100

NOTICE- THERE ARE A FEW PHOTOS FROM MY DAYTRIP TO THE PEAK DISTRICT ON THE PHOTO SITE. CHECK THEM OUT.

This marks the 100th post of my English blogging career. Let's all take a minute and reflect on all the memories and fun times this blog has (hopefully) given everyone, as well as look forward to a fabulous and life changing future.

Yes? No? Maybe so?



In a last minute decision last night, Brandon, Kevin, and I decided to wake up at 7:45 and go catch a bus into the PEAK DISTRICT for a last week trip into the glory of England's largest national park. And only 2 hours away in nearby Derbyshire! Nearly every flat trip we've taken has involved some sort of ramble or another, and I guess I've become pretty attached to it. The British take their walking pretty seriously, and don't let middling things like the weather get in their way. And neither does it deter me. Or Brandon. Or Kevin. So in spite of the grey skies and quasi-mist that seemed to stick around Nottingham, we got on the Trans Peak to Ashford-in-the-Water and two hours later, found ourselves in said village.

I was a bit hesitant last night as to whether or not I actually wanted to go. After all, we have this "I, Traveler" essay due Friday that we have to orally present to the WHOLE FLAT. It's hard to talk about yourself and traveling and crap. But I relented, and spent most of the bus ride thinking about how my contacts were going to give me a massive headache. But dang, I'm so glad I went. It felt so good to get out in the countryside one more time. Between Paris, Rome, Athens, Istanbul, London, and Nottingham, I've been cooped up in cities far too long. We hiked a 6 mile loop around Monsal Head and the Wye valley, and it was very pleasant indeed. There is a 19th century railroad viaduct crossing the river which makes it very picturesque. I'm continually amazed at the overwhelming greenness of England, you're absolutely surrounded by almost every hue of green you can imagine. One of the things I will miss most about England is the beautiful countryside. Of course, nearly every country has natural beauty, but England's is very unique, just as Minnesota's or Fiji's or Zimbabwe's is. There was one point where we hiked up a rather steep hill, and seemed to be encased in brilliantly green trees. Beyond them stood the huge (green) Monsal dale, looming over the valley. The three of us had a good time talking, walking, and consuming the last of the flat's custard creams and girl scout cookies. And the weather actually held out for us until the very end, when it started to very strangely mist. Luckily for us, we had returned back to Ashford by then. Only one rational solution to the crappy weather. Go into the nearest pub for a pint of ale and wait for the next bus back to Nottingham. We actually found a really sweet pub in this tiny village, the place was huge. I think Kevin and I had Pedigree while Brandon threw down a Black Sheep bitter. A really good day away from the city, in any event.

So, less than a week until coming back to the States now. Excited? Yes. Nervous? Yes. Missing England already? Yes. Excited that the Twins swept the ChiSox? Yes. The issue now is attempting to figure out how to send all my (sorry if you're offended, but this blog is intended for mature audiences) shit home. And I have a ton of it. I just seem to accumulate stuff. It doesn't help that I have 10 CD's that I bought, a small Turkish carpet, numerous mugs and glasses, and a pair of football cleats. Plus two rather large boxes of Yorkshire Gold and Twinings English Breakfast blend tea. So yeah, I need to figure that out soon. Gah. But the Yorkshire Gold is worth it. As the label says, "It's worth paying a little more for." But still... Advice to the traveler abroad, particularly in England. Don't ever ship stuff home.

So I don't know, tomorrow will be filled with this essay, possibly a farewell trip to campus to photograph it and return music (sniff), one last trip on the good ol' 53 bus (sniff, sniff), the final baseball practice of the year (sniff, sniff, sniff), and the first of a series of nighttime celebrations to ride out of Nottingham with a bang. I just got a text from my trombone teacher, he's off in the North Sea on his yacht, so at least I don't have to lug that thing to campus. I am a trifle disappointed though, Doug Wilkie has been an integral part of this year. I haven't mentioned him much in this blog, but I've very much enjoyed our weekly lessons. Maybe another blog post? Riding out of Nottingham will be another blog post too. It's too late to think about it now. Icelandair flight 637 from London Heathrow to Reykjavik is racing towards me at breakneck speed. Scares the hell out of me. At least it's making me take advantage of the time I have left.