Bookends Theme

Reid and I went from Barcelona to London on January 6. We visited the London Gatwick Airport for the first time, which was pretty exciting, and then we found our hostel.

Finding the hostel was kind of interesting. You know how I got really grumpy in Grenada because I was hungry? Well, it was Reid's turn to get grumpy in London because...we got lost. Not totally lost, mind you. We just walked up and down a few wrong streets before we found the right street sort of on accident. But hey, we made it to our hostel!

We were ready for lunch, and so we decided to go to this pub I remembered, The Dickens Pub. It's the Longest Pub in London, and it had good food. The problem was, I forgot where it was. I was convinced it was just outside of the Victoria tube station, and so Reid and walked all the way around the Victoria tube station before deciding to go to another pub called The Victoria. It turns out that Dickens is outside of the Piccadilly tube station. But hey, we made it to a pub!

We had a delicious lunch in The Victoria, where we met a nice couple who brought their rat-like dog into the pub. Apparently the rat-dog's name was Joy, too, which is some kind of funny. Another kind of funny: the lady let the dog drink her beer. Now, I don't know much about alcohol and its effects on the canine body, but this dog was maybe four pounds, and I think a few sips might have seriously impaired this dog's judgment.

After lunch, we went to the London Eye:


We ended up going at night because it was 4:30 pm and England gets dark roughly three minutes after the sun rises, but that made London look even cooler from the Eye.

We took a lot of pictures in the Eye. In this one, I think we look related:


Which we are.

I am not the biggest fan of heights (I once sat cross-legged on the top of a mountain for ten minutes, terrified that I might fall over the three-foot-high safety fence and roll picturesquely to my death), and the Eye is 450 feet in diameter. This means that it is 450 high at the top, which is very high. And scary, if you are me:


And here, ladies and gentlemen and children, is London at night:


Pretty impressive, yeah? Here's another picture of London at night:


You might notice Parliament, Big Ben, and Westminster Abbey right there in the middle. That's what they look like at night from 450 feet in the air.

Then we got off the Eye, and our mom called me with some good news. Reid got the IB Diploma! Yay, Reid!

We left the Eye and went to King's Cross Station. Hm, you say, King's Cross Station sounds familiar. Why is that? Well, I will answer your question with two pictures (both of which have the sign for Platform 9 and 3/4 in them):





I think now is an appropriate time to inform you that I am not actually at Oxford University. I am at Hogwarts.

After being magically whisked back and forth through a brick wall, Reid and I went to go see a show in London's West End. We chose Zorro! Zorro! was a perfect choice because it had little bits and pieces of Spain and Spanish culture in it. There was even some flamenco dancing. While Zorro! was not the most impressive show we'd ever seen, we enjoyed it a lot. The actor who played Zorro was hilarious, and the actress who played Luisa sang beautifully. Plus they lit a 'Z' on fire at the beginning, and hey, who doesn't love (safely and professionally controlled) fire? Reid and I both felt like seeing Zorro! was a great way to end our Spain trip outside of Spain.

On January 7, Reid left, and I was very sad. It was quite a task getting Reid home, as his plane in Heathrow was delayed for two and a half hours. We were all kind of worried for a little bit because all Reid had with him, besides clothes, was his MU ID, 5 English pounds, and 12 American dollars. (On an unrelated note, Reid, you owe me 5 English pounds and 12 American dollars.) He eventually got home to Kansas City, and I went on my way back to Edinburgh to meet Robyn, Brett, and Madison again.

On sort of a side note, between December 29 and January 9, Reid took seven airplanes, five buses, and six trains, and I took five planes, five buses, and seven trains. That is a lot of sitting in small seats.

Robyn, Brett, Madison and I were in Edinburgh January 7 and 8. We visited the Royal Mile, the outside of Holyrood Castle, and Brett and I bought plaid things. I also discovered the two coolest streets in Edinburgh. Here is one:


And here is the other:


Forsyth's Close, incidentally, might have been named after my ancestors on my mom's side. The plaid I bought was the Forsyth tartan, the official plaid of the Forsyth clan. Yeah, we have a clan. And it's Scottish, and maybe has a street named after it.

The night before we left Scotland, we watched the movie Highlander. Robyn had been telling us about this movie for days, because it was set in Scotland and apparently a movie you just have to see. Well, I am here to tell you: you have to see this movie. It takes "bad movie" to a whole new level.

