I can’t believe I leave London in two days. It feels like I just arrived. I had no idea time would fly by so fast. I find myself longing for more time and hoping I won’t have to go home when Friday morning comes, but of course I will have to get on the plane and fly back to reality. I hope I have learned something about myself since the start of the trip. The reasons I had for wanting to come to London this summer were many and varied. As a little girl, or since as long as I can remember, I have always wanted to come to England. I suppose I thought England was a different land than where I was, and that it offered excitement and mysterious adventures. As I grew older, I just wanted to be someone different than the girl I was in the small town setting. The idea of coming on a trip where no one knew me or my family was intriguing and tempting. I suppose the reason is a completely selfish one. I wanted to escape reality and forego my responsibilities, and be a carefree twenty year old girl. However, I have learned that no matter where I go, whether it is London, Auburn, Ireland, or Pairs, I will always be who I am, and moving locations doesn’t change my foundation. John Keats wrote a poem called “A Song about Myself,” and I like the last part of the poem that says, “There was a naughty boy,And a naughty boy was he,He ran away to ScotlandThe people for to see —There he foundThat the groundWas as hard,That a yardWas as long,That a songWas as merry,That a cherryWas as red,That leadWas as weighty,That fourscoreWas as eighty,That a doorWas as woodenAs in England —So he stood in his shoesAnd he wonder’d,He wonder’d,He stood in hisShoes and he wonder’d.”I don’t think I really appreciated it fully until this trip.I have also always wanted to study in London and I have really enjoyed the two classes I have taken over here. British Comedy has definitely been interesting to learn about, but I suppose I have a different sense of humor. The architecture class is enlightening. I have enjoyed visiting different churches and cathedrals. I love history, so my two classes have fit perfectly into the areas of study that I enjoy. This trip has been an experience I won’t forget. The people I have met on this trip are all amazing and I am so thankful I got to know some of them and experience London and new things with them. I have learned that there are many different types of people. Each person in our group had something different to offer. I am sure we will all go back with many stories and memories; at least I know I will. Overall, this was a growing experience for me and I needed it. I have learned from being here and from the two classes I have taken that although society may change and the social order transitions into something new, people still experience the same emotions and that is why we can still connect with history and the stories of the past.

It has been nice being able to go spend time with Cori while I am in London. I didn’t know, but where she is staying is only about forty minutes away by train. I wish I could have spent more time with her, but I am thankful for the time I did have while I was here. I am not too happy about leaving Friday. I wish I could stay another week here in London or in Crawley with Cori. Anyway, I was able to ride the train a good bit on my trips to see her, and they were pretty cool. I mean it wasn’t riding the Eurostar and looking at the beautiful French countryside, but the ride was still relaxing, especially at night because there is a lighted bridge that is so pretty coming back into London. I was also able to get comfortable with the underground system. It is weird to say, but I think I will miss trains and the tubes. I wish the USA had that system of transportation. I just like it, but then again, the US is a lot bigger than London and England so the train ride would take quite a while longer I suppose.Anyway, today is my last day to spend with Cori. We just got back from seeing The Hangover. The funniest movie I have seen in a long time. The cinema was pretty awesome. Definitely bigger than the ones in the states, at least the ones I have been to in Auburn and Gadsden. Previews are a little strange, but I suppose that is to be expected. It is like watching music videos while in Paris in the hotel room. They were videos probably only expected to be seen in France because they were so weird. Anyway, Crawley is a lot different than London. Of course, there are less people in Crawley and the atmosphere is more of a small town than the bustling city of London that never sleeps. I have had to ride around with Cori in her little yellow car throughout the past weeks. She has actually learned how to drive a stick shift and on the left side of the road surprisingly well. I was a little nervous in the beginning and there are still times when I have a moment of panic and think we are driving on the wrong side of the road. I wonder if I will start driving on the left side of the road when I get back into Auburn. Let’s hope not for everyone’s sake. Occasionally when Cori and I were walking around in Crawley or London, it would hit me that we were two twenty year old young ladies in a foreign country by ourselves. Well, not really by ourselves, but without relatives and allowed to direct our own lives from day to day for the time given in England. It is crazy to think about. Not many people will get the same experience. I am so blessed to be able to study abroad and visit not only England, but Ireland and Paris too. This has been an unforgettable experience.

