"17th Century Bridge"

Not that many of you have actually checked this blog, but for the two or so of you who do, I'm sorry for leaving you in the dark as to my adventures in Wales and Ireland...I have excuses. In Wales, our group took over a small hotel in the middle of the hills (no town, no internet, no people) next to Devil's Bridge, a stone archway built-over three different times: the first constructed by the Roman's circa a long time ago, the second in the 17th century, and the third in the last fifty years? Anyway, it is beautiful and tall and old and we climbed it. In fact, Drew, Joe, and I rediscovered the glory of being twelve and pretty much climbed everything from trailhead bathrooms to Cathedrals. We even devoted a whole afternoon to exploring the woods and river banks behind the Havod Arms Hotel, skipping rocks, climbing trees, and swinging from old rusty cables. Wales was undoubtedly a place of rest, study, beauty, inspiration, and quiet--a much needed escape from the constant scrambling in London. And, after spending an hour in the hotel pub with some old Welsh guys and hitching a ride into town from another, it seems that they would all agree that the hills of Wales beat out any place in Great Britian, or, even though most of them have never left the island, any other place in the world.

As expected, travelling with a group of thirty people has been rather trying, especially on travel days. When we enter a new city, get off the bus, and waddle over the streets with our bright colored wheely bags, I feel like a drop of water that breaks free from the American tourist puddle (I often try to hang back a little), but I'm soon sucked back and morphed into one pool-of-SPU and continue to flow with the group over streets and sidewalks as we frantically search for our hotel. It's good though. I need get over my need to be the experienced,independent, and mysterious traveller, because I'm not. I'm just as American and curly haired and flared jeaned and tennis-shoed and white-teethed and clean as all of us Yanks are. But more importantly, I'm really learning that these two months are much more about the people I am travelling with than anything else. I am not only being taught patience, but I am learning to live with a constant heart of service especially in the moments when all thirty of us are tired and hungry, and to just enjoy the conversations and moments spent with this eccentric, overly-emotional, oddly artistic, consistently intense, and incredibly entertaining group of English Majors. Mountains, Georgian architecture, local music, pubs, and museums are all inspiring, but the people are what truly bring life to this trip. I know this all seems obvious, but I'm learning this in a new way and I anticipate a lifelong lesson to stem from it.

Right-O, enough for now, but I'll try to force myself to return to this sterile cafe soon and write about my adventures in Ireland. Again, thank you all for your prayers. I continually think back to our last night when you all surrounded Drew, Joe, and I and prayed for us. I have prayed for friends like you all my life. Blessings.

Cheers.