It was made in 1986 by the same director who later brought us such classics as Tale of the Mummy, Duran Duran music videos, and, yes, Highlander II. Sean Connery is an immortal Spaniard from Egypt with a Scottish accent (and we all say together, What?), the villain sounds like his throat is full of gravel, and the only other English-speaking role the main actor had before this movie was Greystroke: the Legend of Tarzan, Lord of the Apes, where he only had a few lines. Oh, and Queen did all-new original music for the score. Please, just humor me and watch the trailer:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kq4SqgxIKM0

Seriously, it's the worst movie you will ever see in your life.

On January 9, Robyn and Brett and Madison and I had the longest. bus ride. ever. from Edinburgh to London. It was nine hours, and there wasn't enough leg room for the rat-dog named Joy, let alone any of us.

We then had to take another bus from London to Oxford. Our bus driver was Lucifer. As in, the Devil. If ever anyone was a walking anti-smoking ad, this guy was. His voice was so ruined that when he spoke over the intercom to announce the next stop, it sounded as if we were slowly descending through the circles of Hell.

We got back to Oxford quite late on January 9, slept very well, and then woke up the next morning ready to begin the term!

My break was great. I loved spending time with my little brother (even if he does put his thumb over the street names on maps), and it was great to visit two new countries! Thanks for persevering with me through this five-part trilogy (Don't Panic.) about my break of travels. From now until March 14, it's back to normal: I won't want to do homework, so I'll update this blog instead.

España no es buena en transporte público

Loosely translated, this means "the dereliction of the conveyance of aggregated peoples in Spain."

Okay, that's true. But what that means exactly and literally translated is "Spain is not good at public transportation."

Our first experience of Spain's inadequate public transport came when we took the train from Grenada to Sevilla. Remember when I told you about the Spanish conductor coming in to the car and assuming we knew what he was saying? Well, what he was saying was, "The train tracks ahead are flooded. You need to take a bus to avoid the flooded train tracks, because trains do not float very well." Now, I understand flooding. But I sort of feel like rain is a common occurrence (after all, the rain in Spain does fall mainly on the plain, Eliza Doolittle), and maybe the Spanish should find a better way to deal with it (rain) than bussing 500 passengers between 2 and 8000 miles out of their ways.

Our second experience of Spain's rather questionable understanding of mass transit was when we flew from Sevilla to Barcelona. After Reid and I got to the airport, we sat for a while in the waiting seats, and then we heard the announcement that our flight was boarding. It was even on time. Hooray! So all 250 passengers got in the line that led to the boarding gate, and then we...stood there. For half an hour. I generally understand the "ing" part of "boarding" to mean "in the process of getting on board" as in "moving," but this is apparently not the case.

We eventually got on our plane after a nice long walk on the tarmac (not to the tarmac, on the tarmac. I felt like a Michelle Obama, climbing up the stairs to my very own private-plus-249-other-people plane), and sat down. Unfortunately, I was seated next to a Spanish lady who looked liked Jabba the Hut and didn't seem to understand that "no hablo espanol" means that I don't speak Spanish.

The fact that I was sitting next to George Lucas's inspiration for a worm-fiend did not detract from the fact that the landscape over which we flew was gorgeous. Barcelona is surrounded by some of the most beautiful and picturesque mountains I have ever seen. They certainly don't have the grandeur of the Rockies or the wooded splendor of the Appalachians or the snow of the Alps (okay, I've never seen the Alps), but their combination of jutting rocks and rolling hills spread in greens and golds and browns was amazing. Plus they had those cool white windmills that actually turn air into energy.

The oddest part of the trip was the end, actually. After we touched down at the Barcelona airport, the entire plane burst into applause. It was as if the Spanish were saying, "Hooray! We made it without dying! Thank you, Mr. (or Ms.) Pilot for only jarring our bones just a little on this touchdown and for making it the whole way through this hour-long flight without running into the side of a mountain!"

Now, I have since learned that applauding at the end of flights used to be common. And, as we all learned after the US Airways incident on the Hudson, pilots certainly should be commended for doing a good job. But I'm more inclined to think that the Spanish were applauding because they are so used to bad mass transit that they are overjoyed when they make it somewhere without trouble.

