A Day at the Races

"There is no such uncertainty as a sure thing" Robert Burns

Tomorrow, Wednesday January 25th is cause for celebration here in Scotland. It's the poet, Robert Burns', birthday. And with his birthday will come plenty of Burns' suppers, shared pints and poem writing. If Burns' birthday gets you in the mood for a little poem writing please share, who knows you may be lucky enough to have your poem featured on this blog! (So, I realize it's not as exciting as winning an actual poetry contest where you are published in an actual publication but do it for Robert Burns).


To rouse my inner poetry muse I decided to take in some Scottish sights over the weekend. The week itself having been filled with adjusting back to the American Studies course and continued reunions with everyone here in Glasgow. I have always been a fan of horse racing, it's exciting, unpredictable and has a whole lot of buildup for a few moments-- much like Christmas. While I have been able to attend a few horse races back in the States I had never attended a dog race. I had heard that there was a dog racing track in Rutherglen, a town just on the outskirts of Glasgow. However, the dog races had become one of those elusive activities that I feared would always be talked about but never attended. After, perusing the track's website and discovering a coupon for entry, three pounds towards a bet, a racing forum and a Scottish pie and chips all for only £10!!! It was officially time for the races!

The website warned that the track had a dress code and that dress code was smart casual. Never wanting to be underdressed my racing companion and I put on jeans and nice, somewhat dressy, shirts. Worried that the jeans might be too casual for "smart casual" we made our way to the racetrack. Fighting through sheets of rain we uncovered the cafe where we were to take in our chips and Scottish pie. Taking our seats in brightly colored booths we bathed in the local scene as we waited on our food. Looking around it was quickly made obvious that the "smart casual" as laid out on the website was not taken overly seriously considering we were the only people not in track pants. Our food was delivered in less than five minutes and that certainly should have been a clue as to the quality of the Scottish pie. This particular Scottish pie was the most horrorific pie to ever cross either of our lips. While eating/choking down our food we poured over the racing forum to lay out which bets were to be placed and which dogs would fill those bets.


I have a theory, names are very, very important. If your name is John Fitzgerald Kennedy you will probably grow up to be President and if your name is Houndingdownthetrack you should probably win a dog race or two. Names are a clear indicator of one's life path. And, it is for this reason that when placing bets names are the most clear indicators of winners. After a brief argument as to whom would get to claim "Whistling Kettle" (I won because apparently "Spud my Boy" is a better name) it was time to place our bets and take our seats. The first few races went by without any wins. While these races brought no wins it did present the opportunity to form a relationship with the man in the betting window. As the races passed this man behind the glass continued to find us more and more hilarious and my bets became more and more elaborate. I made it my goal to place every bet possible throughout the night's races--a win, a forecast (1st and 2nd), a reverse forecast, a trio (1,2,3) and a trio all ways--I completed this goal. After a ridiculously long dry spell Richard was the first to claim victory... with Spud my Boy (Seriously!).

                                                                                      Winner
I have another theory-There are certain occasions in which adults should get to act like children. These occasions include greeting someone at an airport and when winning a dog race. When I finally, and I mean finally, won a race I was beyond excited. I can guarantee that every person in that stadium knew that the dog that won was the dog I had chosen. The races continued as did our bad luck. If you have any doubt in our luck note the following fact, during one race our bets ecompassed every single dog in the race except dog number one, guess which dog won the race?


Before attending the races we had a made a small wager of our own. Whomever won the most races (number of races not money netted) would be crowned the winner of the evening. The last race of the evening was upon us and we had both selected one winner. Somehow still full of hope we placed our bets and took our seats for the final race. The dogs bursted from the gate beginning their journey around the track. The dogs rounded the corner, and miracle of all miracles, Richard and I's picks were in the lead. In fact, they were neck and neck! With a sudden burst of energy my legend of a dog pressed ahead to victory claiming the prize for not only himself but for me as well. I felt as though I should slide into the winner's circle sharing it with the best dog in the World (besides Tucker of course). As I was relishing in my victory I was told that my dog cheated. What?! How is that even possible. "It's true as they came around the bend I saw your dog say something mean to my dog and then stick out his paw to trip my poor innocent, would be winner dog".. Apparently, you are also allowed to act like a child when your dog loses a race.


