Blessings in Disguise

For those all too numerous times in our life when the excrement hits the air conditioning, there are several occassions when we are lucky enough to see the silver lining glinting above us almost immediately. Other blessings however can take a little longer to materialise.


For instance, three months ago, my latest installment of excrement was the collapse of my plans for Antipodean rambles with my sister. Thankfully the silver lining popped up almost immediately and I am now happily ensconced here in South Korea.

Over the last six weeks I have begun to recognise silver linings that are the result of mishaps going back for several years. It's been very uplifting for me to realise that no cock up, blunder or gaffe ever goes to waste! Not just mistakes though, all sorts of oddities are serving me well over here.

I remember the first time I went to France: while we were sailing there on the ferry my travel mates pulled me aside and explained very carefully why I should not get offended by the fact that everyone would be staring at me. I was told that staring was not considered rude the way it is in Ireland, England, ........ English speaking countries in general! Rather it was a national pastime. At the time I adjusted to it and soon even forgot about it. I chalked it down as being good for my self confidence.

Turns out, it was actually practice for living in a city where for 80% of my week I'm the only white person for four blocks!

Last September I visited some friends in Bratislava and spent several days being bussed around the city by a bunch of speed demons with no regard for passenger comfort, the condition of the road or indeed the existence of corners! This enlivening experience was practice for Ulsan buses. These zippy little vehicles are small, but there are thousands of them, so that's ok.

Still, at least the Slovakian buses had plenty of seats - on the Ulsan buses for the ride home in the evenings I am invariably standing up, and given the flair of the driving, by next November I'll be ready to go snow boarding!

On a less whimsical note, eighteen months ago I started on medication which had the delightful side effect of fritzing my taste buds. Sweet things tasted like rancid plastic. It's the only way I can describe it. I couldn't eat chocolate, biscuits, hell, I couldn't eat fruit!
As you can imagine, I spent the first week rocking in a corner muttering "Why God? Why?"........until I started losing weight. Heh heh, I started to feel differently then! That was silver lining enough for me, but as the months passed and I travelled to different schools where the canteen was my only source of sustenance, taste became secondary to just plain eating whatever was put in front of me.

This was a HUGE benefit when I moved to Korea!! Every day at lunch I eat with the school staff, under the watchful eye of the Cook and I gamely try everything that's available, a practice not to be sneezed at when I recognise about 20% of the food! So far I have tried mountain bracken, a salad leaf which at home is considered a weed, three types of seaweed and a very small tree. No, seriously, they harvest the small branches of a specific tree and boil the bejaysus out of it. You either taste nothing but chlorophyll, or nothing but the soy sauce you have slathered all over it!

First the Cook was impressed with my chop stick skills, which was lovely to hear, cos I was feeling fairly clutch fisted that first week. Last week, Cook asked one of the teachers to translate for her and asked if we ate the same kind of food in Ireland. My emphatic 'No' needed no translation. She then expressed her admiration for how well I was eating when the food was so different.
Trust me, it always pays to get in with the cook, she pays close attention to what I like, and caters accordingly. I am really enjoying being spoiled!!

So the moral of this tale is, when life upends a bucket of manure on you, it's only a matter of time before you come up smelling of roses!

You know you're a kindergarten teacher when.......

• by Friday afternoon your hands are so covered in marker and crayon you look like you have been attacked by a blind, malicious tattoo artist.
• you're six weeks into the term at your new school and already getting over your second cold caused by prolonged proximity to cute but snotty five year olds.
• the children occassionally barricade the door at the end of the class to stop you leaving - as opposed to ten years down the line when they will be fantasising about stopping you entering.
• 'Dignity' is a state enjoyed by others.
• ditto for 'Personal Space'
• Your enunciation and hand gestures would be the envy of any Childrens T.V presenter.

And you know you're a Kindergarten Teacher in Korea when.......

• the girls where hair accessories that Irish kids would only trot out at Halloween, including pink tiaras, rabbit ears and bow ties precisely half the size of the child's head.
• In order to get the boys' attention one must first confiscate their origami Ninja throwing stars. ( I did not make this up - who could make up something like that?!)
• You toss and turn in bed at night muttering in your sleep: " Ee goy oh?" This is Korean for "Is this it?" Which you hear at least 80 times a day as each student seeks personal reassurance that they are on the right page.

And you truly know that you are a Kindergarten teacher when your day is filled with all of the above and you love every second of it!

Just Plumb Crazy!