Paris was wonderful. As I was walking up to Montmarte and Sacre Coeur, it was just how I remembered it except that what was the complete artist district had now become a restaurant with artist painting around the edges. I suppose it has grown to be more of a tourist attraction now and it was three years ago that I was last there. Sacre Coeur is still beautiful and the view of the city is still beautiful and breathtaking. There were two people playing the guitar on the steps of Sacre Coeur. I videoed them playing “When you say nothing at all.” There was the other really cool, fit guy bouncing a soccer ball around with his arms, legs, and head on the top of this column or platform. I took quite a few pictures of the quy and felt such like a little girl mesmerized by all the tricks he did. I guess I am amused by simple things. At one point I held my breath because he stood on his hands and held the soccer ball with his foot and when he was jumping back down to his feet I thought he was going to fall off his platform. Of course the drop wasn’t that far as I later saw, but from where I was standing and what my camera was capturing suggested a disaster if he fell. I saw the Eiffel tower again and it was the same as it was before but I think I appreciated it more this time because of the group of people I was with. It was pretty cool to just sit and enjoy the night and watch the Eiffel tower sparkle “like diamonds.” I went to Normandy the other day while in France. There’s not much to say or explain about the trip. My pictures definitely do not do the experience justice. It is just an atmosphere that has to be felt first hand. My grandfather was in World War II but he was not one of the many to storm the beaches of Normandy but I thought I could still connect because he was a soldier in the war. Instead other people’s grandfathers, brothers, and fathers were the ones who were laid beneath the grass at the American Cemetery. I am thankful mine lived longer and I was able to have him as a loving grandfather for as long as I did. The American Cemetery was heartbreaking. Arlington Cemetery is a similar experience to this one in France. The fog was all around making it difficult to see very far in the distance. As far as I was allowed to see, the arms of the white crosses stretched out making rows and rows of the fallen who sacrificed their lives. The bottom of the crosses all had numbers and I am guessing that is to keep count of the number of dead and that really shook me. The numbers were so large. It is one place where as an American you need to go to appreciate the country that is the United States of America. It was an amazing experience to take my shoes off and wiggle my toes in the sand of Omaha beach. The water was chilly, but I waded in anyway. I wonder what the soldiers going through the water onto the shore and up into the dunes and green hills were thinking and feeling on that day?

When I decided to study abroad I initially wanted to go to go somewhere they did not speak English in hopes that I would eventually pick up another language. After being in London I am glad I did not decide to do this because although they speak English here it is a VERY different kind of English. Half of the time Londoners have attempted to talk to me I have to ask them to repeat the things that they have said so that I can understand them. I guess it also doesn’t help that I am hard of hearing either. My time here in London has been wonderful and as the last two days approach I have been reflecting on things that I will miss and things that I will not. First, here is a list of the things that I will not miss. I will not miss not being able to split checks at restaurants. It has been more than a pain trying to explain to the wait staff what it means for people to have their own separate bills so one person is not stuck footing the bill for everyone else. I will not miss people laughing at me every time I open my mouth to speak. On several occasions I have even thrown in a British accent in order for people to think that I am a native Londoner, this has really only worked once. I will not miss having to remember the different names for all of the food they have here, is it a chip? Is it a french fry? I have no idea. I will not miss the lack of variety in food choices that I have had a Regent’s College; it is always either a noodle, rice, lamb, or something in a brown sauce.Things that I will miss once I leave this wonderful place will be the people I have met. When I signed up for the trip I only knew one other person from Auburn. The rest of the friends I have made here have been new friends, and boy are there some interesting ones. You have the two New York girls whom I love dearly, they allow me to make fun of their accent and even mock them at times. I continually tell them that as soon as they leave here they will be saying ya’ll, they still do not believe me but only time will tell. There are also the two girls from South Carolina, Teapot and Nugget, these two girls can keep me laughing for hours on end and I will miss them greatly. The people from Auburn have also proven to be quite interesting, of course there is my roommate, or should I say soul mate, mornings will not be the same without her. You also have my friend the tube monkey or tree monkey whichever you prefer. He somehow manages to climb onto everything and once even fell out of a tree and broke his face, his antics will be missed. How could I forget dad, dad has a laminated tube map that before leaving one place he pulls out the map and plans our route to the next destination in order to ensure a smooth and safe arrival. Yes all of the people I have met here have been absolutely wonderful I have been so lucky to be placed in such a wonderful group of people. We have had people ask us how long we have all been friends to which we reply “we just met.” Many people do not believe this because we really are a close knit group of people. Hopefully in ten years we will all be able to have a reunion, whether it be in the states or in London, I just know I will be looking forward to it.

