Barefoot at Bournemouth

England was everything I had imagined it to be. And more. While I was slowly getting accustomed to a certain kind of order in everything around me, I was still far from missing the homeland. This was mostly because wanderlust kept me busy. Just a couple of days after the trip to Wales, I was already dreaming of Isle of Wight. It took an eternity for the five weekdays to pass with all the image searches I was doing everyday. 

After what seemed like forever, Saturday decided to crawl in. It was a bright sunny day- a rare occurrence in the forever-wet English country. We had decided to start after sun-rise this time, since it was a known fact now, that all of us were members of over-sleepers anonymous. By the time we hit the road, our sunglasses were not in their cases any more. Just a few minutes after we started, a realisation beckoned that Isle of Wight might not be the best choice for the day, given that we had wasted a considerable amount of time within the city. All plans gone haywire, image searches were yielding a ‘Page Not Found’ now.  We googled for a new destination and modified the destination on our GPS to Bournemouth. 

English countryside welcomed us with lush green hills, mustard fields and polka-dotted cows. I fell in love with the bright yellow of the mustard fields, which was as consistent as if coloured by a crayon. All I could think, was of my dear Khan singing the melodies with me, comfortably chuking Kajol out of the picture. I am almost certain that those scenes of DDLJ were shot somewhere in an English mustard field. My lovelorn heart wanted to get off the car and run towards them. But, alas this was not India and we could not stop where ever we pleased on a motorway. I made a huge hue-and-cry over it, so I was allowed a picture, from behind the window.

Only after I was thoroughly wet, I came outside for a sun-bath and saw what the beach had to offer. It was buzzing with activity and the skyline of Bournemouth seemed really inviting. If only I had wings.

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The Bournemouth Pier was interesting as I got a little dash of it’s history as well. But my heart was set on the ecstatic view of the vast blues from the pier. After-all I just could not get my eyes off the waters.

It was a day well spent at the beach, and I could now finally boast of having had a real dip in the mighty Atlantic. I was deep in thought as I wanted to preserve Bournemouth in my heart. I was worrying about getting old and losing memory of this little English town, when it struck – to get myself a souvenir! I didn’t have to hunt much and I settled for this beautiful fridge magnet, which I thought, would not really burden my already overloaded baggage, when the time comes to return home. Now, it is proudly placed among many others, all boasting about my travels.

With a heavy heart, I bit a temporary goodbye to the waters. We headed home-wards but the ocean kept calling back to us. So, we drove back to the sea, but a different nearby beach this time and realised this one had just come out of Picasso’s canvas. What I saw deserves a whole new post. 

All pictures (c) Akanksha Dureja