Life outside of the Hostel...

From time to time, when you work and live in the hostel, it's like being instutionalize -- to say the very least. Often times we, I, tend to forget there there is an outside world. Wandering the streets of Liverpool I feel like I'm out on parole or something. Here is a glimpse and bit of a journey to the great outdoors of Liverpool. Life outside of the hostel ... yes, it does in fact exist.



Below, the lonely corner were each traveller rings their families from -- I of course, am no different. If you've ever found yourself wondering where I'm calling from, just insert a photo me sitting there curled up embracing the phone and hoping not to get hit from the incoming and outgoing traffic of the Embassie hostel. This is the first step to getting out on the "outside".





Okay.. half the battle. This is the view from the other side of the great big red door. Not so bad huh? Walking outside to the palm trees in your front yard, the sunshining, and a beautiful park just across the way, and an open gate are enough to get anyone moving forward...





And before you know it, you're walking down Duke Street admiring the lush green lined streets -- wondering just when summer had snuck up. Away I go...





When I'm leaving the hostel I'm usually on my way to the library, work, or the gym. Now that I type this out, seems my life seems suddenly uneventful -- routine even. But there places are the foundation of my day and everything else happens in between, and each day usually brings something new.



Above... the bombed out church. It took me a while to figure out what they were talking about... on the surface this looks like an ordinary church. I just thought the clock was busted, which is why it always said 12 0'clock. Lost in translation, was that they were actually saying bombed out church, rather than bummed out church. I just saw a bunch of homeless people hanging around... and thought oh... this is where the homeless people hang out. Of course, the church has actually been bombed at one point or another (will have to stop and read the write up one of these days). Anyway... the entire church is hallow and it is only the shell that remains. It's really pretty at night -- which is the shot that I was going for above, but it didn't seem to turn out. So... this is one of the landmarks of Liverpool that I walk past each day...



Below is Bold Street... one of the main semi- pedestrian streets leading to down town Liverpool. Semi-pedestrian?? Yeah -- they have automatic pillar things that are sometimes hidden into the concrete or elevated -- making walking around here even more confusing. On that note though -- I'm getting quite accustomed to looking the proper way before I cross the road -- now I dread crossing the road in North America again.







This street is lined with shops, restaurants and everything else you can imagine. I of course have my favorite -- organic food stores, fair trade Indian goods, International food markets, and a coffee house that I can sit and stare out of the window from for hours from a comfy leather couch. It's no bridgehead -- but it's certainly a viable substitute for now.


Liverpool seems to take shopping rather seriously -- shops for everything, except clothes that I'd actually wear (but that's a different story altogether). The only other problem with all of that is that the entire city closes down by 6pm each day -- with the exception of Thursdays. They have dedicated this day for "late night shopping"... and how late is late? 8pm. Apart from the early closures of the stores -- the only thing that remains open are pubs, clubs, and kebab take aways. The culture here, seemingly, has some strong roots in having a drink or two... I wonder if they kept the shops open later if there would be less drinking. I kid you not, any night of the week this city is jam packed with the after club crowds. Its insane... shoulda came here when I was 21, would have fit right in!

This year is Liverpools 800th birthday and this small city has also been crowned the European Capital of Culture. European's Capital of Culture -- this isn't a title that Liverpool has taken ligthly... they are doing some major work on the water front and through out the city itself. This is the view from my most favorite cafe, the egg cafe -- a vegetarian restaurant that I frequent every day after the gym for soup. I'll write more about it in another blog... anyway... here is what you'll see when you arrive in Liverpool -- a sky full of cranes, it's almost tempting to hang around here until 2008 just to see what the end product looks like. The downtown area at the moment is slightly chaotic.

Ahh Eamonn... below a photo of my super stressed out boss who has gotten himself fully gray by the time he was 30 or so. This was what the pub looked like on the big night when Liverpool played Milan in the champions league final -- Liverpool lost, and I was happy. I thought I'd try to provide a glimpse of what my other job entails. This of course was not the norm... the pub was so back that night. The city was full, and a sea of red moved through the streets. The only analogy that I can provide is being in Ottawa on Canada day -- otherwise, I've seen nothing like this.

People were lined up outside of every pub that afternoon trying to get in to see the match... this was the line up outside of my work. I was hoping that the door man would make me line up to get into work, but no such luck. My luck didn't change as the night progressed -- I suppose it would depend on what way you looked at it. I didn't want to be there working that night because the crowds and I suppose I got what I wanted -- in a less than impressive manner.

