Mad Dogs and Englishmen

Finally wrote up my visit to Auschwitz. Very image heavy.

So, having finally scanned all the photos from my trip, I'm at long last ready to talk about my backpacking holiday (the therapy helped too). I kept a diary while I was there (gotta have somebody to talk to) so I'll be copying what I wrote there. This was all pretty well written on scene, so everything I write is exactly what I thought while there. Anything in itallics will be me now (and probably apologising for the crappy photo quality). I'm also going to include various ficlets and poems I wrote at the time.

So, that being said here we go:

Dear journey home: Could you have been any more bitchy? Late plane, late luggage, lost in the airport, the works. Got home at 4am.

Dear Barcelona: Don't mind if I don't come back. You're a nasty, dirty city and I don't like your architecture. You had far too many tourists and your drains don't work.

Dear Gaudi architecture: Where were you?

Dear Monserrat: You own my soul, I want to live on you. I'm scared of heights but nowhere does it better than you. I am most definately coming back.

Dear Chetwynd: You're shorter than me. O_o. It was weird to see you in real life, but you and your friends are absolutely great people and I envy your bookshops. See you in London next month and thank you for recommending the Kingpriest Trilogy, it's great. And on that note:

Dear Fistandantilus: I am no longer even remotely sorry for what I'm going to do to you. You deserve to be arse-raped by rabid demons (oh sorry wickedlich, that already happened, didn't it?). You are a fucking evil bastard and I thank the gods for the day Weis and Hickmen thought you up.
Raistlin's still cooler though. ;)

Dear Terragona: You were nice and the hotel was great. I'll remember you next time I want a beach holiday. The Roman ruins would have been very interesting if the signs hadn't be written in Spanish.

Dear overnight train: Never again.

Dear Granada: I like you, you're nicer than Barcelona, but your Alhambra gives me a headache. You have nice food though.

Dear Olga: Please, have pity on your poor travel companion. I can't stomach caffine and thus can't keep going for as long as you can. Eight hours of sleep is eight hours of not wasted time. Otherwise, thank you for organising so much.

Dear spanish mountains: Please move to London. We need more mountains.

Dear notebooks: Thank you for having so many pages. I didn't expect I'd write quite so much.

Dear Plot Bunnies: Thank you for sorting yourselves out. It's very nice to be able to write both X-men fic and Dragonlance without having a full-scale war on my hands. Also thank you for sorting the Charles/Erik fic into some sort of cohesion and giving me so many ideas for Dragonlance. It's much appreciated.

Dear Dragonlance: Your Kingpriest Trilogy rocks, but I took one look at the third War of Souls book and headdesked so hard I hurt myself. The chamber of the Live Ones and the Portal to the Abyss are not in the same place. I can't even begin to describe what I thought of that one.

Dear X-men: Thank you for thinking up such a cool fanfic, but please, keep it out of my dreams. Nightmares are not fun.

Dear Spanish shops: Thank you eternally for having so much cheap medieval weaponry. I spent £40 and bought a knife, a katana, and a battleaxe. I am immensly happy and the weapons are gorgeous, although they were hell to take on a plane.

And finally:

Dear Spain: Thank you for having us, it's been fun and we will definately be back.

Now, to convert several pages of scribblings into a working Ivory and Ebony chapter.