. For instance, when Alex Roth, who was one of my best friends in grade school, and his buddy crashed on my floor a couple of nights, it gave me the opportunity to go to a football match, which I somehow hadn't done yet. The match was between Fulham and Tottenham, at Fulham's Craven Cottage, and it, of course, ended in a 0-0 tie, but the amazing atmosphere at the stadium, and the pre-game pints, still made it an awesome experience. Later on in March, a friend of mine named Darcy Johansen was visiting another girl from NU, and I was tasked to show her around one day while Angela was in class. This allowed me to perfect the patented Danny Schufreider walking tour of London, which allows one to see several of London's most famous sights in a relatively easy couple hour long walk, without paying a dime: Hyde Park-Buckingham Palace-Trafalgar Square/The National Gallery-Parliament/Big Ben/Westminster Abbey-The London Eye-Shakespeares Globe.

So although the first few weeks of March were good, they paled in comparison to last week. Last week brought the arrival of two of my best friends to foggy London town, Ryan Rauh and Kegan Daugherty. Kegan arrived on Tuesday evening, as part of his European spring break tour, and after some beers and food at a local BYOB Lebanese restaurant, we joined the Queen Mary crew for some more drinking and the ubiquitous Tuesday night trip to Piccadilly Circus and Sports Cafe. While there, I managed to make best friends with an Albanian, Kegan managed to "find" a pitcher, and a couple British mates managed to defeat us Yanks, a couple of crazy Frenchmen, and the rest of the competition to take the Sports Cafe Beer Pong crown. Truly a glorious day for the United Kingdom. The next day, I gave Kegan the aforementioned circular tour, and after a quick nap, we went to go see St. Paul's Cathedral and the Museum of London. The Museum of London was something I had not been to yet and it was very cool. Gives a very interesting and detailed history of the city from pre-Roman times up until the Great Fire of 1666 (the post-1666 section was under construction). That night, after the usual heavy pre-gaming in Pooley, we met up with a couple of Kegan's friends from U of I at an Australian bar called Walkabout (1.50 pints of Fosters on Wednesday), where I also randomly ran into a couple Elmhurstians I had probably not seen since grade school/early high school, who were visiting London from Italy. Craziness. The bar was also cool cuz it was right on the river; nothing better than taking in the beautiful panoramic views of Central London drunk at 2 in the morning.

Thursday was probably my favorite tourism day of the week. After Kegan and I went to the Tower of London/Tower Bridge, we took the River Boat (a much more enjoyable form of public transport than the Tube or Bus) to Greenwich to see the National Maritime Museum and the Royal Observatory. Firstly, the area was awesome. Very London-ish, but much less busy/crowded/touristy, and the grounds of the old Royal Naval College, where the stuff is located, are beautiful. The Maritime Museum was neat, but the Royal Observatory was the highlight. After walking up a supremely steep hill in the middle of an awesome park, you've got the whole Prime Meridian situation going on, which is pretty schnazzy, and even the Royal Observatory itself was cool and had a great astronomy museum. Check my facebook for pictures of all this stuff, words (and even pictures) really can't do justice to how cool all this stuff was however. After the ferry back from Greenwich, we had just enough time to hit up the Imperial War Museum, which I've been to before but enjoyed enough to go back with Keegs.

That night, after Kegan and I cooked some delicious burgers and grilled potatoes/peppers for ourselves, Rauh arrived later than expected and thus began drinking immediately. Our crew, (myself, rauh, kegan, Queen Mary Brits and other Americans) then went to O'Neill's, which is always just a blast. Say what you will about how its just a bunch of Americans, and Brits looking to hook up with Americans, but I love the place. The live band just rocks and its always a good time. I ran into those same Elmhurstians again, and also a girl from high school who is studying in London. Those random encounters just add to the greatness that is O'Neill's. After wandering around quasi-lost for a while, we caught the glorious 25 bus back to Mile End at 3 am, and I introduced Rauh and Kegan to one of God's greatest creations, Dixie Chicken. Mile End's very own 24 hour fried chicken shop is the BK of the East End, when you're there shit-faced at 4 am, you will undoubtedly run into loads of people you know; just a jovial atmosphere.

After passing out in the middle of trying to watch the Big Lebowski at 5 am, we were ready to start Friday at the crack of noon. The plan for Friday was to take the Tube across town, and then take a long walk to a cheap golf course I had found. Rauh wanted to play golf while in the UK, and though it was no St. Andrews, Richmond Park Golf Course seemed as close as we'd get. The plan began to unravel however, as we decided to take a detour through a sort of nature preserve, which was awesome, and then it started to pour. We realized that our golf dreams were crushed, so we fell back on that eternal English fall back, the pub. After a couple drinks and some chips, we got back on the tube and headed back home for dinner...at the pub. After continuing to drink with the Pooley crew, we went to the greatest place in the world, The Palm Tree. Now, I had ran past the Palm Tree a couple of times, as it was randomly located smack-dab in the middle of Mile End Park, and when I googled it, I came upon this review http://www.timeout.com/london/bars/reviews/13135.html. Everything I'd ever wanted: an authentic East End bar I could walk to, cheap by London weekend standards (no cover, 3 pound pints), and with a band of 60-70 year old dudes playing Sinatra and the like, so I got the crew to check it out on Friday. When we got there, it was everything I had hoped for. The clientele was a little strange, a mix of students and eccentric East End types, but it was awesome none the less. We got the geriatric band to play My Kind of Town, by Sinatra, and I must say, the mixture of London and home, plus the plentiful drinks I'd imbibed, made this one of my favorite moments I've had overseas.

