Flight of the Conchords Really Speaks to Me

Today was my last day in Edinburgh. This weekend I've felt like this quite a bit:

For your information, there's an inflammation in my tear gland.
My friends in Edinburgh have really been dabomb.com, and saying bye to them has been less than fun.


I've also already started to experience reverse culture shock, despite having only been out of Edinburgh for 6 hours. Dangerous stuff.

It started in the airport--I didn't even have to leave the country for it to start. We're buying food at the airport to eat quickly, and my dad says "I'm getting chips--do you want to get some?"
I'm immediately confused and a little annoyed with my dad's food choice, because I'm thinking of big fat french fries which are neither clean nor easy to eat when you're fighting your way through an airport.
Then my dad holds up a bag of potato chips.
Oh. My bad.

The second instance was near-fatal.
I go to cross a street in Paris, look to the right, and cross to the median.
One small problem: cars drive on the right side of the road here, not the left.
Oops. Good thing no cars were coming.

Hopefully I've learned that lesson and will get home alive, or else my mom might kill me.