Still relishing in the victory of the dog races the rest of the weekend seemed to fly by. Sundays are always perfect for a small little adventure especially one of historic nature. Visiting a castle seemed the best way to pass Sunday afternoon. The train was scheduled to leave Central Station at 9:34, arriving at the station at 9:30 meant a quick dash through the train station, a run down a few sets of escalators, a rushed purchasing of tickets and the missing of one train by 30 seconds. Fortunately, the next train was scheduled to arrive in a little under half an hour. The train disembarked in a small town a little over a mile from the castle. I really enjoyed winding through the roads of the town on the way to the castle.


This particular town, oddly enough, reminded me of many American suburbs.There were walking paths lining the roads and neighborhood clusters were situated just off the road. The houses were slightly larger than many of the houses I have seen in other Scottish towns. The town also housed extremely literal street names. The train station was on station road, the church on church road and the castle on castle road.. this of course made navigating the town quite simple. After having visited many castles throughout this last year there are a few things one comes to associate and expect when visiting a castle. Usually there is some sort of incline to summit,however, Bothwell castle did not have any type of incline. Instead, the castle was surrounded by a dog park (Only in Scotland can dogs frolic in the shadow of a castle!). The fact that the castle was on a flat plane was so surprising that while purchasing tickets this matter was discussed with the guide. Apparently, when the castle was built it was actually on a slight incline that no longer exists.

As previously mentioned, there are times that I wish certain circumstances excited me as much as they did when I was a child. On our way home from the castle there were two little boys going into Glasgow with their mom and dad, they were outrageously excited to be riding on a train. Mostly because they had been told that they would get to go through the BIGGEST TUNNEL EVER! When we did drive through the BIGGEST TUNNEL EVER.. one of the boys who probably was about five yelled loudly "MUM THIS REALLY IS THE BIGGEST TUNNEL EVER.. IT'S THE BIGGEST TUNNEL I'VE EVER SEEN IN MY WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE!" Five years is a lot of time to be going through tunnels, so obviously this tunnel was huge! But, these boys made me think of all the funny things I have heard children say on public transportation over the last fews months, below are a few of the very best.


1. A little boy is sitting with his grandmother on the subway when suddenly he turns to her and goes "Hey! Who's driving this thing?!" ---good question little boy, good question.


2. Again on the subway a little girl is talking about riding the subway and she proclaims "Oh yeah, I love this thing! It has magic doors!"


3. Finally, back to the two little boys on the train the ticket taker decided to print the boys their very own ticket. The boys got so excited and bounce up and down in their seats loudly stating that the ticket is the best thing they have ever had.... let's just say not everyone on the train was that excited to get their very own train ticket!

Hello Blog... Let's Get Reacquainted

As discussed on this blog I tend to be a person of rountine. However, I love writing this blog so much each and every week that I assumed that a slight break in routine and a brief trip over the Atlantic would cause no disruption in the blogging process. How wrong I was! It has been over a week since I touched down in Glasgow for the second semester and as expected so much has already happened. Hopefully, this blog post will serve as a quick run through of the past month's events... a cliff noted version, if you will.

This story first begins in Portugal. Portugal?! Yes, a little over a month ago bags were packed and a Ryanair flight was boarded to Faro, Portugal. It was decided that a weekend away was due before heading home for the holidays and Portugal's price was unbeatable. Having taken our seats on the plane, carry-on luggage stored, seats in the upright position, novels in hand and utterly ready for the warmth and relaxation of Portugal my travel comrade and I prepared for a quiet, quick flight. It was at that moment where peace, happiness, relaxation and excitment entirely consume you that the smacking of flip-flops echoed down the plane's aisle way. As I turned to face this noise maker I came eye to eye with a man dressed not only in flip-flops but swimming trunks, tank top and straw hat as well. Apparently, this man and his six friends were having a party.. Now, I know they were having a "party" because they sang, loudly, about this party all the way to Portugal. In fact, I can still remember the song it went a little like this:

Loud Clapping:
LKDAJFOIEOIEAF IS HAVING A PARTYYYYY
OAIEJFLAEJFLKE  IS HAVING A PARTYYYY!
(Repeat 1000 times) More loud clapping.