I had a great example this weekend of what a daft bint I can be at times! So naturally I thought I would share my foible with the world: I was talking to my sister on Skpe this Saturday. She is just landed back in Ireland after a year in New Zealand topped off with a month in Australia and 10 days in Bali. I had a lovely time hearing a sample of her stories and reflections but when I ended the call I sat back and thought, "Wow, she has had some great adventures!" I was settling in for a nice comfortable bout of sibling envy when it struck me - "What the hell am I doing?!" Am I seriously going to envy my sister's adventure while sitting in my apartment in South Korea!!! For years I dreamed of moving to France, a country where I spoke the language, loved the food and was a two hour flight from home - but I could never quite get my act together enough to take the plunge. Now I find myself in a country where I speak precisely five phrases, recognise about 20% of what I'm eating (and by recognise I mean I can point to it and say that's fish!) and I'm a day and a half from home. I'm so far out of my comfort zone that it is merely a smudge on the horizon - I reckon I'll have all the adventure I can handle and then some in the next 12 months. So in this blog you will get to see the trials and tribulations of this Accidental Pilgrim as I struggle with the language, the culture, the fact that I can't buy shoes!! Meep! Fingers crossed I'll be able to handle it all, and write about it so wittily that I'll keep you enchanted. Ciao for now!

Road Trip! - Part, the Third

In my last post I mentioned the Welsh Train Drivers strike that necessitated me fleeing Wales via bus before I could catch a train to Salisbury.
So I arose on Monday morning and left the flat shortly before 8, made my way to the bus station and boarded a National Express Coach to Bristol.

On the way to the station I saw my first daffodils of the season.
How appropriate that I should see them in Wales!
I snoozed my way to Bristol Coach Station, then hopped another bus to Temple Meads train station. Arrived at the platform in plenty of time. So far, so good and all going nice and smoothly. Our train pulled up to the announcement:
" This is the 11.23 service to Portsmouth Harbour. Stopping at blah, blah, Salisbury, blah and blah. This is the service from Cardiff Central Station."

What?! What about the strike! Do you mean I needn't have bothered with buses?! I give up!

Anyway, confusion aside, I arrived in Salisbury at 12.30 and was met outside the station by Katy, looking all bright eyed and busy tailed! We walked into Salisbury town, which is sooo pretty that if I wasn't European, I'd probably combust from the overwhelming charm of it all.
We went for lunch in this lovely Tudor building, in fact we ate upstairs in 'The Great Hall'! A lovely place to begin our marathon catch-up session.

After that we ambled towards the Cathedral and in around the cloisters, it really is a stunning building and the area around the Cathedral is just too deliciously Georgian. Georgian architecture is my favourite, so I was in Hog Heaven!

It was a wonderful afternoon, pottering around the medieval town while discussing movies, travel, history and liguistics, but all too soon it was time to head back to the train station and the next stage of my journey. I took the 16.48 to Waterloo, then crossed London to Canary Wharf on the Underground. It was my first time at Canary Wharf and boy oh boy is it ever a swish do! Then on to Docklands Light Rail for the last leg to Lewisham, where I was met by Sophie.

A very smooth day's travel all in all. In hindsight I was clearly being lulled into a false sense of security.

With good food, good conversation and a long hot shower I was a very happy bunny indeed!
I booked my ticket for the National Express bus to Stansted Airport. I set it up as an M-ticket, which is supposed to be texted to your mobile phone. This however, was not happening with any great speed so I wrote down the ticket reference as a back up.
With a start the next day at 3am, the conversation was shorter than I'd have wished, but it was still worth it to travel to Edinburgh via Salisbury and London. With not working in Winchester next summer I don't know when I'll get to see Katy or Sophie again, so it was very important to me to grasp this oppurtunity.

The alarm went off at 3.15am the next morning and I rolled off the couch before I could fall asleep again. My flight was at 7.15, but after Friday's debacle I was taking no chances and had planned my journey to arrive at Stansted at 6am.
That turned out to be a life saving decision! (well, not literally!)

Between an inability to move efficiently at that God forsaken hour of the morning and the time it took to fumble my way towards an unknow bus stop, I missed the bus I wanted at 3.56. No major harm done, I told myself, there is another at 4.16.
And indeed at 4.16 another came towards me, so I bent down and got my suitcase and began moving out of the bus shelter to the side of the pavement. Then stood there helplessly as the 47 bus sailed past me!

WTF??!!