So anyway, we walked for about half an hour from the plane (on the tarmac again, I did my Jackie O wave walking down the steps) to the building. This I learned: never ever fly into Barcelona Reus airport. It looks like they began to build it in 1983 and then just forgot to finish. Then we got on a bus and rode two hours, and then we were finally in Barcelona. Yay (or yea!)!

In Barcelona, we mostly walked around. I'm pretty sure we explored most of the city because we got lost several times, but we also were not on a schedule and that was great. We bought some delicious apples at a two-story grocery store:


Seriously, how cool is that? That is, by the way, Reid, not some random stranger. And then we went to the Sagrada Familia temple, designed by Gaudi.

This temple/cathedral/whatever (I'm honestly not sure what exactly it is) is amazing. Antoni Gaudi began to design and build it in 1882, and it's still a work in progress. According to Barcelona's tourist guide, it's not expected to be finished until sometime between 2033 and 2083. Yeah, wow.

Gaudi was clearly ahead of his time in his designs:


And the inside is just beautiful:


Just look at those colors!

Humans (Reid and I are in the middle, wearing black and brown and looking related) were again dwarfed by the size of the building:



Reid and I paid the 12 euro to get into the cathedral, which was probably worth it. It's worth going just to see the outside, though.

Then we wandered around the city some more, found a Burger King for dinner, and returned to our hostel by 7 p.m. We were very tired, so we hung out in our room until we finally went to sleep.

The next morning, we went to the good Barcelona airport (called the Barcelona airport instead of the Barcelona Reus airport. That should've been a hint to me), and again discovered that Spain does not know how to move people. We had to take a bus from the boarding gate to the plane. Does that make sense?

Anyway, we ended up in London, which is a day for another post. Or a post for another day. I feel like both phrases actually apply there.

I'd very quickly like to give some impressions of Spain that I have thus far saved:

--In Barcelona, people lisp--that is, their accent means their "s" is pronounced "th." Thus, Barcelona sounds like "Barthelona." Also thus, it is common for people to spray it and say it (or thpray it and thay it?).

--Also, in the north of Spain, there are two different types of Spanish: Castilian and Catalan. Therefore, in Barcelona, all the signs were in three different languages (those two and English). I found this fascinating. Apparently Castilian is the traditional Spanish, while Catalan is a mixture of Spanish and French (thank you, Yahoo! Answers).

--Everyone smokes in Spain, including young children and pets (okay, that part's not true). I think this is gross.
--The Spanish like piercings, especially lip piercings. You know the ones that kind of look like moles or zits right above or below peoples' lips? A ton of people had them, and very few people pulled off the look. There were also multiple ear piercings, eyebrow piercings, and nose piercings.
--Another aspect of Spanish fashion is this: they are trying to re-vamp the mullet. It is not working. We saw all sorts of mullet-ish hairdoos. The best one was the dreadlock mullet. Please imagine: business up front, hippy party in the back. It was awful.
--While the Spanish have not mastered mass transit, they are good at individual transit. There are many people who walk, lots of small cars, and a ton of motorcycles. Reid considered stealing a few of the motorcycles, but we decided that they would be hard to get through customs (almost as difficult as the fighting bull we were going to bring Dad--we settled on a t-shirt instead).

Spain, overall, was a wonderful place to visit. Reid and I began in a very traditional Spanish town (Granada), and ended in a very modern city (Barcelona), with Sevilla falling somewhere in between traditional and modern. While our trip was non-stop travelling, I think we took enough time in each place to enjoy what it had to offer. I enjoyed it very much, and I think Reid did, too.

Kansas City's sister city

We arrived in Sevilla on January 3, ate a very late dinner in a restaurant where the lights kept turning off, and went to sleep. We spent all day January 4 in Sevilla, which was our longest stay and our busiest. That means this post will be the longest and have the most pictures. Plus, stay tuned, it has another video!