Because we were seated right in front of these rowdy men we received some in flight entertainment, the entire flight. Being the champions of patience we both are (no comments please) the first hour or so of the flight we pretended to sleep, read, looked out the window and even bobbed our heads politely to the party song. But, about an hour and a half in Richard cracked. The song had become too much. My novel reading was interrupted as Richard snapped his head to the side leaned close and whispered harshly "I would like to do a study on the relation of noise-making to IQ and I would like to start with the men behind us." I congratulated Richard on finally deciding on a dissertation topic and continued to ignore the noisemakers behind us. Unfortunately, we never figured out who was having a party, as that part of the song was quite loud but quite unclear, perhaps it was the low IQs of the singers that inhibited the beauty of the song.

While I would absolutely love to give an entire run down of Portugal it was only a few short days of the past month and in all honesty I could not do the trip any sort of justice. While the various cities of Portugal may not have been the best cities I have visited, the trip itself was certainly one of, if not, the most relaxing, fun, exciting and enjoyable trips I have ever taken.

                                          The Hotel Eva. An off season bargain!

 The main square was bordered in orange trees. I, of course, made us pick some from the trees to sneak into the back roads and eat... they were the most sour oranges I have ever tasted, which is probably why no one else had picked them from the trees to eat... that or picking fruit is illegal. Either one.

 While in Portugal we decided it was best to rent a car. Therefore, Richard got to drive on the right side of the road, a new experience for him. I, finally, cajoled Richard into letting me take the wheel while he sat and nervously bit his nails the entire time I drove. During which time, I overtook a man in a donkey cart and drove like a native. Once my driving was complete and Richard no longer had nails he said to me and I quote "I'm pretty impressed Kathryn, you drive pretty well" (This needed to be in print).

 By renting a car we were able to visit lots of smaller Portuguese towns, like this one!

Hanging laundry was everywhere

                                                             As were stray cats!

                                              And, of course there were castles and forts.

                                      Which provided beautiful views of the local scenery.

                   I absolutely loved all the bright colors of the buildings, houses and doorways.

Richard transformed into Ricardo (The slightly more ethnic version of himself) while traversing the Portuguese countryside.

The bright sunny weather and clear reflective water made for some pretty impressive picture taking opportunities.

Yet another perk of travelling during the off-season, deserted beaches.

Before travelling to Faro, it was decided that a point of interest that simply must be visited was the bone chapel. The small chapel sits inside this larger church. The chapel was created using the bones of deceased monks and is to remind its visitor of their mortality.

It was pretty eerie. And, most strange of all was the fact that situated right next door was a school full of children out for recess.

                       The bridge connecting Portugal and Spain. We decided to cross that bridge!

                                                                        Spain!

 If stories about beggars, men singing lullabies to ducks, oranges, garlic filled fish, car trips, sunsets or my love affair with sangria interest you then there is so much more to share about Portugal!

Leaving Portugal was extremely bittersweet. The trip flew by all too quickly but I was anxious to get back to Glasgow and prepare to leave for home. The last day in Glasgow rushed by and before I knew it I was on yet another plane and headed back to the United States. Throughout the nearly 24 hour journey, I realized how thankful I was that while I was extremely excited and anxious to be at home I was having a difficult time leaving the UK. I am so fortunate to have such a wonderful family and home city that I was eager to visit and also for the extraordinary adventure and people that I found it hard to leave. These slightly sappy feelings were quickly pushed to the back of my mind when I crashed head first into reverse culture shock. My first run-in with my native peoples was on the flight to Charlotte, the man across the aisle from me whipped out his iphone before the flight took off and starting talking wildly in a very, very thick southern drawl about turning off a boiler. This man talked so loudly and gave such intricate directions into how to turn off his boiler, that I can guarantee that if I were so inclined I could break into this man's house and turn off his boiler. I had forgotten how loudly we Americans talk and how much information we find it necessary to share (I do realize this statement is slightly ironic in the middle of a blog in which I am sharing lots of information which probably isn't necessary!).

