Stonehenge & Lyme Regis

This summer, I’m doing a study abroad at Cambridge. The program starts July 5^th and ends August 9^th, but since I was going to England anyway, my family decided to take a holiday and tour around Cornwall and stuff. Despite the fact that my dad suggested this, he resisted the idea for a very long time. I don’t know how he thought this wasn’t going to happen, because we had a six-book stack of travel guides for England on our coffee table for months.

We had an overnight Virgin Atlantic flight with friendly British flight attendants. I have nothing but compliments for the airline. The whole plane was lit with a soft purple glow, the food was delicious, I saw a shooting star when we were over the ocean, and—most importantly—they loaded the plane back to front, which is the only sensible way to do it.

The fact that we were seated in the back and therefore got to board first made this even better.

It was pretty uneventful flight, but the in-flight entertainment was excellent and I watched three and a half movies. My dad’s first-movie choice surprised me. While my mom was watching some kind of documentary about Michael Palin in the Amazon and I was watching Warm Bodies (the world’s only zomromcom), my serious lawyer father decided he wanted to watch Hotel Transylvania.

Our first stop after arriving in Heathrow was Stonehenge. Watching cars driving on the wrong side made me extremely uncomfortable, and my dad’s driving made me absolutely certain that I was going to die before I get to my study abroad, but we made it.

One of my freshmen gave me the best quotes about traveling, which has become our motto for the trip:

“I’ve always liked sightseeing. It’s like you’re exploring! Except millions of other people already know about it!”

The cool thing about Stonehenge is that despite the fact that millions of people know about it, zero living people know what it was for. There are plenty of theories of where the stones came from and why it was put there (likely as a calendar of sorts), but no one really knows, and we probably never will.

 

I was surprised by the protest signs. There are many petitions to return skeletons being studied to their burial places. This sign particularly caught my eye because the picture choice absolutely didn’t command respect from me:

We next went to Lyme Regis, which is one stop on a 630-mile hiking trail (unsurprisingly, no one else wanted to hike it with me). I noticed a LOT of great signs while we were there.

Beware Using Inflatables.

Hospital for Poorly Bears and Dolls.

Thanks, Moon Moon!

Since the ocean was there, we had to touch it. Immediately when my sister went to the water’s edge, I realized something hilarious was going to happen. And, sure enough…

Don't worry; she didn't actually fall in.

Lyme Regis is very pretty, with lots of old houses and a lovely seafront.

They’ve also got Seussian lampposts, which I couldn’t not take a picture of—and look who I found in England, all the way from darkest Peru.

Tonight we’re in Mousehole (it’s pronounced MAUW-zel), and the story of the Mousehole Cat is here and here, if you’re not familiar with it. (UPDATE: Apparently these links do not work for people in the States! Try googling or youtubing "The Mousehole Cat" for full story.)  Pictures to follow, as we’ll be staying here for a few days but I didn’t have my camera on me before it got dark. Cheerio!