This blog starts a ways back, because I got so behind on writing my last blog that by the time I got to it, too much had happened to fit in one entry. So, I begin here at the second leg of my two-week Easter holiday. If you read my last blog you’ll know that I spent the first half of it in Scotland. For the second half, I went to Spalding. Never heard of it? I hadn’t either.
Easter in Spalding:
After those four fabulous days in Scotland, I headed back south into England to a small town called Spalding - my boyfriend’s hometown. His mother invited me to come spend Easter with them, and I gladly accepted; otherwise, my Easter dinner probably would have consisted of a frozen pizza and a glass of wine. Of course, it wasn’t just my desire for a home-cooked meal that took me to Spalding; there’s also the fact that I very much wanted to meet Aaron’s family.
Spalding, and the surrounding countryside, reminds me very much of the farming communities in South Dakota. I would go so far as to say that Lincolnshire (the county in which Spalding resides) is the “Heartland” of England – the major difference being that you can drive an hour and be at the beach! Ingoldmels is the closest coastal town to Spalding, on the eastern coast of England overlooking the North Sea. We spent a day in this charming, fun little coastal town. Ingoldmels has very much the same look and feel of many of England’s seaside towns. Brighton, Skegness, Blackpool, Ingoldmels…they all have a 1950s carnival feel. The smell of cotton candy and funnel cakes hang heavy in the air; the screams of children come from the classic wooden roller coaster and other out-dated amusement park rides; vendors stand in front of their game stalls trying to get patrons to try and win huge stuffed animals by throwing plastic rings over milk bottles. This stuff always reminds me of the movie Big. I really enjoyed my day there. I beat the crap out of Aaron on the bumper cars. Then I beat the crap out of Aaron at a game of pool. Then I walked on the beach and stuck my feet in the freezing cold water. It was fun! Best of all though, is that I got to spend the day getting to know Aaron’s wonderful mother, Glenda. What a warm, kind and welcoming lady! Aaron is so much like her, it is actually frightening. She’s a lovely woman who loves her son very much, and lucky for me, loves anyone who makes him happy. I guess that means I’m in the club!
My time in Spalding was very relaxed. Aaron showed me around his home town and, of course, made sure I visited his local pub: a little hole-in-the-wall called…wait…get this…The Hole in the Wall! Haha! Love it. It is a great little pub, mostly because it was filled with a bunch of Aaron’s friends and non-biological brothers whom I had a blast getting to know. I also got an awesome hair cut at the most fabulous salon I’ve ever been to. The service was absolutely flawless. For a small-town salon, I felt (and looked!) like a movie star. I’ve been back since, actually. I strategically planned my next visit to Spalding for a few weeks ago…just in time for a hair cut! Once again they did a brilliant job. So, if anyone’s in Spalding any time soon and needs to get their hair done, I’ve got a reference for you! The restaurants and cafes in Spalding were impressive as well. In general, I found myself pleasantly surprised by Spalding. It has a lovely, friendly farm-town feel, with some big-city commodities that I appreciated.
As I said, I’ve been back to Spalding a second time already, just a few weeks ago. I didn’t just go for the hair cut; it was finally time for me to meet Aaron’s daughter, Casey. I’ve now met both of Aaron’s children. I met his son, Morgan, a couple of months ago when Aaron brought him to stay with us at my house for a weekend. He is a charming, polite, sweet kid and I thoroughly enjoyed entertaining him around Wycombe and in London when he came to visit. He is his father’s son in many ways, bless him, including having procured his father’s unhealthy relationship with all things Star Wars. Casey, too, is a sweet and polite child. She looks JUST like Aaron. Seriously…he couldn’t sell this girl if he tried. She has his beautiful big brown eyes and naturally tan skin. She has his smile. She’s beautiful. And you know what else? She loves me! That proves it…she’s just like her daddy. I’m so pleased that I’ve met all of Aaron’s immediate family now and that we get along so well.
South Coast and Isle of Wight:
May half-term came, and my roommate Jessica and I decided to take a road trip down to the southern coast of England and out to the Isle of Wight. Not only is the beauty of southern England renowned, but it’s also where you can find some of the England’s most famously fun cities.
We decided that we would go basically straight south to Brighton, then work our way west from there. This means we missed a few towns on the eastern side of the south coast, but the only place I’m anxious to visit on that end is Dover, and I’ll pop by there some other time. Brighton is probably England’s most popular seaside destination. It offers a famously good time for kids and adults, as it has the rides and games that all seaside towns have, plus hundreds of bars, pubs and clubs, great restaurants, fantastic shopping, and a generally laid-back and pleasure-seeking atmosphere. After having survived the hardest term of the entire year at school, Brighton sounded like the perfect first stop for our vacation.
Our trip was only for five days, so we were unfortunately limited to no more than one day (sometimes less) per town. We had to utilize the time we had in order to see and do as much as possible. After dropping our suitcases at our very affordable, surprisingly nice hotel right on the beach (thank you lastminute.com!), we hopped onto one of England’s signature red double-decker, open-topped, sight-seeing buses. I absolutely love these buses. Some people think they’re too touristy, but I think they are perfect for getting your bearings in a city. They take you to all the major sights in a city, and there’s an audio guide (included in the cost of the bus ticket) that tells you all about the history of the city and the sights, and quite often tells you what other popular things there are to do and see in the city outside of the sights included on the bus route. They’re so convenient too. How they work is, you buy your ticket (usually cheaper if you buy it at your hotel) which is good for 24 hours. Once you have it, you can hop on and off the bus as much as you want throughout the day. I always get on the bus first thing in the day, stay on for the whole bus route (usually takes about an hour and a half), preferably from the open top of the double-decker on a nice day, and take it all in. Once I’ve done that and have a sense of where everything is and what I want to see more of, I start using the bus to hop on and off and spend as much time as I need at different sights. I think it’s great. Several major cities in Europe have them now. I always use them if I can. Brighton had one, so we used it.
Since we only had one day in Brighton, we spent most of our time in two parts of the city: the marina and the pier. The marina is a large area with more just a bunch of fancy yachts. There are tons of restaurants, bars and shopping, so Jess and I had a really laid-back afternoon wandering around and drinking cocktails on patios. We were lucky that our first day of holiday was really sunny and gorgeous. I even got a sunburn…not that that’s hard for me. It was the first day of the year that really felt like summer was on its way. We spent the evening on the pier. We ate fresh doughnuts, sang karaoke in one of the pier bars, and had a generally nice evening just walking around and people-watching. We went down to beach too, of course, but it was still way too cold for swimming or sunbathing. Plus, Brighton has pebble beaches, not sand. Ouch. But, as I always must whenever I am near the ocean or the sea – no matter how cold – I took off my shoes and walked out into the water. It was a relaxed, wonderfully stress-free day. Our plan for the evening was to go to a good Thai restaurant for dinner then out to one of the clubs, but my sunburn kicked in and by the time we’d finished eating, I was exhausted. I don’t know what it is, but sunburns make me sooooo sleepy. Jessica was ok with calling it an early night (if I’m honest, she’s pretty much always in favor of an early night ;)) so we sacked it after dinner.
We only had a bit of time in the morning to do some more wandering around. We went to a trendy area of Brighton known as “The Lanes” which had some great little shops – including a cake shop with some of the coolest, funkiest, most remarkably decorated cakes I have ever seen. We also went to the Royal Pavilion, though we didn’t go inside. It’s a pretty impressive building, but the entrance fee was too much, so we headed back to the hotel to pick up our stuff and head out.
We drove west towards Bournemouth, staying as close to the coast as possible, even if it meant driving on the little back roads instead of the fast motorways. Because of this, we stumbled across our best unexpected find of the trip: Lancing College. This is a very exclusive, elite secondary boarding school – not the American version of “College”. It is set on a sweeping green expanse of hillside, with sea views not far in the distance. It caught our eye from the road because of its chapel. Lancing College’s chapel is gothic and imposing. When we first saw it we thought it must be a part of a castle and we just about veered off the road trying to quickly detour up to it to check it out. We poked around the campus for a while then went into the chapel itself. An elderly gentleman, who apparently knows everything there is to know about the school and the chapel, took us on a tour. Turns out it’s the largest school chapel in England, which I definitely believe. It was huge for a school chapel, not to mention utterly breathtaking. Built in 1848, the school used to be an all boys’ college but is now co-ed. I really enjoyed listening to him tell us some of the history of the college. It’s certainly prestigious. Schools like Lancing College are the U.K. equivalent of U.S. Prep schools. Its students are being reared for universities like Oxford and Cambridge. Fancy Schmancy.
