Stories, starting with Stonehenge

There's not much happening at home. I read Clockwork Angel (all 478 pages) today, and I'm working on getting my hands on American Gods. (Even though I've got a million other books to read.) I unpacked a little more, and tracked down a cell phone/mobile charger that will fit into an American wall socket. Started another book and watched Mr. and Mrs. Smith with the Brother.

Yesterday was more exciting. I went surfing with my dad, then ice skating with a bunch of friends from high school. One of them graduated early and is going to be traveling this winter and upcoming spring. I can't quite express the degree of envy that inspires, so I'm not even going to try.

To avoid boring anyone this summer with tales of how many seconds I managed to catch a wave, I'm going to tell stories--completely out of order--and slooowwly put up pictures of my own travels. Stuff I hadn't yet gotten to before disappearing back into the wilderness.

Not that Stonehenge is really the wilderness. At all. I stayed in the quaint and touristy little town nearest it, Salisbury, for two nights. Showed up at the train station, disembarked, and called the YHA hostel as I started walking toward it to see if I could book a room.

They were full. Cue one of those brow-furrowing, "Hmm" moments where all that's to be done is turn over your current predicament in your mind a bit before you can even start to churn out possible solutions.

Didn't know anyone. Evening. Exhausted. Didn't have anywhere to stay. Shit, I shouldda stayed in Oxford--that was a nice hostel, at least.

In the end, I just started walking into town. Really, there wasn't much else to be done. My plan was to stop at each hotel I saw and ask about prices, but the very first place I passed--a pub--advertised accommodation vacancies. So I went in, more or less ignored the harmless old drunks that wanted to hit on me, and arranged to rent a private room for twenty-five pounds a night. Not a bad deal, considering I'd had to pay eighteen pounds a night in Oxford to share a room with fifteen other people.

I didn't actually make it out to Stonehenge until the next day. I came downstairs and met another American guy about my age from D.C. at breakfast. He was affable and nice, and we hung out pretty much all day.

I'd been told a few times that Stonehenge was kind of disappointing, so I had pretty low expectations. I needn't have bothered--Stonehenge was fantastic. No, you don't get to crawl over the stones and chip off pieces to take home, but I'm one of those people who finds that rather horrifying, anyway.

I want to go back and have a picnic out there one day. You're all welcome to join me. It's going to be wonderful. :)