Sea of England

It was freezing cold in Liverpool. Sometimes the sun was shining over the city so we could admire the beauty of it all. But it wasn't warm. It was cold as hell, the wind was hitting our faces as we walked through the streets.

After all these months far away from the sea I really wanted to see it. Oh I knew I wouldn't be able to swim, I knew we wouldn't go to the water. I knew we wouldn't stay very long, we would just walk on the wet sand, taking pictures in our huge jackets and scarves. Although it was late March I knew it would be too cold.

Surprisingly I got used to this idea. This is how Northern Europe is. you just see the sea, but but you can't swim. It's probably not warm in summer either. But as I walked on the wet sand with the cold hitting me like crazy I knew it was good to be there.

It was good taking the ferry and freezing to death as it drove away in the cold wind, showing us the city and explaining to us its history. It was good being on this beach and breathing the salty air, looking at those strange iron men spread on the beach for about 3 kilometres . It was good that the seagulls seemed to be as cold as me. It was simply good being there and visiting the monuments, admiring the harbour and thinking that many years ago some people took the boat from there to go to America. It was incredibly cold that day but it was an incredible day.