Oh, bugga

Which, in Yorkshire terms, is really pronounced "Oh, booga". With a sort of a poofty "b" sound, a bit like a small horse snort. At least, that's what they got me to try to do. Maybe they just wanted to laugh at the Texan saying bogger with a horse snort.

Anyhow, oh booga, I'm home. Back at work today. Hard getting back into the swing.

I really had a great time on this trip. I may be a bit unusual (and this is absolutley NOTHING against my husband or any of my traveling buddies) but every so often I just like to take a trip by myself. It's my way of testing my boundaries, seeing what I can do alone, what I am brave enough to try, what seems uncomfortable alone. I always meet the most interesting people when I travel solo. I'm not sure if it's because as a woman I am non-threatening and folks talk to me, if I leave myself just the slightest bit open to talking or what, but I always meet neat people when I travel solo. Also, and Rich and I talked about this, he's rather large, thus kind of fobidding and it's actually harder to meet the locals as a couple. When you are alone, folks tend to find you more approachable.

So far I have not found much that is not fun alone. OK, so dinner is a bit wierd, but you make sure have a book and find a place with a nice female waiter, and she usually gives you a bit of extra kindness. But I rather enjoy eating alone. Especially, in London, on Gerard Street in Chinatown, it meant I got all the crispy duck to myself and did not have to share. Teehee. (And Rich and Colleen: nyah nyah.)

Though, too, I was also a FREAK MAGNET, but this comes with the territory, I guess. I was actually wondering if they passed a secret law in London which makes it illegal to be alone as a woman, and all men must try and talk to you at every opportunity. It started on the train in from Heathrow and just kept going. Walking to the hotel. On the train. In a shop. I mean, really, at one point on Gerard Street I had to HIDE from a guy who would NOT leave me alone, even when I gave him my fool-proof "I'm German and don't speak English" routine. Bugger, that bastard spoke flawless German as well. And I don't. So I turned a corner and hid. After saying, in my best German, "I want to be alone", which was very Garbo of me, even if I am quite sure he saw straight through my German pretending. Bastard. Fook OFF already.

On Monday night I got seriously ballsy and went to the Intrepid Fox. (And by the way: FUCK! I just found an article dated Aug. 26th that it will be closing, so I guess I am doubly glad I went in.) If there is one pub that looks threatening to go into by yourself, that one would be it. It's a metalhead goth pub. I've always wanted to go. Always. And so I wore my little leather jacket (it has ruffles, but it's black with string ties that close it, so it passed for sort of pirate-goth) and made my way in for a Guinness. And promptly got hit on by two guys from India, speaking Hindi to each other but English to me, asking me if I was a rock star (hahaha!!! I mean, seriously, HA!). One was wearing dress pants and shirt, but had on a leather spiked wristband, so obviously he had changed his outfit for the evening to reflect his alternativeness. The other asked me for a light. I'm not smoking...no matches....uh, no? No light. Sorry dude. Might wanna work on your pick up lines to actually reflect real life. But, by then I was done with my beer, and so decided to call it an evening. I was just proud of myself that I went into the Intrepid Fox solo. Making me, an Intrepid Karla. So I left the pub happy. Was going to buy the t-shirt, but the back of it said "Rock N Fuckin' Roll" and I don't know about you but while I might curse alot? I don't WEAR curse words.

So, Lonely Planet? Pilot Guides? Any of the travel shows on the Travel Channel or Discovery? I am definitely your next TV travel presenter. I'll talk to anyone, go anywhere and do anything but eat bugs.......