Once we’d learned all there was to know about Lancing College and its chapel (and purchasing an obligatory postcard), we set off again toward Bournemouth. The drive was pleasant. We had good music and plenty of ocean views to keep us occupied on the journey. At one point along the motorway, signs advertised a town with a castle, so we made a pit stop. While the castle was imposing and awesome from the outside, they wanted an exorbitant amount of money to go inside which we weren’t willing to pay. Unfortunately, we’d already paid for parking and had almost two hours to kill before we could justify leaving. I soon discovered that we’d made the right decision not going into the castle because the town had plenty to offer. We found a little craft fair where Jess purchased a bunch of lavender which we laid in the back window of the car, making the rest of our journey pleasantly fragrant. She also bought me a great big fake yellow daisy for £1 that accompanied the lavender in the back window. It made our little rented Fiat easy to spot when we were trying to find our car in parking lots. The car was naturally christened “Daisy” for the rest of the road trip. There was also a 14th century Roman church in the town that was free to tour and was probably older than the castle anyway. Possibly the most enjoyable part of our stop in this little village was the abundance of antique shops and boutiques. Jess is particularly fond of antique jewelery. She was in heaven. An unfortunate thing has happened in many of England’s villages that I think is absolutely abominable, and that I was thankful to find notably lacking in this town. Instead of the high street (main street) of the villages being comprised of local, independently owned, unique shops, many are now cluttered with typical English chain stores like Boots, WH Smiths, and Superdrug. It strips away so much of the charm and integrity of these otherwise picturesque English villages. This high street was, conversely, a wonderfully eclectic mix of shops; used books, maps, antiques, high-end designer clothing, and house wares were just a few of the many items being sold in shops along the high street, but without a corporate store name in sight. It was a quiet, lovely place. You might have noticed that the town’s name is lacking in my description of it, and that’s simply because I can’t remember what it is and I didn’t write it down. I suck. Sorry.
We had opted to spend the night in Bournemouth and then travel to Lymington to catch the ferry to the Isle of Wight the next morning. Even though this meant backtracking by about 30 miles, we had heard really great things about Bournemouth’s night life and we wanted to have an evening there to enjoy it. In the end, this was a bit of a waste. It took us forever to find our hotel in Bournemouth, so by the time we’d found it, dropped off our bags, changed clothes, and left to find dinner, I was already drained. The combination of the long drive, the unwinding stress from the school term, and my sunburn was knocking me on my butt. Thankfully, as I mentioned before, Jess is not what you would call a night time girl (her bed time usually ranges anywhere from 9 to 10 p.m.). She’ll go out late if I bully her into it, but mostly she prefers to stay in. As such, it wasn’t difficult to convince her to skip Bournemouth’s night life experience this time around. We had a yummy dinner at an Italian restaurant in town with great house wine, then went back to the hotel and crashed out. The other thing about Bournemouth we were looking forward to was the beaches. We had heard that Bournemouth has lovely, sandy beaches. This, too, ended up being wasted on us. The plan was to wake up early and spend a few hours walking around the town center and the beaches before going to the Isle of Wight for the rest of the day. Instead, we awoke to a deluge of rain outside the window: not the best walking around town and beach weather. Bournemouth looked nice from the car, but that’s about all I can tell you. With Bournemouth ruined, we drove sulkily towards Lymington, where the ferry would take us and our little rental car over to the Isle of Wight.
We were really hoping it would stop raining sometime that day so that we’d have a chance to enjoy the island in the sunshine. That didn’t happen. It rained ALL DAY, and it was so windy that we were very nearly blown off a cliff once or twice. Despite the crappy weather, I thought the Isle of Wight was very beautiful. After getting off the ferry at Yarmouth, we drove southeast towards Freshwater, having decided to travel the outer rim of the entire island in a counter-clockwise fashion. There was no special reason behind this decision. We may have even flipped a coin. That, in a nutshell, is how most of this trip progressed…in a flip of the coin, seat of our pants kind of way. I love that Jess is ok with travelling that way. It’s very important for any two people travelling together to be sure that they are kindred spirits in that regard. The result of finding yourself with your travel antithesis on a long journey can be utterly disastrous. For example, some travellers need an agenda and a detailed itinerary. That is NOT me. For a few of the destinations I’ve visited in the past (the especially “touristy” places with the “important” sights), I had to come up with a vague idea of where I wanted to go and what I wanted to see, but I just can’t plot out every minute of my day. It kills the experience for me. Wandering around and getting lost almost always ends up being my favorite thing I did while on vacation. Thankfully, Jess agrees that happenstance is preferable to a plan.
She and I were also compatible driving companions. That can also be a tricky one. I had to do all the driving on this trip because it would have cost extra to insure Jessica, being that she’s under twenty-five, so she played the role of navigator while I took the wheel (annoyingly located on the wrong side of the car). Now, a whole lot could have gone wrong here. 1) I had only driven in the U.K. once at this point, and I hit two curbs in 30 miles when I did it. 2) I do not have any understanding whatsoever of the ludicrous, six-lane roundabouts that you occasionally come across out here. 3) The car was a stick-shift, so I was learning to shift with the wrong hand while concurrently adapting to being on the wrong side of the road. 4) Jessica is rubbish with directions. Clearly, we should have gone careening off the road and crashed into a stone fence. At the very least, I assumed that some unsurpassable 27-lane roundabout would get the better of me and I would simply stop in the middle of it and bang my head against the steering wheel, sobbing and defeated. Miraculously, nothing quite so dramatic transpired. In fact, we managed to get the car back to the rental place without so much a scratched hubcap. I consider it one of the greater feats of my lifetime. It helped us that I am pretty unfazed about getting lost. A wrong turn does not whip me into a panic, much to Jessica’s relief. She seemed absolutely horrified the first couple times we took a wrong turn, apologizing profusely and hurriedly attempting to get us back on track. Apparently, she thought I was going to have her bull-whipped for leading us astray. My thoughts about taking a wrong turn: “Meh. Whatever. There’ll be a place to turn around eventually…or not. No biggie.” Jess’s thoughts: “OH MY GOD! We took a wrong turn!! We’re lost forever! What if this road drops us off the edge of the world?!?!” I finally had to shake her out of it and explain that it was ok if we went the wrong way every now and then. We would figure it out. It’s an adventure! She calmed down a lot after that. She was actually a very good navigator, giving helpful directions such, “Stay on the road.” This bit of advice became the joke of the trip. What she’d meant, of course, was, “Stay on THIS road,” but it didn’t come out this way. She was absorbed in the map and didn’t even realize what she’d said until I laughed out loud and replied, “Thanks for that. I’ll try to keep that in mind.” Laughter and singing were the two main sounds emitting from our vehicle for the majority of the trip: always a good sign. We also played millions of car games. I taught her how to play “Twenty Questions” which elicited a few moments of raucous laughter, nearly causing the above mentioned crash into a fence…but didn’t. I love road trips. I’d almost forgotten how much.
So ANYWAY…the Isle of Wight. It was rainy. I mentioned that. We headed south to the only specific destination we had been advised to visit, which was a historic amusement park on a cliff-edge called Blackgang Chine. It’s been there forever, but apparently won’t be there much longer as the cliff is eroding and the whole thing will soon fall into the sea. It probably could have been pretty cool. There was a fun pirate theme happening and the rides looked fun, but naturally not much of it could be enjoyed due to the weather. We’ll have to try it again sometime. We continued along the coastline of the island, stopping to get drenched and windblown while taking pictures at pretty places along the way. There was an incredible spot where the road runs right along a very sharp cliff drop-off into the sea on one side, with gorgeous lush green countryside to the other. We had to pull over and get out for pics. In all seriousness, I nearly got blown off the cliff, but it was totally worth it. Breathtaking views! We stumbled across a castle and took pics of the outside, though didn’t pay to go in. In the middle of absolutely nowhere, as we were starting to fade a bit from all the driving and wetness, we came across a farmhouse that had a small cream tea house attached to it (that’s tea with scones or cakes) where we stopped for a light lunch. It was darling! The hot tea hit the spot and the food was exactly what we needed to revive us. It was exactly kind of place my mother would absolutely adore! It was rugged and farmy, but clean and full of beautiful knick-knacks and antiques. She would have fit right in. The stop for tea kept us going for a while longer, but about ¾ of the way around the island, we’d had enough of the rain and not being able to really see anything or walk anywhere. I’m usually a fan of rain, but it washed out this destination for us just a bit. It was time to catch the ferry back to the bigger island. We took the short cut through the middle and headed back to Yarmouth to catch the ferry.
Our next destination in the south-westerly direction in which we were headed was a little sea-side town called Torquay, slightly famous because it is the town where a classic John Cleese comedy “Faulty Towers” is set. We knew we weren’t going to make it that far in what was left of our day after leaving the Isle of Wight and, as of yet, we had no set accommodations for the night. The first two nights we’d booked in advance, knowing where’d we be, but the plan was just to wing it for the third and fourth. We ended up stopping somewhere between Dorchester and Honiton, but that’s really about all I can tell you. I have no idea what the town was called. There were about ten houses and pub. We stopped at the pub for dinner, and found out that it also happened to be an inn. After inquiring about the room rate and finding it within our price range, the landlady showed us to our room. It was my first time staying at a village pub/inn! I felt like I was straight out of Pride and Prejudice or a Sherlock Holmes story. It was one of those extremely dorky things that I’ve always wanted to do. Yay! The room was serviceable (nothing fancy, as I’m sure you could guess), but it did have a big window with a nice view of the pretty little village. It also included a full English breakfast in the morning, which was scrumptious, leaving me very pleased with my first inn experience.
