I am not certain of the future. I am resonably confident that this is the last of long journeys. The three journeys have been travels. They have been general plans with invention in between. Tomorrow was not planned. We had to be certain places. But, there was no clock.
We moved as we choose. Yes, we had to be in Florence. But, we could stop in Lake Como and Parma on the way. We were in Paris. We had the early afternoon to wander Luxembourg Park in the rain.
We were travelers, not tourists. We did not get off the bus. There is the Sunday afternoon in Florence at the Home Show.
We never rushed to see or visit. We rushed to trains and planes. We sat in front of David and we looked. We had coffee at the British Gallery and spent the one of the best forty-five minutes of my life talking to my youngest daughter about life and art. Hell, they are the same thing.
And, then there is that Sunday in Rome.
I do have regrets. The major one is that I did not try to get all the kids together in Rome. I should have. I hope that the opportunity occurs again. Beth, Caroline and John, together, would have been happiness. With Angela and Patrick, it would have been glorious. They would have laughed so hard. Pizza on Thanksgiving.
We began planning for this trip in 2017. Originally, we were thinking Ireland and Spain. Then Ireland, Scotland and Spain. John and Angela had enjoyed Scotland greatly. Betty's interest in her family ancestry heightened with her research. We had unfinished business in England.
I was not enthused about Scotland. But, the idea grew on me. We dropped Spain. I lost my desire. The trip was evolving.
As I thought about it more I wanted Bill to join us. Traveling alone is difficult even in a tour. Strange people. My feeling was that Bill would enjoy our "traveler" approach. So, we added Bill.
Caroline is a given. Always travel with Caroline.
The final journey was hectic and different - planes. What happened was a fantastic journey.
The greatest adventure was Oban to Cambridge. We became true travelers that day. What we did was as close as a train to Calcutta. The bus ride was daring and on the edge of your seat adventure. It was a ride that we took because we had to and then we wanted to. The "what if" and "why not" of that bus journey is of legend. I will enhance the journey over the years. I will quietly smile as an old man when I remember. The curves. The near misses. The tires half on and half off Loch Lomand!
I will remember the young lady at Westminster Abbey. I remember the young man in the coffee shop in Hammersmith. I will remember the retired gentleman in Wexford. The young man at the front desk at Gonville. They have faith in the future, I believe in them.
I remember the Russian server in Edinburgh. The waiter and "Queen" afficinado at the Hard Rock Cafe in Glasgow. The young ladies in Dublin. The tour guide in Dublin. The young lady at the pastry shop in Southwold. The older lady at the Southwold museum. The "not audience" friendly musician.
As I think of this journey, it is the young people that I remember. So much courage.
I loved Dublin, Wexford, Edinburgh, Cambridge and Southwold. I am surprised by Southwold and Cambridge. I would go back to Dublin and Southwold.
Ireland was a taste. We missed so much.
The years to come may be more sedate. I hope not. Cruising does not immediately appeal to me. I love the trains. I love the unexpected. There is the night train to Milan from Paris. The strangers asking in Siena for directions in broken Italian as if I was born in Siena. There was the gentleman in security at the Gare du Nord complaining in French about the person in front of us and never thinking as I smiled and nodded that I was not speaking French. Other than an occasional "oui".
Buying movie tickets in Rome.
In Parma, my first experience buying groceries in Italy.
But, I am afraid this will be no more. The next trip is a cruise. The only joy I can foresee is that it is the Queen Mary 2.
I need to roam. Do I know Rome? No. I simply did not see enough. But, after two weeks I am at home with that part of Rome. Morning walks, I will miss them terribly. Waking up and just walking. Without a great number of people, you can see store fronts. Instead of being taken to the Latin Quarter, you are in the Latin Quarter. You walk Kensington Gardens because it is the park in front of you.
How confining will a ship be? I am abhor mandatory routine.
I ran across a quote from C.K. Chesterton "A traveler sees what he sees, a tourist sees what he has come to see".
I reviewed my past blogs. The writing remains poor. But, there is growth. We were always travelers. Out intent was to be Travelers. It is the evolution to that realization that appears in our travels and in my writing.
I read several of my 1014, 2016 and 2018 travels. I find that I am always overwhelmed. I am occasionally grumpy. Never prepared. Continually nervous.
I am thankful for my walks to the Vatican. There is the afternoon in the park surrounding the Villa Borghese. I remember a morning walk down the Via Nazionle to the Colosseo and wishing Bill was there to explain it all to me.
If your memories were dreams, I would sleep to dream.
I enjoyed moments. Please use public transportation when you travel. There is a metamorphosis that occurs with the use of public transportation. It is slow. Again, you are a traveler in a strange land. You are bewildered. Then, you are there. You belong.
I like laundromats. I love laundromats. It is sociology 101. Like public bathrooms, nothing is more egalitarian than laundromats. Laundromats are man against coin machines. It is time to think.
So now, you know I am apprehensive about cruising. I am afraid I will become more a tourist than a traveler.
The joy of saying - "a carry-on and backpack and a month in Europe" - disappears. We will be the newest members of a very established club. Will we ever belong?
I want Italy, the south of France. A blustery sunny day in Como.
I will see Oban again, Maybe. Destination ports are iffy on cruises - from what I am learning, Maybe Glasgow- At dinner on the ship "did you go on the tour". "Nope, I went to the Hard Rock and talked to the waiter about our mutual admiration of Freddie Mercury".
Wish me, Luck. Hey, it is an adventure.
Thursday, October 24, 2019
Wednesday, October 16, 2019
"Sometimes there is saddness"
It is Tuesday morning. We fly Delta out of Terminal 3.
We have made this flight before. London to Minneapolis and home to Phoenix. It is a long journey. There is a four hour layover in Minneapolis. The flight home to Phoenix is always full.
The last time we stayed at the Millennium Gloucester, Betty did not join me for their Continental Breakfast on the sixth floor dining room.
I enjoyed the breakfast greatly. It is a full buffet breakfast. There are newspapers to read and television morning news shows. We have become familiar and annoyed with Good Morning Britain with Piers Morgan plus ego. But, it is fun to watch an ass being an ass. To add to the charm, his cohorts and guests are often asses.
Betty doe not see the charm. I am sure part of the lack of enthusiasm is the day ahead.
We have packed for the final time. We have gained room as the days have passed as we discard items as they are used. So there is room for our souvenirs which are books, notebooks, postcards ...
I pay the bill. We cross Courtfield Rd to Gloucester Rd Station. I put a few pounds on one the Oyster Cards. The other should be sufficient. Heathrow is outside the basic zones which simply means that it cost slightly more.
We are reasonable comfortable. We are following the same route that we took to end our journey to Cambridge. There is always a little nervousness the first time. The map says that all the Piccadilly line trains stop at all Heathrow Terminals. we have to take them at their word.
It is a little after 8AM. It is not a short ride. We have fourteen stations between us and Terminal 3. The train fills with people with luggage. We have seats.
The map is correct. Terminal 3 is a stop. We pass our Oyster Cards over the reader. We take the elevator up and exit outside the new Terminal 3. Two years ago, Terminal 3 was under construction or being renovated.We flew Delta out of Terminal 4.
We are on time for International travel. I check the Delta desk and they confirm that we can proceed to security. I had checked in and downloaded our boarding passes last night.
Security is crowded. There is swiftly moving line. Shoes off. 3-1-1 bags out. Jacket off. Belts off. Computer and phone separate. There is a full body scan. Again, for some reason. my stuff gets a second look.
We turn into the ubiquitous "Duty Free" shopping zone. This time I am going to buy something. I did not buy any liquor during our journey. I would have drunk it. Secondly, it is heavy. Thirdly, the bottle is breakable.
Betty finds a place to sit. I check the overhead boarding. Remember, allegedly, they do not post gate until 20 minutes before boarding. It is not true. There is a secret because every time we are the last to arrive.
I wonder over to the "duty free" liquor. I look over the inventory and nothing jumps out. I want a Scots whiskey and something not to common. I want to avoid a whiskey that is too peaty. I ask the staff person walking around and he is not helpful at all. I chose a bottle of Kikkoman. It proves to be a good choice.
We have a light early lunch. it is an eleven hour flight. We are in economy.