Brighton. A town definitely not known for its football, lies on the southern coast of England, only an hour train ride from central London. Early one Wednesday I was asked to “find a place with water” to take a day trip to in a few hours. After researching train fares for several towns, I settled on Brighton, and I’m glad I did. The town is much smaller than London, though there’s still plenty of the metropolitan shopping and sightseeing to be done. Not knowing where to go when we arrived and not wanting to bother with the buses, we walked straight out from the station in what I thought was, and ended up being, South. Along the way we passed several quaint rows of flats, a few pubs, restaurants and shops. The road eventually sloped downhill and the ocean was in sight.After making a few stops along the shore for sunglasses, souvenirs, and food, we went to explore the beach. Not far away was an enormous metal structure lying broken and decrepit just off the shore. Plenty of time was spent looking at and taking pictures of the old Pier, which I later learned burned down in several fires a few decades ago. On the beach, a man was twirling batons, kids were playing with a hackey-sack, and several people were laying out for a tan. What was strange about this beach though, was that there was no sand; the entire beach was made of small rocks. As terrible as this sounds, laying on them is surprisingly comfortable.We next headed to Brighton Pier, which fortunately was intact and operational. There were a couple of arcades, food vendors, and carnival rides at the end. By the time we arrived, most of the vendors and rides were closed, but we had a nice walk anyway.Back on shore, we had dinner at a Weatherspoons, walked through a park, and headed back toward the station to check out a pub we had passed earlier. The bartender recommended another pub to us, one at which she had previously worked. It was a little brewpub around the corner with pulled cask ales made right there in the basement called the Evening Star. I was sold. The only thing better than good beer is good local beer. After trying a few different pints we ended up talking to and making friends with a few locals. I didn’t want to ever leave this town. It was… well… cute, charming, friendly, and inviting. We caught the last train home and took a taxi back to school. We all knew we would be returning to Brighton before our time in London was up.

I have had the blessing or curse of growing in a family of educators. My mother taught elementary school for thirty years, my father taught high school for a few years after college, my maternal grandparents met at Wingate University where they were both professors, and my paternal grandmother taught high school for nearly ten years. Needless to say I have been exposed to few discussions about education. Years of listening to my family I have concluded that environment and experiences are paramount when it comes to the lofty idea of obtaining an education, which is breaking news to everyone I am sure. My trip to Europe has exposed me to a variety of cultures and in return greatly furthered my sense of the world. I am jealous of the bond shared by Europeans in their love for football. We went to a pub the night Barcelona played Manchester United for the Champions League Final. That night, life in London paused. The streets were eerily still, the tube was nearly empty, and all eyes were gathered around a television in anticipation. The scene in the pub was wall to wall people passionately rooting their hometown, Man U football club. All fans sang their club’s fight song in great expectation of a win. Their amplified passion separated the event from any American sporting event I have witnessed. Europe is so compact that fans of rival clubs live amongst one another working to create this passion. In addition to England I have been able to spend weekends in Austria and France. Both are dotted with cafes nestled on picturesque cobblestone streets. Europeans make a point to allot time to enjoy the fellowship that accompanies a meal. American culture submits too much to the idea that time is money and we tend to rush through meals. The cafés around Europe that I have experienced take time in preparing food and are slow in printing the check, because natives devote time to enjoy a good meal. A product of thousands of years of civilized development Europe is a continent has so many diverse cultures and nationalities in a small area. Years of inhabiting this land mass has seen people divert on ideas and ways of life. Look at the difference in an Italian and a German, who are only separated by a train ride over the Alps. Placing these many diverse cultures in relative proximity has created much turmoil, but in contrast the rivalry of neighboring nations has been a catalyst for improvement.  It is remarkable the influence this small continent has had on human society considering it comprises only two percent of the earth. Many if not all ideas on culture can be traced to European influence, the reason we study the history of Europe. I love Robin Williams’ monologue in the movie Good Will Hunting, where he emphasizes experiences. Williams is mentoring a prodigal genius Will Hunting who has never left Boston Massachusetts, but claims to understand the world. Williams say that though Will may know everything about Michelangelo’s life, he has never smelt the inside of the Sistine Chapel and felt the beauty. Though he may have read all of Shakespeare’s sonnets he has no concept of love. So it is impossible to understand Europe and its massive influence by watching simply reading books and attending lecture. You have to smile at the Mona Lisa, you have to climb to the top of an Alp, you have to dance with football fans in celebration of a win, you have to worship at Westminster Abbey, you have to hear Mozart in his arena, you have to walk on the beaches of Normandy, you have to picnic under the Eiffel Tower. You have to experience Europe to better understand. I would say this trip has been an education.                           