Not two hours into my shift while I was stacking glasses from the dishwasher I'd fumbled, dropped one and for one reason or another tried to catch it.... it broke in mid air as it had bounced off of the stack I already had in my other hand and I caught it with or rather in my forearm. Ewww... I know. It wasn't really anything major I thought..... but with my bosses insistance, I went to a clinic.

So, due to the match, the streets were empty. It would have been a perfect time to do some looting... everyone and their dog were at the local pub and if they couldn't get inside they'd watch the game from the windows of the pub. The clinic -- as it happens, was next to a pub. The doors were locked and I had to buzz the door to get in. As I stood there looking for the buzzer the people who were standing outside of the pub next door said, " No... no love... the door is over here." My being niave, thought oh, okay. As it turned out, they thought I just wanted to go into the pub -- they actually seemed disappointed when I told them that I really wanted to just get into the clinic...

.. long story short, clinic, hospital, x-rays... what a process. I walked out in a sling and was instructed not to work for a week, nor go to the gym. What a long boring week -- lesson learned, careful what you wish for. What was interesting was that by the time I had walked out of the hospital the football match had been over and in coming were the bloody boys who had somehow gotten into a fight due to the overcrowding of the pubs and Liverpool losing. It was phenomenal... within minutes of the match being over the hospital was flooded with injuries... a strange place I'd say.

I've also been prone to injuries over here though.... not one week after being back at work I ended up busting a vein in the very same arm, and to top it all off -- the pain killers the hospital had given me for my arm had caused me to break out in a rash. I was one sad looking person. In fact, when I went to the clinic for my busted vein she asked me if I had been injecting drugs -- I told her "no... but I think I am going to start."

Those 2 weeks were by far the hardest, longest, most trying days of my time travelling abroad. The poor nurse had to endure my whining. I seriously thought that I was going to buy a ticket and call it quits. It was just that bad....it's all past now though. And it's easy to laugh about it, a month after the fact... not so funny then.

So, now that I don't look like I'm shooting smack and that I'm back to work and to the gym things are better again. I've just recently celebrated my 2 month anniversary here in Liverpool. Strange. It's like I've been here forever... minus the scouser accent.

Finally, I'll leave you all with some great people that I've met in my travels -- or I suppose that I met them in their travels. Two friends from Norway... on the left Per and Eirik.

Home Sweet Home... at least for now.

The big red door -- welcome to the Embassie Hostel. This is the front door to the place that I call home. It's a well hidden hostel that lies on the top of the hill in a place called Falkner Square....and it even has palm trees in the front yard! This place is often difficult to find, but worth while once you do -- they joked with me when I had first checked in. They sang hotel california to me and said I could check out but never leave. This has become to be the not only the reality of my life, but of so many others. Travellers come back to visit from time to time, sharing stories that reach back sometimes as far as 10 years ago.

Each morning when I walk down these stairs from my shared room upstairs, it isn't uncommon to find a new face working at the front desk. Past guests know how it is all too easy to offer your time at the reception in exchange for a free bed during their stay. Things are very laid back here, to say the least. It's like a time warp once you walk through the front door -- there are no computers, no reception -- just a big wooden kitchen table with benches and all the free tea, toast, & coffee that you can ingest. The bookings are kept in an oversized daily planner and as one of our long term guests would say, "daa-zit".

This is the "reception"...

-- and this is the view from my post when working over nights... sometimes it's blury... something like the photo, especially when my manager gets the better of me and puts me on the drink.

Othertimes, I can see clearly and just sit back and take it all in...as I was trying to do in the above photo. On the night that the photo below was taken we has a Noreweigan group spending a few nights while they were here doing a gig and they had taken it upon themselves to get some practice time in through the night -- it was fantastic. Coupled with the Norway crew were a large group of Spanish who were on a trip to Liverpool as part of their course in learning English. I had a kitchen full of entertainment that kept me awake until half 5 in the morning ... the energy in the room was just amazing, and it reminded me again just why I love to travel so much.

Me & one of the Spanish Dudes -- Maneul.

There are a few of us who live here in the hostel as "long termers." It's become somewhat of a little family away from home. There is Luke, who, admittedly, loves to flex his muscles and isn't the least bit camera shy. He's from Ireland and is a rapper, if he could say anything to you at the moment it would be, "Chou Tube" ... "search C4 and give us a listen." In a very heavy Dublin accent. Trying to hit Luke over the head with a bottle is Adrian... a very quiet Australian who is also around for a while.