The first thing we did in Sevilla was walk to the cathedral in the center of the city. The area looked a lot like the Plaza in Kansas City (it's the whole sister-city thing; if you're related you look alike):




We sort of accidentally went to a High Mass in the Spanish cathedral, which was cool for the first fifteen minutes and then cold for the next half hour until we could leave (ha, a pun, get it? There's no heating in old cathedrals...). Then we went into the Alcazar Castle, which was built by Peter II in some century, was added onto by some other kings in other centuries, and is generally very big, expensive, impressive, and architecturally Islamic-influenced. The big plaza in the middle was one of my favorite parts:


And here is a bit of trivia I bet you didn't know. According to my friend Chris, "This image is from a video game called Hitman 2, a lot of people died here in that game." Reid's response? "If you look closely, you can see only two other people are in the picture. That's because the rest are dead. I'm actually holding a gun in my left hand, you just can't see it." As a non-video-gamer, I can't decide whether this is disturbing or amusing. But anyway.

Peter II and the other Spanish kings really liked gardens, and Alcazar Castle had the most impressive garden I'd ever seen. It even had a maze! I am short enough that I got suitably lost in the maze, but Reid was able to find his way out using his periscope-like height:


Here is a picture of the gardens from the second story of the castle:


And that's just a small portion. There were also eight million orange trees, a small herd of ducks (gaggle of ducks? Pride of ducks? Oh, wait, flock of ducks), the biggest non-predatory fish I have ever seen in my life, several gazebo shrine things, and enough bushes to encircle the Kansas City metro area.

We ate lunch at a tapas restaurant, where we had some "hamburgers" (that is, pieces of beef and slices of onion on top of fried bread) and something called "croquetas de pucheros," which kind of tasted as if they had breaded a pureed mix of mushrooms, cream cheese, cow spit, and leftover grease.

Next was the Plaza de Espana. It is gigantic. Here is a picture of a third of it:



See the ants in the picture? Those are actually people. This place was huge. Another illustration of its grandosity (warning: that is not a real word):


Then, Reid and I went to a bullfighting arena! I am quite glad that the bullfighting season doesn't start until March, because I don't like blood. Or angry animals. Here is the arena:


It's special because it is not perfectly round like most bullfighting arenas. Instead, it is an oval.

The last thing we did that day was visit the cathedral again, this time for less religious reasons. I think the cathedral kind of looks like a cruise ship:


But maybe that's just me.

This cathedral has a huge tower (originally a minaret, which is the tower from which Muslims are called to prayer; the cathedral used to be a mosque, until Christians took over everything). We climbed the 24 flights to the top (there were literally 24 landings, I am not exaggerating), and looked out over the city:


Our hostel is somewhere in there. The inside of the cathedral was gorgeous, definitely worth seeing if you ever make it to Sevilla:


We ate dinner at a restaurant two blocks away from a Spanish version of Chuck E. Cheese. There were eight children in our immediate vicinity, all of them with balloons, two of which popped during our meal. The restaurant was full inside and outside (we were outside) with at least 75 patrons, and there was one waiter and one chain-smoking drink-server. However, it was one of the best meals we had.

That night, we went to flamenco dancing. I had never seen true flamenco dancing before, and it was ridiculously amazing. I've heard the phrase "sang from his heart" before, but had never seen it truly in action until we watched the flamenco singer. The guitarist (who, incidentally, kind of looks like Adam from the library) played so fast that it sounded like three people were playing. The flamenco dancer made funny faces and could have lifted a large elephant with just her calves. Flamenco dancing is kind of like tap dancing, if tap dancing could have a two-hour-long sugar high caused by a million Pixi Stix and twelve gallons of high-fructose lemonade. Here is a picture:


And here is a video (click the play button):

They only let us video the last five minutes or so of the performance, and this video doesn't nearly do the whole thing justice. Anyway, here is the amazing flamenco dancer:

It was seriously, genuinely, literally one of the most impressive things I have ever seen. Those three people worked so hard that Reid and I were tired just watching by the time we left. So we went to bed.

The next morning, we woke up very early and caught two buses to the airport. Before we left, though, we took one last picture:

We love Kansas City. And we loved Sevilla. It was like home, in Spain, with more orange trees and no English. Also a terrible mass transit system, but you'll hear more about that in my next post. Coming next: "Barcelona: is it a lisp or an accent?"

"You English. Me no English. Me Spanish. You no Spanish. You see?"

This was one of first encounters in Spain. On January 2, we flew from Edinburgh to Madrid and then took the train from Madrid to Granada. Since Edinburgh is in the United Kingdom, and since Madrid is the capital of Spain, most people in both places spoke English. However, this was not the case in Granada.