Saturday, Kegan peaced out early in the morning and Rauh and I went to get haircuts. These haircuts were lovingly provided by one of the most interesting dudes I've ever met. He was an extremely intelligent Moroccan man with an awesome beard, who spoke 4 languages. Did you know that Arabic has over 100 words for lion? Well now you do, deal with it. I then took Rauh on my now infamous circular tour, with one tiny exception. I had been craving a big, greasy slice of American pizza for a while and having done some internet searching, I discovered a New York-style pizzeria over by Hyde Park, which would fit in perfectly with the circular tour. Upon our arrival, being hungover and starving, we ordered a 20 in. pepperoni pizza without really thinking. We quickly realized that this was way too much pizza and asked for a to-go container, only to see them come back with two big pizza boxes. We panicked at first, as we didn't want to waste the pizza, but it would be ridiculous to carry around these two boxes all day sight-seeing. This ridiculousness then evolved into awesome-ness, as we realized how hilarious it would be to have a photo album where the pizza saw all the sights. Facebook gold ensued. After a full day of sight-seeing, including a stop at the pub, the pizza served its purpose by providing us with another delicious meal for dinner.

That night, another visitor arrived, Ben Glicksman, having spent spring break in Ireland, had a 10 hour layover at Heathrow, and rather than boringly sitting around the airport, he asked if he could meet up with me in central London. I thought this was a grand idea and told him to meet me at the Leicester Square Tube station at like 1030 or so, as I figured we would be heading to that area to celebrate my friend Jake's birthday. Now knowing Jake, I should have seen this coming, but rather than go out to some club to celebrate his birthday, he wanted to just stay in and "play beer pong and smoke blunts". However, as Ben's phone didn't work in the UK, Ryan and I still had to go out and meet him at Leicester Square, which I quickly realized was a dumb idea unto itself, as at 1030 on a Saturday, Leicester Square station was a cluster-fuck of thousands of people. Luckily, after only a few minutes of wandering around Leicester Square drinking beers, Ryan and I stumbled upon Ben and we headed back to Queen Mary for the centuries-old English pasttime of drinking in a dorm. At the end of the night, after having Ben experience some Dixie at 3 in the morning, he had to catch a bus to make it back to Heathrow. Unfortunately for us, the bus stop we needed was literally like 50 yards from the one we were waiting at, and he ended up having to take a cab. He ended up making it to the airport on time, but didn't make his flight, you'll have to ask him for that story.

Anywho, the next day Ryan and I went to Brick Lane, which of course was fantastic, and then to mass at Westminster Cathedral. After mass, we went to this schnazzy little pub/restaurant on Brick Lane called Apples & Pears for dinner, good English food with like a modern twist (Thai chook dee pot pie with mashed potatoes and peas and a pint of Asahi? Delicious). The downside of Sunday was that the power/internet/water had shut off in my building early in the morning (it wouldn't be back till Monday evening), so we couldn't shower and there were no lights at night. Our plan to just relax that night was thus thwarted, so we started drinking by the light of my battery-powered reading lamp and playing chess on Rauh's computer. After the battery on his computer died, we took our remaining two liter bottle of Strongbow and finished it while wandering around the East End from like midnight till 2. After a final Dixie stop, we were able to pass out. The next day, after a final fish and chips for lunch, Rauh headed back to Madrid, and thus ended what was probably one of the craziest/most awesome weeks of my life. One last thing I should say, I did have a mustache at this time (began like the first week of March), and although it was hilarious/awesome, it was probably the most disgusting thing of all time. Thus, on Saturday after my haircut, I decided that Steve (as I had named it) had served his purpose and shaved. It was a sad day, but I feel that I'm a stronger man for it. Now I must retreat back into hermitude for the next week in order to save money as I wait for my trip to Barcelona/Madrid/Amsterdam for spring break. Peace out, hombres.

Obrigado Porto: Portugal part 2 (plus Uncle Jack comes to London)

So where we left off after my last post was we were just getting on the train from Lisbon to Porto, and thats where things started to go haywire. The train ride itself was miserable, all three of us came off it feeling sick. I dunno what it was, but it was just misery. Not the best start to our journey. It also didn't help that upon arriving in Porto, it appeared to be just a shittier version of Lisbon. Liza had apparently been feeling sick the night before and the train ride pushed her over the edge. She felt too sick to finish out the trip, so for the next two and a half days, it was just me and Adrienne, kicking Porto's ass. That night though, we did go to a pizza place, which was a very welcome change of pace after all the seafood. I even got a free half beer out of the deal when our waitress knocked mine over when I had already finished half of it. Huzzah! Our hostel wasn't particularly nice, but it was much more sociable than the other places I've stayed in Paris and in Lisbon. All the guests kinda hung out together watching tv, eating, drinking, etc. which was pretty cool.