We set out for Torquay early the next morning, knowing we had a big day ahead of us. The little village was generally underwhelming, if I’m honest. It did have a lovely marina, but that’s about all. We stayed long enough to take our pictures next to a sign with the town name on it and do a little bit of shopping for “Faulty Towers”-related souvenirs. There weren’t any, so we headed out. West Cornwall was calling to us! Of the whole trip, I was looking forward to Cornwall the most. I had heard so much about its dramatic coastline and beautiful countryside. Lizard Point was our next planned stop. It’s the southern-most point in the U.K. The drive through Cornwall was everything I had heard it would be. Jess must have gotten sick of me exclaiming, “This is so beautiful!” every time we turned a corner to see another quaint English village nestled in a valley with a view of the bright blue sea just beyond it. I would actually have to say that it tied with northern California as being the most visually stunning scenery I’ve ever had the pleasure to see on a road trip…and if you’ve driven the coastal highway through northern California, you’ll know that’s really saying something. Over and over again, I was awed by the rolling hills, the valleys, forests, villages, and farmhouses – and the brilliant sea occasionally popping into view just beyond it all. It helped that the day of this drive we had perfect weather. It was glorious.
Lands End is the more famous southern point of England, but Lizard Point is actually the furthest south. England juts down to a rough point of sheer cliffs falling off to the water below. There is a lighthouse, which was unfortunately closed to visitors the day we were there. All along the road leading down to the point, there were little hut-like shops selling miniature lighthouses made of every possible material: glass, stone, ceramic, shells, etc. If it weren’t for the fact that I’m trying to avoid buying any kind of knick-knack while I am living out here, I totally would have bought one. Lizard Point itself was very well kept and well presented. I WISH we had had more time there. I could have spent the entire day walking the footpaths along the cliffs, taking in the breathtaking view of the ocean to one side, and rolling hills of prairie grass and wild flowers to the other. You know when you have a specific vision of a place, and then you get there and you feel let down because it was less than you hoped for? I’ve experienced that disappointment many times in my travels. Cornwall, however, delivered. In every respect. I LOVED it there. I will be spending more time there before I move home – that is a certainty.
It was early evening by the time we were able to pry ourselves away from Lizard Point, back towards the village to find some food. Inexplicably, everywhere we stopped to find food wasn’t serving any yet. It was about 5:30 p.m. and we couldn’t find a single bloody restaurant serving food for at least an hour! It was ludicrous. I had always wondered about the pubs along the roadsides that had signs advertising, “Food served all day”, because I had never been to a place that serves food that DOESN’T serve food during several selected hours throughout the day. All of a sudden, we couldn’t find a single “Food served all day” restaurant or pub. So, we drove to another town. Same problem, only worse! The first three restaurant/pub looking establishments we went to didn’t serve food at all!!!! I was starving and quickly becoming very grumpy, but it was seriously almost laughable. Finally, FINALLY, we found Giuseppe’s, open for business and serving hot, delicious Italian food and very decent house wine. Thank God for the Italians or we may have starved to death in Helston, which we have officially renamed “The Town With No Food”. Phew! Quite the ordeal…
We were thrilled to leave Helston and head towards Lands End. Even though it was about 7:00 p.m. at this point, we still had plenty of sunlight left and knew (again) that we had a big day of driving ahead of us the next day – which also happened to be the final day of our trip. We wanted to squeeze in as much as possible and Lands End was only about 30 miles away. I wanted to be touristy and take my picture beside the sign the points west and says “New York 3147”. When we arrived at Lands End, it was nearly deserted because of the time, yet I could tell right away that it was definitely more touristy and commercialized than Lizard Point which made me automatically like it less. There were a bunch of shops and a fancy restaurant overlooking the water. We skipped the shopping area completely and walked around the point for a while, admiring the cliffs that were perhaps even more beautiful and dramatic than the ones at Lizard Point. The sun was setting while we walked around, enjoying the sound of the surf and the smell of mint that rises from waves. It really was beautiful. When we went looking for the sign to take our touristy picture next to it, we couldn’t find it. After asking around for a few minutes we discovered that they take the sign in when they close because (GET THIS!!) you now have to pay to take your picture beside it. Unbelievable! I was utterly aghast. Bloody sodding bloomin’ buggering money-grubbing bastards! We left promptly and drove to Penzance to find a hotel for the night.
Finding a hotel in Penzance turned out to be almost as difficult as finding food in “The Town With No Food”. We stopped at about eight different hotels and B&Bs before we found one with any vacancies or within our price range. Finally, we got the last available room at an affordable hotel (The Lugger Hotel) right by the lovely water of Mount’s Bay. We seriously lucked out in finding this hotel. Not only was it affordable and in a great location, it also had one of the most comfortable beds I’ve ever slept in. I got an amazing night’s sleep and woke up (slightly later than planned) feeling refreshed and invigorated by the beautiful day awaiting us outside. Mount’s Bay is so named because of St. Michael’s Mount, the main attraction in the area. But for me, St. Michael’s Mount was the second reason I was excited to be in Penzance. The first, of course, was that it’s Penzance!...and I couldn’t wait to run around acting like a pirate!! I did so, joyously, all morning. Shops selling “pirate loot” line the boardwalk along the bay, and in the marina we found one on an actual boat that the owners had dressed up as piratey as possible. Big fun was had.
St. Michael’s Mount is a tiny island in the bay about ¼ mile from shore. At low tide, you can take off your shoes and walk the stone causeway out the Mount, the sea water slapping gently around your ankles. At high tide, the water completely covers the path, so you don’t have a choice but to be taken over in one of the little motor boats that run back and forth pretty regularly between the shore and the Mount. We arrived at high tide, so we paid our £3.00 and enjoyed the ride. We hadn’t even heard of St. Michael's Mount until I sent Aaron a text telling him we were staying in Penzance for the night, and he insisted that we visit St. Michael’s Mount. A place steeped in spiritual myth and legend, including tales of a giant who once lived there and the archangel St. Michael visiting some fisherman in 495 A.D., the island lends itself easily to the imagination. It’s stunning in and of itself, but the stories make it even more enticing. A fairytale-esque castle is the most prominent feature on the mount, but keeping with the trend on this trip, Jess and I opted out of going inside. Looking back, we probably should have spent the money to tour at least one of the castles we came upon during our five day journey, but we were on a budget. Oh well. I’ll do it later. Maybe when someone comes to visit we can go to Penzance and we’ll go inside the castle. (I had to drop at least ONE visitor hint!) Jess and I didn’t feel the lack of it though, because the gardens around the castle were absolutely spectacular. They crisscross up the hillside the castle is situated upon, one terrace after another. They wrap around most of the castle’s perimeter and were quite high, so they afford gorgeous views of Penzance, the bay, the country side, and the open sea stretching out into brilliant blue nothingness to the horizon. I so enjoyed my day there. I took my shoes off and walked around in the cool, soft grass and breathed the sea air in deeply. There weren’t a ton of people to distract from the experience, either. Perhaps it was just the right time of year for Cornwall. I didn’t feel bombarded by crowds of tourists, as I feared I would. The two sounds that stand out in my memory from St. Michael’s Mount are the sound of bumble bees and the waves crashing against the rocks below the castle gardens, not the sound of cars or people. Absolute serenity. Dampening the experience only slightly was the knowledge that this was our last day of travel. The time had come to leave Cornwall and start the arduous drive home. Home, however, had to wait long enough for us to briefly visit one last town: Cheddar.
Yep. Cheddar. The birthplace of cheddar cheese. And Yep. That’s the whole reason we wanted to go there. Apparently, it has other things to offer tourists in the area, such as a supposedly impressive gorge just outside the village. Now, I don’t mean to sound like a huge snob, but I’m from Colorado. I felt highly sceptical about just how impressive I would find Cheddar Gorge. Plus, we didn’t have time. We parked and walked around the village, which was very cute, and shopped for cheese at the numerous little shops advertising “The best cheddar in Cheddar!” We sampled every possible variation of cheddar cheese imaginable until finally buying ourselves chunks of a few different flavors, as well as some alcoholic cider – also famously produced in Cheddar. It was a very quick visit, but we got what we came for, and now I can say that I’ve been to the birthplace of cheddar cheese. I’m not sure why that’s exciting, but I’m sure proud of it!
Visitors:
Liz and Jon came out to see me for their anniversary in March. I had to work for the majority of their time here, sadly, so they did most of their travelling without me. It irritates me when I have to be working when I would rather be…well…doing anything else. But we did get the weekends to hang out and see some local sights together that I hadn't been to yet. Case in point, I finally went to Stonehenge! It’s only an hour and half away from where I live, yet it took visitors from home to get me there. The problem is the damn place is in the middle of freaking nowhere and next to impossible to get to without a car. Liz and Jon rented one in order that they might go get lost in the English countryside for a couple days, so I finally had transport to get to the Salisbury plain. I had heard mixed reviews about Stonehenge. Some visitors thought it was a magical, spiritual experience. Others (mostly English people) think Stonehenge is an overrated pile of old rocks. I’d place my feelings in the middle, somewhere between “Kinda Cool” and “Meh.” It’s kinda cool that it’s been there for so many thousands and thousands of years, and it’s kinda cool that we don’t really know what its original purpose was and there are all these theories about it, and the whole area has a kinda cool aura. In the end, though, it is a pile of old rocks – albeit an interestingly formed pile of old rocks. Certainly one of those things you must see once. I have now seen it three times. I think I’ve had my fill.
