As we all shuffled into the white charter bus like walking zombies at seven in the morning, I knew it was going to be a long, slumberous ride to our destination. We took our seats as Ms. Faucette counted all forty girls on the bus. Every morning she would welcome us with a, “Good morning ladies! Are y’all excited about today’s activities?” She was a cheery woman who tried to keep us all enthusiastic about the trip. Her plumped lips curved into a big smile on her porcelain skin, which seemed to glow in the dim light. While standing at the front of the bus, her large red pea coat made her small body look twice its size. She had wavy light hair with defined eyebrows that arched over her strikingly pale blue eyes and button nose. The only response she received was 40 pairs of restless eyes staring back at her. I sat on an aisle seat next to Kristy and hastily stuffed my bag under the seat in front of me before getting comfortable. The early morning mist lingered in the air as Hedley, our tour guide, drove us through the streets of London. As we made our way through the city, we passed apartment blocks and never-ending rows of houses, churches, bridges, and roads stretching along on both sides of the street. Although the United Kingdom trip was for educational purposes, I was not looking forward to sightseeing a pile of rocks when I could be using the time to shop down Oxford Street. Within half an hour, the whooshing sound of warm air coming from the air vent filled the bus and lulled us to sleep.
The sun hid behind the rolling, grey clouds when we arrived at the county of Wiltshire. It looked like the malevolent sky and thick blackened clouds were threatening to ruin our trip with rain; I wasn’t entirely opposed to that idea. I woke up, slouched in my seat, and propped my face in the palm of my left hand as I stared at the back of the chair in front of me. Everyone was awake by the time we arrived at the site. We hopped off the bus and stretched out our legs and arms as if we just hopped out of bed. Unimpressed by the bare plains, I dragged my feet across the dirt as we walked up to a construction that resembled a white storage house. In front of the building was a tall man with midnight black curls and deep, chocolate brown eyes. He spoke in a thick Cornish accent that was difficult to understand. I could tell he really enjoyed his job by the high-pitched tone in his voice; I wasn’t moved by his enthusiasm.
“Welcome to Stonehenge ladies. Where are you all from?”
Everywhere we visited in the United Kingdom, people always asked us the same question. We smiled and automatically replied with Baton Rouge, Louisiana. He handed each girl a wristband, brochure, and a device that looked similar to a walkie-talkie. The device played recorded information about the stones for us to listen to while touring the sight. I put away the device in my coat pocket knowing that I wasn’t going to use it. We all packed tightly into two white mini buses and headed down a bumpy road made of marble sized gravel. As I looked out the clear window, I saw the open green field of grass and the grey rocks from afar. I sat in my chair uninterested as if I was sitting through a boring lecture in a class I didn’t care for. What was so significant about looking at a pile of stones? Although historically important, they are just stones.
The grey sky overhead turned into a turquoise sea and no longer gave signs of rain. The warm rays of sunshine intermingled with the few cumulus clouds in the sky and shined down on the blades of grass, which glistened with the remains of the morning dew. As I stepped off the bus and walked along the rocky path, it was as if I was walking into a landscape painting or a postcard from the gift shops in London. I stopped right in front of the stones and tried to discover their mysterious wonders. Unable to figure it out by looking at their bodies, I decided to listen to the recorded messages to help me understand. The fact that these four thousand year old rocks were standing right in front me, at that very moment, changed the way I saw Stonehenge. Suddenly I had so many unanswered questions. Who built these stones? How were these twenty-five ton sandstones transported here from eighteen miles away? What was the purpose of Stonehenge?
As I walked closer to the upright stones, the gusty winds swept across the plain and carried away the mixed emotions of frustration and disappointment that filled me. My entire body transcended everyday reality as I breathed in the clean, crisp air and felt the gentle breeze on my skin. I felt like I was floating or walking on clouds. The spirits that roamed the Salisbury Plain evoked the awe and mystery that these massive stones inspire. I stopped another moment to observe the grim stones at a different angle. The large, majestic stones formed a shape that resembled multiple doorways inviting visitors to feel Stonehenge’s great power and explore its countless secrets. Mesmerized by the stones, I followed the path that circled the edge of the ancient attraction. Every step provided me a new angle and view to admire. I wanted to touch the rough, mossy green freckled rocks, but the rope-lined path prohibited anyone from crossing. Once I made it back to the beginning, I had to savor the breathtaking moment by taking a couple of photographs. After all, I am a tourist.
I walked back to the same white mini bus and realized that all the other girls were already onboard. I took a seat next to Kristy and sat in silence. The silence was comforting; it was peaceful. As we drove farther and farther away from the sight, I reflected on the unsurpassed beauty of Stonehenge and its ability to revive and relieve human emotions. Happiness wrapped around me like a warm blanket on a winter’s night. I sat back in my seat as a smile danced across my lips. The smile increased in size when I remembered our next destination, the Roman Baths.