Our flight is listed on the board. We have had two prior experience flying out of Europe. The first was Amsterdam which was not easy. Our flight two years ago out of Heathrow which was easy. This time it was so-so. Simply, a hassle.
We again go through a security check - passport and boarding pass. We then enter a large room with not enough seats for the number of people. The room is stuffy. The passengers segregated by class. The class system never disappeared. It lives and thrives in the airline industry.
Obviously, our concern is access to the overhead bins. We should not be concerned. Who travels to Europe with carry-on and backpack?
Betty takes the aisle seat and I take the window. We settle in. Apparently, liquor, wine or beer are not a money maker for Delta. I think they came by twice in eleven hours. Ah. Air France.
It is a long flight chasing the sun. It is like a time machine. You take off in London at 11:55 AM and arrive the same day at 2:00 PM.
It is difficult to sleep. We have been through Minneapolis International Terminal before. We use GOES and it is fantastic. This time, it is not as fantastic. My GOES has been flagged. The Custom officers are very nice. I realize the problem and my explanation is accepted.The officer says he will try to correct the problem. We will see at the next trip. The delay is only ten minutes.
Two years ago, the long layover was not difficult. I think it was a combination of not knowing the flight was a full medium size plane on a three hour trip. Also , I think the seats and the loss of amenities is a large part of the discomfort that is now flying.
We wait. We have coffee. The service is slow and inattentive. I am tired and grumpy.
Finally, the flight is listed. we walk over to the gate. We hold our breath for overhead space. We gate check our carry-ons. What can go wrong on a direct flight at the end of the day.
I have a middle seat. The people on either side of me are quiet and not large. I doze for an hour or so. I watch the screen in front of me. Finally, the mesage - "we will be landing ..."
Betty' sister meets outside. It is late almost eleven. It is past midnight. We are exhausted. We have a little jet lag the next day. And, it takes about two to three days to adjust. But, overall not bad.
Epilogue. Or, what I learnt this time.
We have made this flight before. London to Minneapolis and home to Phoenix. It is a long journey. There is a four hour layover in Minneapolis. The flight home to Phoenix is always full.
The last time we stayed at the Millennium Gloucester, Betty did not join me for their Continental Breakfast on the sixth floor dining room.
I enjoyed the breakfast greatly. It is a full buffet breakfast. There are newspapers to read and television morning news shows. We have become familiar and annoyed with Good Morning Britain with Piers Morgan plus ego. But, it is fun to watch an ass being an ass. To add to the charm, his cohorts and guests are often asses.
Betty doe not see the charm. I am sure part of the lack of enthusiasm is the day ahead.
We have packed for the final time. We have gained room as the days have passed as we discard items as they are used. So there is room for our souvenirs which are books, notebooks, postcards ...
I pay the bill. We cross Courtfield Rd to Gloucester Rd Station. I put a few pounds on one the Oyster Cards. The other should be sufficient. Heathrow is outside the basic zones which simply means that it cost slightly more.
We are reasonable comfortable. We are following the same route that we took to end our journey to Cambridge. There is always a little nervousness the first time. The map says that all the Piccadilly line trains stop at all Heathrow Terminals. we have to take them at their word.
It is a little after 8AM. It is not a short ride. We have fourteen stations between us and Terminal 3. The train fills with people with luggage. We have seats.
The map is correct. Terminal 3 is a stop. We pass our Oyster Cards over the reader. We take the elevator up and exit outside the new Terminal 3. Two years ago, Terminal 3 was under construction or being renovated.We flew Delta out of Terminal 4.
We are on time for International travel. I check the Delta desk and they confirm that we can proceed to security. I had checked in and downloaded our boarding passes last night.
Security is crowded. There is swiftly moving line. Shoes off. 3-1-1 bags out. Jacket off. Belts off. Computer and phone separate. There is a full body scan. Again, for some reason. my stuff gets a second look.
We turn into the ubiquitous "Duty Free" shopping zone. This time I am going to buy something. I did not buy any liquor during our journey. I would have drunk it. Secondly, it is heavy. Thirdly, the bottle is breakable.
Betty finds a place to sit. I check the overhead boarding. Remember, allegedly, they do not post gate until 20 minutes before boarding. It is not true. There is a secret because every time we are the last to arrive.
I wonder over to the "duty free" liquor. I look over the inventory and nothing jumps out. I want a Scots whiskey and something not to common. I want to avoid a whiskey that is too peaty. I ask the staff person walking around and he is not helpful at all. I chose a bottle of Kikkoman. It proves to be a good choice.
We have a light early lunch. it is an eleven hour flight. We are in economy.
Our flight is listed on the board. We have had two prior experience flying out of Europe. The first was Amsterdam which was not easy. Our flight two years ago out of Heathrow which was easy. This time it was so-so. Simply, a hassle.
We again go through a security check - passport and boarding pass. We then enter a large room with not enough seats for the number of people. The room is stuffy. The passengers segregated by class. The class system never disappeared. It lives and thrives in the airline industry.
Obviously, our concern is access to the overhead bins. We should not be concerned. Who travels to Europe with carry-on and backpack?
Betty takes the aisle seat and I take the window. We settle in. Apparently, liquor, wine or beer are not a money maker for Delta. I think they came by twice in eleven hours. Ah. Air France.
It is a long flight chasing the sun. It is like a time machine. You take off in London at 11:55 AM and arrive the same day at 2:00 PM.
It is difficult to sleep. We have been through Minneapolis International Terminal before. We use GOES and it is fantastic. This time, it is not as fantastic. My GOES has been flagged. The Custom officers are very nice. I realize the problem and my explanation is accepted.The officer says he will try to correct the problem. We will see at the next trip. The delay is only ten minutes.
Two years ago, the long layover was not difficult. I think it was a combination of not knowing the flight was a full medium size plane on a three hour trip. Also , I think the seats and the loss of amenities is a large part of the discomfort that is now flying.
We wait. We have coffee. The service is slow and inattentive. I am tired and grumpy.
Finally, the flight is listed. we walk over to the gate. We hold our breath for overhead space. We gate check our carry-ons. What can go wrong on a direct flight at the end of the day.
I have a middle seat. The people on either side of me are quiet and not large. I doze for an hour or so. I watch the screen in front of me. Finally, the mesage - "we will be landing ..."
Betty' sister meets outside. It is late almost eleven. It is past midnight. We are exhausted. We have a little jet lag the next day. And, it takes about two to three days to adjust. But, overall not bad.
Epilogue. Or, what I learnt this time.
"When in London, we stay at the Millennium"
It is about 7 AM. We are packed. We tidy the room. I have returned with coffee and sweets.
We do have a plan. The plan is to get to London and then to Heathrow the next day. The details remain fuzzy.
I have the bus schedule to Halesworth. A bus appears to leave Southwold about 9:45 with a stop at the Halesworth Station which should give us about 30 minutes wait for the train to Ispwich and transfer to Cambridge and then London.
What we are going to do in London remains an unknown. The original idea was to stay overnight near the airport and take a shuttle to the terminal. But, as we researched on the Internet., the airport hotels are not close to the terminals and apparently do not offer shuttles. It was hard to believe this research which is one of the reasons for our delay.
Finally, a plan is generated based upon our previous experience with London hotels and our ever increasing knowledge of the London Underground.
We have stayed at the Gloucester Millennium on our last stay in London. We enjoyed the stay and, most importantly, it is across the street from the Gloucester Rd Tube off the Piccadilly Line. The Piccadilly line is the line to Heathrow.
I go online - hotel WiFi is still valid. I sign up for their preferred member program. I really should have done that sooner. And, I try to reserve a room. All goes well until I get to getting the discount. And, after about twenty minutes, I am certain we have a reservation. I am not certain how much we are going to pay. London hotels are expensive. On par with New York and Chicago.
We gather our luggage and pay our bill. The weather remains very comfortable. We walk towards to shop (I think it was a tobacco shop. Tobacco shops are really the best guess for everything). I see a bus pulling away. Wait! I know we are early. How could the bus be stopping to pick up passengers? Yet, there is our bus about to leave without us. Is there a local custom we were not told about? Should I have bought our tickets early? Reservations needed? Should I panic?
