This post is all about our 10 Day Coach Tour. We spent Spring Break on a tour of Northern England, Scotland, and Wales. It was blast, but not the break I needed, so there’s that.
To start off, I’d like to share a shot poem written by my friend, Emily, over at Mastering History. She read this poem to us on the morning of about the seventh day of our trip. And when she finished, we were not only all impressed by her talent at poetry, but also at her ability to put into words how every single one of us was feeling.
“Ode to Coach Travel”
We started out with spirits high
Excited, smiling, nice as pie
Music played, voices raised
And out the windows, all just gazed.
Hours passed and we grew weary
Some of us felt rather teary.
But I was feeling worst of all
Terribly, awfully, worse than y’all.
My aching head began to swell
And of my rage, I could not tell
For it was not the kind of day
For being cheerful, come what may.
Running, jumping, bumping, darting
Screaming, yelling, burping, farting
“I’ve had enough!” I loudly said.
“I should have just stayed home in bed!”
But soon the coach began to sway
The noise began to fade away
The cheeks of many soon turned green
And there was vomit to be seen.
Comforted with ginger candy,
I sat back, just feeling dady.
At last, some peace! I sighed, relieved.
I was, once more, no longer peeved.
With that lovely visual, let me tell you a little more about our trip.
We spent the better part of seven of our ten days on a bus. 37 of my closest friends in London. On a bus. For hours at a time. Sounds just like vacation, right? And let me not complain. It was a great trip and I am blessed to be experiencing all that I am; however, when I get home, I will be sleeping for about a month.
Anyway, let me tell you something; packing for 10 days in a carry-on sized suitcase is hard enough when you know what kind of weather to expect. If you could have weather in the 60’s or in the 20’s, it becomes more difficult. I did learn that rolling clothes makes them fit significantly better in a suitcase (my Pinterest addiction, while still very healthy, has at last come in handy). Not sure how that works, but it does. Seriously. Read about it. Anyway. I somehow managed to fit 10 outfits plus pajamas and all the extras (laptop that I would pull out about twice, chargers, converters, toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, towel, all that jazz that you need but don’t really think about until you need it) into a carry-on suitcase (which reassures me that I will have plenty of room for the souvenirs I plan to bring home). Anyway, packing was fun. And most of the places we stayed were one night stops, so repacking every morning was also fun. Somehow it seemed that every morning, my suitcase was getting just a little heavier everyday, which doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense, because I certainly didn’t make any great purchases.
Anyway. We spent a night in York. Another in Whitby. Two in each Edinburgh, Glencoe, and Ambleside. Our last night was spent in Caernarvon. And let me tell you that my favorite was Glencoe. By a mile. Even when there was no connection, it was the best. Besides the fact that it was the most beautiful place we visited, it was different.
We spent two nights in the cutest little cabin-looking hotel. And we spent a day hiking. And we didn’t have to deal with a million people. That was wonderful. I didn’t realize how much London stresses me out. There are a million people everywhere, and trying to keep up with the two I need to be with is stressful. Because, even though now I am capable of finding my way home (I’m finally beginning to remember which buses stop here, 21 days before we go home), what if they can’t find their way home? Or what if they’re busy worrying about me? Or what if I have something they need? Big-Sister Gabi doesn’t really enjoy it, and I didn’t really realize it until we were hiking up this mountain, just three of us, and I wasn’t worrying about losing Clarissa or Lisa.
And before someone starts a lecture about “you are not their mother,” I am well aware. I just worry about the people I’m with. It’s just encoded in my genes. I worry about everyone I’m with. Confession: it’s nice when the Holcomb’s are with us, because then I feel much less ridiculous, because they can always use an extra pair of eyes on those boys.
Despite getting soaked during our hike, it was phenomenal.
In contrast to Glencoe, with it’s cute little hotel, we stayed at a Youth Hostel in Ambleside. And, I recognize that I sound like a spoiled brat, but I don’t do sharing my bathroom. When I went and visited UMHB the first time, we toured all the dorms and my mom was really excited when we went through Stribling, because I could have my own room. And I told her that I was willing to have a roommate if I got a bathroom that was my own. And all this came flooding back when we lugged our stuff to the third floor of the hostel and found that not only were the bathrooms not attached to our rooms, but they were coed. Uhm, no thank you.
There was a lot of roommate bonding going on in Ambleside, at least among my roommates. Let me tell you, if you really don’t wanna shower, you can make do with what you’ve got. And let me not say more than that.
By day 10, we were all ready to come back to London. Actually, I think we’re all ready to go home, but seeing as that’s not really an option, we’ll settle for the familiarity that is London, with its wifi and kitchens and slight personal space.
London, it’s been fun, but in 21 days, I get to go home and know what menus mean and eat Mexican food whenever I want and I get my own room and I get to see my mama and daddy. And I am counting down the days.