St. Patrick’s Day happened to fall in the week of their visit, so I had the pleasure of introducing them to one of my favourite pubs, O’Neilles, which is actually an Irish pub rather than an English one and the perfect place to celebrate St. Patty’s. It ended up being quite the party. Our group included Aaron and I, Liz, Jon, Jess, and Dominic, but then a huge group of Aaron’s army buddies showed up unexpectedly as well. They’re always a good time. There was wine, good Irish beer, glow sticks, plenty of silly hats, and several digital cameras: recipe for a memorable Irish Pride day!
Their visit wouldn’t have been complete, of course, without ample opportunity to question and judge the man in my life. Liz and Jon certainly seemed to enjoy grilling Aaron on every possible subject to make sure he passed the “Family Approval Test”. Apparently, according to Liz and Jon, he’s our kind of crazy, so he’s allowed to stay. Woo hoo!
I was sorry to see Liz and Jon go. I sure do miss my family.
Thankfully, another visitor wasn’t too far behind them! Mike Fitzsimmons came to stay for about ten days in June. I actually feel really bad about Fitz’s visit, because I was not exactly a primo hostess. The circumstances for this were unavoidable, but I do wish things had been different. You see, Fitz arrived at Heathrow airport a few hours before I did upon returning from a horrible and unexpected trip to Colorado for my friend Kelly’s funeral. I was home in CO for the entire week leading up to Fitz’s visit, so I had no time to clean or prepare at all for his arrival. I had to count entirely on my roommates to get things ready for him, and thank God for them! They had his room ready and picked him up from the airport for me, as well as picking me up from the airport a few hours later. I was also a stressed-out mess after I got back because of work, not to mention terribly sad. So Fitz, if you’re reading this, I insist you come back to see me when I’m feeling more myself!
Despite the complications, having Fitz here was a blast. He spent a good portion of his time travelling around while I was at work, but we did get to go to Oxford and Stonehenge together, plus I enjoyed introducing him to my friends and showing him a bit of my life out here. The ten days flew by, and all too soon, he was headed back to the real world. I don’t think he liked the idea any better than I did. Come back soon, Fitz!
Other Local Traveling:
I’ve done a few more local day trips in the last few months. I’ve been back to Oxford a couple of times and went to a festival at Blenheim Palace, which is about 30 miles north of Oxford. Blenheim Palace (pronounced Blen-um) is the massive and utterly grand palace where Winston Churchill was born. I visited the palace grounds five years ago but wasn’t able to afford to tour the palace itself. I went this time for a jousting tournament (think Ren Fest’s joust, only with real English accents and a far more grand setting). Yes, it was just a jousting re-enactment, cheesy as you would expect, but it was also good fun. After the joust, I got to try my hand at archery! I suck…though not as bad Dom. It was worth it just to have access to the palace grounds again, since I didn’t have much time there the first time I went. Blenheim’s grounds are my favorite of any palace or castle I’ve ever visited. Versailles has all the fountains and Hannover has the meticulously planned, color-themed gardens, but Blenheim’s grounds manage to incorporate groomed, quintessentially English gardens subtly, still allowing for acres and acres of forest and relative wilderness perfect for getting lost in. I could literally wander through the grounds and gardens for hours and not get bored. I did tour the palace itself this time as well. The ground floor of the palace is still perfectly intact and it is gorgeous. Historic state rooms ornately decorated with authentic tapestries, antique furniture, and life-size portraits of noble lords and ladies can be viewed by tourists, though naturally nothing can be touched. This includes the bedroom where Winston Churchill was born. It was very interesting. The second floor of the palace, on the other hand, was hugely disappointing. In order to tell the story of the palace and the generations of nobility who lived there, someone thought it would be a great idea to turn the upstairs into a horribly corny wax museum where a “ghost” (a projection on the wall of an actress pretending to be a former maid of the palace) gives you an audio tour through the “rooms” (not the real rooms – cheaply constructed false ones made with something resembling painted cardboard). It was boring and a waste of time. If you go to Blenheim, which I definitely recommend, stick to the grounds and the state rooms. Also make sure you visit the Pleasure Gardens. There’s a hedge labyrinth, a putting green, an Alice in Wonderland-style oversized chess board, and more. Aaron, Jessica, Dom, Chris and I spent an enjoyable afternoon there. Just so you know, playing hide and seek with five people in the labyrinth is a SUPER good time!
I’ve spent a few more days in London. I think I average about one day in London a month, which I happen to think is an absolute waste. I wish so badly that living in London was an option for me. Every day that I spend there makes me love it more. I’ve now visited the British Museum and the famed Tate Modern (both free museums), hung out for an evening in jazzy, funky, eclectic, cool Soho, and seen another show. Blood Brothers is a very good story and has some great music in it, but because of some truly bad directorial choices, I didn’t like this particular production of it at all. Even for a musical, this was cheesy. There are some very serious and sad moments in this play, but for the majority of them, I had to force myself not to laugh. Oh well. I’ve rarely been disappointed with a show in London. I guess there has to be one every now and then.
A few weeks ago, my Canadian friend Val and her friend Jane decided to drive to Cambridge for the day. When she invited me along, I enthusiastically accepted. Hooray for people with cars who let me tag along! I wondered if I would think as highly of Cambridge as I do Oxford. My verdict: not as good as Oxford, but pretty damn impressive. The architecture, while stately and certainly scholarly, simply didn’t compare with Oxford’s majestic spires and domes. What it did have, however, that I’ve never noticed in Oxford, is an abundance of chimneys. I loved glancing down alleys and seeing dozens of chimneys atop the houses that curved along the road. It immediately brought to mind Mary Poppins and the chimneysweeps dancing across the roofs of London. One of the most popular things to do in Cambridge is to have afternoon tea in a place called The Orchard. The tradition of taking tea at The Orchard became a famous one because of writers and artists the likes of Rupert Brooke and Virginia Woolf who used to punt up the river and sit for hours in The Orchard, picnicking and discussing literature. Many famous artists, musicians, writers and philosophers have carried on this tradition throughout the centuries, as well as tourists who thought it would be fun to be pretentious by sitting in The Orchard, drinking tea and reading poetry to each other. This was our plan, but alas! We were deterred by about a million wasps that were out in force the day of our visit. I’m not usually terribly squeamish with bees and wasps, but the infestation was so bad that the second we sat down amongst the trees and opened the jar of jam for our scones, about thirty of them swarmed the table, literally covering Val’s scone. We almost had to abandon the scone as a lost cause, but brave Jane charged in and rescued the tea tray from the table, miraculously managing to escape un-stung. We had our tea in the unromantic and unliterary café, then left, crestfallen by our failed endeavour to join the ranks of generations of snooty academics. Lame. Perhaps the most memorable thing about Cambridge for me is the fabulous multi-colored hand-made belt I bought at a small outdoor craft market we found. I’m in love with it and it’s completely one of a kind. By and large, a satisfactory day in Cambridge!
My faaaabulous 29th birthday:
My suspicions that my boyfriend Aaron is INCREDIBLE were officially confirmed on July 3rd, when he and his friend Chris arranged a fabulous birthday celebration evening for me and Jess, whose birthday had been a couple weeks prior. We all got dressed up in our best rags (the boys even bought new suits for the occasion) and were treated to a ride in a white stretch limo, complete with champagne. We cruised for a while then the limo dropped us at O’Neilles, where the boys had gone earlier in the day and arranged a special table for us, decorated with dozens of balloons to match our dresses. We were spoiled with star-treatment by the wait staff and the boys all evening. The best part of the birthday was yet to come. My attentive boyfriend had heard me complain that this would be the first time I wouldn’t get to see fireworks on my birthday. Well, he couldn’t have that! The insane man paid a ludicrous amount of money and trekked 176 miles round-trip to acquire fireworks in July in England – a nearly impossible task, apparently. When we arrived home, the boys set everything up, some speeches were made, and we lit the boxed fireworks display. It sent a variety of beautiful, sparkling colors into the sky for almost five minutes. I was so happy! It was a wonderful, unforgettable birthday.
End of the school year and summer vacation:
I survived it. Barely. Thank God. I then had a six-week summer holiday which ends September 1st. I say “had”, because it’s basically over now. I go back to school in three days. Tragic. I’m hoping for a smoother ride this year, now that I feel like I’ve figured things out a little bit. I add another level of stress though, because I’ll be going through the process to get “Qualified Teacher Status” in the U.K. Funny, I thought that 4 ½ years I spent in college, all those degrees, certificates and licenses I earned, and the last six years I’ve spent teaching meant that I was already a qualified teacher. Not according to England. I’ll essentially be going through the licensure program that I did in college all over again, including compiling a massive and useless portfolio. *sigh* Shit.
For summer vacation, the original plan was to travel for the entire six weeks, but finances simply did not allow. I managed to get a week away in Turkey with Aaron. It was a beautiful place, and we had a relaxing week of swimming, sun bathing and exploring the Bodrum peninsula. Details to come in the next blog. Remember that you can view all my photos on Facebook.
