The problem with writing a blog like this is that I'm half expected to write about something, and half expected to write about nothing. The words I use to describe the places I've been are supposed to be profound and deeply descriptive.
So you can see my problem, perhaps, in writing about Stonehenge. It was beautiful, that is for sure, and awe inspiring. I stood and gazed at these monolithic enormities, towering over us, just far enough that you want to be closer, but close enough that you're satisfied with your view from the sidelines. I imagined them being erected, more than four thousand years ago. I contemplated the enormity of the task, the blue stones which were carried two hundred miles from an area near where I live in Wales all the way to the location where they now stand. A frightful task, an almighty example of dedication and strength by these people we know next to nothing about.
And that's really all there is to say about it. I went, I took photos, I slept on the bus, I came home, went to a friend's birthday party, ate a poorly prepared burger, went home, slept it all off. That's about all there is to say, to be honest.
I'll give you the day in description anyway, to fill this space.
The bus was set to leave at fifteen past eight in the morning. I woke early and dressed in clothes I'd lain out the night before. Then I made a cup of coffee which I sipped on as I got ready to leave. I had overnight oats for breakfast and packed a cheese sandwich and a change of clothes in my bag. We were delayed because of bus issues (they'd sent the wrong size bus, so we ended up having to switch with the rugby team which meant getting off the bus and getting on another bus. It was a pain), so we didn't leave until fifteen til nine. The trip was going to take roughly three hours, so I put on headphones and cuddled up with my sweatshirt under my head as a pillow and slept, knowing full well that a long string of windy roads and narrow lanes lay ahead of us.
I awoke two hours later as we pulled into a carpark in Avebury. Turns out the trip wasn't just to stonehenge, but also to the stone circle in Avebury. I'd go into detail about what there was there, but again, we have this problem. Big stones. Lots of them. They were in a circle. I walked along the circle. I took lots of pictures of what are essentially rocks. The most exciting thing about Avebury were three things almost completely unrelated to the stones.
The first was when I was walking along the chalk circle and found a particularly slippery bit of grass and chalk. Under my foot. As I went down, I heard a very distinctive, "Oooh," from another tourist as he watched me eat chalk. I looked up to see a kind, older gentleman and his wife walking towards me. The conversation progressed as so:
Me: Well, that was embarrassing.
Him: There's no need to be embarrassed, as long as you aren't hurt.
Me: I'm fine.
His wife: I think we'll avoid that path, though.
Me: Probably wise.
It was very kind of them, even if my dignity was a bit dampened at that point.
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| What happens when you slip on chalk. |
The second came when another tourist passing by asked if I would like a photo by one of the stones. I hand't been planning to ask, because I hate being that type of person, but since he offered I thought I'd take him up on it. As soon as I accepted, he laughed and said that his wife would do it, that he had no desire to. It was quite rude of him, and equally rude of his wife who only begrudgingly took the photo, though I thanked them profusely. I keep saying it, but no one is listening: if the American needs to teach you manners, you should probably look at your life. So we have two people, one very polite, the other a raging !@#$. Such is life, I suppose.
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| At least I got a decent photo out of it. |
The third were these jerks. Whoever designed these fences. I hope they end up trapped in a field behind one of these completely unnecessarily complicated gates during the zombie apocalypse:
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Using superman strength, pull hook-bar-thing
to the left and hope that it opens. Or wait for
someone else to come along and rescue you. |
For lunch I had a sandwich with caramelized onion chutney. Sounds fancy, but was really just a glorified cheese sandwich. I had sea salt and vinegar chips, dairylee dunkers, and part of a galaxy bar. After lunch we all got back on the bus and drove the remaining hour to Stonehenge.
Once upon a time, a small visitors centre was erected about fifty feet from the stones. Since then, that centre has been torn down in favour of a new, state of the art centre over the hill. This means that the sight-lines from the stones are closer to what you would have seen several thousand years ago, unimpeded by modern invention (except a dual carriageway). This is probably good, since the new building looks like an enormous modern art sculpture and is quite unsightly (I didn't photograph it, but google "Stonehenge Visitor Centre", and you'll see what I mean).
From the visitor's centre, we took a small tram to the stones. We were given little phone type things with audio tours on them, so that we could walk around and dial into the part of the tour we wanted when we arrived. Luckily for us, a large group of schoolchildren were there, and I had another one of those great moment where I wonder why Americans are given the stereotype of being rude, when these French children literally decided that the best place to have lunch would be smack dab in the middle of the walkway. So you've got teenagers taking selfies on one side of you and schoolchildren on the other side of you and you're starting to get ticked because you want to see the stones, but it's freezing cold and you've already taken sixteen photos that all look exactly the same, and you're trying to get past the French children who frown at you for having to cut across their lunch circle even though they're literally sitting on the pathway. Yay.
I decided, at that point, that the best course of action would be to turn around and go back to the visitor's centre and the gift shop. A few others in my group tried to get me to go to the mounds with them, but I envisioned more of the same. Oh look. A different view of the rocks. Oh look, I'm standing on a burial mound, isn't this disrespectful? I was cold, needed the loo, and wanted something to eat. So I went in.
I bought a magnet, a bottle of wine, and an elderflower fizzy drink. Then I got back on the bus, napped the three hours home, and immediately tried to go to a party. Not smart.
So in all, yes, amazing! I saw Stonehenge! Words cannot describe how awe inspiring it is, looking at those ancient stones. Should you go? YES. But really, not a whole lot to
say about them. Maybe Stonehenge is better if seen with a group of friends than it is alone. Maybe it's just one of those things that you have to see for yourself.
Photos!
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| Avebury Stone Circle |
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| Spectacular view of the countryside |
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| The henge that ran along the entirety of the chalk circle |
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| More big stones, with the photo-jerks as size comparison |
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| There they are again, messing up my photo of the avenue. |
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| Ah, that's better. |
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| First view of Stonehenge. |
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| All of the tourists. |
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| The orange jackets belong to the French school group. |
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This is the most frustrating part of tourism now.
NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR TABLET. |
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| Seriously, dude? I'm taking a photo here. Do you mind? |
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| I WAS SO CLOSE AND YOU WENT AN PUT YOUR HAND IN THE WAY. |
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| FIIIIINALLY. |
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| Joining the selfie-olympics. |
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Sheep! They graze in the pasture beside stonehenge.
Hadn't realized it before but... sheep do not smell like goats. Sheep stink. |
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| Gave in and asked for a photo from another tourist. |
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| Probably because most of my selfies looked like this one. |
