Well, our last journey from Cambridge couldn't have been a better one: a trip to Scotland and The British Open at St. Andrews. The trip started off fine with a jump on a train from Cambridge to Edinburgh, the capital of Scotland. We had to make a stop in Peterborough, and then things turned for the worse. One thing I can say is customer service is generally good in the U.S. and the employees at places such as restaurants, bars, etc., try to do their best to accomodate you. Maybe it's because we are capitalist and in touch with 2010. This rant will make a little more sense after you hear this: We were all catching our connecting train in the hell hole of Peterborough for the longest leg of our trip to Scotland. As half of our group is getting on the train, Horne, Jenna, Ben, and myself are still waiting outside the train to get on when the door closes. No big deal right? The doors are automatic, there's a button we can push and just hop on. Nope. The doors were closed for good. As I looked down the platform, I see the little witch of a whistleblower standing down there huffing on her wistle saying the train was gone. Of course, this did not sit well. This wasn't just some cab that I missed. Some little subway that I can catch the next one. I was in Deliverance, England and the mayor had just shut me out of the train. I was hot to say the least. Being the polite person I am, I rolled my bag down to her to see what the misunderstanding was and to hear her appology, because surely that wasn't done on purpose. I was wrong, and she heard how I felt about it. If there was ever a time for a comment card, this was it. I would have needed a comment book. She had the gaul to tell me the train had been there 90 seconds and it was funny that our group was the only one that didn't get on the train. 90 SECONDS?!?!?! Would you like to make a list of things that you can do in 90 seconds? Brush my teeth? Tie my shoes? In her case, blow on a whistle? I proceeded to ask her that if some elderly woman was in front of me in a wheel chair and she was having trouble getting on, the door would shut in my face? Or if part of my leg was still out of the train, it would just have to be left in Peterborough? She didn't care for that, but I didn't care for her, so we were even. There's another reason socialism isn't the way to go. They have no reason to be nice, no incentive. Tips don't exist. Not that she had a nice bone in her whistleblowing body, but maybe, just maybe she would have left the door open another 4 seconds if she didn't get everything for free. Ok I'm done. I hope she has a lovely life. There.
So, Ben, Horne, Jenna, and I all got on another train. The problem: it was full of reserved seats, so we were relegated to sitting on our bags and standing in the cart where the bar was....for three hours. The irony was the only thing that would keep us sane at this point was the bar. Guess everything works out in the end. We finally got to Scotland, which is absolutely gorgeous. We again checked into another glorious hostel, this time a room big enough for 18. There were only eight of us, so of course, we were going to have friends. Did I mention these friends were creepy, smelly, 40ish year old men? Note: if I'm in my 40's, and having to stay in these hostels while traveling, have me committed. Period. Why are they doing this? If it's that bad, get a better job. And if you have friends doing it with you, get new friends. You're middle age. You should not be traveling if you are staying in these brothel-type establishments. Do something for yourself besides creep on the two girls in their twenties that are with us. Gross. Nightfall comes and the girls had been to Scotland before, so they knew of THE place to go in Edinburgh: Espionage. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it for a bar? The definition of espionage: The act or practice of spying or of using spies to obtain secret information. Perfect for a bar filled with creepy dudes trying to find out secret information about girls. There is no sence of subtleties when it comes to UK guys hitting on girls: they go right for the kill and it's down right comical. "Hey baby, why don't you look past my funky teeth, funky smell, and funky dress and hang out with me?" Good one. Fail. However, it was a very cool bar, several floors of differnt places to go, and of course little air conditioning.
Friday finally arrived and it was time for The Open. Words cannot describe the feeling that came over me when we pulled up on the grounds. I felt eight years old. You could smell the history in the growing grass and the steady breeze. St. Andrews is the home of golf. Jonesboro is where I call home, golf calls St. Andrews home. The Old Course is the definition of "holding your own." It's been doing it for 600 years. Yes, there have been some changes, including the addition of 40 yards to the famous Road Hole, 17. However, the landscape has remained almost exactly the same. A flat lie does not exist, and the pot bunkers would be the best maro-polo players to live. You can't see them until it's too late. If any of you watched The Open, you know the Friday round will go down as one of the windiest of all time. The tournament was delayed for wind. That's intense. Wind goes hand and hand with the British Open. It's like mustard and ketchup, hot dogs and buns, The Houston Astros and terrible. When you think of one, you think of the other. We literally walked every single hole of St. Andrews. Amazing. We decided to post up on number 8, which is on the very back of the golf course. The wind was blowing a constant 35 to 40 mph. Number 8 is about 175 yards, straight away with a pot bunker short left and gunch behind the green. You could have layed a serving tray on the pin it was bent over so bad because of the wind. I've never been more entertained watching the likes of Ernie Els, Padrig Harrington, Tiger Woods, and especially Ian Poulter (the biggest cry baby in golf, who runs his mouth and has won as many majors as me. Win something, then talk, Ian. Until then, worry about your hair, high water pants, and not winning in the USA.) miss the green by 50 yards. I'm not joking. 50 yards. That's half a football field. That's how bad the wind was. Made me feel good about myself really. I know that's selfish, but you enjoy it, too. The coolest part of the day was during the wind delay, several players, including Todd Hamilton, were just hanging out, no ropes around, talking to fans, friends, and signing autographs. That's what makes golf such a great sport. The fans and players feel comfortable around each other. You don't have to worry about a fan throwing ice on a player, the player hurdling over the seats and throwing a haymaker to your face. The players and fans were just talking, like they used to get in trouble together in high school. Towards the end of the day, we made our way towards one of the most scenic and sacrid areas golf has to offer, the sanctuary of numbers 1 and 18. Amazing. You could literally close your eyes and see all the players from the past walking over the famous bridge, waiving, thanking the fans. Overall, I will remember St. Andrews more than anything. I could have gone every day. The rest of the weekend was filled with actual tourist things including the wonderful idea of climbing Arthur's Seat, this huge "hill" that over looks all of Edinburgh. I managed to have some sort of allergic reaction to something during this trip, which caused the back of my mouth to swell and force me to not be able to eat and drink, so climbing this hill was just about the end of me. Of coures, I refused to die on the side of some hill in Scotland, in the rain and 30 mph wind. We got some awesome pictures at the top, and it was gorgeous. We then decided to listen to our cabbie and Kyle and take another route down...bad idea. We ended up having to go all the way back around, walk 2 miles down a road and finally down the hill to a place where a cab was. Some of us then went to Edinburgh Castle, which was cool as well. This was a prison during 1776 for US troops in our war against England. Let's just say the accomodations for our soldiers were not 5 star. The weekend included with another trip to find secret information at Espionage and a train ride home. I think the whistleblower knew which train I was on, because we did not have air conditioning for the first 4 hours of our journey. That's fun. I felt like I was in a hot box. However, we made it home safe and it was another awesome weekend. Scotland is absolutely a hidden gem that I'm sure gets overlooked. I will be back. Well that's it for now...my next post will be pretty emotional as I've come to the end of my time in Cambridge. It's unreal to think about all the memories and life long friendships I've made. Ok, that's enough of that for now. Hope you all are doing well. This is a special week for me, because my Mom and Dad arrive in London in the morning and my brother and sis in law, Lindsey arrive on Saturday. We will be spending time in London, Paris, and Rome the next week and a half before I finally make it back to the wonderful USA. Miss everyone back home and will be talking to you soon. Take care.
Until my next post,
Life's a garden. Dig it.
Woodard
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