Notes from a Reversed Culture Shocked American-- Or the top ten things I observed in America while being back that I had never really ever thought about before:
1. Menus in the United States are absolutely massive! When there are 400 choices it takes a really long time to figue out what you are after.
2. Refrigerators are massive in the US
3. So are cars
4. People, that you do not know, randomly compliment you. (I really did miss this!)
5. Dresses and tights aren't as in fashion as they are in the UK
6. If you go out to your local pub on a Sunday night it's assumed you have a drinking problem
7. There aren't little chips in the visa cards
8. Dogs and Kids are generally worse behaved (There are some exceptions to this of course)
9. Skim milk exists!
10. Roll on deodorant exists!

A Garrett Family Reunion:

As the years pass children grow up, this includes the three Garrett children. Amazingly enough we have somehow managed to evolve into functioning adults that are beginning to have very full, involved and busy lives. Thankfully, we have the holiday season in which we can come home to our parents' house and devolve. That is correct over the break there was a Garrett family sibling reunion. Which means my mother was able to say "I am soooo happy to have all the chicks back in the nest" at least four hundred and eighty five times over break, which means Kevin had to groan loudly and protest this statement four hundred and eighty five times over break. While there are many, many stories that can be shared from the holiday season I have selected a few of the very best to share with you:

Cookie Decorating 101:

Each year we come together as a family to make Christmas trays for those we love the most. When I say we come together as a family, we literally come together around the table and ice over 100 cookies and this usually involves a fight or two, 50 broken cookies, smeared icing and the never ceasing challenge of creating black icing. I don't want to ruin the secret but okay we all secretly like icing cookies. Well, the first five cookies at least. However, while we all like it though we have to pretend it is the worst form of torture since the guillotine, no one quite likes cookie decorating like my father. Paul Garrett is a master cookie decorator, which was witnessed by the "army" of sugar cookie men created this holiday season. After icing a snowman I decided it needed a little extra punch and sprinkled powdered sugar over the freshly iced man. The completed cookie was placed alongside my father's army. Standing there with his arms crossed my dad observed this cookie for probably five minutes, he finally turned pointed at it and said... that looks good, you have upped the artistic ante for the year. It was after this observation that each and every cookie he iced had to have some sort of artistic significance and God forbid any one of us simply slop a single color on a cookie, it needed to have something of merit! When my brothers and I could handle his "artistic" workings no longer we began to mock my poor father and his artistic cookies. He responded by giving us a pathetic look followed by this statement "Well, I am so sorry you guys but this is the one time each and every year where I get to explore my artistic side!"

The Garretts Meet the Kardashians:

Christmas Eve Mass is a steadfast tradition in the Garrett Family household. Usually, we all pile into the car around 10:30 to make it to midnight mass. But, this year we opted for the earlier special. Meaning we all piled into the car around 7 to make it to 8:30 mass. Without fail, there is always an argument about which time we should leave for mass on Christmas Eve. My mother of course voting for hours upon hours too early while my brothers argue for leaving 30 minutes after mass has begun. Needless to say my mom usually wins this battle. Therefore, we got to the church about 45 minutes earlier than we needed to be there. But, this story takes place after mass. We load back in the car and my mom turns to tell us all that she heard someone talking about us. While walking through the foyer after mass she heard  someone say "Well first I saw Kate and then Michael so I guessing the entire Garrett family is here" my mom had absolutely no idea who these people were. Michael therefore pipes up with this "Mother, please, we are like the Kardashians, people know us" Let's just say my mother was none too pleased with this analogy.

