Liverpool

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I really got a kick out of Liverpool-- from the musical history to the scantily clad women to the scouse accent. I think they got a kick out of us as well. . .

After a 5 hour bus ride from London, we arrived in Liverpool with no real plans other than to be at the Albert Pub for the Liverpool vs. Benfica match, check out some Beatles sites, and eat a big steaming bowl of scouse. Kyle called his friend Main to see if we could crash with him, but he was out of town. Before we could even finish a beer, Main quickly called back and said he had it all taken care of--we could stay with his buddy Deva.

Kyle, Ian and I dropped off our stuff at the flat and nearly sprinted to the famous Albert Pub. This place was mad. It was located literally arm's length away from Anfield, but there was never a beer farther than arm's length away once you made it inside. If you've ever heard stories about the boozing, singing, swaying rowdy football hooligans--this was it. We learned a few songs, drank more than a few beers, and enjoyed the match from the belly of the beast.

I ate the hottest kebab in the world, killer Malaysian curry, and a hot bowl of scouse; walked down Penny Lane; got mistaken for a famous musician; showered with a cereal bowl, and played Vodka drinking games with two Polish guys and two Malaysians--and stayed for a the better part of the week with some super cool guys who didn't even know us.

Success.

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