Of course, I panic. I run carrying my carry on and backpack. If I can stop the bus. Betty will have time to catch up. I look crazy and wild. I slow down the bus. He stops. He looks at me as if I am a mad man. I am a mad man.
He opens the door and let's us in. He explains that he is the 8 AM bus and he had been delayed because of traffic by 45 minutes and I was now making him even later. We pay. I try not to look at the other few passengers.
I am sure Betty is embarrassed. Hell, I am embarrassed.
I stay very quiet and avoid eye contact for the 40 minute bus ride. I am again impressed by how these drivers manage the roads.
We are the only passengers exiting at Halesworth station. We are very early. Almost 50 minutes. There is no coffee shop. We cross over to the tracks to wait. A train arrives from Ipswich and passengers depart.
When the train leaves, we cross over to the correct side for trains going to Ipswich. I am not having a great day. The train arrives on time. The configuration of the trains are commuter friendly. But, there is a rack by each door for luggage to be stored while you seat.
At Ipswich, we buy a lunch. We are very early. We check the overhead board for train, track and platform. After eating, we look for our platform. There are no other passengers waiting. Are we at the correct platform? The track is end of the line and no train.
With about 15 minutes to go the platform fills quickly. A large number of the passengers are young men with stylish suits and haircuts. They are loud enough to learn that they are not very respectful of women, in general and particularly, women they know. We find seats.
We check. We are on the right train to Cambridge where we will transfer to the train to Kings Crossing and the Tube.
The Countryside passes with small villages which I am sure are now commuter oriented. We reach Cambridge and after a brief check of the overhead, we are on the train to Kings Crossing. With bus, trains and the tube, we will traveling about six to seven hours. I think that if you were comfortable and familiar with schedules, the journey should be closer to a little over four hours. Yep, you weekend or overnight in London when you go to the theater.
The trip from Cambridge to London seems faster. It is daytime so we can see the outside world as we pass it. The compartment is less stuffy because of few passengers. And, we know where we are going.
We exit the train at Kings Crossing. From experience, we now trust the signs to the Underground.
When the kids and Bill left us. I took their Oyster Cards. I have a pocket full of Oyster Cards with varying amount of monies remaining.
I go over to the Oyster Dispensing Machine and check for balances. Two are empty but three have funds left - not much. As you may know you use the card to enter through the turnstiles and really pay when we exit at your stop through the turnstile.
In short, you are only embarrassed as a freeloader or foolish when there are people pushing to get out. Moreover, we have luggage and look very much the American tourist.
We look and find the Piccadilly line (one of my favorites - sounds cool). We check the map to assure the correct direction - everyone does that.
It is not a short ride - about eight stations. We watch the Underground map above the door. The next station is Gloucester Rd.
It is familiar. We turn right past the flower shop. Across the street is the Starbucks. The Millennium shares the block with another hotel. To reach the Millennium you cross the street most likely at mid block watching for traffic as you dash.
I approach the desk and announce that we have a reservation. Then sheepishly, "I think".
The desk person could not have been more helpful as I explain my problem of the morning. She confirms we have a reservation. I explain the issue with the pricing. She types and makes a phone call to her front desk manager. They graciously and politely give me the discounted price with breakfast.
Security is strong. To operate the elevator, you need a card. to select a floor, you need to use your door key.
The room is functional and comfortable. The television works.the WiFi is quick. We rest and decide to go out for dinner.
After looking at Yelp and determining that a short walk is our criterion. We select Bugis which is out the door turn left onto Courtfield Rd and walk 200 ft.
Bugis is a Singaporean restaurant. it was of those meals you treasure. It is the time, the place and the food. The server, Eva, was a delightful young woman - possible from Singapore, but most likely from Malaysia. She appeared to be new. She seemed to be little unsure of herself which only adds to the charm. Her only request is a favorable review on Trip Advisor. It was a very favorable review and my most read.
We were early. Again, we are on the move tomorrow. The menu was overwhelming. We look at what others are eating and ask questions as to how spicy "very" - "how hot" - "very".
I order a beer. Bugis is the location of the largest Market in Singapore. The patrons are expats looking for home cooking - Singaporean and Malaysian.
I have another beer. we may ordered a starter. Betty picked something mild. I selected Singapore Laksa. My thought remains "I may never pass this way again".
It was exceptional. Laksa is a traditional Singaporean dish. It is a coconut broth filled seafood, chicken and thick vermicelli noodles.
The meal was not expensive and we tipped well.
A short walk back to the room. Tomorrow, we go home.
We do have a plan. The plan is to get to London and then to Heathrow the next day. The details remain fuzzy.
I have the bus schedule to Halesworth. A bus appears to leave Southwold about 9:45 with a stop at the Halesworth Station which should give us about 30 minutes wait for the train to Ispwich and transfer to Cambridge and then London.
What we are going to do in London remains an unknown. The original idea was to stay overnight near the airport and take a shuttle to the terminal. But, as we researched on the Internet., the airport hotels are not close to the terminals and apparently do not offer shuttles. It was hard to believe this research which is one of the reasons for our delay.
Finally, a plan is generated based upon our previous experience with London hotels and our ever increasing knowledge of the London Underground.
We have stayed at the Gloucester Millennium on our last stay in London. We enjoyed the stay and, most importantly, it is across the street from the Gloucester Rd Tube off the Piccadilly Line. The Piccadilly line is the line to Heathrow.
I go online - hotel WiFi is still valid. I sign up for their preferred member program. I really should have done that sooner. And, I try to reserve a room. All goes well until I get to getting the discount. And, after about twenty minutes, I am certain we have a reservation. I am not certain how much we are going to pay. London hotels are expensive. On par with New York and Chicago.
We gather our luggage and pay our bill. The weather remains very comfortable. We walk towards to shop (I think it was a tobacco shop. Tobacco shops are really the best guess for everything). I see a bus pulling away. Wait! I know we are early. How could the bus be stopping to pick up passengers? Yet, there is our bus about to leave without us. Is there a local custom we were not told about? Should I have bought our tickets early? Reservations needed? Should I panic?
Of course, I panic. I run carrying my carry on and backpack. If I can stop the bus. Betty will have time to catch up. I look crazy and wild. I slow down the bus. He stops. He looks at me as if I am a mad man. I am a mad man.
He opens the door and let's us in. He explains that he is the 8 AM bus and he had been delayed because of traffic by 45 minutes and I was now making him even later. We pay. I try not to look at the other few passengers.
I am sure Betty is embarrassed. Hell, I am embarrassed.
I stay very quiet and avoid eye contact for the 40 minute bus ride. I am again impressed by how these drivers manage the roads.
We are the only passengers exiting at Halesworth station. We are very early. Almost 50 minutes. There is no coffee shop. We cross over to the tracks to wait. A train arrives from Ipswich and passengers depart.
When the train leaves, we cross over to the correct side for trains going to Ipswich. I am not having a great day. The train arrives on time. The configuration of the trains are commuter friendly. But, there is a rack by each door for luggage to be stored while you seat.
At Ipswich, we buy a lunch. We are very early. We check the overhead board for train, track and platform. After eating, we look for our platform. There are no other passengers waiting. Are we at the correct platform? The track is end of the line and no train.
With about 15 minutes to go the platform fills quickly. A large number of the passengers are young men with stylish suits and haircuts. They are loud enough to learn that they are not very respectful of women, in general and particularly, women they know. We find seats.
We check. We are on the right train to Cambridge where we will transfer to the train to Kings Crossing and the Tube.
The Countryside passes with small villages which I am sure are now commuter oriented. We reach Cambridge and after a brief check of the overhead, we are on the train to Kings Crossing. With bus, trains and the tube, we will traveling about six to seven hours. I think that if you were comfortable and familiar with schedules, the journey should be closer to a little over four hours. Yep, you weekend or overnight in London when you go to the theater.
The trip from Cambridge to London seems faster. It is daytime so we can see the outside world as we pass it. The compartment is less stuffy because of few passengers. And, we know where we are going.
We exit the train at Kings Crossing. From experience, we now trust the signs to the Underground.
When the kids and Bill left us. I took their Oyster Cards. I have a pocket full of Oyster Cards with varying amount of monies remaining.