I stood there thinking, "What the hell do I do now!" The trains weren't running that early, and even if I had a notion in God's earthly world where to find an ATM, I had no number for a taxi company. A panic attack was incipient when I noticed a girl walking towards me and stopping at the bus stop. Phew! At this hour of the morning you don't arise and go to bus stops for the hell of it! Sure enough a minute or two later an N47 stopped. I got on and asked for Liverpool St. Station.
"We don't go there. We only go to Trafalgar Sq."
Sigh. "Close enough."
"If you get out at London Bridge, you can change for Liverpool St there."
"Ok great, I'll do that then" says I, handing over my tenner for the bus fare (having being assured that London buses give change.)
"Have you anything smaller?"
"Well, I have," counting out change, "70p."

Great. So now I'm on the wrong bus with unacceptable cash! I stand there like a right lemon and as the bus continues to the next stop, I'm wondering what's the next move? Do I have to get off or what?
Luckily for me, the bus driver is nicer than I would expect anyone to be a 4.20 on a cold Spring morning. A few stops later, we see the 47 ahead, the one which had sailed past me.
He points this out and says this is the bus I want, he'll catch it for me.
Darling man!
He overtakes the bus and at the next stop, pulls up in front of it. I dash out of the bus yelling "Thank you so much, you've been very kind!"

So finally I'm on the right bus and he DOES have change of a tenner! Yaaay!
It's the little things, isn't it!
Even better, each stop is announced, so I don't have to be in a dither wondering how will I know we're at Liverpool St.
I arrive at Livsrpool St. Station at 4.40, which is cutting it fine, but with a little luck I might still catch the 4.45 Stansted bus that I'm aiming for.

Aaah, will I ever lose this air of innocence and optimism?!

I follow the signs for the bus station to find stands which are clearly for city buses only. Not a sign of National Express anywhere, so I turn back into the station to find some official to quiz. Now, this is where it being 5am is clearly begining to affect my brain. There is an official standing in front of the National Express Train to Stansted, but all I can absorb is the National Express part, so I toddle up to him and tell him I have a ticket reference. He directs me to the ticket office, where he says they'll print off my ticket for me. No worries!
Off I go and proffer my reference number to the man behind the glass.
"Do you have the card that the ticket was paid with?"
"No, it was a friend's card"
(because my card is an Irish Laser card, which English websites will have no truck with!)
"Without the card we will not be able to redeem the ticket."
"How much is a new ticket to Stansted?"
"£21"
At this news I drop my face in my hands.
"I don't have £21. Where is the nearest ATM?"
I head towards the ATM bemoaning the chain of events that have brought me to this. Missing the plane on Friday had cost me money and I was walking to the ATM not knowing if the money I had transferred to my account had arrived yet.
But just then, I woke up a little bit more. £21, hang on. That's the price of the train ticket!
I return to the man behind the glass and say, "Blame it on the fact that it is 5 in the morning and I'm not awake yet, but I'm looking for the National Express Bus to Stansted."
"Ok, you catch that bus at Stratford."
I blink at him, utterly non plussed.
"How do I get to Stratford?"
Take the train from Platform 13, £3.40."

I buy the ticket and amble to Platform 13, wondering why on earth, if I have bought and paid for a bus ticket from Liverpool St Station to Stansted, I am now getting on a train?!
The train leaves at 5.29 and I am doing sums furiously in my head to work out what time I'll get to Stansted. Please dear God, don't let it be Friday all over again!
Stratford is the first stop and only takes a few minutes. Once outside the station I only have to wander aimlessly for five minutes before finding the National Express A9 to Stansted. I approach the bus praying hard that the driver won't give me any problems with the reservation number, because the ticket still hasn't been texted to my phone. I gird myself for some serious arguing, wheedling and general begging.
And need none of it!!!
I show him my number, and say I ordered an m-ticket but for some reason I'm not getting it.
He examines it closely, as if divining arcane secrets, then hands it back to me, saying, alright.

Yes!!

We pull away from the station at 5.40am. The website had pegged the journey time as between 30 and 50 minutes and I'm banking on the early hour to translate to the shorter time. I pour over my boarding pass, checking that the gate closes at 6.45. Barring some major holdup going through security, I should be safe.

And so it proves. The bus gets us there at 6.20 and I zip through the airport at a jog, blessing suitcases with wheels!
Security is slow but steady and I make the gate at 6.45 to join the end of the boarding queue.