Easter in Spalding:
After those four fabulous days in Scotland, I headed back south into England to a small town called Spalding - my boyfriend’s hometown. His mother invited me to come spend Easter with them, and I gladly accepted; otherwise, my Easter dinner probably would have consisted of a frozen pizza and a glass of wine. Of course, it wasn’t just my desire for a home-cooked meal that took me to Spalding; there’s also the fact that I very much wanted to meet Aaron’s family.
Spalding, and the surrounding countryside, reminds me very much of the farming communities in South Dakota. I would go so far as to say that Lincolnshire (the county in which Spalding resides) is the “Heartland” of England – the major difference being that you can drive an hour and be at the beach! Ingoldmels is the closest coastal town to Spalding, on the eastern coast of England overlooking the North Sea. We spent a day in this charming, fun little coastal town. Ingoldmels has very much the same look and feel of many of England’s seaside towns. Brighton, Skegness, Blackpool, Ingoldmels…they all have a 1950s carnival feel. The smell of cotton candy and funnel cakes hang heavy in the air; the screams of children come from the classic wooden roller coaster and other out-dated amusement park rides; vendors stand in front of their game stalls trying to get patrons to try and win huge stuffed animals by throwing plastic rings over milk bottles. This stuff always reminds me of the movie Big. I really enjoyed my day there. I beat the crap out of Aaron on the bumper cars. Then I beat the crap out of Aaron at a game of pool. Then I walked on the beach and stuck my feet in the freezing cold water. It was fun! Best of all though, is that I got to spend the day getting to know Aaron’s wonderful mother, Glenda. What a warm, kind and welcoming lady! Aaron is so much like her, it is actually frightening. She’s a lovely woman who loves her son very much, and lucky for me, loves anyone who makes him happy. I guess that means I’m in the club!
My time in Spalding was very relaxed. Aaron showed me around his home town and, of course, made sure I visited his local pub: a little hole-in-the-wall called…wait…get this…The Hole in the Wall! Haha! Love it. It is a great little pub, mostly because it was filled with a bunch of Aaron’s friends and non-biological brothers whom I had a blast getting to know. I also got an awesome hair cut at the most fabulous salon I’ve ever been to. The service was absolutely flawless. For a small-town salon, I felt (and looked!) like a movie star. I’ve been back since, actually. I strategically planned my next visit to Spalding for a few weeks ago…just in time for a hair cut! Once again they did a brilliant job. So, if anyone’s in Spalding any time soon and needs to get their hair done, I’ve got a reference for you! The restaurants and cafes in Spalding were impressive as well. In general, I found myself pleasantly surprised by Spalding. It has a lovely, friendly farm-town feel, with some big-city commodities that I appreciated.
As I said, I’ve been back to Spalding a second time already, just a few weeks ago. I didn’t just go for the hair cut; it was finally time for me to meet Aaron’s daughter, Casey. I’ve now met both of Aaron’s children. I met his son, Morgan, a couple of months ago when Aaron brought him to stay with us at my house for a weekend. He is a charming, polite, sweet kid and I thoroughly enjoyed entertaining him around Wycombe and in London when he came to visit. He is his father’s son in many ways, bless him, including having procured his father’s unhealthy relationship with all things Star Wars. Casey, too, is a sweet and polite child. She looks JUST like Aaron. Seriously…he couldn’t sell this girl if he tried. She has his beautiful big brown eyes and naturally tan skin. She has his smile. She’s beautiful. And you know what else? She loves me! That proves it…she’s just like her daddy. I’m so pleased that I’ve met all of Aaron’s immediate family now and that we get along so well.
South Coast and Isle of Wight:
May half-term came, and my roommate Jessica and I decided to take a road trip down to the southern coast of England and out to the Isle of Wight. Not only is the beauty of southern England renowned, but it’s also where you can find some of the England’s most famously fun cities.
We decided that we would go basically straight south to Brighton, then work our way west from there. This means we missed a few towns on the eastern side of the south coast, but the only place I’m anxious to visit on that end is Dover, and I’ll pop by there some other time. Brighton is probably England’s most popular seaside destination. It offers a famously good time for kids and adults, as it has the rides and games that all seaside towns have, plus hundreds of bars, pubs and clubs, great restaurants, fantastic shopping, and a generally laid-back and pleasure-seeking atmosphere. After having survived the hardest term of the entire year at school, Brighton sounded like the perfect first stop for our vacation.
Our trip was only for five days, so we were unfortunately limited to no more than one day (sometimes less) per town. We had to utilize the time we had in order to see and do as much as possible. After dropping our suitcases at our very affordable, surprisingly nice hotel right on the beach (thank you lastminute.com!), we hopped onto one of England’s signature red double-decker, open-topped, sight-seeing buses. I absolutely love these buses. Some people think they’re too touristy, but I think they are perfect for getting your bearings in a city. They take you to all the major sights in a city, and there’s an audio guide (included in the cost of the bus ticket) that tells you all about the history of the city and the sights, and quite often tells you what other popular things there are to do and see in the city outside of the sights included on the bus route. They’re so convenient too. How they work is, you buy your ticket (usually cheaper if you buy it at your hotel) which is good for 24 hours. Once you have it, you can hop on and off the bus as much as you want throughout the day. I always get on the bus first thing in the day, stay on for the whole bus route (usually takes about an hour and a half), preferably from the open top of the double-decker on a nice day, and take it all in. Once I’ve done that and have a sense of where everything is and what I want to see more of, I start using the bus to hop on and off and spend as much time as I need at different sights. I think it’s great. Several major cities in Europe have them now. I always use them if I can. Brighton had one, so we used it.
Since we only had one day in Brighton, we spent most of our time in two parts of the city: the marina and the pier. The marina is a large area with more just a bunch of fancy yachts. There are tons of restaurants, bars and shopping, so Jess and I had a really laid-back afternoon wandering around and drinking cocktails on patios. We were lucky that our first day of holiday was really sunny and gorgeous. I even got a sunburn…not that that’s hard for me. It was the first day of the year that really felt like summer was on its way. We spent the evening on the pier. We ate fresh doughnuts, sang karaoke in one of the pier bars, and had a generally nice evening just walking around and people-watching. We went down to beach too, of course, but it was still way too cold for swimming or sunbathing. Plus, Brighton has pebble beaches, not sand. Ouch. But, as I always must whenever I am near the ocean or the sea – no matter how cold – I took off my shoes and walked out into the water. It was a relaxed, wonderfully stress-free day. Our plan for the evening was to go to a good Thai restaurant for dinner then out to one of the clubs, but my sunburn kicked in and by the time we’d finished eating, I was exhausted. I don’t know what it is, but sunburns make me sooooo sleepy. Jessica was ok with calling it an early night (if I’m honest, she’s pretty much always in favor of an early night ;)) so we sacked it after dinner.
We only had a bit of time in the morning to do some more wandering around. We went to a trendy area of Brighton known as “The Lanes” which had some great little shops – including a cake shop with some of the coolest, funkiest, most remarkably decorated cakes I have ever seen. We also went to the Royal Pavilion, though we didn’t go inside. It’s a pretty impressive building, but the entrance fee was too much, so we headed back to the hotel to pick up our stuff and head out.
We drove west towards Bournemouth, staying as close to the coast as possible, even if it meant driving on the little back roads instead of the fast motorways. Because of this, we stumbled across our best unexpected find of the trip: Lancing College. This is a very exclusive, elite secondary boarding school – not the American version of “College”. It is set on a sweeping green expanse of hillside, with sea views not far in the distance. It caught our eye from the road because of its chapel. Lancing College’s chapel is gothic and imposing. When we first saw it we thought it must be a part of a castle and we just about veered off the road trying to quickly detour up to it to check it out. We poked around the campus for a while then went into the chapel itself. An elderly gentleman, who apparently knows everything there is to know about the school and the chapel, took us on a tour. Turns out it’s the largest school chapel in England, which I definitely believe. It was huge for a school chapel, not to mention utterly breathtaking. Built in 1848, the school used to be an all boys’ college but is now co-ed. I really enjoyed listening to him tell us some of the history of the college. It’s certainly prestigious. Schools like Lancing College are the U.K. equivalent of U.S. Prep schools. Its students are being reared for universities like Oxford and Cambridge. Fancy Schmancy.