After going to bed at 2 am, we woke up at 3 am. Joe came and got us because we were late (as usual), and we all headed out on the Eurostar to Paris.  We dropped our bags off at our hotel, in the middle of sketch-town Paris.  We bought underground passes, and I used it as my first opportunity to stumble through French with a heavy Southern accent.  The guy at the ticket window just grinned and laughed while handing me the ticket.  Hey, at least I tried.  Next was the Louvre.  I can’t begin to describe the Louvre.  I’ve been picture happy this whole trip, but I was so overwhelmed by the whole thing I didn’t take out my camera until halfway through.  I thought, surely there’s no way I can capture everything I’m seeing with my camera.  But I tried, and sure enough, every magnificent 18^th century Italian painting has an anachronistic 21^st century digital camera flash blob somewhere in the corner.  Not only could I not capture everything I saw, I couldn’t see everything I wanted to.  I have a friend from home who told me he’s been to Louvre probably 30 times and still doesn’t think you can ever see it all.  It was amazing.  We saw Egyptian exhibits containing sarcophaguses, tombs depicting the gates of the underworld, Napoleon’s uber-luxurious apartments, incredible paintings and sculptures, and the crowned jewels of some royal family.  We crashed in the hotel room for a while before at going to eat dinner at an amazing French 5 star restaurant….no.  Macdonald’s.  I kept asking for fruit, and she said, “Fries?  You want fries?”  My response,”….Yes, I want fries.”  This woman reads my innermost desires for fattening greasy potatoes.  From there we (all the girls) met up with Ben and Ross and went to the lawn in front of the Eiffel Tower to hang out.  Every young person had this idea, particularly a lot of them who were having birthdays.  So, people with backpacks full of wine HARASSED us, and slightly tipsy choruses of “bon anniversaire” rang out.  The tower “sparkled like diamonds” for ten minutes.We started off Saturday getting lunch for breakfast at a restaurant near the Seine.  We walked from there down beside the Seine and to Musee d’Orsay.  One of the streets we were walking down was apparently the safe haven of artsy vendors.  AKA awesome.  There were some paintings that were beautifully textured.  I tried to find one I liked, but couldn’t decide without feeling like I was holding everyone up.  So I’m determined to go back and peruse.  There were tons of old books, too.  They were all in French, so I couldn’t actually read them, but they were beautiful.  We spent a long time in Musee d’Orsay, which is full of paintings and sculptures.  One of my favorites was a sculpture of Dante’s Divine Comedy.  We spent a lot of time looking at Van Gogh’s impressionist works, as well as those of Monet, Manet, and Rembrant.  It had a completely different feel than the Louvre.  It was much more open, less ornate, and more modern.  Next, we went to Montmartre.  That’s a long hike up a big hill.  We saw Sacre Couer, an amazing cathedral, and saw some pretty entertaining people putting on a show for us in front.  There was a precious old couple playing violin and accordion outside the church.  They were by far the most talented.  There was a fun group of guys playing guitars and drums and singing on one of the levels of stairs, and a guy kicking around a soccer ball while standing on a banister.  We went back to the hotel room, then went to a restaurant near the Louvre to find dinner.  And thus began our experience with the hilarious waiter who was probably making fun of us the whole time.  We walked in, I told him we had 5, he said, “So, 6?”  I said again that we had 5.  I turned around and there was some random man behind us.  The waiter just laughed and led us to our table, where he gave everyone a napkin but me.  I thought he had just forgotten, but then I felt something on my head.  He had made me a hat out of my napkin and put it on my head while he was walking behind me.  Ordering was pretty funny.  I got a Chef Pizza, so I got off easily on this one, but he kept asking everyone to pronounce the dishes they were ordering in French until they pronounced them correctly.  About a hundred funny events later, one of which was him pretending to clear off the table and throw my pizza to me, we left to hang out in front of the Eiffel Tower again.  I GOT TO TURN 20 IN PARIS.  Best birthday ever and very possibly un-top-able.  Brittnee, Georgeanne, Clay, Joe, and I went to Normandy.  It was one of the most reverent and incredible things I’ve ever done.  After a 2 ½ hr train ride there with a precious little curly-headed French girl and a very nice French lady in our compartment, we took a cab to the beaches.  The first thing we did was walk down to the beach.  I just stood there for a while, picturing what it must have been like on that spot 65 years and just a week ago.  We ran around and took some pictures, played in the ocean, and walked the dunes.  We then headed back to the American cemetery.  The most indelible thing was the sheer number of graves.  They stretched on and on in every direction, white crosses in perfect rows of perfectly trimmed grass.  A dense fog had settled down on the field.  Bells tolling American songs of liberty chimed eerily, lingering in the background.  It was an incredibly sobering experience.  D-day was June 6, 1944, and most of the dates on the graves were either then or just shortly after.  We all spread out amongst the graves, walking around, reading names and dates.  It was a bit chilly, but my goosebumps were due to a whole lot more than temperature.  There I was, standing in the middle of thousands of men who fought and died, losing their homes, families, beloved friends.  Or maybe they had no one.  Maybe they were lonely and sad.  Maybe they loved serving their country.  Maybe they were petrified.  But no matter what they were they were lives.  And thousands of them lay just under my feet.  We took a taxi, almost hitchhiked, thanks to Joe’s amazing sign – “Bayeaux Train Station or McDonald’s / USA.”  Thankfully, our taxi showed up and we made it back for our 6:15 train back to London.  Joe, Clay, Brittnee, and I sat in a four seat area on the way back.  We talked and laughed about everything.  Whether it was guilty pleasure or serious books, family background, views on life, the overuse of capricious in my vocabulary, or guessing what flavor skittles were, it was one of the best parts of the trip.  We made it back, got pizza, and ate it in front of the Eiffel Tower.  I rang in my birthday just after midnight with this group of people, plus a few others, and went out under the Eiffel Tower again with them.  It was an amazing birthday.  Monday, the guys met us at the hotel, and we all went to get brunch at the same café near the Louvre we ate at the first day here.  Then the rest of the girls went to some duty-free shopping store, and Joe, Clay, and I went to climb the Eiffel Tower.  Apparently it was country-wide school field trip day in France.  The views were pretty incredible, but it was raining a bit.  I had a lot of fun spending the day with them.  We headed back to the hotel at 4ish to grab our luggage, and then stand in line forever to make it back to our Eurostar train.  