When Reid and I got off the train in Granada, we decided to go ahead and buy our Granada-Sevilla tickets for the next day. We asked the ticket agent for help, and he sent us to the information desk (apparently. What actually happened is he spoke in Spanish and pointed away from him, so we went to the information desk). So we went to the information desk, and, lo and behold (really, what does that phrase mean?), the information desk guy didn't speak English either! He got a panicky look on his face when I spoke to him in English, and said the above quote. Reid saved the day by speaking Spanish--yay Reid!--and we found out that we had to buy our tickets the next day.


After a long walk to our hostel during which we asked a guy on the street where we should go and he told us he was from Barcelona (which is not helpful if you're in Granada), we settled into our room for the night. The night in Granada was the only night we shared a room. It looked like this:


A guy snored so loudly Reid threatened to kick him.

Our plan for Granada was to go to the Alhambra Fortress. To get to the Alhambra Fortress, we had to hike up a mountain. Seriously. A mountain. Or at least a large hill. I nearly died. Here is a picture from the fortress from the bottom of the mountain:


And here is a picture of the steep deathwalk up the mountain (we were, by the way, lugging our backpacks again. That's one reason I nearly died):


And here is a picture from the top, sort of:


Granted, the view was nearly worth the hike. Unfortunately, the fortress had run out of admission tickets by the time we crawled to the ticket booth (okay, I crawled. Reid looked like he'd just woken up from a nice, refreshing nap. It was like a movie), so we didn't get to go into the fortress. Instead, we walked back down the mountain through some very pretty, misty woods. In the woods, we found...something. A door? A gate? You tell us:


Once we got back to town, we decided to go into Granada's cathedral. This decision was partly made because we'd heard it was cool, and partly made because we thought we could sit down in the cathedral. Both of these were true:

Then we ate lunch. Our lunch in Granada was apparently a defining moment for Reid's trip. You see, my mood is tied to my stomach. When my stomach is full, I am happy. When my stomach is empty, I am grumpy. I become irrational. I bite people's heads off (figuratively, although if it were literally then my stomach would be full again!). In Granada, we ate breakfast at 8:30ish, conquered a mountain, walked the length of Granada twice, AND it rained and got all of our stuff wet, all before we had lunch at 3ish! Pizza Hut has never tasted so good. At the Pizza Hut, they had some sort of Spanish MTV on, and we saw an amazing video. I tried to find it on YouTube, but couldn't. It's called "La Autorradio Canta" by Miguel Bose, if you want to try and find it yourself.

Then we took the train to Sevilla. Here is the landscape we saw:


Most of the landscape of southern Spain was covered in those lines of trees. I'm pretty sure they're olive trees.

During the train ride, we had our first encounter with people thinking Reid and I were Spanish. The Spanish conductor-guy came into our train, and spoke for a little while in...Spanish. He looked at the Spanish family in the car, who nodded like they understood (which they probably did), then he looked at Reid and me and nodded like he thought we understood (which...we didn't). Then he looked at another group of Americans, leaned down and spoke to them in Spanishy-English, and left. One of the other Americans leaned over to Reid and me and said, "Do you speak English?" We said yes. He said, "Oh good. What did the conductor say?" We told him we don't speak Spanish, and he was surprised.

That story is one of those that was funny at the time, but not so funny in the telling. But that's okay, the point of it was to say that a lot of people thought Reid and I were Spanish. We're not.

Reid and I both enjoyed Granada, even if I was grumpy for a little bit of it. It was the most Spanishy-Spanish city we visited; all the streets were tiny and twisty, and every other door was a shop trying to sell you souvenirs. It was a calm city, and their mid-day siesta lasts for hours.

Coming next: a trip in Kansas City's sister city, Sevilla! (Say that sentence three times fast.)

"Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up."

This quote is a perfect introduction to my first blog about my break for several reasons.

First, I took ten days in two countries, seven cities, four hostels, and two apartments with four other people resulting in five hundred and fifty-three photos, five videos, and several games of Texas Hold 'Em. While I would love to explain all of that to you, there is too much, so I shall sum up.

Second, this quote is from the 1987 movie The Princess Bride, and is said by Inigo Montoya, a Spaniard. Since we went to Spain, this is perfect.

Finally, you can never go wrong with The Princess Bride.