I go over to the Oyster Dispensing Machine and check for balances. Two are empty but three have funds left - not much. As you may know you use the card to enter through the turnstiles and really pay when we exit at your stop through the turnstile.
In short, you are only embarrassed as a freeloader or foolish when there are people pushing to get out. Moreover, we have luggage and look very much the American tourist.
We look and find the Piccadilly line (one of my favorites - sounds cool). We check the map to assure the correct direction - everyone does that.
It is not a short ride - about eight stations. We watch the Underground map above the door. The next station is Gloucester Rd.
It is familiar. We turn right past the flower shop. Across the street is the Starbucks. The Millennium shares the block with another hotel. To reach the Millennium you cross the street most likely at mid block watching for traffic as you dash.
I approach the desk and announce that we have a reservation. Then sheepishly, "I think".
The desk person could not have been more helpful as I explain my problem of the morning. She confirms we have a reservation. I explain the issue with the pricing. She types and makes a phone call to her front desk manager. They graciously and politely give me the discounted price with breakfast.
Security is strong. To operate the elevator, you need a card. to select a floor, you need to use your door key.
The room is functional and comfortable. The television works.the WiFi is quick. We rest and decide to go out for dinner.
After looking at Yelp and determining that a short walk is our criterion. We select Bugis which is out the door turn left onto Courtfield Rd and walk 200 ft.
Bugis is a Singaporean restaurant. it was of those meals you treasure. It is the time, the place and the food. The server, Eva, was a delightful young woman - possible from Singapore, but most likely from Malaysia. She appeared to be new. She seemed to be little unsure of herself which only adds to the charm. Her only request is a favorable review on Trip Advisor. It was a very favorable review and my most read.
We were early. Again, we are on the move tomorrow. The menu was overwhelming. We look at what others are eating and ask questions as to how spicy "very" - "how hot" - "very".
I order a beer. Bugis is the location of the largest Market in Singapore. The patrons are expats looking for home cooking - Singaporean and Malaysian.
I have another beer. we may ordered a starter. Betty picked something mild. I selected Singapore Laksa. My thought remains "I may never pass this way again".
It was exceptional. Laksa is a traditional Singaporean dish. It is a coconut broth filled seafood, chicken and thick vermicelli noodles.
The meal was not expensive and we tipped well.
A short walk back to the room. Tomorrow, we go home.
Tuesday, October 15, 2019
"A Long walk, a pub visit and pork belly"
It is Sunday. It is the best weather.
I am up and down the stairs by 7AM. I cross the street to the "pastry" shop. I am humbled.
We have been traveling since the middle of September. I have communicate with people in London, Scotland and Ireland. This morning, the young lady behind the counter defeats me.
I have no idea where she is from. But, I cannot understand a word she says. It is me. Obviously, she interacts with the public all day. But, after several polite back and forth, I have my coffee and gooey roll with cherry on top.
My decision is which way to stroll this morning. Betty expects me back around 11AM. I have about two and half hours. I have been to the beach, the pier and the town. I decide that I will investigate outside the town. I return the cup to the counter and turn to my left as I leave the shop.
There is construction on the outside of town. I find a small lake with homes around. I cross a bridge. There is no traffic. The road bends to the left. This is a residential area. At split in the road, I bend to the right. Workmen are working on new townhouses on Sunday.
It is a pleasant walk. These are newer homes. My guess is that they were built within the last forty years. I pass the Randolph Hotel. The Randolph is a small country Inn.
I pass a gentleman walking his dog. I say "hello". He ask if I am a "yank". Obviously, he is older. I answer "yes".
We have a short conversation. He is retired military. He fought in several British related actions. He does not go into a lot of details. I mention my service. So, there is a bond.
I continue to walk up the road as it bends to the left. It remains residential with smaller well kept homes. As the road leans more to the left, the landscape is turns agricultural. It is fall. Corps have been harvested.
There is a church up ahead. I wander the cemetery. Again, personal histories are there to imagine. The older grave markers are from softer stone and erosion blurs the inscriptions. The newer gravestones tell stories of long lives and lives that ended early.
People begin to arrive for Sunday services. I wonder in to see the interior. Since the church is being prepared for services, I take a pew in the rear and look around.
My first thought is that English country churches do look like they do in the movies. I believe the style is referred to as "perpendicular" style. The churches are surrounded by the parish cemetery.
As I sit, the parishioners fill in the empty pews. As you might expect, the congregation is strongly female and older. It is the early service.
The people are very pleasant. The vicar approaches me. He politely ask who am I. I do not think they see many tourist at their church on early Sunday morning.
I tell him that I am - as I am sure he knows as soon as I open my mouth - an American. I ask if it is alright to stay. He says "of course". He ask if I am Anglican. I answer, No, I am Catholic. He nods knowingly. that answer always kills the conversation.
There are "bell ringers". They are younger men (forties) and take their skill very seriously. They are impressive. As you enter the church, you pass the bell ringers to your left.
The service begins. I stay until the collection and place a few pounds in the collection. I quietly leave. I know that I will have to quick step to be back by eleven.
The walk back is quicker. I have a better idea of the distance. I am more focused on pace.
The town is more active. The favorable weather has brought a few more weekenders to Southwold. I imagine in season the streets and shops must be crowded. Southwold is a small place.
Betty is eager to start the day. Her foot has recovered. She has been remarkable.
We walk towards the sea and turn right. We have no specific destination in mind. I think Betty has some idea. She has been reading on the internet.
We pass my marker, the Southwold Surfing School, on Ferry Rd. At the river Blyth, we turn right. I stop for an ice cream bar. I am hungry. It is about 2PM and I may have already walked 8 miles.
There are still boats at the docks. It is still mid October. I doubt that there is a hard freeze. By December, I am sure the docks will be empty.
There is a walking path to our right. Nothing interesting ahead of us, so we walk back to the path to return to Southwold.
It is a pleasant path and well used. We cross parents with children, dog walkers and other trippers. We can see the Southwold Water Tower to our left.
The Southwold Old Water Tower is one of the "must see" sites of Southwold. Don't believe me, do a google search on Southwold. Built in 1886, the tower is 40 feet high. In 1886, that is quite a feat for a small town. Of course, there is a tragedy, an engineer caught his waistcoat in machinery and was crushed leaving a poor widow and children destitute. I note that in Southwold, there is never a happy ending to these stories. And, Ghosts.
We cannot see the Old Tower. The location is marked on the horizon by the new water tower built in 1937 and looks like a creature from a space monster with four legs and long tube into the ground. Both the old and new are no longer used due to contaminants.
On our left is Sacred Heart Church. It is Roman Catholic and quite impressive. I am surprised. All I have heard is the history of St Edmonds - the reformation and Puritians. Built the Tudor style, the church was completed in 1916.
At path ends, we exit to Constitution Rd. It is about four in the afternoon. We have walked about 5 miles maybe more. There is a Pub. The Red Lion. There is something about that last days of our trips that we find those specials places. This is one of those.
The Red Lion is a local's Pub. We find a table. The couple next to us begins a conversation with Betty. I go the bar and order a pint of bitters and a gin and tonic for Betty. Remember I am an expert with the British monetary system and flash my expertise.
It is an Addams. The Gin & Tonic is made in the pub manner - short push on a hanging dispenser and tonic added. There is to be entertainment tonight. A local singer begins to set up in the corner. we decide to stay. The Pub is starting to fill up. There is dining to the rear of the building and those guests begin to move into the bar.
I have expectations of some local music. Something lively. Something reflecting the local experience. We have another drink. The first three songs are as anticipated. The audience is appreciative.
Then the gentleman begins to sign a mixture of folk style laments and rather strained verbal pictorials of someone's unhappy moments. After the first one, the audience is willing to give the guitar player leeway. It is free after all. He is an artist and should display his songs. After the third song and no reprieve, the crowd begins to leave.
We stay a little longer. We have dinner reservations at the Crown. We did so partially because we deserve a nice dinner and it is the end of our journey. Also, the staff were so nice to us yesterday. Tomorrow we leave for London and on Tuesday morning, we fly home.
It dark when we arrive at the Crown. We have early reservation. We start early tomorrow.
The dining room is very comfortable. It is Sunday. We expect that the room will not be full.