Where there is one Aussie, you'll most likely find another. Below is fellow long termer Matt on the left and Kev Senior to the right of him. Kev Sr. is the manager here and Matt... well sometimes he likes to think he is. This is taken in the free tea, toast, and coffee area.

Kev Sr. is full of life. He loves the Beatles and boasts of how many times he'd seen them even before they were famous. He greets each guest with the same stories time and time again with the same amount of enthusiasm as the first time he's told it. His most famous for his terrible jokes, signing around the hostel, and talking about how his band out placed the Beatles in a battle of the bands contest back in the day.

... there is my roomie, Sally. She's been here for a little longer than me and had been a past guest. She's absolutley full of life, it's fantastic. She loves 60's dress and has amazing style....did I mention that she loves the colour pink?? She even drives a pink mini, fantastic. In this photo is Adrian the Aussie and Owen who also lives here. A little ways down, you'll find Owen telling me that I'm number one... after he and I did a pub crawl on our own which consisted shots of Jagermeister chased with Red Bull and topped off with a shot of Tequila. He was in quite a state... and to be fair, as was I. Being the experienced drinker though, was able to hide it more -- or at least so I thought. There I am, smiling obnoxiously with our new roomate from Ireland, Sara.

And of course, there is Andy, or Bo-J. He's Jamacian and he knows his stuff. One of the wisest people I've come across. The kind of guy where you just sit and listen and suddenly you're entire life comes into question and by the end of it you're slightly more confused than you were at the beginning of the conversation -- but eventually it all comes into place. I love listening to what he has to say. He tells it. And he tells it in such a slow manner than you find yourself glued to every word -- then his speech lowers to a whisper and you find yourself leaning in waiting for what words are about to come out of his mouth -- like he's telling you a secret. It's captivating. That's just the way it is. A self suffiecient man. Lately, I've found myself comparing people in my life that I've met to disney characters -- and for him, he's like the wise Rafiki in the Lion King.... he just knows.

There is a lot that goes on within' the walls of this hostel. More than I could ever write about. We all manage to co-exist and get along as a family, welcoming new people both in and out of our home. Like any other place, it is the people who make this place what it is -- Sometimes in the run of a busy day I forget that I really do love it here and that I am, in fact, living in Liverpool, England.... strange.

A Day in the Life...

I'm already 2 weeks in to my Liverpool experience. It seems like I've lived here for much longer, not because it's a bad spot, but because I've become a part of things so quickly. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I'm settled, but I'm working towards it.

I've managed to land myself a job -- bartending. Of course, I had to get hired at the most busiest bar in Liverpool, an Irish Pub called O'neils. As if I didn't have a hard enough time understanding the Liverpoodlians (isn't that a fun word) or the Scousers [(skaus-sir)Brit. Inf. ~n. a person who comes from Liverpool.Scouse (skaus)n. 1. the dialect spoken by such a person] my job requires me to deal with those individuals from Ireland and fun places like Cork. Now, I can hardly understand what people from Cork are saying at the beginning of the night -- so you can just imagine what it's like after a few pints. I'm sure they think I'm retarded when I ask them to repeat themselves about 4 times before they order a drink, but I provide the excuse that I'm new and if that doesn't work I tell them that I'm Canadian and they seemingly understand. I love that I can play the foreigner card and rely on my accent to get myself some slack.

Anyway, I'm bartending part time which is fine by me. I don't think I have it in me to do that kind of work full time like I once had... Drinking over here seems to be like a sport. And when there is a football match on the tube drinking gets shifted into full gear and I begin to run around like a chicken with my head cut off. An interesting sight. Nevertheless, I enjoy my job and it keeps me in some kind of social circle. Bartending is hard work and as I found out tonight in my training session -- Bartenders in England are in the same category as Pharmacists in that we too are distributing a controlled substance... imagine! Lots of pressure.

Apart from this I'm working at a hostel and going to the gym. I've come across this work for stay business... it's not a bad deal for the time being. I'm in a huge hostel (which my roomate Sally likes to describe as a refuge rather than a hostel) anyway, its more like a big house -- perhaps like a half way house, minus the convicts of course. Being here also keeps me in a another social circle. There are some other 'long termers' hanging around and we've managed to forge some kind of family unit. Being here also has meeting people from countries that I hadn't encountered in my other travels -- Greece, Iran, Turkey, Argentina, and some countries that I haven't even heard of. It's fun but at times difficult to both work and live in one place. It's like hanging out at the office I suppose... but for the moment, it is home.