There have been many interesting things happen while staying in Europe and since this is a comedy class here we go.

The Rookies

We have made many mistakes, as tourists do in a foreign city. The day we arrived we decided to get a brew at a local pub. Down the road from Regents College is a purple clad pub called “The Volunteer.” Ben, Ross, Joe and I walked in and bellied up to a table expecting a waiter to serve us. In British pubs you are supposed to walk to the bar and order your drink. So being four rookies we sat at a table for about ten minutes looking around waiting for service. I guess we supplied the staff with a good laugh.

Lies

While in Austria meeting odd people was a daily occurance. The night we arrived we went to a bar and struck up a conversation with a man sitting by himself that claimed to be an American. Terry had lived in Alabama, South Dakota, Colorado, Maine, China, and presently in Vienna Austria. From the looks of things Terry seemed to be about fifty years old, but he claimed his new wife was twenty and he allowed his twenty year old son to take her on dates. Consensus amongst the group is that Terry is a professional liar, but good for a few laughs.

Ghetto Life

Back at the Hostel Panda we introduced ourselves to our teenage Dutch roommates. We discussed a broad range of topics from American Politics, Dutch Politics (that was a short conversation), and Vienna. One of the Dutch guys asked us if we wanted to hear some Dutch rap music. We figured he would fire up his iPod and showcase a popular artist from his country. We were wrong for he proceeded to perform for us. It sounded something like this “Voda Vukka Slaku Slaku umpa umpa dig dags Voda Voda Voda…” This mess went on for a few minutes and he ended with “ghetto life.” Personal Dutch rap performance…check.