I've decided to blog about my adventures in three posts, a sort of adventure trilogy. This trilogy might become like The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy trilogy, which is a trilogy in five parts. We'll just have to see what happens. Anyway, this post will sum up Oxford and New Year's, as well as contain some useful how-to-read a blog tips.

So. Let me sum up.

We--my brother Reid, my friends Brett, Madison, and Robyn, and I--left Kansas City on December 29, laden with luggage:

We arrived in Oxford on December 30, although it still felt like December 29 since we had never gone to sleep. The jet lag didn't affect me or Robyn very much this time (we probably had never truly gotten on Kansas City time), but it knocked out Reid and Brett and Madison. Madison made it to a bed before she fell asleep (she's in the top right corner of the photo below), but Reid collapsed on the floor:

We wore all of our clothes to bed because my flat's heat had gone off over Christmas and would not turn back on. However, after a very deep night's sleep, we headed to Edinburgh on December 31. The train ride was about eight hours long, and we all passed the time variously. We slept, we read, we took pictures, and Reid and I played poker. The stakes were high: we played with raisins (which, when you think about it, is funny. It means you say "I see your raisin and raise you one raisin." There's some sort of pun there). Reid won:

Once we got to Edinburgh, we traipsed to our apartment. I think traipsed is the right word to use here, especially if it evokes for you images of slightly giddy people lugging huge backpacks up and down hills and around dales like it does for me (by the way, Skaggs family: thank you so much for those backpacks! They were great). Anyway, December 31 is New Year's Eve, so we went to Edinburgh's party.

Edinburgh's New Year's party is called Hogmanay. There were 100,000 people crammed onto something like ten blocks' worth of street (that's 10,000 people a block!). People weren't very drunk, which was a pleasant surprise (although we did see one guy trying to figure out how to unbuckle his jeans because he'd belted them over his thighs and couldn't walk. If you've ever been in a middle school, you know what this looks like), and there was some good food. The five of us enjoyed ourselves:

Then, it was the countdown! After the countdown were the most amazing fireworks Reid and I had ever seen. They shot them off over Edinburgh Castle for fifteen or twenty minutes, and it was great. I videoed the countdown and the beginning of the fireworks for you. To watch the video, click the play button under the video.

Here is a picture of the fireworks:

And here is the very first picture of Reid taken in 2009:

Then the crowd sang "I Would Walk (500 Miles)." I cannot explain this. It must be a Scottish thing.

The next morning, the five of us went to Edinburgh Castle. It was very cool. Here is the castle from the cemetery we walked through:

Here is a view of Edinburgh from the castle:

And here is me viewing the inside of Mons Meg, a giant cannon in the castle:

Here I am (is this more correct than "here is me?" I feel like it is) with cannonballs that Mons Meg could have shot. They are quite large, and I think they might kill you if you got hit with one:

And this picture is a classic Joy-and-Reid picture, I think:

See, we wanted a photo of the two of us, but we were standing on an incline. I knew that if I were below Reid on the incline, then I would look like Thumbelina next to the Jolly Green Giant, but I was having a hard time making him understand that. We had about three minutes of wrestling before this picture, during which Brett thought we had already taken the picture, which is why he is also in the picture.

This next photo is one of my all-time favorites:

What a good-looking bunch of kids.

Then we left Edinburgh Castle at night:

and went pubbing. The second pub we went to had a very familiar name...

Like Harry Potter! I totally had my Gryffindor scarf on in this pub.

And then the next day, Reid and I left for Spain!

This is already a long post, but I would like to leave some handy how-to tips before I end this.

First, if you want to go to an earlier post, that is on the top right-hand side of the page. Click on the arrow next to the month you want, and click on the title of the post you want to read.

Second, on the right-hand side of the page, there is a list of Labels. If you want to read all the posts where I have labeled that I mention Harry Potter, for instance, click on "Harry Potter," and all the posts will show up.

Third, to comment on these blogs: At the bottom of this post, there is a link that says "0 comments" or "1 comment" or something like that. Click on the link. Under the box that says "Leave Your Comment," type whatever you want. Below that, choose either "Name/URL," or "Anonymous." If you choose "Name/URL," then type your name in the box that comes up when you click it. Then click "Publish Your Comment."

Finally, if you want to contact me any way other than commenting, click on the Label "Contact information," and you'll find posts with my addresses and e-mails.

More to come soon!