Once we’d learned all there was to know about Lancing College and its chapel (and purchasing an obligatory postcard), we set off again toward Bournemouth. The drive was pleasant. We had good music and plenty of ocean views to keep us occupied on the journey. At one point along the motorway, signs advertised a town with a castle, so we made a pit stop. While the castle was imposing and awesome from the outside, they wanted an exorbitant amount of money to go inside which we weren’t willing to pay. Unfortunately, we’d already paid for parking and had almost two hours to kill before we could justify leaving. I soon discovered that we’d made the right decision not going into the castle because the town had plenty to offer. We found a little craft fair where Jess purchased a bunch of lavender which we laid in the back window of the car, making the rest of our journey pleasantly fragrant. She also bought me a great big fake yellow daisy for £1 that accompanied the lavender in the back window. It made our little rented Fiat easy to spot when we were trying to find our car in parking lots. The car was naturally christened “Daisy” for the rest of the road trip. There was also a 14th century Roman church in the town that was free to tour and was probably older than the castle anyway. Possibly the most enjoyable part of our stop in this little village was the abundance of antique shops and boutiques. Jess is particularly fond of antique jewelery. She was in heaven. An unfortunate thing has happened in many of England’s villages that I think is absolutely abominable, and that I was thankful to find notably lacking in this town. Instead of the high street (main street) of the villages being comprised of local, independently owned, unique shops, many are now cluttered with typical English chain stores like Boots, WH Smiths, and Superdrug. It strips away so much of the charm and integrity of these otherwise picturesque English villages. This high street was, conversely, a wonderfully eclectic mix of shops; used books, maps, antiques, high-end designer clothing, and house wares were just a few of the many items being sold in shops along the high street, but without a corporate store name in sight. It was a quiet, lovely place. You might have noticed that the town’s name is lacking in my description of it, and that’s simply because I can’t remember what it is and I didn’t write it down. I suck. Sorry.
We had opted to spend the night in Bournemouth and then travel to Lymington to catch the ferry to the Isle of Wight the next morning. Even though this meant backtracking by about 30 miles, we had heard really great things about Bournemouth’s night life and we wanted to have an evening there to enjoy it. In the end, this was a bit of a waste. It took us forever to find our hotel in Bournemouth, so by the time we’d found it, dropped off our bags, changed clothes, and left to find dinner, I was already drained. The combination of the long drive, the unwinding stress from the school term, and my sunburn was knocking me on my butt. Thankfully, as I mentioned before, Jess is not what you would call a night time girl (her bed time usually ranges anywhere from 9 to 10 p.m.). She’ll go out late if I bully her into it, but mostly she prefers to stay in. As such, it wasn’t difficult to convince her to skip Bournemouth’s night life experience this time around. We had a yummy dinner at an Italian restaurant in town with great house wine, then went back to the hotel and crashed out. The other thing about Bournemouth we were looking forward to was the beaches. We had heard that Bournemouth has lovely, sandy beaches. This, too, ended up being wasted on us. The plan was to wake up early and spend a few hours walking around the town center and the beaches before going to the Isle of Wight for the rest of the day. Instead, we awoke to a deluge of rain outside the window: not the best walking around town and beach weather. Bournemouth looked nice from the car, but that’s about all I can tell you. With Bournemouth ruined, we drove sulkily towards Lymington, where the ferry would take us and our little rental car over to the Isle of Wight.
We were really hoping it would stop raining sometime that day so that we’d have a chance to enjoy the island in the sunshine. That didn’t happen. It rained ALL DAY, and it was so windy that we were very nearly blown off a cliff once or twice. Despite the crappy weather, I thought the Isle of Wight was very beautiful. After getting off the ferry at Yarmouth, we drove southeast towards Freshwater, having decided to travel the outer rim of the entire island in a counter-clockwise fashion. There was no special reason behind this decision. We may have even flipped a coin. That, in a nutshell, is how most of this trip progressed…in a flip of the coin, seat of our pants kind of way. I love that Jess is ok with travelling that way. It’s very important for any two people travelling together to be sure that they are kindred spirits in that regard. The result of finding yourself with your travel antithesis on a long journey can be utterly disastrous. For example, some travellers need an agenda and a detailed itinerary. That is NOT me. For a few of the destinations I’ve visited in the past (the especially “touristy” places with the “important” sights), I had to come up with a vague idea of where I wanted to go and what I wanted to see, but I just can’t plot out every minute of my day. It kills the experience for me. Wandering around and getting lost almost always ends up being my favorite thing I did while on vacation. Thankfully, Jess agrees that happenstance is preferable to a plan.
She and I were also compatible driving companions. That can also be a tricky one. I had to do all the driving on this trip because it would have cost extra to insure Jessica, being that she’s under twenty-five, so she played the role of navigator while I took the wheel (annoyingly located on the wrong side of the car). Now, a whole lot could have gone wrong here. 1) I had only driven in the U.K. once at this point, and I hit two curbs in 30 miles when I did it. 2) I do not have any understanding whatsoever of the ludicrous, six-lane roundabouts that you occasionally come across out here. 3) The car was a stick-shift, so I was learning to shift with the wrong hand while concurrently adapting to being on the wrong side of the road. 4) Jessica is rubbish with directions. Clearly, we should have gone careening off the road and crashed into a stone fence. At the very least, I assumed that some unsurpassable 27-lane roundabout would get the better of me and I would simply stop in the middle of it and bang my head against the steering wheel, sobbing and defeated. Miraculously, nothing quite so dramatic transpired. In fact, we managed to get the car back to the rental place without so much a scratched hubcap. I consider it one of the greater feats of my lifetime. It helped us that I am pretty unfazed about getting lost. A wrong turn does not whip me into a panic, much to Jessica’s relief. She seemed absolutely horrified the first couple times we took a wrong turn, apologizing profusely and hurriedly attempting to get us back on track. Apparently, she thought I was going to have her bull-whipped for leading us astray. My thoughts about taking a wrong turn: “Meh. Whatever. There’ll be a place to turn around eventually…or not. No biggie.” Jess’s thoughts: “OH MY GOD! We took a wrong turn!! We’re lost forever! What if this road drops us off the edge of the world?!?!” I finally had to shake her out of it and explain that it was ok if we went the wrong way every now and then. We would figure it out. It’s an adventure! She calmed down a lot after that. She was actually a very good navigator, giving helpful directions such, “Stay on the road.” This bit of advice became the joke of the trip. What she’d meant, of course, was, “Stay on THIS road,” but it didn’t come out this way. She was absorbed in the map and didn’t even realize what she’d said until I laughed out loud and replied, “Thanks for that. I’ll try to keep that in mind.” Laughter and singing were the two main sounds emitting from our vehicle for the majority of the trip: always a good sign. We also played millions of car games. I taught her how to play “Twenty Questions” which elicited a few moments of raucous laughter, nearly causing the above mentioned crash into a fence…but didn’t. I love road trips. I’d almost forgotten how much.
So ANYWAY…the Isle of Wight. It was rainy. I mentioned that. We headed south to the only specific destination we had been advised to visit, which was a historic amusement park on a cliff-edge called Blackgang Chine. It’s been there forever, but apparently won’t be there much longer as the cliff is eroding and the whole thing will soon fall into the sea. It probably could have been pretty cool. There was a fun pirate theme happening and the rides looked fun, but naturally not much of it could be enjoyed due to the weather. We’ll have to try it again sometime. We continued along the coastline of the island, stopping to get drenched and windblown while taking pictures at pretty places along the way. There was an incredible spot where the road runs right along a very sharp cliff drop-off into the sea on one side, with gorgeous lush green countryside to the other. We had to pull over and get out for pics. In all seriousness, I nearly got blown off the cliff, but it was totally worth it. Breathtaking views! We stumbled across a castle and took pics of the outside, though didn’t pay to go in. In the middle of absolutely nowhere, as we were starting to fade a bit from all the driving and wetness, we came across a farmhouse that had a small cream tea house attached to it (that’s tea with scones or cakes) where we stopped for a light lunch. It was darling! The hot tea hit the spot and the food was exactly what we needed to revive us. It was exactly kind of place my mother would absolutely adore! It was rugged and farmy, but clean and full of beautiful knick-knacks and antiques. She would have fit right in. The stop for tea kept us going for a while longer, but about ¾ of the way around the island, we’d had enough of the rain and not being able to really see anything or walk anywhere. I’m usually a fan of rain, but it washed out this destination for us just a bit. It was time to catch the ferry back to the bigger island. We took the short cut through the middle and headed back to Yarmouth to catch the ferry.
Our next destination in the south-westerly direction in which we were headed was a little sea-side town called Torquay, slightly famous because it is the town where a classic John Cleese comedy “Faulty Towers” is set. We knew we weren’t going to make it that far in what was left of our day after leaving the Isle of Wight and, as of yet, we had no set accommodations for the night. The first two nights we’d booked in advance, knowing where’d we be, but the plan was just to wing it for the third and fourth. We ended up stopping somewhere between Dorchester and Honiton, but that’s really about all I can tell you. I have no idea what the town was called. There were about ten houses and pub. We stopped at the pub for dinner, and found out that it also happened to be an inn. After inquiring about the room rate and finding it within our price range, the landlady showed us to our room. It was my first time staying at a village pub/inn! I felt like I was straight out of Pride and Prejudice or a Sherlock Holmes story. It was one of those extremely dorky things that I’ve always wanted to do. Yay! The room was serviceable (nothing fancy, as I’m sure you could guess), but it did have a big window with a nice view of the pretty little village. It also included a full English breakfast in the morning, which was scrumptious, leaving me very pleased with my first inn experience.