Dr. Farzod, Sleep Therapist

It must be a requirement to be very interesting to stay at the Hostel Panda. Two days into the weekend we met a very small guy that shared our room. We had yet to talk to this miniature man because every second we were in the room he was asleep, it did not matter the time of day he was constantly sleeping. We had narrowed his situation down to two possibilities. Either he was very sick with mononucleosis, or he was hibernating in order to grow. Finally, two days after our arrival this little man woke from his slumber and we had our first (very strange) conversation. If the suspense is killing you his name is Farzod, he is from Tajikistan, and he is a doctor. Dr. Farzod decided to forgo a few naps and accompany us to our Mozart concert. I am sorry to report that Dr. F lasted until the second movement of the first song before he fell into a deep sleep. At the end of the night Joe said goodbye (Joe stayed at another hostel down the road) and the Doc’s reply was “no I sleep there (pointing to his bed).” That was the last time we saw our friend awake.

Laughter is the best medicine. There have been many experiences and great laughs along the way. I never knew Europe could be so funny.

Traveling Friday was insane.  Oh wow, to try and record this.  We got on the tube from Baker Street to Green Park, then changed to Victoria.  We bought our train tickets in a hurry for Gatwick Express, found out the train left in 3 minutes (what a coincidence), sprinted to the train with carry-on bags in tow, and made it just before the doors closed (again, what a coincidence).  We got on the Gatwick Express, which was not very express, and made it to Gatwick Airport.  We went through security and made it to our Aer Lingus flight just as they were boarding.  An hour’s flight later, we landed in the Dublin airport.  We found a double decker bus to Housten Station, where we caught a train to Galway.  At Housten Station, we were told there was a reliable train that runs until 9 from Galway to Clifden.  We got to Galway to find the last train for the day had left at 6.  So, not reliable.  We found a taxi from Galway to Clifden.  It was nearly and hour and a half.  Our driver was very nice, and discussed everything from Obama to 9/11 with us.  He was very interested in America, wanted to see Boston and Chicago, and loved to laugh.  The drive was beautiful.  I kept trying to take pictures, and just had to give up.  I’m convinced the only thing that can do Ireland justice is a visit that involves a train ride.  During our two hour train ride from Dublin to Galway, I finally had to stop taking pictures.  None of them could capture the rough and wild beauty of the Irish countryside, without being hewn by manicuring and pruning.  There were sheep, cattle, and horses running around.  Every now and then I saw a quaint white house tucked in some horizon line.  There was a tractor still working baling hay at 6 p.m.  Bushes of yellow, purple, and white flowers scatter across the land met with rough bushes and weather-worn stone walls.  There’s a John Mayer song, “3×5,” that says, “Today I gave up on trying to fit the world inside a picture frame.”  He’s talking about seeing a sunset with a girl he loves, but I’m convinced you can’t fit Ireland in a picture frame either.  You have to see the countryside roll out in front of you, free of any sort of affected beauty, to get it.  Saturday, we slept WAY in, then went to Clifden to get lunch.  Brittnee and her cousin found a place that had amazing pizza named after TV characters.  I had what remained of a Tony Soprano.  Caroline and I walked back to the hotel and headed out to go exploring.  I don’t know how many pictures I took, but it’s enough to possibly overwhelm my hard drive.  The town is tiny and quaint.  There are lots of restaurants/pubs, and a few random shops.  They look like a lot of separate buildings smushed together-they’re all different levels, colors, and textures.  That afternoon Caroline and I, along with a very nice Irish lady, sat in the lobby of Abbeyglen Castle Hotel.  A fire was blazing to my right, and we were all sitting in Masterpiece Theater style overstuffed chairs.  There was a grey African parrot named Gilbert chatting up a storm.  He’s 9 years old, should live past 70, and loves attention.  He started catcalling to us, then asked me what my name was when I went over to chat with him.  He makes all sorts of clicking noises, and says hello, as well as does a mean imitation of the general manager.  Anyway, Caroline and I went exploring in the foothills of Clifden.  We started off trying to get to some building we saw atop a hill.  We went up some person’s driveway, shimmied our way around a gate, and ran up a rocky hill.  On the way, we met some beautiful horses, one white, one bay with a star on his face.  I went up and said hello.  Oh how I miss horses.  We continued up and finally made it to the top of the hill.  The view was indescribable.  The wind was whipping us around as we tried to take pictures.  We saw some higher hills and went to try to find them.  After climbing a near vertical road, only to find it was someone’s driveway, we gave up on that idea.  So we went down “beach road” to see the views of the coast.  It was a beautiful winding road, with wild flowers on either side pushing their way out of old stone walls, an abandoned building with completely punched out windows, and white houses with red and blue front doors hidden in the hillside.  The water is incredibly textured here from the wind.  You can clearly see the different currents and the eddies they create.  Saturday evening we sat in the lobby, listening to the goings on of the ballroom behind us.  A very talented Irish man played on the piano and sang an Elton John medley.  Gilbert went nuts, making phone ringing noises as applause when a song finished.  Sunday morning, we woke up and went to town for breakfast, finding a cute little bakery.  We walked around all of Clifden; it’s a TINY little town.  After trying to find the antique shop, which was closed, we went in and out of a few stores and got presents for people back home.  Caroline and I went back to Abbeyglen for tea, which is by far my favorite UK tradition.  While taking tea, we watched a football game that was on.  These guys make most American football players look like the slow fat kid on the playground.  Seriously, this an intense sport.  Sporting events aside, this place is beautiful!  I’d love to come back and hike the hills that roll everywhere.  It’s all untouched, and quite refreshing after being in the city for 4 weeks.  I love London, I really do, but it’s crowded.  I haven’t come across a place on the face of the planet that I don’t love yet, but some are just too good to be true.  Ireland is one of those.  In London, all the green space is contained in gates.  The royal parks are gargantuan and very well-kept, but that’s just it-they’re kept.  Constrained, planted, touched by human hands.  Ireland is beautifully raw.  