The gym... this too is an interesting experience. They have a pool -- so that's enough to keep me interested. I have perhaps even come across some womens hockey here -- though I haven't qutie followed up on that lead yet.

Anyhow, I am busy to say that least. So much so that I haven't even gotten around to snapping one photo of my new town upon returning. I had complained about not working for so long and I'm certainly making up for it now. I work over night shifts at the hostel from mid night until 7 am, sleep for a couple of hours and am off to work at my bar job only to begin the routine all over again the next day and some how squeeze in time for the gym and a very brief life outside of my 2 jobs. The long term goal is to save some money up and rent a room on my own some where in the downtown area. And I'd like to find a day job... I suddenly have a whole new respect for the office job. I miss Monday to Friday's... and having evenings to myself. I'll see if my years of university incarceration will finally pay off -- if not... may be Starbucks will take me in -- god help me.

Apart from it all I think I'm settling in quite nicely and am growing to love the city. It's difficult to describe what it is exactly that I really enjoy about the city... I think it reminds me a lot of home (home being Canada) in an odd way. The streets are broad and wide unlike most of the other European cities -- the only problem that I'm having here is that it will be any day now that I walk out and finally get hit by on coming traffic - considering that I am constantly looking the wrong way (almost got run over by a bus in Dublin... and still haven't learned). Also alluring is that Liverpool seems to be a blue collar town therefore making the people much more friendlier and life here is genearlly laid back.

So... this is what occupies my time here in Liverpool for the moment. I don't predict any major changes in the near future -- Ideally I'd like to stay here until the end of August and then mosey on some where else for a while...but we'll see when the time comes really.

And the winner is...

Drum roll please... Liverpool. I'm sure you could have guessed it. I quite liked this little town my first time around and knew immediately that I would come back. There was just something in the air... It seemed perfect to me.

I am on the coast of the Irish Sea and in the town where the Beatles made a name for themselves. What more could I ask for? Liverpool is a rather small city, may be I like it because in some ways it reminds me of Ottawa, but with a British Twist. It's population is just around half a million and the core of the city itself is small and walkable. The people here are friendly, but at times I struggle to understand exactly what they are saying when they speak -- who would have thought that there would be a language barrier for me. The accent here is a combination of your traditional British accent coupled with some mumbling...

Work? Yeah.. that would be nice. At the moment I am living and working at a hostel. We've negotiated a deal ... I volunteer some hours a week offering my excellent skills as a front desk receptionist and in return, I get to live and stay there for free. Can't go wrong. It does however provide me with the motivation that I need to get out and look for a real job. Ahh.. a real job. I'm anxious to become a contributing and functioning member of society again... I'm not sure how functional I'll be or what I'll be contributing to... only time will tell.

I've been back in Liverpool for about 4 days and I've managed to get myself a library card and a bank account -- not a bad start. The real trick is to find a job... it's difficult to wrap my brian around working a minimum wage job that pays only £5.50 an hour. It sounds like so little... I guess it is in a way. I'm afraid my university incarceration isn't going to get me much further ahead over here. Office work pays just on or pound more and it would bore me to death... so I've opted for the former option and will hope to find a place on the other side of the bar again -- at least there's a chance to have some fun and be social... no longer incarcerated to a cubicle. Yuk!

That's it for me at the moment. Somedays are better than others you know? Looking for a job is a full time job, and not always a fun one.

What is fun is mocking the (and I quote) "style" over here... let's just hope that I don't return back to Canada wearing the very popular polyester half dress, half shirt top... or the "city shorts" with lycra nylon things underneath... oh my! Alcohol consumption is something else over here as well... tricky to avoid especially when you're manager brings you beer and cider while you're working the front desk.

So with that, I'm going to dive into Liverpool life and try to escape unscaved by the fashion and beer belly (which is seemingly in style with the some of the ladies...compliments the the nice polyester tops... but that's a different story).

Thomastown, Ireland

"Good news Claire!"

--Did you get time off of work?

"The restaurant closed so we got let go and now you can come whenever you want."

--So, I take the train to where?

"Thomastown."

--So I want to be going to Thomastown?

"Not many people do, but yep that's where your going. I'll wait for you at the train station because there aren't many women around Thomastown and I wouldn't want someone to steal you from the station."

