Something a little different...

Slowly, the persistant wind has forced itself in through the cracks and the room is now cooling quickly. Outside, the lights of Conwy twinkle in the cold, almost crystaline, air. Some play cards, others are writing, and a few haphazardly watch a movie in the background. Of all the students, one sits apart, gazing into the blustry darkness, contemplating the profound differences between the throbbing metropolis of Nottingham and the ancient Welsh town of Conwy; occasionally jotting down a phrase or two to trigger memories, years down the road.

The day began with the students resisting the shock brought by the cold air outside the warmth of the bed sheets. Somehow, all nine managed to shower, pack their belongings, and ingest a meager breakfast in a single hour. Few paid attention as an excited professor told of the glory and wealth of centuries past at the day's destinations. The miles flew by as the coach driver careened through the buzzing traffic on the motorways and then through narrow country lanes.

Once in Chester, not quite in Wales, the group hurridly followed their leader to the cathedral refactory for lunch, oblivious to the cultural differences and wealth of history around them. Finally seated with their steaming plates of sustenance, the students began to appreciate their surroundings. The repair work in the great hall was properly done on the raised abbot's dining platform, but what peaked the students' interest was the carved inscriptions below each refurbished bit of the old cathedral. The workers had painstakingly chipped away at the stones to script dedications and commemorations as they improved their place of worship, work, and residence.

The appropriate setting for lunch prepared the weary exchange students for the day ahead. Wandring the city and its ramparts and walls gave some insight as to the military prowess held by the Romans, hundreds of years ago. Accidentally, a few unsuspecting students stumbled upon an ancient church. Different from the popularly visited churches of York and Durham, St. John's was truly a place of worship, uncorrupted by careless visitors snapping pictures and raucously joking, unaware of the graves from years past and unknown ancestors. The sanctuary of St. John's exuded a regal, yet welcoming feeling. The unrequested silence was broken by the sound of confident footsteps soming in from the street. The local vicar, eager to have visitors, shared some history with the girls. He was pleased to see the girls had learned some history of the churches of England, despite their varried and entirely unrelated majors. Soon, the aimiable vicar left to tend to his paperwork. The sturdy Norman arches, dating back to 689, once again commanded silence. The students explored, then sat in awe of the beauty, the history, and the sheers power of the stones arond them. In retrospect, the shops visited earlier in the day seemed trivial when compared to the church, ampitheatre and walls of Roman times. Somehow, the city of Chester managed to keep the modern shops, businesses and homes in line with the well preserved history of the ages. From the school children on field days, dressed in paper armour and plastic shields, learning of Roman and Norman conquests; to the tea shops in tudor style buildings along the river Dee, the city of Chester demonstrated its eagerness to share its prideful history with the public.

For some students, the time in chester was purely and assignment, for others, a few intricacies of the different styles of life and work stood out in their minds while strolling the ciyt walls, even more still on the journey to Conwy. For those few, the travel proved to be the perfect time for reflection and and excellent segway into what lay ahead.

The students were grateful to have the afternoon off. For the first time in a few weeks, the group of nine stayed together, only splitting for a few minutes to observe and explore the area before dinner. A sumptuous meal ina casual restaraunt relaxed the group and warmed each belly from the inside out. The group of nine set out inot the blustry evening. The sun had long since departed for the day, leaving the students to adventure in the darkness. Hesitantly, the young travellers ascended the stairs to the city walls. The steeply sloping walkways and worn fissures in the rocks caused them to fearfully proceed. None the less, each hand helpin ghte next, all nine reached the tallest tower to gaze upon the village, the castly, and most entracing, the bridge, sea water, and the elusive full moon. With shivering hands, friends photographed friends, but soon all nine were silently observing the simple beauty of night. Some huddled together for comfort and warmth, others off on a ledge, alone, lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, the spell was somewhat broken and the nine made their way around the periphery of the city. The slowly slanting, curving, and well worn stone led the wandering feet to an outlook. Out beyond the lights and the quiet hum of curved city lanes, each student came to a stop, enjoying the peace created by the wind and the waves.

Time had no meaning. The clouds moved past, the moon moved across the sky, and silently, a train sped towards its destination. For all, the opportunity to sit, and to simply be, was a welcomed treat. The occasional baot was navigated past - fishermen preparing for the next day's work. Occasionally, the click of a camera, the scuff of a shoe, or a contented sigh could be heard through the rush of the wind. Each student slowly brought themselves back to the surface of reality, but patiently waited for the rest of their new found family to come back to the present.

Back at the hostel, a lone writer sits. Every other student has quietly slipped out of the common room to rest their weary eyes. The card game is over, the journaling doen, and reading abandoned. Each student is asleep or soon to be there. All save one. One sits in complete comfort. Happy to hear the scratch of the pen on paper, satisfied with her account of a day in this year of change. Soon, the room will be empty, save the wind sneaking through to flutter the curtains. Soon there will be peaceful slumber.