The North Sea

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Descriptive Essay: North Sea
When I contemplate my summer vacation to the United Kingdom, I forever reflect on my mind-blowing experience of swimming in the North Sea. My parents and I traveled on a 7-day tour of the United Kingdom, along with 41 other passengers of diverse origins on an immense brilliantly white coach. As day 4 of the journey began to conclude, the coach navigated along narrow neighborhood roads with simple little cottage like houses that all has beautiful, blooming, brightly flower painted gardens and came to a halt at an unusual Best Western Hotel in Nairn, Scotland. Before exiting the coach our chief tour guide, Tyron Comyns, who is a tanned, deep brown eyed, acne scared face, shaggy auburn hair, and friendly smiling 20-year-old of a half Australian half Philippine birth let us know that the North Sea would only be a few streets behind our hotel and within walking distance. From that point on my soul goal for the rest of the evening was to venture to the shore and have a go at swimming its icy cool waters.

Once Tyrone distributed the room keys to everyone, I faced the challenge of lugging my suite case up a widely spaced, box spiraling staircase. Following my successful voyage to my room, I quickly scavenged through my bag like a desperate homeless person dumpster diving for bits and pieces of food to uncover my faded, trusty, rainbow-zebra print, string, two piece bikini. Once putting on my swimming attire, I slipped on a short, dark navy blue dress for a cover-up and packed a little bag as if for a picnic with the effects I deemed fit to bring. Thus prepared on both mental and physical levels, I commenced my expedition.

Both my mother and father provided their company and support, carrying cameras to record and bewildered minds at the thoughts of my aspiration. Entering underneath a rustic, vine like, narrow gate we passed through green, gorgeously growing grass and dancing trees surrounding the sky. Continuing out of the wonderland...
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