One month in, one to go. It feels so normal now to be home and yet I have that lingering feeling of anticipation and preparation for the next step of my journey. I am now having to make real steps in planning once again, with flights needing to be booked, visas applied for and job research carried out.
Before I get lost in the future however, let me share with you some adventures from my homeland.
Following my aunt’s wedding and a week spent with one of my beloved grandmothers I headed out to North Wales for the weekend with two friends. One I had met whilst travelling and so happens to live in the same town as my mum and the other, my old university flatmate, made the effort to travel all the way from the southern coastal city of Portsmouth. An unlikely, but what turned out to be, highly successful trio. We had a wonderful and joyfully random weekend!
Not long after crossing the border into Wales, our eyes were greeted with coastal views, green countryside littered with rock formations and amazingly, a castle. One of many we would be lucky enough to come across throughout the weekend. A love and appreciation of these ancient, and often majestic, structures which fill our lands has developed within in me during my time away. What I once took for granted I realise is a beautiful and rather unique part of our heritage.
Throughout the weekend we enjoyed scenic drives through peaceful country. Hills rolling down into an expanse of water below, running away into the distance and mist beyond. Castles atop so many mounds, buildings dating back further than I can fathom. Lakes commanding your eyes as they spread through valley floors, the surrounding hills scattered with all size and shape of rock, the land a gentle fusion of brown, yellow and green.
Sunday, our final day of adventure, took us to Anglesey and on the hunt for some old ruins. After a good half hour or so driving in circles, including a none too disappointing drive through winding country roads, we parked and headed out on foot. Over dry stone wall, through wild forest, down muddy hills, veering around boggy ground and we finally reached the destination worthy of our efforts. Once a grand house, we walked round the outside, discovering an outhouse complete with kitchen. The house itself was quite epic in size, the brown grey walls, now blanketed in ivy, had become home for a wild garden of green.
After we’d satisfied our curiosity we decided it was time to be on our way, a fair drive home waiting for everyone. Saying our goodbyes to Adam, Rebecca and I set off east, with a small detour toward the centre of Snowdon in what would be a successful search for an artist’s workshop. We stopped for lunch in the heart of slate mining country, in a town so local that the sight of us silenced every soul in the first pub we entered.
The couple of weeks since then have continued to be non stop, my social calendar bursting at the seams. I’ve caught up with many much loved friends and family, settling down to drinks, lunches and dinners and feeling quickly like I’d never been away as conversation fires between us.
I’ve had a wonderful, short and sweet exploration of the North York Moors and the Yorkshire Dales, reminding me there is incredible beauty not far from our doorstep. Driving along country roads bordered on either side by dry stone walls, the pace slowed by the intermittent pheasant in our path. Stopping to sit on a rock and appreciate the undulating patchwork grandeur spreading below us that no amount of wind could stop us enjoying.
I’ve headed down to London, for rather a drastic change in pace. Fighting through unrelenting hordes as we made our way along streets and the underground trains. It was not without reward, feeding my love of musicals and theatre as we enjoyed a performance of 42nd Street, and my passion for food, the environment and animal rights at the Vegan Festival.
Back in Leeds I was able to play a short stint as travel guide to a Canadian friend I’d first met in Vietnam. Watching a gig in The Church, an old church building, where the stained glass windows created quite a backdrop. Taking a long, rainy walk around the local Roundhay Park and fighting some rush hour traffic in search of rice paper (which we never did find).
In Manchester, my old university stomping ground, a friend and I took a walk down memory lane, visiting favourite haunts from years ago and rekindling my love of the city along the way.
I think it’s safe to say my time at home has become no less an adventure than my time abroad, and I look forward to the month that lies ahead!