Oh the relief! Once settled in my seat, I break out my Kindle. I don't want to sleep on this flight because at this point, I'm cruising so far beyond the point of exhaustion that I feel quite fine.
I don't want to crash and burn till I arrive at the house in Edinburgh.

We make good time and land in Edinburgh Airport at 8.15. I head out of the airport and enjoy the smug satisfaction of being a local - which is to say, I catch the cheaper no.35 bus instead of the Airport Express.

I arrive in Colinton just before 10 and settle in with Earl Grey tea to drink and a warm toddler to cuddle.

Bliss!

Road Trip! - Part Deux

Once I had finally arrived in Cardiff, flatmates and I wandered off in search of food. They showed me the St. David shopping centre which was a building site when I left Cardiff 18 months before. I had a yen for Spanish food so we headed towards Nandos and Chimichangas. Fair enough it was 6 on a Friday evening, but there were queues outside both of them! I mean, both places serve lovely food but not what I'd be willing to queue for, especially when there are FOUR more Spanish eateries less than a block away.
Sheesh! People are nuts!

We, not being crazy, went to the aforementioned eateries a block away, in the Brewery Quarter off St. Mary St. We wandered around trying to decide which one to frequent when we passed 'Mia Porto Due', a Portuguese / Italian restaurant. They were playing Gyspy Kings on the tannoy, so that was me won over straight away!
They had me at 'Bamboleo'!

I headed in there like it was opening day at Comic-Con!
I ordered fresh Sea Bass, which was brought to the table with head, tail, fins, the works.
I'm sure that's probably a very fancy way of doing it and I should have been impressed, but as I tried to find my way into the sucker, I couldn't help feeling that I was paying someone else to let me do all the work!
Happily the bass was utterly delicious and worth the major surgery.

We rolled out of there stuffed to the back teeth and headed for home. Once ensconced, former flatmates and I slipped right back into doing what we did best: drinking tea and watching Asian movies.
In honour of my impending move we watched a Korean movie, 'The Good, the Bad, the Weird'.
It had some very funny moments, some hide behind my hands moments and a kick ass soundtrack which I shall be downloading from iTunes without delay. So all in all, a good night!

The next morning, Saturday, we girded our loins and set off for town, determined to get me black boots for Korea. I have been reliably informed that I can forget about purchasing shoes for my giant, Western feet in Ulsan. Happily, I have found a few shoe websites that deliver to Korea, but I didn't want to take any chances with the boots, so off we went braving the Queen Street saturday hordes.

After a mere five shops I got a great bargain and that objective reached, we were free to indulge in some serious window shopping.
I do mean serious, we're talking treat of hyperventilation here!
We went to Paperchase, which is stationary HEAVEN! In which place we showed remarkable restraint and discipline, so when we came out we agreed that we should reward ourselves with tea and scones at The Plan cafe in Morgan Arcade. (listed by The Guardian as one of the top 50 cafes in Britain)
Thus fortified we headed to Cardiff Market, with the plan of looking at kittens in the pet shop. The kittens were not in evidence, but Peruvian Guinea Pigs were so I was happy!

We bought Welsh Teacakes, because, let's face it, everybody should at every given oppurtunity and went home to watch the England / France rugby match and have the mother of all cheese feasts.
Mmmmmm, Wensleydale!

On Sunday morning I spent a bafflingly long time on the internet trying to sort out my transport from Cardiff to Salisbury to London and then on to Stansted airport.
Welsh train drivers are on strike Sunday and Monday, so that threw a spanner in the works, so I had to go back to the drawing board and figure out how to get to Bristol and train it from there instead. That done, I then had to go through the tedious process of buying tickets online while telling them every solitary fact of my existence down to and including what I got for my sixth birthday.

I only want train tickets, not a blinkin' mortgage!

Ate some more cheese to calm down and watched the Ireland / Scotland rugby match.
Yaay! Ireland won!

After that we went to see the movie 'Paul'. It was very funny and I loved it and highly recommend it to all!

So now I have come to the end of the Welsh segment of my Road Trip and tomorrow I cross the Severn into England for Phase Two - the Sassenachs!

Catch you on the flipside.

Road Trip!

Oh boy! Have I ever been living up to the 'Accidental' part of my name again!

Those who have known me long and well are very familiar with my periodic inability to cope with (translation: read) timetables and generally assimilate travel related information.
Bit of a handicap for a girl whose major passion in life is travel! I had worked hard to overcome this disability and over the past few years had made good progress - I was even becoming used to the comfort and stress free feeling of being seated on a train ten minutes BEFORE the departure time, rather then jumping into the carriage as it pulled out of the station 'a la Indiana Jones'.

