Admittedly folks, it has been a rough couple o weeks. I love my history classes, but keeping my head above the water with non-school related commitments is a full-time job. Now I’ve got two essays almost due that, no matter how much I research and plan, are refusing to come out easy.
Enough with the moohoomoo…
I woke up this morning and decided to kick off Reading Week with some much-needed spontaneous exploration. I pulled on my warmest clothes and headed into the misty morning drizzle to my favorite park.
Normally I stop about a half a mile into the park at a lovely bridge, my favorite thinking spot after difficult lectures or bad days. This time I kept walking…
I walked farther than I ever had before. A gorgeous cathedral spire broke through the mist ahead of me and I walked toward it.
After about another half mile of walking, I ran into a huge house. The sound of singing nuns drifted through the trees. I was pretty sure I had walked right out of real life into a fairytale.
Outside of the cathedral lay quaint rows of houses and businesses, a tea room and a butcher shop.
I realized that I was in a village. A real, legit, non-touristy, and yet still way too picturesque to be true Welsh village.
Around the corner from the cathedral stood what looked to be a castle gate-house. Kids and teens in school uniform marched through the gate.
Naturally, I figured I’d wander in behind them… Keep wandering til you get kicked out right?
Inside the gate was a public green space. Down a narrow path the most mystical of doors leading to a cathedral school.
Could this be real? There was a legit old-fashioned bike with a basket parked outside the gate. Young good-lookin teachers followed students into the school. Everyone in the town was dressed in sweaters and hats and cozy looking vests and boots.
Fun Fact: when I got home I looked up the village and found out that the cathedral school I found was one that Roal Dahl (author of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory) attended.
After checking around for cameras (this has got to be a movie set, right?), I continued to meander the the tiny town. Guys, it was heavenly. When I had had my fill I walked back past the house of singing nuns (they were still singing), down to the trail that had led me there, and home to the loud dusty streets of my city.
This morning reminded me that if I am to stay sane this year I need to take a bit more time out of my schedule to wander. Something about getting out of the city, out of the rigamarole and rat race of a competitive fast-paced life, into the fresh air… following a path you’ve never been down before with absolutely no expectation of where you are going…
Ah yah, so therapeutic. As I walked I thought about what is most important to me. I considered why I am in Wales. I wondered about what I am doing with my life.
Spoiler alert, I didn’t get any answers. Yet somehow I picked up enough of an energy to face my own reality again.
I hope you enjoyed, despite my notable lack of photography skills.