We set out for Torquay early the next morning, knowing we had a big day ahead of us. The little village was generally underwhelming, if I’m honest. It did have a lovely marina, but that’s about all. We stayed long enough to take our pictures next to a sign with the town name on it and do a little bit of shopping for “Faulty Towers”-related souvenirs. There weren’t any, so we headed out. West Cornwall was calling to us! Of the whole trip, I was looking forward to Cornwall the most. I had heard so much about its dramatic coastline and beautiful countryside. Lizard Point was our next planned stop. It’s the southern-most point in the U.K. The drive through Cornwall was everything I had heard it would be. Jess must have gotten sick of me exclaiming, “This is so beautiful!” every time we turned a corner to see another quaint English village nestled in a valley with a view of the bright blue sea just beyond it. I would actually have to say that it tied with northern California as being the most visually stunning scenery I’ve ever had the pleasure to see on a road trip…and if you’ve driven the coastal highway through northern California, you’ll know that’s really saying something. Over and over again, I was awed by the rolling hills, the valleys, forests, villages, and farmhouses – and the brilliant sea occasionally popping into view just beyond it all. It helped that the day of this drive we had perfect weather. It was glorious.
Lands End is the more famous southern point of England, but Lizard Point is actually the furthest south. England juts down to a rough point of sheer cliffs falling off to the water below. There is a lighthouse, which was unfortunately closed to visitors the day we were there. All along the road leading down to the point, there were little hut-like shops selling miniature lighthouses made of every possible material: glass, stone, ceramic, shells, etc. If it weren’t for the fact that I’m trying to avoid buying any kind of knick-knack while I am living out here, I totally would have bought one. Lizard Point itself was very well kept and well presented. I WISH we had had more time there. I could have spent the entire day walking the footpaths along the cliffs, taking in the breathtaking view of the ocean to one side, and rolling hills of prairie grass and wild flowers to the other. You know when you have a specific vision of a place, and then you get there and you feel let down because it was less than you hoped for? I’ve experienced that disappointment many times in my travels. Cornwall, however, delivered. In every respect. I LOVED it there. I will be spending more time there before I move home – that is a certainty.
It was early evening by the time we were able to pry ourselves away from Lizard Point, back towards the village to find some food. Inexplicably, everywhere we stopped to find food wasn’t serving any yet. It was about 5:30 p.m. and we couldn’t find a single bloody restaurant serving food for at least an hour! It was ludicrous. I had always wondered about the pubs along the roadsides that had signs advertising, “Food served all day”, because I had never been to a place that serves food that DOESN’T serve food during several selected hours throughout the day. All of a sudden, we couldn’t find a single “Food served all day” restaurant or pub. So, we drove to another town. Same problem, only worse! The first three restaurant/pub looking establishments we went to didn’t serve food at all!!!! I was starving and quickly becoming very grumpy, but it was seriously almost laughable. Finally, FINALLY, we found Giuseppe’s, open for business and serving hot, delicious Italian food and very decent house wine. Thank God for the Italians or we may have starved to death in Helston, which we have officially renamed “The Town With No Food”. Phew! Quite the ordeal…
We were thrilled to leave Helston and head towards Lands End. Even though it was about 7:00 p.m. at this point, we still had plenty of sunlight left and knew (again) that we had a big day of driving ahead of us the next day – which also happened to be the final day of our trip. We wanted to squeeze in as much as possible and Lands End was only about 30 miles away. I wanted to be touristy and take my picture beside the sign the points west and says “New York 3147”. When we arrived at Lands End, it was nearly deserted because of the time, yet I could tell right away that it was definitely more touristy and commercialized than Lizard Point which made me automatically like it less. There were a bunch of shops and a fancy restaurant overlooking the water. We skipped the shopping area completely and walked around the point for a while, admiring the cliffs that were perhaps even more beautiful and dramatic than the ones at Lizard Point. The sun was setting while we walked around, enjoying the sound of the surf and the smell of mint that rises from waves. It really was beautiful. When we went looking for the sign to take our touristy picture next to it, we couldn’t find it. After asking around for a few minutes we discovered that they take the sign in when they close because (GET THIS!!) you now have to pay to take your picture beside it. Unbelievable! I was utterly aghast. Bloody sodding bloomin’ buggering money-grubbing bastards! We left promptly and drove to Penzance to find a hotel for the night.
Finding a hotel in Penzance turned out to be almost as difficult as finding food in “The Town With No Food”. We stopped at about eight different hotels and B&Bs before we found one with any vacancies or within our price range. Finally, we got the last available room at an affordable hotel (The Lugger Hotel) right by the lovely water of Mount’s Bay. We seriously lucked out in finding this hotel. Not only was it affordable and in a great location, it also had one of the most comfortable beds I’ve ever slept in. I got an amazing night’s sleep and woke up (slightly later than planned) feeling refreshed and invigorated by the beautiful day awaiting us outside. Mount’s Bay is so named because of St. Michael’s Mount, the main attraction in the area. But for me, St. Michael’s Mount was the second reason I was excited to be in Penzance. The first, of course, was that it’s Penzance!...and I couldn’t wait to run around acting like a pirate!! I did so, joyously, all morning. Shops selling “pirate loot” line the boardwalk along the bay, and in the marina we found one on an actual boat that the owners had dressed up as piratey as possible. Big fun was had.
St. Michael’s Mount is a tiny island in the bay about ¼ mile from shore. At low tide, you can take off your shoes and walk the stone causeway out the Mount, the sea water slapping gently around your ankles. At high tide, the water completely covers the path, so you don’t have a choice but to be taken over in one of the little motor boats that run back and forth pretty regularly between the shore and the Mount. We arrived at high tide, so we paid our £3.00 and enjoyed the ride. We hadn’t even heard of St. Michael's Mount until I sent Aaron a text telling him we were staying in Penzance for the night, and he insisted that we visit St. Michael’s Mount. A place steeped in spiritual myth and legend, including tales of a giant who once lived there and the archangel St. Michael visiting some fisherman in 495 A.D., the island lends itself easily to the imagination. It’s stunning in and of itself, but the stories make it even more enticing. A fairytale-esque castle is the most prominent feature on the mount, but keeping with the trend on this trip, Jess and I opted out of going inside. Looking back, we probably should have spent the money to tour at least one of the castles we came upon during our five day journey, but we were on a budget. Oh well. I’ll do it later. Maybe when someone comes to visit we can go to Penzance and we’ll go inside the castle. (I had to drop at least ONE visitor hint!) Jess and I didn’t feel the lack of it though, because the gardens around the castle were absolutely spectacular. They crisscross up the hillside the castle is situated upon, one terrace after another. They wrap around most of the castle’s perimeter and were quite high, so they afford gorgeous views of Penzance, the bay, the country side, and the open sea stretching out into brilliant blue nothingness to the horizon. I so enjoyed my day there. I took my shoes off and walked around in the cool, soft grass and breathed the sea air in deeply. There weren’t a ton of people to distract from the experience, either. Perhaps it was just the right time of year for Cornwall. I didn’t feel bombarded by crowds of tourists, as I feared I would. The two sounds that stand out in my memory from St. Michael’s Mount are the sound of bumble bees and the waves crashing against the rocks below the castle gardens, not the sound of cars or people. Absolute serenity. Dampening the experience only slightly was the knowledge that this was our last day of travel. The time had come to leave Cornwall and start the arduous drive home. Home, however, had to wait long enough for us to briefly visit one last town: Cheddar.
Yep. Cheddar. The birthplace of cheddar cheese. And Yep. That’s the whole reason we wanted to go there. Apparently, it has other things to offer tourists in the area, such as a supposedly impressive gorge just outside the village. Now, I don’t mean to sound like a huge snob, but I’m from Colorado. I felt highly sceptical about just how impressive I would find Cheddar Gorge. Plus, we didn’t have time. We parked and walked around the village, which was very cute, and shopped for cheese at the numerous little shops advertising “The best cheddar in Cheddar!” We sampled every possible variation of cheddar cheese imaginable until finally buying ourselves chunks of a few different flavors, as well as some alcoholic cider – also famously produced in Cheddar. It was a very quick visit, but we got what we came for, and now I can say that I’ve been to the birthplace of cheddar cheese. I’m not sure why that’s exciting, but I’m sure proud of it!
Visitors:
Liz and Jon came out to see me for their anniversary in March. I had to work for the majority of their time here, sadly, so they did most of their travelling without me. It irritates me when I have to be working when I would rather be…well…doing anything else. But we did get the weekends to hang out and see some local sights together that I hadn't been to yet. Case in point, I finally went to Stonehenge! It’s only an hour and half away from where I live, yet it took visitors from home to get me there. The problem is the damn place is in the middle of freaking nowhere and next to impossible to get to without a car. Liz and Jon rented one in order that they might go get lost in the English countryside for a couple days, so I finally had transport to get to the Salisbury plain. I had heard mixed reviews about Stonehenge. Some visitors thought it was a magical, spiritual experience. Others (mostly English people) think Stonehenge is an overrated pile of old rocks. I’d place my feelings in the middle, somewhere between “Kinda Cool” and “Meh.” It’s kinda cool that it’s been there for so many thousands and thousands of years, and it’s kinda cool that we don’t really know what its original purpose was and there are all these theories about it, and the whole area has a kinda cool aura. In the end, though, it is a pile of old rocks – albeit an interestingly formed pile of old rocks. Certainly one of those things you must see once. I have now seen it three times. I think I’ve had my fill.