Sadly, last September I suffered a major relapse and arrived at the airport in Bratislava two hours early......and one day late.
But that is nothing compared to the snafus which have occurred over the last 48 hrs.
On Thursday night I was booking my flight from London to Edinburgh with EasyJet. I duly entered the route I wanted and the date I wished to travel. That done I scrolled through the offered flights paying particular attention to departure times. I picked the flight I wanted, bought it and went to write down the flight reservation number...........leaving at 7.15, great, number written down, fine, departing Mar 01 - wtf??!!
That's Tuesday! I wanted Monday, I clearly requested Monday the 28th!
Crap!
*Sigh* Well, it was 11 at night and I had to be up at 4.30am the next morning to catch my 5.30 train to Dublin, so I decided to wait till I was in Cardiff, then contact EasyJet and find out how much it would cost to rectify my error.

So the next day, Friday morning I get my train and head towards Dublin, feeling so tired I'm nauseous and my head feels like it's in a vice. Careful and slow consumption of Sprite and tea had me feeling relatively human by the time I arrived at Heuston station at 8.
However, by the time I was shuffling up the platform I was also in dire need of a loo! So I detoured towards the toilets only to discover that the entry price had rocketed from 20c to 30c.
I only had 20c on me.
Frick! Now I need to go get change. *sigh* Off I trudge to Supermacs, figuring if I have to spend some money I might as well get some food out of it!
I order the 'SuperBreakfast', though I only manage half of it before I'm forced by my bladder to desert breakfast and return to the toilets.
At least this time I have sufficient change.......but wait, what's this sign I see before me?
An 'Out of Order' notice taped to the turnstile. Beside it is a propped open door allowing customers free entry.
AAAArrrrrrggggggghhhhhh!!!!!!! You mean I didn't need the blasted change!!! I could have gone to the loo and then eaten ALL of my breakfast in peace??!!!

FECK!!!!

Ablutions taken care of, I head for the Airport Bus and arrive at Dublin Airport in good time at 9am. Sadly, here is where I continue to be accident prone. It's my first time at the airport since the opening of Terminal Two, so I'm keeping my eyes peeled to try and figure out where I need to get off the bus. My print out from the Aer Lingus booking leaving me none the wiser.
We pass Terminal Two first and Aer Lingus is clearly marked as being one of the airlines, so I get out here.
Once inside I check out the departure board and find my flight to Cardiff.

10.00 Cardiff Go to Terminal 1.


Are you kidding me!!!!

Off I go in search of a yellow jacket - find a member of staff who gives me directions and off I trudge to Terminal 1. I get there and find the Aer Lingus check in desk, which is unmanned. Try to check in at the Fast Pass machine, but have no joy there either, so then I go to the Aer Lingus Information desk to see what's occurrin'.

"You've missed your flight."
"What?? It's 9.15! The flight is at 10.00!!"
"Yes, but the check in desk closes 45 mins before take off, but as you're here before actual take off, for a mere €75 I can book you a seat on the next available flight!"
"And when is that?" (I ask warily)
"3pm"
"Just for kicks, how much would it cost to change my flight from Cardiff to Edinburgh?"
"€75 as well, and that flight leaves at 2pm."

At this stage I'm sore from kicking myself and wondering if it wouldn't be easier just to go straight to Scotland. I spend ten minutes weighing my options (can't take too long, cos I have to get it sorted before my booked flight leaves the tarmac) and decide that I don't want to miss seeing my mates in Cardiff, Salisbury and London, so I go back and fork over the money to change my flight.

Then settle on a seat in the lounge to while away the hours.
Thank God for my Amazon Kindle!
On the bright side I get some badly needed sleep for an hour.
Well, I say sleep,....... I mean doze, .........well, sit for an hour with my eyes closed.


Whatever, it was badly needed time out.

Come boarding time, I was in for another shock - turns out that while technically an Aer Lingus flight, they had contracted out the Aer Arann (hence the hike to Terminal 1).
They were putting us on a baby plane! It had propellers and only one door!

One of the fellow passengers made a Buddy Holly comment which was totally uncalled for and did nothing to help me nurture a sense of adventure about the affair. Then I was seated in the very first row, which had me thinking:
"Meep! If anything happens I'm toast!"
But actually it turned out to be a good thing, cos I reckon if I had been seated behind the propellors I'd have been deafened for life!