#GarrettFamilyTakesScotland

My brother Michael, the Kim of the Kardashians, is an avid twitter user. In fact, he loves it so much he finds it necessary to talk in tweet speak 90% of the time. Kevin and I then have to translate for our parents, which Michael finds far too hilarious causing him to keep up the ridiculous talk. For Christmas, my brothers, myself and my brother's girlfriend Kelsie received an amazing gift, the gift of Scotland. That's right in May my entire family, my dad, mom, Kevin and Kelsie and Michael will be coming to Scotland. After tearing off the paper Michael thrusted his "Scotland for Dummies" book in the air and shouted "HASHTAG GARRETT FAMILY TAKES SCOTLAND." He has informed me that throughout his Scotland adventures he will be hashtagging plenty of little ancedotes with "Garrett Family Takes Scotland" for all his loyalist of followers.

New Couple, New Year and a New Garrett Family Dance Move-

Over New Year's Eve my family attended a wedding. Which means there were plenty of Garrett Family Dance Moves incorporated into the evening's festivities. Michael and I decided that in the tradition of new, with the new year and all, to incorporate a new dance move we learned over the year from a particular South African we know, that move along with the other 1000 Garrett family dance moves made for an impressive night of dance and ringing in the New Year.

After the ringing in of 2012 I busied myself with many cups of coffee with friends, plenty more family moments and the stuffing of my suitcase. Landing back in Glasgow was wonderful and I have already had many great moments of reunion and adventure. I am certainly looking forward to everything this year has in store and to being back on the Tuesday blog schedule!    

Walk like a Glaswegian-An American Abroad: Party Like a Parisian (A Birthday in Paris)--- Partie Deux

After taking the all too familiar Eiffel tower pictures it was decided that the metro would be skipped and instead we would walk down the Seine to the Champs Elysees. This was certainly one of the best decisions made throughout the trip. The walk down the river was so beautiful and we were fortunate enough to be walking right as the sun was setting. As we took a moment to rest along the river Richard said "I now understand why people go on and on about Paris it is pretty freaking beautiful"...and that statement is absolutely correct.

After a quick drink and snack, more to rest our feet than anything else. We managed to get a bit lost in Paris We really weren't lost we had just turned down a street a few streets too early. However, the walk back to the street of original intent was quite entertaining because it led us past all the foreign embassies. I discovered the United States Embassy and also discovered you can not even walk on the sidewalk in front of the US embassy. It was then we stumbled upon the Paris Christmas Market. The market was absolutely huge and stretched down many blocks on either side of the street. There were booths selling food, crafts, clothing, jewelry, chocolate and Christmas items. My travel companion and I armed ourselves with a massive gingerbread man and roasted chestnuts and explored the entire market. This was by far one of my favorite parts of the trip (I am pretty sure I've said this now three times. It's Paris, I can have multiple favorite parts!) the markets were so festive and it was fun to explore the booths alongside many a Parisian. My favorite booth housed Nativity figurines. In France, the nativity sets are a large part of the Christmas tradition. It is common to add a new piece to the nativity scene each year. Because of this the figures are very diverse, if a new piece is purchased each year the traditional nativity scene would be completed around the age of ten. It was entertaining figuring out how a fireman, lion, baker, dragon, a random man carrying goats, chimney sweep, etc. would fit into a scene dipicting the birth of Jesus.

A quick turn from the Christmas Markets led us down the Champs Elysees. The street lived up to all its magnificient descriptions. Before leaving for Paris I had read there is strict control over the window displays of all the shops along the road, hoping to create only the best atomosphere for Paris' most famous street. A tunnel under the street took us to the Arc De Triomphe. The Arc was beautifully lit in the evening and we purchased tickets to journey to the top. Because the line for the Eiffel Tower had been so long it was decided to not journey to the top. However, I really wanted an expansive view of the city and the Arc provided this. After wandering around the base of the arch we made our way to the top. Now, keep in mind Scotland has provided some climbing training (Please see the blog entry on Stirling). The winding staircase seemed to go on for ages but finally the top was reached. The French have installed a nice system of two staircases, one for going up and one for coming down. This is really quite nice and didn't create any problems of crossing paths with people going in opposite directions on a cramped staircase, as was the case in Stirling. The views from the top were fantastic. The Arc was much quieter than the Eiffel Tower and we shared the amazing views with only ten people and to top it off the Eiffel tower lit up as we stood high above the streets of Paris.