We are presented the wine list by our server. I have been looking for California Wines throughout our journeys. I am in Southwold and there is Pali Wine Company's Grenache Blanc., Paso Robles, California. I know nothing about Pali Wines. I do not have the Grenache. And, why do I not have the Grenache Blanc.
I am having the Uncle Ned's Pork Belly as an entree. Come on, could you pass up Uncle Ned's? I have never had Pork Belly. Another good reason to have the Pork Belly.
I ask why it is called "Uncle Ned's" and the server answer is direct "his pigs".
It was a great meal. I am not certain that I would order Pork Belly every time I see it on a menu. I would judge the place and time. But, this was great. As was the entire meal.
After desert and coffee, we return to our room. We have several adventures ahead of us. I have inquired where to wait for the bus and how to pay. There is no bus station. It is a local shop. I have a copy of the bus schedule. But, it is written for locals who know where they are going.
We know we need to get to the Halesworth Station. We have a train schedule from the google search. But, we are not certain how this all flows together. Moreover, we have yet to determine where we are staying for the night in London and then to Heathrow in the morning.
Tomorrow - our last day.
I am up and down the stairs by 7AM. I cross the street to the "pastry" shop. I am humbled.
We have been traveling since the middle of September. I have communicate with people in London, Scotland and Ireland. This morning, the young lady behind the counter defeats me.
I have no idea where she is from. But, I cannot understand a word she says. It is me. Obviously, she interacts with the public all day. But, after several polite back and forth, I have my coffee and gooey roll with cherry on top.
My decision is which way to stroll this morning. Betty expects me back around 11AM. I have about two and half hours. I have been to the beach, the pier and the town. I decide that I will investigate outside the town. I return the cup to the counter and turn to my left as I leave the shop.
There is construction on the outside of town. I find a small lake with homes around. I cross a bridge. There is no traffic. The road bends to the left. This is a residential area. At split in the road, I bend to the right. Workmen are working on new townhouses on Sunday.
It is a pleasant walk. These are newer homes. My guess is that they were built within the last forty years. I pass the Randolph Hotel. The Randolph is a small country Inn.
I pass a gentleman walking his dog. I say "hello". He ask if I am a "yank". Obviously, he is older. I answer "yes".
We have a short conversation. He is retired military. He fought in several British related actions. He does not go into a lot of details. I mention my service. So, there is a bond.
I continue to walk up the road as it bends to the left. It remains residential with smaller well kept homes. As the road leans more to the left, the landscape is turns agricultural. It is fall. Corps have been harvested.
There is a church up ahead. I wander the cemetery. Again, personal histories are there to imagine. The older grave markers are from softer stone and erosion blurs the inscriptions. The newer gravestones tell stories of long lives and lives that ended early.
People begin to arrive for Sunday services. I wonder in to see the interior. Since the church is being prepared for services, I take a pew in the rear and look around.
My first thought is that English country churches do look like they do in the movies. I believe the style is referred to as "perpendicular" style. The churches are surrounded by the parish cemetery.
As I sit, the parishioners fill in the empty pews. As you might expect, the congregation is strongly female and older. It is the early service.
The people are very pleasant. The vicar approaches me. He politely ask who am I. I do not think they see many tourist at their church on early Sunday morning.
I tell him that I am - as I am sure he knows as soon as I open my mouth - an American. I ask if it is alright to stay. He says "of course". He ask if I am Anglican. I answer, No, I am Catholic. He nods knowingly. that answer always kills the conversation.
There are "bell ringers". They are younger men (forties) and take their skill very seriously. They are impressive. As you enter the church, you pass the bell ringers to your left.
The service begins. I stay until the collection and place a few pounds in the collection. I quietly leave. I know that I will have to quick step to be back by eleven.
The walk back is quicker. I have a better idea of the distance. I am more focused on pace.
The town is more active. The favorable weather has brought a few more weekenders to Southwold. I imagine in season the streets and shops must be crowded. Southwold is a small place.
Betty is eager to start the day. Her foot has recovered. She has been remarkable.
We walk towards the sea and turn right. We have no specific destination in mind. I think Betty has some idea. She has been reading on the internet.
We pass my marker, the Southwold Surfing School, on Ferry Rd. At the river Blyth, we turn right. I stop for an ice cream bar. I am hungry. It is about 2PM and I may have already walked 8 miles.
There are still boats at the docks. It is still mid October. I doubt that there is a hard freeze. By December, I am sure the docks will be empty.
There is a walking path to our right. Nothing interesting ahead of us, so we walk back to the path to return to Southwold.
It is a pleasant path and well used. We cross parents with children, dog walkers and other trippers. We can see the Southwold Water Tower to our left.
The Southwold Old Water Tower is one of the "must see" sites of Southwold. Don't believe me, do a google search on Southwold. Built in 1886, the tower is 40 feet high. In 1886, that is quite a feat for a small town. Of course, there is a tragedy, an engineer caught his waistcoat in machinery and was crushed leaving a poor widow and children destitute. I note that in Southwold, there is never a happy ending to these stories. And, Ghosts.
We cannot see the Old Tower. The location is marked on the horizon by the new water tower built in 1937 and looks like a creature from a space monster with four legs and long tube into the ground. Both the old and new are no longer used due to contaminants.
On our left is Sacred Heart Church. It is Roman Catholic and quite impressive. I am surprised. All I have heard is the history of St Edmonds - the reformation and Puritians. Built the Tudor style, the church was completed in 1916.
At path ends, we exit to Constitution Rd. It is about four in the afternoon. We have walked about 5 miles maybe more. There is a Pub. The Red Lion. There is something about that last days of our trips that we find those specials places. This is one of those.
The Red Lion is a local's Pub. We find a table. The couple next to us begins a conversation with Betty. I go the bar and order a pint of bitters and a gin and tonic for Betty. Remember I am an expert with the British monetary system and flash my expertise.
It is an Addams. The Gin & Tonic is made in the pub manner - short push on a hanging dispenser and tonic added. There is to be entertainment tonight. A local singer begins to set up in the corner. we decide to stay. The Pub is starting to fill up. There is dining to the rear of the building and those guests begin to move into the bar.
I have expectations of some local music. Something lively. Something reflecting the local experience. We have another drink. The first three songs are as anticipated. The audience is appreciative.
Then the gentleman begins to sign a mixture of folk style laments and rather strained verbal pictorials of someone's unhappy moments. After the first one, the audience is willing to give the guitar player leeway. It is free after all. He is an artist and should display his songs. After the third song and no reprieve, the crowd begins to leave.
We stay a little longer. We have dinner reservations at the Crown. We did so partially because we deserve a nice dinner and it is the end of our journey. Also, the staff were so nice to us yesterday. Tomorrow we leave for London and on Tuesday morning, we fly home.
It dark when we arrive at the Crown. We have early reservation. We start early tomorrow.
The dining room is very comfortable. It is Sunday. We expect that the room will not be full.
We are presented the wine list by our server. I have been looking for California Wines throughout our journeys. I am in Southwold and there is Pali Wine Company's Grenache Blanc., Paso Robles, California. I know nothing about Pali Wines. I do not have the Grenache. And, why do I not have the Grenache Blanc.
I am having the Uncle Ned's Pork Belly as an entree. Come on, could you pass up Uncle Ned's? I have never had Pork Belly. Another good reason to have the Pork Belly.
I ask why it is called "Uncle Ned's" and the server answer is direct "his pigs".
It was a great meal. I am not certain that I would order Pork Belly every time I see it on a menu. I would judge the place and time. But, this was great. As was the entire meal.
After desert and coffee, we return to our room. We have several adventures ahead of us. I have inquired where to wait for the bus and how to pay. There is no bus station. It is a local shop. I have a copy of the bus schedule. But, it is written for locals who know where they are going.
We know we need to get to the Halesworth Station. We have a train schedule from the google search. But, we are not certain how this all flows together. Moreover, we have yet to determine where we are staying for the night in London and then to Heathrow in the morning.
Tomorrow - our last day.
"Why Suffolk's coastal homes are among the priciest in the UK"
It is early. It is Saturday.
First question of the day is it too early to find coffee. I quietly dress and walk down the short flight of old wooden stairs. The sun is out. There is a strong breeze. I guess around 8 mph but it is constant.
