However, I did go on a wonderful spring break. We can talk about that, cant we?

Two weeks ago Saturday, my friend Stephanie and I were on a coach from London. 8 hours and a septic mess later (it's not a long story, just a very unpleasant one), we arrived in the city of Edinburgh, Scotland. Of course, I can't leave out the university students who only an hour earlier were cooing and squee-ing at the sight of sheep and lambs. I'm by no means a city girl (well, maybe that's changed in the last few months), but I'm definitely not a country girl either. Seeing real sheep really grazing turns me into an 8-year-old.

Edinburgh was a faerie world. There were castles peeking around every corner and some that were on the corners of peaks. We climbed a volcano and were almost blown off the top by the strongest gales I've ever met. The view consisted of a pleasantly spiky skyline on a backdrop of swollen mountains covered in rivers of snow. On our last day in Scotland, Stephanie an I visited those mountains--the Highlands--and, despite being on a very long and incredibly awkward bus ride, I found that long-haired cows (heereecoos) and sheep really do belong in wild mountain environments. It is a shame that it wasn't until after we left that we realized how touristy Edinburgh is. I think we spoke to 4 Scottish people while we were there. A bit of a shame, but it was such a beautiful city that I can let bygones be bygones.

Dublin was--oh, how can I possibly describe it?--less magical, but more lovely than I could've ever wanted it to be. It's difficult for me to recommend Dublin, I've since learned, because as much as I do love it, most people find it much less magical than Edinburgh. I realized by Stephanie's reaction to the different cities that Dublin's magic for me lies in the fact that it was the first European city I ever visited. The streets are chock full of memories of LonDubs doing silly things. It was so comforting to be back! As we walked down O'Connell street to find our hostel south of the Liffey, I literally could not suppress my grin, a grin which I'm sure made many passers-by feel uneasy. It was fun to see things exactly as they were six months ago as well as seeing how things have changed. Dublina, the Viking Theme Park, has a new entrance that makes it actually look classy. A line of apartments that used to be covered with lush green vines was now covered with brown sticks that used to be lush green vines. I took Stephanie to see some old favorites of mine--the Literary Pub Crawl, The Queen of Tarts--and some new things. We saw a performance of "Macbeth" at the Abbey theatre, sitting so close that I'm pretty sure Macbeth landed some spittle on my arm. It was gory and fabulous, rekindling my love for both Macbeth and Shakespeare. We also visited the Dublin Writers Museum (near my old favorite, the Maldron) where I fell in love with Oscar Wilde all over again. We took a free tour as well, which was interesting. I was able to hear different aspects of the history I had read so much about a summer ago. But I think it was all worth it to hear the tour guide end the tour with a small quote that I'm sure many of the LonDubs will never forget: "All was changed, changed utterly, and a terrible beauty was born." Got to love monsieur W.B. Yeats.

Now, back in London, things are changing as well. Spring, as they always say, has sprung, yielding a very beautiful learning environment. All the daffodils are out, which I believe must be encouraging the trees to show their blooms. What used to be dead tree skeletons are now showing the true colors of magnolias and cherry blossoms. The birds are singing during all hours of a day that begins at 6 a.m. and ends at 9 p.m. It hasn't even rained for week--only beautiful skies and warm weather. Only yesterday, I took a wonderful afternoon boat ride through the canals in Little Venice with two of my friends.

But there are more changes over the horizon. One of our friends is ending her London semester next week and this shakes the very foundation of the dream I've been in for the last months. Not only will I be sad when she leaves for Holland--where she calls "home"--but her departure signals the end. She will be the first of us to leave, but not the last. Very slowly, people will start their departures to their respective parts of the world, ending with mine in June. Usually, whenever any of us mentions this sad fact, another one of us will tell us not to think about it. Unfortunately, once it starts, it will be a hard thought to stifle.

And then there's Eyjafyallajokull, the volcano that's brought Europe to its knees. Spring break is over tomorrow, and yet my friends are trapped in their respective vacation locations across Europe. Even if airports as far south as Rome can open up again, the chances that UK airspace will re-open soon is slim, as we are right under the cloud's path. As a Californian in London, it's very bizarre to see that same hyper-orange sunset that you usually see in fire season. The experts claim that you can't see the ash up in the air, but for those of us who are used to looking for it in November, it's easy to see. As fabulous as the volcano was a few days ago, the novelty has begun to wear off. I miss my amigos!