Who would have thought being fired was good news? Chris, that's who! This was my introduction to Thomastown that I'd received over the phone with my great friend Chris who I'd met in my hostel days in Victoria, B.C.

Thomastown is a little Irish Village about 2 1/2 hours south of Dublin. That's about all I can say about it. Everything was picturesque as Europe has proven to be... but there wasn't much else here but my friend Chris, random occurances, and lots of laughs. Chris gave me the tour and showed me the horizons, which he said were important to see so that you don't forget that there is more to the world than Thomastown. I thought he was joking when he said this to me, except when I walked into his kitchen and saw the message posted up on the wall... I just about died with laughter.

Jagerbombs away! Okay, only had one for old times sake, but boy was it good. We had lots of catching up to do and were just in awe that I was actually in Ireland. We had some laughs about the good old days and some new ones -- like the random occurance of underpants that littered the streets of Thomastown. How does one lose their underpants on the street??? Guess may be one too many Guiness's could do that to a person.

The next day was one of those days... 5 movies and the couch is what happened to us. Plans foiled for our super work out and jogging day. Oh well...collecting wood for the fire place was work out enough for that day.

















Being in Thomastown was great. I doubt many people would say this... but I will. I'd spent a total of 3 nights here with Chris and his flat mate Tim and let me tell you, these boys know how to live and certainly knew how to cook. The meals that I had here had rivaled any restaurant that I'd ever been in. It was like I was at some elite spa -- the plates were colourful and creative and more importantly, healthy and all vegetarian. Oh my.

We spent most of our time around the townhouse... they planted their organic garden in the back yard and planned meals all day, while we had the occassional drink and enjoyed the sun. Mojito's had been the drink of choice this time around -- we couldn't let the fresh mint in the garden go to waist. Okay, so judging by that photo -- perhaps we could have slacked off a little bit from the mohito's.

There were nothing but good times to be had here. We sat around and simply enjoyed life. Good meals, a wonderful fire place and the funniest of company with the most random of occurances.
Thomastown is the last destination of my travels around Europe... was great to meet up with old friends and with that... and without further adew, here are the boys responsible for my week end of good laughs.

Chris & Tim

Dublin, Ireland

I was too tired to care. That would be how I would answer your question if you asked me what my first impressions of Dublin were. Nicole and I had boarded our first train at 7 am that morning -- 3 trains later, a long ferry ride, and a long wait for the public bus we had finally arrived in Dublin at about 11pm that night. This was also the day that my MP3's player decided to go on the brink, excellent timing.

Dublin... um.. yeah... well just think of every Irish pub that you'd been in your entire life and then put them all in one square and call it Temple Bar. The lonely planet guide quotes Dublin as boasting of some 850 pubs... that's just nuts! The pubs, just like they are were you are at this moment are not filled with people -- but rarely any Irish. Granted, we were in the tourist area. The unique thing about the Dublin Pub experience was that there was plenty of Live Irish Music going on.





The first night was a quiet one as you could well imagine. All I wanted when I got to Ireland was some Bailey's... one would think that it would be cheaper here considering, but I was still dishing out a whopping 5 Euro's for a shot, therefore, making it even more expensive than ordering it at a pub at home. Rubbish.

The second night had proved more promising... Nicole and I had agreed to meet up in a pub the next evening. I found myself there first and by the time Nicole had arrived I'd found myself caught up with a group of guys celebrating their birthday wearing pink shirts and having to drink 57 pints each in the span of 3 days. They had stacks of coasters in their pockets to mark the pubs that they'd hit and had used black markers to write on their arms to keep track of each pint consumed. These drunkards had attracted a crowd and provided a great form of entertainment and before we knew it Nicole and I were just standing back and taking in the show and having a great laugh.

We'll never know what became of these very intoxicated birthday boys... as I'd realized that I was old and tired and still sickly... I had to bow down by mid night before I turned into a pumpkin and found comfort in my dorm on my top bunk. Since when did I become all responsible like that??? I left going on about having to get up early to take the train... oh my god, what has become of me???

Speaking of the early morning train... you'lll never guess who I ran into on my way there in the morning. Our old friend Fido Dido! I'd always wondered where he went, as it turns out it seems as though he picked up and made a new home in Ireland... living here inconspicuously amoung the billboards. I just had to snap a photo for old times sake.