My roommate, Brittnee, and I were thinking that, one, we love the 2005 version of “Pride and Prejudice,” and, two, parts of it were filmed in England.  So, one plus two equals…road trip England style!  Said road trip equates to travel arrangements unequivocally more complicated than any American road trip I’ve taken.  We looked up train times online and found a 12:20 train to Warminster Station.  Because we are late to everything (all our classmates and Dr. Bertolet can attest to this), we made it to the train station at 12:10.  Bad.  We searched the boards for our station and train, only to find it was not there.  Worse.  We went into the travel office to ask one of the travel agents about tickets.  There was a line.  It was 12:15.  Starting to freak out.  We finally made it up to the guy, who proceeded to talk up a storm, print our tickets, and cryptically say, “You have three minutes.” Oh, crap.  After a full-out sprint across London-Waterloo train station, we made it on the 12:20 train to Warminster.  Whew.  After a two hour train ride, we grabbed a taxi to Stourhead Gardens.  Everyone we asked told us Stourhead was in the middle of nowhere.  I wholeheartedly disagree.  Stourhead is in the middle of a whole lot of beautiful.  Our taxi driver was a middle-aged man in short sleeved striped yellow shirt.  He loved Warminster and told us all about it.  Apparently there are at least two Lords living there.  The road we drove along was gorgeous…surrounded on both sides by a hedge that gave way to the rolling hills of Salisbury Plain.  Every now and then there were a few country houses and stone walls.  All this was interlaced wih the very dramatic soap opera our cabby was listening to on the radio.  Too many pounds later, we made it to the National Trust at Stourhead, armed ourselves with maps, and headed out around the two-mile footpath.  Two miles, not a big deal, right?  Surely no one should get lost along what is essentially a two-mile circle.  False.  We met some goats, then met them four more times in the first hour there as we kept getting turned around.  Once we found our way, we passed through beautiful plants, trees, and flowers.  I love London and all things associated with the outdoors (exempting spiders…but that’s a whole other deal), but all of the green space in London is very kept, pruned, and organized.  Don’t get me wrong, I love gardens, but I love wild space more.  Stourhead was somewhere in the middle of these.  We came upon a house that we thought was Netherfield in the movie and got really excited, taking tons of pictures.  We found out later that it was not the house, but oh well.  We went inside and I found my dream library.  So, I have this thing for libraries and old books.  This one had wall-to-wall built in shelves that were curved at the top, with smaller books filling the smaller edges of the curve.  There were huge volumes of Wiltshire history, Bibles, and general literature.  We left the house and explored the rest of the property.  Our big finds of the day were the bridge Elizabeth runs across and the temple Darcy proposes in the first time.  You know the drill, lots of high-pitched squeals and pictures, just freaking out in general.  From this day alone, I took nearly 200 pictures, and not a single one of them was bad.  Stourhead was one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen, and was worth every difficulty in getting there.