Last we left off, I was jumping on a punt in Cambridge for the afternoon with Brooke and the gang. That was 2 and a half weeks ago now. Wow. Alrighty, time to get back down to work.
I was the first to drive the punt. The "punter" stands on the back of the punt, similar to what those people do on the gondolas in Venice. I held a long pole, about two and a half times my height, and about the width of my arm, and stood on the back. The canals are shallow, so you put the pole into the water till it touches the bottom and push the boat forward. Steering it was similar to a sailboat ("tiller towards trouble"). I was doing surprisingly well actually, until I underestimated how close and low the bridge was in front of us. The pole hit the bridge, I tried to hold on, and ended up in the water. Thank god my camera was waterproof. Too bad I was still wearing my hiking boots. I climbed back on, my picture was taken by Brooke, and we continued. Other than a large amount of knowing, humored faces looking at my wet clothes, the rest of the trip went off without a hitch.
We came back to the dock, walked back to school, found a pair of shoes to borrow from one of Ariel's friends, did some laundry, and took a shower. Everyone was at their "end of the summer" dinner event, and I hung out in Ariel's room. Their dinner ended, a group of about 9 girls and 3 guys started partying in the room, and after chilling for a bit we went to their favorite club called "Lola Lo". It was a three story club, complete with thatch-roof tropical decorations, palm fronds, and a light up dance floor that looked straight out of Saturday night fever. Got home somewhat late, with a slight detour... hehe... and slept comfortably on my makeshift bed of four chairs and a pillow :)
I grabbed my (mostly dry) boots, said goodbye to Ariel, and left the next morning around 0830 to get on my 0945 bus to Manchester. The first leg of the journey went off without a hitch, and I met a cool business guy from London who was meeting a friend up north for a stag party. The connecting bus, however, would turn into the worst public transportation experience of my life. What was supposed to be a 2 and a half hour trip to Manchester became a 6 and a half hour trip, stuck in Friday afternoon traffic. The son and daughter who sat behind me with their mother were the most vile, inconsiderate English teens I have ever had the pleasure of experiencing. The daughter was a heavy smoker, and since the bus would not stop for her, she could not get her fix and was cursing out her mother for her &@%#^ *@#&( decision. The mother retaliated with *&@# yourself or I'll &^%@# go &*#^%$ ^&#%^* @^% punch you again. Another time, the mother went to the restroom once, tripped slightly, and the son (who also enjoyed kicking, touching, tapping the back of my seat) retorted with something like, hahaha, you're such a &@$#^% idjit.
I commented on this remarkable family dynamic to the man sitting next to me, presumably from a rough part of north England, to which he replied, "We don't need to be worried about anything until punches are thrown." At least the bus driver was cool, haha, and calmed the daughter countless times with witty comebacks to her incessant complaints. Made many of the passengers laugh. He also responded to a (very smelly, dirty, illogical) orthodox Jewish man with witty comebacks and questionable (yet undeniably funny) responses to his additional complaints about the bus stuck in traffic.
It also rained.
We arrived in Manchester about 1830 and were finally free to breathe fresh air. I walked out of the bus station and directly into... gay pride. That was quite a surprise. I found out which direction I had to go to get to Kayla's friend's place, and headed off straight through one of the main streets of the (now thriving on a Friday night) gay festivities. The funniest thing I saw during that short 300 meter walk was by the DJ stage being set up. Imagine those bucking rodeo things you see in country bars to see how long you can stay on. Alright, well this thing was a massive penis that did the same thing.
Moving on.
I make it to Mel's flat (Kayla's friend) and spend the next hour or two catching up with Kayla and Melissa about our adventures of the past week or so. They had just come from Croatia and Hungary, and have inspired me to make it there, myself, this year. Mel had decided that she would show us all a "night out" in Manchester, and when her friends arrived, we proceeded to do just that. Now, Manchester is known for its nightlife, and I am very happy that I had the opportunity to meet up with the girls and have a local show us around. We didn't go to that many places, but we went to the local's favorites and had a great time anyways, so I couldn't have asked for more. At one place, Melissa had a very creepy (and *slightly* funny) encounter with a horny clubber, which quickly sent her running back to our group. A Fireball and some Sambuxco were also some interesting accompaniments to the evening. It rained a little on our way home, so we paid for a taxi and each chipped in a pound. Chatted a little at Mel's flat, and shortly went to sleep.
The next morning, my bed of pillows on the ground had held together and I felt well rested. Mel had apparently planned an itinerary of things that she wanted to show us, "after the Pride parade, of course". We found a library to print out some future tickets, grabbed a burrito from Mel's favorite Mexican food place (which wasn't half bad and contained some decent guacamole), and lined up by the gate to see the parade. If you have not seen a Pride parade before, it is some standard fun and I recommend. If you have seen one, then I assume you pretty much know what went down. Awkward moments, hilarious moments, and some very happy people.
Afterwards we went back to Mel's flat to grab some stuff and headed out the door again; this time into the rain, and onto the trolley that would take us to "where the BBC lives". There are multiple locations that house departments of the BBC, but the one in Manchester is by far the largest. We did a bit of shopping in the mall and found a great bag of chocolates called "MisShapes", which was definitely detrimental to our health for the next hour or so. We viewed Manchester Stadium from afar, took some pictures with some Doctor Who Daleks and Tardis's, and headed back to town. We went to an all-you-can-eat Chinese place in China Town, and headed home for the last time. Mel introduced us to a show called "The Inbetweeners", which is a very vulgar, yet very hilarious British show. There's three seasons and a movie, too, if you're interested. Mel helped decipher all the British lingo for us, and we learned exactly what a "bell-end" is. Good times.
The next morning I woke up, left her flat in the heart of the city as they were leaving for their Liverpool train, and got on my bus to Glasgow- Scotland!