Dublin was a small city. A river ran through it and there were plenty of walking bridges. We checked out some museums and a castle or two. My quest while I was in Dublin was to find a new journal -- and if you know me, I'm quite particular about what I'll write in. So my day was spent looking for a journal to keep me sane and with great luck and way too much money later -- I found exactly what I was looking for. That was basically it for me in Dublin. My travels are catching up with me and my body is beginning to revolt. I'm tired, feeling sick most of the time, and am losing motivation... blah.



So, yeah... Dublin. It was alright.

Pilsdon, England

Okay, so I wasn't really sure where I was going this time around. I had a vague idea and Nicole would be there so I was up for an adventure. After a train, a bus, a train and another bus I had finally arrived at the train station where Nicole was there to collect me to bring finally show me where she'd been keeping herself busy for the last few months. I went to spend Easter Week end with her where she was now working on a self sustaining community out in the middle of the rolling green pastures of South Western England -- affectionally known as the Pilsdon Community.


Pilsdon community for those of you are wondering is a place where people go to sort their lives out. It's like taking a time out from everything to collect your thoughts, dust yourself off and get on with it life again. Very peaceful and a strong knit community.

Pilsdon community was like something I'd never seen before -- I sort of felt like Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie and was about to live my own version of the simple life on this farm, except I'd like to think that I had a little bit more smarts about the whole situation. There were cows, chickens, geese, ducks, pigs, donkey's and chickens there to great me and some of the most lovely people that I could have hoped to come across to spend Easter week end with.


The place was busy with life. There was a larger than usual group of people there for the Easter week end, but everyone seemed to have an assigned role within this little community in order to keep things going. There was someone hanging the laundry, someone milking the cows twice a day, feeding the chickens, shaping the butter that was made from the cows milk, preparing dinner and planning out tomorrows lunches. Brilliant. I had suddenly been reverted back to when I was 5 years old and had been visiting a farm... I was estatic.



There was this huge house that was the hub of activity. It was so big that it was maze like to me and I often wandered in and out of rooms wondering how I ended up there. There was always someone doing something to peak my interest in this place and I wondered how I could ever find the motivation to leave -- I thought this was all so amazing.



If there was a place where I could say that I ate myself chubby it would be here. Breakfast at 8-8:30, morning tea with biscuits at 11 am, lunch at 1pm, afternoon tea & toast at 4pm and finally dinner at 7 pm with dessert. Oh my. There were plenty of first there for me and everyone had a good laugh about it -- little things that they had taken for granted in life were the things I'd never had eaten ever. It was mind boggling to them that they asked if I had heard of grocery stores where I'd grown up. Rice pudding, lamb, parsnips, custard were amoungst the few things that I hadn't ever eaten. At Meal time one of the men would turn to me and crack a joke about my inexperience with English food... it was a great time.



As I eventually blended myself into the group I too was delegated duties, but didn't mind one bit. Nicole had allowed me to help her plan and make lunch one day which as it turned out, was a 4 hours job, beginning at 9:30 am to have lunch prepared for 1 pm. Wow. Another time I was able to make bread for everyone and of course, since I had been given the opportunity to be in the kitchen again I couldn't very well go without making some banana bread for everyone. Even making Banana Bread was an adventure -- I realized that I didn't have enough eggs. Forget about going to the grocery store... I was sent straight to the chicken coop and got my eggs straight from under the hen. A friendly reminder as to where our food really comes from... I felt so guilty taking the eggs from under this hen that I would have rathered to not make banana bread... but that would just be silly.


Nights were spend sitting around talking over tea and playing some scrabble. It was great. I had the opportunity to hear stories from other travellers like myself, some who had been travelling with a bag on their back for up to 25 years. Each person had their own charm and amazing stories -- I was in heaven.

We took walks out into the country side. The country side had the greenest pastures I'd ever laid eyes on and were littered with life. Sheeps and lambs were everywhere and the growns of cows filled the air along with baaa's of the sheep, it was surreal. I found myself a favorite spot, it was called Pilsdon Pen. It was one of the highest peaks around and I would hike up there daily just to lay in the sun and take it all in. It was a nice place to collect my thoughts and to realize just how lucky I am.

The mountain that I loved sitting up on...and what's got me to all of these great places....

I had spent a total of 4 nights there and although I secretly had no intentions of leaving, the expanding wasteline of mine had lead me with no other choice but to go. While I was there I had made some great connetions with both the workers and the people living there so, as it stands, I've received an invitation to go back and I will surely will not pass that up.