The next day, with Liza gone, Adrienne and I set out to take on Porto. We walked around the riverfront area, which was actually very cool. Narrow old alleyways/streets filled with slightly creepy, though friendly, Portuguese people. Next, we climbed up the 250 steps of a church tower for some fantastic views of the city. We then walked across the Duomo River and did a Port wine tasting. Port wine, if you hadn't guessed, is named because it originated in Porto. It is actually grown and made up the river from the city, but its stored and shipped out of Porto. We went to Taylors and got two free glasses of the stuff, along with some Coach Connor worthy Did You Knows. For instance, did you know that Port wine was created/made popular by English wool merchants in Portugal in the 17th century? Because their constant wars with the French cut the Brits off from their supply of French wine, they turned to their Portuguese allies as an alternate source for their vino. However, because the trip from Portugal to England is longer than the trip from France, the wine would go bad along the way, so those crazy Brits added more alcohol to the wine to make sure it could last the trip. They also added sugar to make the stronger alcohol content more palatable. Voila, you have a stronger, sweeter type of wine used as an apperatif or as a dessert wine, called Port. Share that with your friends at parties, they won't care. It also isn't very good in my opinion, too sugary.

Anywho, Adrienne and I decided to save some cash and stop at the grocery store to buy food for dinner, as many of our fellow hostel-stayers seemed to do, rather than go out. We made a delightful spaghetti bolognese. I also picked up some beers, as I was determined to get drunk at least once in Portugal. Luckily for me, some of the other hostel folks planned to go to a blues/jazz bar to see a live band. So we joined them, and though it turned out there was no live music that night, everyone just ended up just getting drunk. It was Adrienne, a crazy German named Tobias, two Americans who lived/worked at our hostel in Porto, two Australians (one also crazy, more on him and the German later) and then two French people who didn't really speak English. After everyone was sufficiently drunk, one of the Americans decided that since it was 2 in the morning, that was as good a time as any to move on to another bar. Unfortunately, Porto's night life scene does not quite match up to Lisbon's, especially on a Wednesday night. So after an hour or so of wandering in the pouring rain, we decided it was time to give up and make the trek back to the hostel.

The next morning Adrienne and I took a historic looking old electric street car (full of obnoxious German tourists) to the beach. It wasn't quite swimming weather, but it was sunny and I could even wear short sleeves! The waves were huge, and we walked up the beach and grabbed a drink at a cafe. It was all very nice until a random 20 minute thunderstorm ruined it. We also toured an old fort built in the 1500's to guard the mouth of the river. Pretty schnazz. After watching the Winter Olympics for the first time and once again making our own dinner. I stayed in and drank with the crazy Australian and German and one of the Americans who worked at the hostel. After some drunken conversations involving 9/11 conspiracies, our respective nations racist jokes (the German thankfully stayed silent), and the particulars of Australian wildlife (kangaroos taste delicious). The Australian pulled out a bottle of Scotch he had picked up in Scotland, and proceeded to tell us about the crazy parties they had in the bush. Outrageous fun!

The next day, Adrienne and I bid Porto adieu, and finally made it back to London after a 2 hour flight delay thanks to the goddamn French and their stupid airline workers strike. After some initial problems, Porto turned out to be pretty legit, and I really enjoyed it. It is sort of just a shittier, smaller version of Lisbon, but its definitely got some things going for it.

Finally, this past weekend, my Uncle Jack was in London so I hung out with him and showed him around. You may think that he flew 5000 miles from Denver just to see me, but actually he was making one of his regular business trips to Switzerland and decided to make a quick stop in jolly old. So the first day, I showed him around some of the major touristy stuff (Big Ben, the Eye, Trafalgar Square, the Cabinet War Rooms, etc.) It was also nice to have someone with a little money around to pay for meals. Then on the second day, he came out to my hood to marvel at my flat and the glories of Mile End: the chicken shops, the canal, the Pakistanis! I also took him over to Brick Lane to see a slightly less touristy London attraction. After dinner at an authentic English pub, he headed back to his hotel before his early morning flight to Switzerland. It was nice to spend some time with Jack, especially since he's lived in Colorado since I was a little kid and I've never really known him particularly well, though he does love Northwestern athletics alot, probably more than I do.

Well, thats all for now kids. It seems that March will be the month of school work and visitors, as I have three huge papers due in the next few weeks, and there'll be several people coming into London all month, so that'll be stuff. No trips planned for this month, though I did just book Barcelona, Madrid, Amsterdam and Dublin for April, so that'll be awesome. Ta Ta for now though, thanks for reading.