Seeing that it was nearing 10:30 we debated whether or not to get dinner. Since the food of day has consisted of toasted cheese sandwiches and gingerbread, dinner was in order. But, it was 10:30 on a Friday night on the Champs Elysees and we were without reservations. Walking down the road we came across a McDonalds. I recommended we go there, it was late, we were exhausted and we knew what to expect at McDonalds. However, all day we had been seeing signs for Quick which served "Mon French Burger" Richard decided this choice was far superior to McDonalds. Standing in line at Quick there was a large note plastered over "Mon French Burger." Pointing to the plastered word Richard asked "Do you think that means they're out" to which I responded "I'm pretty sure that means they are out of your Mon French Burger." It was at this moment we headed back down the road to McDonalds. Right outside McDonalds there was a large ad for Quick featuring Tony Parker urging everyone to partake in Mon French Burger, Richard looking at the sign and shook his head in disgust, "I can't believe Tony lied to us." I couldn't believe Tony lied to us either but I was fairly anxious to have a quick bite to eat and then get some sleep. We stood in line for nearly half an hour and then took our food upstairs. I ate my very first Big Mac in Paris on the Champs Elysees across from tough looking Parisian teenagers. After a few moments of exhausted silence, Richard turned to me and said "Aren't you glad I got us a table by Paris' own NEDS?"

The Metro took us back to Montmartre, coming from a new metro station we were slightly turned around and took an extremely round about route back to the hotel. As the door to our hotel room swung open I flung myself across my bed kicking off my shoes. After surveying the damage done to our feet we began to reveal how exhausted we had become throughout parts of the day. We both revealed that we had feared whether or not we would actually make it to the top of the Arc and how collapsing actually felt possible in the impressively long McDonalds line. A good night's sleep was absolutely needed as a full day was planned for Saturday.

On Saturday, the plan was to go to Versailles. A common dilemma with travelling is where to store one's luggage while taking full advantage of the time available at a particular destination. Fortunately, there are many places that you can store luggage. Unfortunately, many of these places charge a particular sum of money per hour. That is where the following plan comes into action.

How to get Hotel Staff to Monitor your Luggage After Check-Out:

1. First, size up the hotel staff and decide who in your party has the greatest chance for success. This will be different each time, in Paris it was decided I would have the highest rate of succes. As we entered the lobby for checkout Richard told me "Okay, I need you to go bat your eyes at the Frenchman behind the counter." To which I responded "What?!" to which I recieved a look and a "Your turn, go"... I knew what that meant, luggage storage time.

2. After it is decided which person will have the most success, employ what I refer to as the"My Big Fat Greek Wedding" Trick. You want the hotel employee to believe that the idea to keep your luggage is their own. I stepped up to the hotel counter and handed over the room keys and stated the following "We are going to Versailles today and have absolutely no idea what to do with our luggage. Do you have any idea where we could store it?" To which the very nice Frenchman behind the counter responded "We could keep it here!" and quickly took our bags and made a special place for them behind the counter.

3. Thank the hotel person profusely, they are doing you a big favor!

4. Exchange a behind the back high five with your travel partner.

We were wished a very happy journey to Versailles and exchanged a few more conversational bits with the hotel employee and were off on our day's journey. We stopped quickly at a Patisserie for breakfast. Because I hadn't had any clumsy moments since Stirling my good luck was bound to run out. I balanced our breakfasts, an umbrella, a handbag and two metro tickets as we boarded the train. Here is where the first slip up ocurred. After rushing into the station from the rain, I tossed my wet umbrella into my handbag on top of the nice French cake I bought that morning. The cake, of course, was squashed and whipped cream managed to get on quite a few things inside my bag. We were given two return tickets. Each ticket was to be used twice, once at the metro and once for the train. (Remember, this for later on).