I had scouted yesterday. There is a Costa to my right. There is a bakery right next door to the hotel but it does not open to 8AM.
I look across the street and there is a small local pastry shop. Now, you ask what is the difference between a "bakery shop" and "pastry shop". In this case, the bakery shop is closed. It is more gentile. The bakery goods lean towards fillings and a more cosmopolitan names. And, oh yeah, expresso.
The "pastry shop" sells candy bars, gum and gooey buns and coffee -not filtered - coffee. At 7AM, I want gooey with a cherry on top.
I sit and enjoy my bun. I have been to the right. Adventure is to the right from the shop towards the North Sea.
There are few fellow travelers. I pass the Swan Hotel. Like the Crown, it is owned by the Addams Brewery. I really am getting to like Addams Brewery. I take a slight turn to the left. The street has small shops, a grocery store, a souvenir shop, fish and chips. There is the North Sea.
The North Sea is impressive. What I did not expect is a very pleasant beach, There is sand, not gravel or stone. Near the water, I can feel the wind. It is a wind that will give you a ruddy complexion.
I look to the left and there is a pier. A long pier with buildings the length of it.
I decide that Betty and we will explore the pier later today. I turn to my right and walk along the sidewalk that borders the beach. In front of the sidewalk and above the beach are cabanas. That is not correct. There are small summer beach shacks. No, that is not correct either. They are beach huts.
During the summer, vacationers apparently rent them for the weekend. Locals (well, local companies) own them to rent. Others are family owned for the convenience of a weekend away. They are colorful. I am guessing the average size is 150 sq. ft. They are for day use only. No running water. No electricity. Public Washroom. If available, average price is $350 - $500 per day in season (depending on the exchange rate). The asking price for a very nice beach hut is 177,000 pounds.
Now, that rental price does include chairs, tables and mandatory sand buckets and shovels.
Of course, I learn all this later. Right now, I am just walking. I need to stretch out.
I walk down to the beach. I want to feel the sand. Yep, it is sand. I take off me shoes and socks and test the water temperature. Really, I want to say I have put my foot in the North Sea.
I walk past Gun Hill (there is a plaque). Gun Hill has a ghost (a soldier looked down the barrel of one of the cannons to check if it was loaded - it was loaded with the expected results). The two 18 pound cannons were by legend a gift to Southwold from the Duke of Cumberland after the Battle of Culloden (someplace in Scotland). Best guess, the local military sent the cannons to protect against the Dunkirk (Dutch) pirates.
I walk down Ferry Road. I pass a Holiday Park (a Vacation Trailer Park) and turn back at the Southwold Surf School and Bicycle Shop. Trust me, you remember a location that teaches surfing the North Sea.
I follow Ferry Road to Constitution Hill. The charm of Southwold is that it has not changed greatly since late 1700's and early 1800s. Once a wealthy community involved in commerce of wool and international trade, a series of events and the industrial revolution caused Southwold to remain asleep.
Apparently, the town never recovered economically from the great fire of 1649 which devastated the town destroying the majority of the town buildings and wealth. It is that fire and economic isolation that now causes Southwold to be a coveted second home destination.
With rebuilding from the Fire, the town created the unique "Greens"- small parks - throughout the town. The homes are separated and the larger houses are brick. The Great Fire fuel was the wooden homes and tight buildings and one hell of a wind.
The amount of renovation is remarkable. I am not sure if when completed that these will be private homes, rentals or short term rentals.
I follow the curve back to High street and the hotel. I inform Betty of my wanderings, the weather and recommendations.
We leave the hotel about 11AM. We walk up High Street. We note there is a local grocery store - Co-op Food Southwold. We stop briefly at the High Tide Gift Shop. Betty buys several postcards to document to family and friends.
At the beach sidewalk, we turn left toward to the Pier. On the corner is the Sailors Reading Room. At first, it looks like a small community's attic. But, as you wander the room and read the exhibits along the wall, it is very interesting.
We learn about the Battle of Solebay. As often occurs with Great Battles - both sides claim victory and the living and the dead became heroes. This particular naval battle occurred in June 1672 with the French and English against the Dutch. Apparently, there was not enough North Sea to go around. By the way, I checked the battle seemed to be a lot of "fire and fury" - the Dutch lost two ship and the English/French lost one.
We turn towards the pier. We pass the lighthouse. The Pier originally built in 1900 (replacing an earlier pier) is a tourist destination with several restaurants and shops. There are actually tours. It is lunch time and the restaurants are full.
You definitely feel the hard breeze out on the water. We walk to the end of the boardwalk and look back. It is impressive on both sides of the pier with the waves pounding the beaches with a bright blue sky frosted by mist as water hits the shore. Between the water and the sky is a chain of the beach huts. They are shoulder to shoulder - an unbroken line of uniform huts with blues, reds, pinks, whites and pastels.
I discover that George Orwell lived as a young man in Southwold. Southwold is very proud. George is dead so he does not loudly dispute. Southwold civic pride wins. But, I do find it interesting. You do not think of George Orwell (Eric Blair) enjoying a day at the beach.
It is a little after 1PM. We venture into one the crowded restaurants that seem friendly and not too expensive. The service is efficient and the fish and chips are good. The beers are very good.
Our schedule is designed around the open hours of the Southwold Museum. Betty is interested to see if she can find out more about her family.
The museum is open. The volunteer is an older woman who is tidy and friendly. She takes her time to warm up to us. My feeling is that it is not unusual for visitors to proudly exclaim to her that their ancestry has lead them to the museum.
I am impressed by the museum. Well thought out exhibits. The museum exhibits a controlled amount of enthusiasm and pride in the history of the town.
The museum is also socially conscious and discusses current issues in light of Southwold's past. Specifically, women's rights and the fight for the right to vote.
As we leave I ask Betty if she saw the "walk through" we passed just before the museum. Betty says "No". It is Youngs Yard. Betty, you now have a piece of knowledge that is uniquely yours to share with the family.
We think about a quick tour of Addams Brewery. We decide not. It is about 4PM.
We walk through the "Yard" turning to our left back to the Crown. We both feel like a light snack and cocktail.
It has gotten cooler without an afternoon sun. We go inside to the pub. It is crowded. It is small and very much a standing bar to begin with. We ask and the bar manager makes an exception for us. We can sit in the restaurant area. Dining Room will not begin set up for another hour. We can sit at a table and enjoy. I like this hotel.
We finish. The drinks were fine. I go shopping at the Co-op Grocery for inner in our room.
I really like Southwold.
First question of the day is it too early to find coffee. I quietly dress and walk down the short flight of old wooden stairs. The sun is out. There is a strong breeze. I guess around 8 mph but it is constant.
I had scouted yesterday. There is a Costa to my right. There is a bakery right next door to the hotel but it does not open to 8AM.
I look across the street and there is a small local pastry shop. Now, you ask what is the difference between a "bakery shop" and "pastry shop". In this case, the bakery shop is closed. It is more gentile. The bakery goods lean towards fillings and a more cosmopolitan names. And, oh yeah, expresso.
The "pastry shop" sells candy bars, gum and gooey buns and coffee -not filtered - coffee. At 7AM, I want gooey with a cherry on top.
I sit and enjoy my bun. I have been to the right. Adventure is to the right from the shop towards the North Sea.
There are few fellow travelers. I pass the Swan Hotel. Like the Crown, it is owned by the Addams Brewery. I really am getting to like Addams Brewery. I take a slight turn to the left. The street has small shops, a grocery store, a souvenir shop, fish and chips. There is the North Sea.
The North Sea is impressive. What I did not expect is a very pleasant beach, There is sand, not gravel or stone. Near the water, I can feel the wind. It is a wind that will give you a ruddy complexion.
I look to the left and there is a pier. A long pier with buildings the length of it.
I decide that Betty and we will explore the pier later today. I turn to my right and walk along the sidewalk that borders the beach. In front of the sidewalk and above the beach are cabanas. That is not correct. There are small summer beach shacks. No, that is not correct either. They are beach huts.
During the summer, vacationers apparently rent them for the weekend. Locals (well, local companies) own them to rent. Others are family owned for the convenience of a weekend away. They are colorful. I am guessing the average size is 150 sq. ft. They are for day use only. No running water. No electricity. Public Washroom. If available, average price is $350 - $500 per day in season (depending on the exchange rate). The asking price for a very nice beach hut is 177,000 pounds.