St. Patrick’s Day happened to fall in the week of their visit, so I had the pleasure of introducing them to one of my favourite pubs, O’Neilles, which is actually an Irish pub rather than an English one and the perfect place to celebrate St. Patty’s. It ended up being quite the party. Our group included Aaron and I, Liz, Jon, Jess, and Dominic, but then a huge group of Aaron’s army buddies showed up unexpectedly as well. They’re always a good time. There was wine, good Irish beer, glow sticks, plenty of silly hats, and several digital cameras: recipe for a memorable Irish Pride day!
Their visit wouldn’t have been complete, of course, without ample opportunity to question and judge the man in my life. Liz and Jon certainly seemed to enjoy grilling Aaron on every possible subject to make sure he passed the “Family Approval Test”. Apparently, according to Liz and Jon, he’s our kind of crazy, so he’s allowed to stay. Woo hoo!
I was sorry to see Liz and Jon go. I sure do miss my family.
Thankfully, another visitor wasn’t too far behind them! Mike Fitzsimmons came to stay for about ten days in June. I actually feel really bad about Fitz’s visit, because I was not exactly a primo hostess. The circumstances for this were unavoidable, but I do wish things had been different. You see, Fitz arrived at Heathrow airport a few hours before I did upon returning from a horrible and unexpected trip to Colorado for my friend Kelly’s funeral. I was home in CO for the entire week leading up to Fitz’s visit, so I had no time to clean or prepare at all for his arrival. I had to count entirely on my roommates to get things ready for him, and thank God for them! They had his room ready and picked him up from the airport for me, as well as picking me up from the airport a few hours later. I was also a stressed-out mess after I got back because of work, not to mention terribly sad. So Fitz, if you’re reading this, I insist you come back to see me when I’m feeling more myself!
Despite the complications, having Fitz here was a blast. He spent a good portion of his time travelling around while I was at work, but we did get to go to Oxford and Stonehenge together, plus I enjoyed introducing him to my friends and showing him a bit of my life out here. The ten days flew by, and all too soon, he was headed back to the real world. I don’t think he liked the idea any better than I did. Come back soon, Fitz!
Other Local Traveling:
I’ve done a few more local day trips in the last few months. I’ve been back to Oxford a couple of times and went to a festival at Blenheim Palace, which is about 30 miles north of Oxford. Blenheim Palace (pronounced Blen-um) is the massive and utterly grand palace where Winston Churchill was born. I visited the palace grounds five years ago but wasn’t able to afford to tour the palace itself. I went this time for a jousting tournament (think Ren Fest’s joust, only with real English accents and a far more grand setting). Yes, it was just a jousting re-enactment, cheesy as you would expect, but it was also good fun. After the joust, I got to try my hand at archery! I suck…though not as bad Dom. It was worth it just to have access to the palace grounds again, since I didn’t have much time there the first time I went. Blenheim’s grounds are my favorite of any palace or castle I’ve ever visited. Versailles has all the fountains and Hannover has the meticulously planned, color-themed gardens, but Blenheim’s grounds manage to incorporate groomed, quintessentially English gardens subtly, still allowing for acres and acres of forest and relative wilderness perfect for getting lost in. I could literally wander through the grounds and gardens for hours and not get bored. I did tour the palace itself this time as well. The ground floor of the palace is still perfectly intact and it is gorgeous. Historic state rooms ornately decorated with authentic tapestries, antique furniture, and life-size portraits of noble lords and ladies can be viewed by tourists, though naturally nothing can be touched. This includes the bedroom where Winston Churchill was born. It was very interesting. The second floor of the palace, on the other hand, was hugely disappointing. In order to tell the story of the palace and the generations of nobility who lived there, someone thought it would be a great idea to turn the upstairs into a horribly corny wax museum where a “ghost” (a projection on the wall of an actress pretending to be a former maid of the palace) gives you an audio tour through the “rooms” (not the real rooms – cheaply constructed false ones made with something resembling painted cardboard). It was boring and a waste of time. If you go to Blenheim, which I definitely recommend, stick to the grounds and the state rooms. Also make sure you visit the Pleasure Gardens. There’s a hedge labyrinth, a putting green, an Alice in Wonderland-style oversized chess board, and more. Aaron, Jessica, Dom, Chris and I spent an enjoyable afternoon there. Just so you know, playing hide and seek with five people in the labyrinth is a SUPER good time!
I’ve spent a few more days in London. I think I average about one day in London a month, which I happen to think is an absolute waste. I wish so badly that living in London was an option for me. Every day that I spend there makes me love it more. I’ve now visited the British Museum and the famed Tate Modern (both free museums), hung out for an evening in jazzy, funky, eclectic, cool Soho, and seen another show. Blood Brothers is a very good story and has some great music in it, but because of some truly bad directorial choices, I didn’t like this particular production of it at all. Even for a musical, this was cheesy. There are some very serious and sad moments in this play, but for the majority of them, I had to force myself not to laugh. Oh well. I’ve rarely been disappointed with a show in London. I guess there has to be one every now and then.
A few weeks ago, my Canadian friend Val and her friend Jane decided to drive to Cambridge for the day. When she invited me along, I enthusiastically accepted. Hooray for people with cars who let me tag along! I wondered if I would think as highly of Cambridge as I do Oxford. My verdict: not as good as Oxford, but pretty damn impressive. The architecture, while stately and certainly scholarly, simply didn’t compare with Oxford’s majestic spires and domes. What it did have, however, that I’ve never noticed in Oxford, is an abundance of chimneys. I loved glancing down alleys and seeing dozens of chimneys atop the houses that curved along the road. It immediately brought to mind Mary Poppins and the chimneysweeps dancing across the roofs of London. One of the most popular things to do in Cambridge is to have afternoon tea in a place called The Orchard. The tradition of taking tea at The Orchard became a famous one because of writers and artists the likes of Rupert Brooke and Virginia Woolf who used to punt up the river and sit for hours in The Orchard, picnicking and discussing literature. Many famous artists, musicians, writers and philosophers have carried on this tradition throughout the centuries, as well as tourists who thought it would be fun to be pretentious by sitting in The Orchard, drinking tea and reading poetry to each other. This was our plan, but alas! We were deterred by about a million wasps that were out in force the day of our visit. I’m not usually terribly squeamish with bees and wasps, but the infestation was so bad that the second we sat down amongst the trees and opened the jar of jam for our scones, about thirty of them swarmed the table, literally covering Val’s scone. We almost had to abandon the scone as a lost cause, but brave Jane charged in and rescued the tea tray from the table, miraculously managing to escape un-stung. We had our tea in the unromantic and unliterary café, then left, crestfallen by our failed endeavour to join the ranks of generations of snooty academics. Lame. Perhaps the most memorable thing about Cambridge for me is the fabulous multi-colored hand-made belt I bought at a small outdoor craft market we found. I’m in love with it and it’s completely one of a kind. By and large, a satisfactory day in Cambridge!
My faaaabulous 29th birthday:
My suspicions that my boyfriend Aaron is INCREDIBLE were officially confirmed on July 3rd, when he and his friend Chris arranged a fabulous birthday celebration evening for me and Jess, whose birthday had been a couple weeks prior. We all got dressed up in our best rags (the boys even bought new suits for the occasion) and were treated to a ride in a white stretch limo, complete with champagne. We cruised for a while then the limo dropped us at O’Neilles, where the boys had gone earlier in the day and arranged a special table for us, decorated with dozens of balloons to match our dresses. We were spoiled with star-treatment by the wait staff and the boys all evening. The best part of the birthday was yet to come. My attentive boyfriend had heard me complain that this would be the first time I wouldn’t get to see fireworks on my birthday. Well, he couldn’t have that! The insane man paid a ludicrous amount of money and trekked 176 miles round-trip to acquire fireworks in July in England – a nearly impossible task, apparently. When we arrived home, the boys set everything up, some speeches were made, and we lit the boxed fireworks display. It sent a variety of beautiful, sparkling colors into the sky for almost five minutes. I was so happy! It was a wonderful, unforgettable birthday.
End of the school year and summer vacation:
I survived it. Barely. Thank God. I then had a six-week summer holiday which ends September 1st. I say “had”, because it’s basically over now. I go back to school in three days. Tragic. I’m hoping for a smoother ride this year, now that I feel like I’ve figured things out a little bit. I add another level of stress though, because I’ll be going through the process to get “Qualified Teacher Status” in the U.K. Funny, I thought that 4 ½ years I spent in college, all those degrees, certificates and licenses I earned, and the last six years I’ve spent teaching meant that I was already a qualified teacher. Not according to England. I’ll essentially be going through the licensure program that I did in college all over again, including compiling a massive and useless portfolio. *sigh* Shit.
For summer vacation, the original plan was to travel for the entire six weeks, but finances simply did not allow. I managed to get a week away in Turkey with Aaron. It was a beautiful place, and we had a relaxing week of swimming, sun bathing and exploring the Bodrum peninsula. Details to come in the next blog. Remember that you can view all my photos on Facebook.
I reached my one year anniversary of living in the U.K. on August 19th. I find it difficult to comprehend that it has been a year. It's impossible to innumerate the things I have learned, and I am thirsty for more. Here's to another year of adventure and personal evolution. Cheers!
And now…back to work. Bring on the stress!! Wish me luck.