So what with one thing and another I finally got the Cardiff Central Station at 5.30 and got see my former flat mates for the first time in 18 months!

All's well that ends well!

Miscellaneous Stuff and stuff

This post has no particular theme as I have about 17 different things to talk about......ok, five, and just can't be bothered to lovingly craft them into one cohesive theme.

So instead I'll just blurt everything out and possibly edit late. Ain't technology grand?!

In my last post I shared that I was applying for jobs hither and yon from Spain to Japan and leaving it up to God........and rather delightfully, it worked a treat.
For all my applications I was only getting nibbles from South Korea, which resulted in my accepting a job in an elementary school in Ulsan, on the south eastern coast of South Korea. It was only after I had accepted the post that I started hearing back from my other applications. Clearly Himself Upstairs wasn't giving me a chance to be distracted on this one!

Fair enough says I, thrilled at the prospect of a furnished apartment all to myself and rent free at that. Those who know me well will be in no way surprised to hear that I am already dreaming of filling the flat with house plants and purchasing goldfish!
Spring is in the air and I have an urge to nest, let joy be unconfined!

So then began the planning and the plotting and the surfing. My delight in the apartment was tempered by the discovery that Koreans aren't big on ovens and I won't get one in the flat. What's a baking obsessed girl to do?
Well, what I did was send an electronic lament to my old mate Stu, who has been teaching and living in Korea for several years. The darling man emailed me a week later to tell me that he had a counter top oven for me. So I shall be able to bake Irish brown bread and muffins galore and therefore my popularity in Ulsan in assured.

Phew!

Then began the paperwork. Not that I have any basis for comparison, but it felt like getting an E2 work Visa for Korea was something akin to getting security clearance for the Pentagon.

See for yourself, I had to dispatch via DHL:

One sealed college transcript in an official college envelope
One copy of my cv
One healthcheck form
One signed copy of employment contract
One police certificate - apostilled
One certified copy of my university degree - apostilled
One certified copy of my tefl certificate - apostilled
One photocopy of passport
Two passport photos


I got the Police certificate at my local police station and while I was there got my degree and tefl copies certified, naievely assuming that the sworn testimony of a guard would be sufficient.
Tchah! Silly me.

In blissful ignorance I sallied forth to the Department of Foreign Affairs in Cork, 90 mins on the bus, 5 mins walk to the Passport office - only to be told the police stamp isn't good enough, get it done by the college.
Back on the bus, 90 mins back to Limerick, and in Kildimo just in time to do a shift in the pub.
Next morning, into Mary Immaculate, get stamps, get cab to bus station, 90 mins on bus to Cork, get to passport office, fork out €60 for three apostilles, get directions to the nearest post office and head there, tennis shoes squelching in the pouring rain.
I got to the post office and prepared to send everything off.
"Wait! You need the telephone number."
"Sigh! Where is the nearest internet cafe?"
Trudge there, huddling under my pathetically inadequate umbrella.
Get a computer, get phone number, return to post office, send off documents.
Race back to bus station, detouring through Marks & Spencers on the way to get nosh.
90 mins back to Limerick, my brother picks me up at the station and I head home for a power nap before pulling the late shift in the pub.

Total cost of the endeavor: €150
Paving my way to Korea: Priceless!

(sorry, I couldn't resist!)

That done, I was able to move on to more important questions like:
"Will I be able to buy shoes in Ulsan?" , "How do I ask for a half leg wax in Korean?" and "What the frick will I do for Christmas?"

Turns out that I won't be able to buy shoes in Ulsan as I am too much of a decadent Western clodhopper and they don't stock shoes for giants. (I'm a size 40!)
The silver lining in this cloud is that this weekend I will be visiting my friends in Cardiff, who understand the importance of pretty shoes and will happily shop with me, breaking only for tea and cheese.

On Friday I set off on my 'Farewell tour of Britain', (no it's not a pompous title, thank you very much!)

I start in Cardiff, Friday morning till Sunday morning, then on to Katy in Salisbury for High Tea and Catch Up, then continuing on to Sophie in London for more gossip. On Monday I'm flying north to Edinburgh where I shall spend several days imprinting myself as firmly as possible on my 10 month old God Daughter, in the hope that she will then vaguely recognise me on Skype!

In brief, I shall have a week of shoe shopping, cheese eating and baby hugging. Hot dang!!

Later dudes!

(ok, so I lied about the editing - you'll live)