Now, that rental price does include chairs, tables and mandatory sand buckets and shovels.
Of course, I learn all this later. Right now, I am just walking. I need to stretch out.
I walk down to the beach. I want to feel the sand. Yep, it is sand. I take off me shoes and socks and test the water temperature. Really, I want to say I have put my foot in the North Sea.
I walk past Gun Hill (there is a plaque). Gun Hill has a ghost (a soldier looked down the barrel of one of the cannons to check if it was loaded - it was loaded with the expected results). The two 18 pound cannons were by legend a gift to Southwold from the Duke of Cumberland after the Battle of Culloden (someplace in Scotland). Best guess, the local military sent the cannons to protect against the Dunkirk (Dutch) pirates.
I walk down Ferry Road. I pass a Holiday Park (a Vacation Trailer Park) and turn back at the Southwold Surf School and Bicycle Shop. Trust me, you remember a location that teaches surfing the North Sea.
I follow Ferry Road to Constitution Hill. The charm of Southwold is that it has not changed greatly since late 1700's and early 1800s. Once a wealthy community involved in commerce of wool and international trade, a series of events and the industrial revolution caused Southwold to remain asleep.
Apparently, the town never recovered economically from the great fire of 1649 which devastated the town destroying the majority of the town buildings and wealth. It is that fire and economic isolation that now causes Southwold to be a coveted second home destination.
With rebuilding from the Fire, the town created the unique "Greens"- small parks - throughout the town. The homes are separated and the larger houses are brick. The Great Fire fuel was the wooden homes and tight buildings and one hell of a wind.
The amount of renovation is remarkable. I am not sure if when completed that these will be private homes, rentals or short term rentals.
I follow the curve back to High street and the hotel. I inform Betty of my wanderings, the weather and recommendations.
We leave the hotel about 11AM. We walk up High Street. We note there is a local grocery store - Co-op Food Southwold. We stop briefly at the High Tide Gift Shop. Betty buys several postcards to document to family and friends.
At the beach sidewalk, we turn left toward to the Pier. On the corner is the Sailors Reading Room. At first, it looks like a small community's attic. But, as you wander the room and read the exhibits along the wall, it is very interesting.
We learn about the Battle of Solebay. As often occurs with Great Battles - both sides claim victory and the living and the dead became heroes. This particular naval battle occurred in June 1672 with the French and English against the Dutch. Apparently, there was not enough North Sea to go around. By the way, I checked the battle seemed to be a lot of "fire and fury" - the Dutch lost two ship and the English/French lost one.
We turn towards the pier. We pass the lighthouse. The Pier originally built in 1900 (replacing an earlier pier) is a tourist destination with several restaurants and shops. There are actually tours. It is lunch time and the restaurants are full.
You definitely feel the hard breeze out on the water. We walk to the end of the boardwalk and look back. It is impressive on both sides of the pier with the waves pounding the beaches with a bright blue sky frosted by mist as water hits the shore. Between the water and the sky is a chain of the beach huts. They are shoulder to shoulder - an unbroken line of uniform huts with blues, reds, pinks, whites and pastels.
I discover that George Orwell lived as a young man in Southwold. Southwold is very proud. George is dead so he does not loudly dispute. Southwold civic pride wins. But, I do find it interesting. You do not think of George Orwell (Eric Blair) enjoying a day at the beach.
It is a little after 1PM. We venture into one the crowded restaurants that seem friendly and not too expensive. The service is efficient and the fish and chips are good. The beers are very good.
Our schedule is designed around the open hours of the Southwold Museum. Betty is interested to see if she can find out more about her family.
The museum is open. The volunteer is an older woman who is tidy and friendly. She takes her time to warm up to us. My feeling is that it is not unusual for visitors to proudly exclaim to her that their ancestry has lead them to the museum.
I am impressed by the museum. Well thought out exhibits. The museum exhibits a controlled amount of enthusiasm and pride in the history of the town.
The museum is also socially conscious and discusses current issues in light of Southwold's past. Specifically, women's rights and the fight for the right to vote.
As we leave I ask Betty if she saw the "walk through" we passed just before the museum. Betty says "No". It is Youngs Yard. Betty, you now have a piece of knowledge that is uniquely yours to share with the family.
We think about a quick tour of Addams Brewery. We decide not. It is about 4PM.
We walk through the "Yard" turning to our left back to the Crown. We both feel like a light snack and cocktail.
It has gotten cooler without an afternoon sun. We go inside to the pub. It is crowded. It is small and very much a standing bar to begin with. We ask and the bar manager makes an exception for us. We can sit in the restaurant area. Dining Room will not begin set up for another hour. We can sit at a table and enjoy. I like this hotel.
We finish. The drinks were fine. I go shopping at the Co-op Grocery for inner in our room.
I really like Southwold.
Monday, October 14, 2019
"A Beautiful Seaside Town on the Suffolk Heritage Coast"
It is Friday.
We have left the terrible weather in Highlands of Scotland. This is beginning of our last weekend in England.
A subplot to our journey is to seek places of our heritage. We visited Wexford County. We should have been more adventurous. But, we did get a feel for the land of my Irish ancestry.
We are now on our way to Southwold. This is our second attempt. Two years ago on our first visit to England (London), Betty and I thought that a quick ride to a focal point of her family history was a goal. When we looked at the trip which involves trains and bus and decided not to try. It would have been a long, long day for a very short stay. Moreover, we were not sure what we would find.
On this trip, we are committed. We have done more research. We have planned a weekend. We still are not certain what to expect.
Betty's sister visited several years ago. Maybe I did not listen well, but all I remember is that it was an afternoon drive from London and a quick visit to the church where the ancestor was the rector.
We taxi to the train station. I am more confident in our use of the British train system. But, still have a lot to learn.
The ticket person is talkative. It is mid-morning, The pace is slower. My education is that we were eligible for senior discount. I tried online several months ago and found that I needed a UK address. The Cambridge ticket master advises that what I could have done is apply at any station in the UK and no local address required.
I have learnt a lot - most tickets are all day, that there multiple types of trains and to ask questions about how and which tickets to buy- everyone does it.
We pay for our round trip tickets to Halesworth. From Halesworth, we will take a bus to Southwold. This involves changing trains in Ipswich. There is a schedule.
We get something to eat and drink at the station. We keep our eyes on the overhead display to check the track we will depart from. The train is similar to last night, but no longer crowded. We find seats for the thirty minutes ride.
This English countryside is not the long rolling green hills with quaint villages. The scenery is more compact. The farms are smaller. The houses are not grand. It is pleasant. My opinion based upon the last night, residents commute to London.
Ipswich is an older industrial town on the southeastern coast of England. I note that we seldom see freight trains. In the United States, it is common for passenger trains to wait for freight trains to pass. In Europe and UK, I have yet to see a freight train. My guess is that freight moves at night. With shorter distances, the trains do not have to be as long. Also, because of the number of waterways, freight moves by water.
We find the train to Halesworth. We have no idea what to expect. It is a commuter type of train. It is about a 35 minute ride to Halesworth.
Halesworth is a small town - second station from the end of the line. Halesworth has a very interesting history. The station is unmanned for large portions of the day, We exit the train . It takes a few minutes to realize we need to cross over the tracks to the bus stop.
We meet a couple who have retired to Southwold. They are on their way home from a short stay in London. Betty strikes up a conversation. They are very informative. I am relieved since we now have someone to follow to Southwold.
With a few stops through the country, we cross a bridge, say goodbye to the couple and step off the bus at Southwold. I am impressed. It is larger than expected. It is a village in transition. Twenty years ago, Southwold was a village that did not see tourists. Southwold was village in Suffolk County on the North Sea with stately homes and an interesting history.
Now, due to circumstances - new London money looking for weekend retreats and Addams Brewery - Southwold is a destination.
We check our apps. Because of Caroline, we discovered an app called "Pockets map" which gives you step by step directions and maps without using a lot data. The "Crown" is just up High Street. We are within hundred feet. We cross the street. There are not a lot of hotel options in Southwold - the "Crown" and the "Swan". It is my impression is that Addams Brewery owns both.
