Harry and the Farm (Aug 6th to 8th)

We arrived in Scarborough, which is on the sea, on the northeastern coast of England.

Harry, our awesome CS host, who is studying law in Sheffield, met us at the bus stop. His parents live on a cute little traditional farm out in the country, which has a cool decrepit barn, rooms turned into art studios, four sheep, a donkey (all are pets), gardens, an old country stove, the list goes on...

His parents are a professor and an artist, so they rent out the land to farmers. There are cows, which are gentle, and a goose named Graham hangs out with one group. Apparently he was orphaned, and now thinks he is a cow.

Also, they have a little dog named Milo, who was a delight, totally energetic, and slept in Megan's lap, or on her foot.

It was sunny and beautiful, which is unusual, so the light falling on the land was gorgeous, across green hills and old trees. Two tall trees marked the entrance: an oak and an ash.

On the first night, I think we just chatted and had something to eat, and probably a cup of tea. Harry eats peanut butter, but doesn't like tea, and I think he was born in the wrong country. The next morning when we finally got out the door (which was nearly 2 p.m.) we went into town. Actually, we started off at the North Bay, where the locals hang out.

We walked along the cliff, which could compete with Wales for beauty, and could see out onto the glittering blue sea, and across the bay to the castle ruins. We were surrounded by waving flowers and grasses, and many bees...

We sat, with our feet hanging over the edge, and just looked out at the scene. Children were playing among the pools on the rocks below, birds flew by, people were chilling on the beach in the sun.

We walked into Scarborough, past the pier with the carnival, up the winding streets. It definitely looked like it could be a pirate town...

We took the bus back to the farm, and had fish and chips (I didn't of course) with Harry's parents, since he wouldn't be back from work until 10.

Megan and I went for a walk, and took Milo, the dog, with us. We ran through fields, under a full moon, jumping over fences (Megan fell off one of them). Milo decided to go home, but we crept up to see the 400 year old house-turned-inn, and sat in their gazebo, looking out on the rolling fields before we decided to head back.

Harry, and his friend Jack, came by at around 10:30, and we went to the village pub for a pint.

It was full of late middle aged people, as village pubs are, so we sat outside beneath a gas powered heating lamp. They lit their cigarettes from the flames, actually.

We talked about differences between America and the U.K., their opinions on government and the monarchy, and heard stories from a slightly drunk local who came out to smoke. The owner closed the pub, but left the gate open for us, just asking us to close it when we left.

Around 2 a.m., we walked back to the farm, and since Megan and I did not have a couch yet for Paris, I stayed up until after 4 applying for places to stay.