The ride to Versailles was fairly simple and we quickly grabbed a coffee and tickets to the Chateau before beginning the actual tour. The first item of note in Versailles were the umbrella salesmen. Now, I am not generally a huge fan of salesman, but I would not be opposed to Glasgow having a few of these! As we wandered through the halls of Versailles it was easy to see why the French people became so distraught with their royalty. Versailles is so over the top. It's gorgeous and absolutely impressive but wildly elaborate.

 This picture details how the Glasgow weather has taken a toll on my umbrella. I have had that umbrella for about a month, obviously it can't survive Glasgow. However, I refused to throw it away for a couple reasons. One: If I am going to retire the umbrella, it has to be retired in the Brollie Graveyard aka Glasgow. In which, I will look like a true local when I in a fit of rage thrust it into a bin. 2. I knew that if I didn't have an umbrella I would be attacked by the umbrella salesman.

 Some of you know the ridiculous games I enjoy playing while travelling (my herd, war, etc). I created a new game this trip entitled "If I were French Royalty" In this game you go around making comments about how you would set up your palace if you were French Royalty. All of my statements began this way "If I were French Royalty less gold plating and more......(statuary, diamonds, crystal, carpets, etc)

             The Hall of Mirrors is unbelievable and is a place that has to be seen to understand it's full grandeur!

 While it was wonderful to into Versailles during the off-season the gardens are certainly better seen in the spring or summer. During the winter, all the fountains are off and much of the statues are covered. The good news is that the gardens are free so a return visit to Versailles would cost nothing!

After we had strolled through the gardens and had a quick lunch it was time to make our way back to Paris and then Glasgow. We had to catch a bus back to Beauvais three hours before our plane was scheduled to depart. We were working under a very tight schedule. We approached the train gate and as I slid my ticket through it was denied, I tried it again and again each time getting the same result, denial. Richard whizzed right through the gates and waited on the other side. Still unable to get through I went and spoke to the ticket sales woman. Apparently, in my morning rush I had used one ticket for the train and the other for the metro therefore canceling out my return ticket. Frustrated, I quickly bought a new ticket and passed through the train gate. Fortunately, the train ride went quickly and we rushed up the stairs to exit and once again ticket denied. I ran the ticket through again and again, denied and denied. Richard was once again on the other side. I rushed downstairs to speak to another ticket sales person. While running down the stairs I reached into my pocket and found the correct ticket, I had scanned the incorrect ticket. Fortunately, this time the ticket went through and we finally made it to the other side. After a metro ride and a run to our hotel we collected our bags. We actually had only one bag. Ryanair charges for any checked on luggage so we decided to save money we would share a bag. I forgotten that the bag I had selected to bring was broken on my way to Glasgow and the handle no longer functions. Therefore, the bag had to be carried. At this point in the evening we had half an hour to make it across Paris during rush hour. We quickly made our way to the metro station purchased tickets and managed to squeeze onto a train crammed with people. The ride was long and we needed to make one train change. As the train unloaded we ran  to our next train and piled on. The car was packed with people, no one was seated, as we stood in the midst of all these people a voice came over the loudspeaker and barked something in French. Of course, we had no idea what was being said but tokk it to be not good news as the entire car unloaded. After waiting a few moments we decided to walk. Up the stairs we went to the Champs Elysees. At this point, we had no euros left and are forced to make the mileish walk. Having already missed our bus departure time we hurried down the streets with the hope of discovering the bus had waited. As I navigated the streets, I turned around one last time to see the Arc De Triomphe and Richard red faced with a suitcase on his head. After 15 or so gruelling minutes of street navigation we arrived at the bus station and learned our bus had left, without us. I talked to yet another ticket salesman and happily heard that another bus was leaving in five minutes. This bus accepted our tickets and we made it to the airport in perfect time to go through security.

While the last few hours of our trip were slightly hellish no planes were missed, no luggage lost, no travel partners killed and no tears shed (the last one was a close call!). I can safely say that Paris met and exceeded all my expectations. The city was as beautiful and captivating as it is made out to be and is certainly deserving of a return trip.

**As a side note, I invite any people who are involved in the stories on this blog to write their own versions of what has occured, I will happily post those stories!