Around this time last year, I embarked on a trip of a life time: I did an Erasmus year in England. Sheffield to be more exact. It could hardly have gone better.
But I didn’t know it would be so pleasant at the start. I was nervous to boot. And understandably so. It was my first time away from home for over a week, and I had chosen to spend it in a foreign country, in a town I knew next to nothing about, where I only knew one person – and she was going there for the first time too. A bit of a mad thing to do.
So when I got there, after a good night’s sleep after a day of panic attacks, sleep deprivation, starvation, of waiting for hours for trains that didn’t show up (eyeing you, Manchester Piccadilly station), I did the only thing one could do to relax. I picked up my camera, set up Google Maps on my phone and went looking for the Botanical Gardens.
Say what you will, looking at flowers and trees is more important than food. (Sometimes.) Besides, there was a rare, wild creature I was expecting to see…