The "Crown" facade implies that it was built in the late 1700s. There are 14 rooms, pub and restaurant . Betty made the reservations. We were surprised at the high rate - but there a few weeks left in the season with the weather holding. It is the weekend.
The registration room is up a narrow flight of stairs. We check in with a pleasant lady and given keys to the room.
The room is large and remodeled. The bathroom is modern. There are two Addams "Ghost Ship" Ales and a large bag of crisps. I am in awe. Not water. Not candy. Ale and crisps. I am the happiest of men.
I immediately open the Ales and crisps. I turn on the television. We always check the television for what programming is available.
A quick rest, we leave to visit St Edmonds Church. It is mid afternoon about 3:30 PM.
St Edmonds is an historical site. We are here that Betty's ancestor was the vicar at St Edmonds and is buried by the pulpit in the church.
The church was built between 1430s to 1490s. The church reflects the wealth and power of Southwold during this period. Historically and architecturally , the church is important. However, what stands out to me are occurrences. First, the windows - the most curious is that everyone broke a window.
William Dowsing, Cromwell henchman and overall bad guy, destroyed all of the medieval stain glass and baptismal (took the heads off). Then, a German bomb during WWII destroyed the replacement glass.
As an aside, Southwold was bombed in WWI and WWII. I was not aware that the German's in WWI used Zeppelins to bomb civilian populations along the coast. During WWII, Germans- early in the biltz bombed civilian populations through out the UK (interestingly, including Scotland and Dublin). You tend to think of the devastation of London (which is much more extensive that you can imagine when looking at London today).
We spend a really delightful late afternoon forty-five minutes in the Cemetery surrounding to the church. We meet briefly the present Vicar as we reenter the church to locate Christopher Youngs burial and Plaque. Also to view, several of the historical highlights of the church. - "Southwold Jack" a clock jack and the highly regarded "rood screen". You begin to understand that Southwold's history is long and interesting. To build a church such as this, Southwold was wealthy.
Having visited the cemetery of Wexford, now, viewing the this cemetery I can understand the idle interest cemeteries create. Little messages on grave stones, short lives buried next to mothers, long lives, soldiers, generations next to each - give you just enough to wonder about their lives. There are newer graves and gravestone that are so weathered that you cannot decipher.
It is about 5:30, we walk back to the hotel. There is museum. It is closed until tomorrow. Limited hours 1 PM to 3PM.
We stop for something to eat at the Cornish Bakery. It is almost closing time so the menu at the counter is limited. We are hungry and pasty are very filling.
I still have chips and ale at the hotel. It has been a long day.
Tomorrow. Enjoy Southwold. I am glad we are here.
We have left the terrible weather in Highlands of Scotland. This is beginning of our last weekend in England.
A subplot to our journey is to seek places of our heritage. We visited Wexford County. We should have been more adventurous. But, we did get a feel for the land of my Irish ancestry.
We are now on our way to Southwold. This is our second attempt. Two years ago on our first visit to England (London), Betty and I thought that a quick ride to a focal point of her family history was a goal. When we looked at the trip which involves trains and bus and decided not to try. It would have been a long, long day for a very short stay. Moreover, we were not sure what we would find.
On this trip, we are committed. We have done more research. We have planned a weekend. We still are not certain what to expect.
Betty's sister visited several years ago. Maybe I did not listen well, but all I remember is that it was an afternoon drive from London and a quick visit to the church where the ancestor was the rector.
We taxi to the train station. I am more confident in our use of the British train system. But, still have a lot to learn.
The ticket person is talkative. It is mid-morning, The pace is slower. My education is that we were eligible for senior discount. I tried online several months ago and found that I needed a UK address. The Cambridge ticket master advises that what I could have done is apply at any station in the UK and no local address required.
I have learnt a lot - most tickets are all day, that there multiple types of trains and to ask questions about how and which tickets to buy- everyone does it.
We pay for our round trip tickets to Halesworth. From Halesworth, we will take a bus to Southwold. This involves changing trains in Ipswich. There is a schedule.
We get something to eat and drink at the station. We keep our eyes on the overhead display to check the track we will depart from. The train is similar to last night, but no longer crowded. We find seats for the thirty minutes ride.
This English countryside is not the long rolling green hills with quaint villages. The scenery is more compact. The farms are smaller. The houses are not grand. It is pleasant. My opinion based upon the last night, residents commute to London.
Ipswich is an older industrial town on the southeastern coast of England. I note that we seldom see freight trains. In the United States, it is common for passenger trains to wait for freight trains to pass. In Europe and UK, I have yet to see a freight train. My guess is that freight moves at night. With shorter distances, the trains do not have to be as long. Also, because of the number of waterways, freight moves by water.
We find the train to Halesworth. We have no idea what to expect. It is a commuter type of train. It is about a 35 minute ride to Halesworth.
Halesworth is a small town - second station from the end of the line. Halesworth has a very interesting history. The station is unmanned for large portions of the day, We exit the train . It takes a few minutes to realize we need to cross over the tracks to the bus stop.
We meet a couple who have retired to Southwold. They are on their way home from a short stay in London. Betty strikes up a conversation. They are very informative. I am relieved since we now have someone to follow to Southwold.
With a few stops through the country, we cross a bridge, say goodbye to the couple and step off the bus at Southwold. I am impressed. It is larger than expected. It is a village in transition. Twenty years ago, Southwold was a village that did not see tourists. Southwold was village in Suffolk County on the North Sea with stately homes and an interesting history.
Now, due to circumstances - new London money looking for weekend retreats and Addams Brewery - Southwold is a destination.
We check our apps. Because of Caroline, we discovered an app called "Pockets map" which gives you step by step directions and maps without using a lot data. The "Crown" is just up High Street. We are within hundred feet. We cross the street. There are not a lot of hotel options in Southwold - the "Crown" and the "Swan". It is my impression is that Addams Brewery owns both.
The "Crown" facade implies that it was built in the late 1700s. There are 14 rooms, pub and restaurant . Betty made the reservations. We were surprised at the high rate - but there a few weeks left in the season with the weather holding. It is the weekend.
The registration room is up a narrow flight of stairs. We check in with a pleasant lady and given keys to the room.
The room is large and remodeled. The bathroom is modern. There are two Addams "Ghost Ship" Ales and a large bag of crisps. I am in awe. Not water. Not candy. Ale and crisps. I am the happiest of men.
I immediately open the Ales and crisps. I turn on the television. We always check the television for what programming is available.
A quick rest, we leave to visit St Edmonds Church. It is mid afternoon about 3:30 PM.
St Edmonds is an historical site. We are here that Betty's ancestor was the vicar at St Edmonds and is buried by the pulpit in the church.
The church was built between 1430s to 1490s. The church reflects the wealth and power of Southwold during this period. Historically and architecturally , the church is important. However, what stands out to me are occurrences. First, the windows - the most curious is that everyone broke a window.
William Dowsing, Cromwell henchman and overall bad guy, destroyed all of the medieval stain glass and baptismal (took the heads off). Then, a German bomb during WWII destroyed the replacement glass.
As an aside, Southwold was bombed in WWI and WWII. I was not aware that the German's in WWI used Zeppelins to bomb civilian populations along the coast. During WWII, Germans- early in the biltz bombed civilian populations through out the UK (interestingly, including Scotland and Dublin). You tend to think of the devastation of London (which is much more extensive that you can imagine when looking at London today).
We spend a really delightful late afternoon forty-five minutes in the Cemetery surrounding to the church. We meet briefly the present Vicar as we reenter the church to locate Christopher Youngs burial and Plaque. Also to view, several of the historical highlights of the church. - "Southwold Jack" a clock jack and the highly regarded "rood screen". You begin to understand that Southwold's history is long and interesting. To build a church such as this, Southwold was wealthy.
Having visited the cemetery of Wexford, now, viewing the this cemetery I can understand the idle interest cemeteries create. Little messages on grave stones, short lives buried next to mothers, long lives, soldiers, generations next to each - give you just enough to wonder about their lives. There are newer graves and gravestone that are so weathered that you cannot decipher.
It is about 5:30, we walk back to the hotel. There is museum. It is closed until tomorrow. Limited hours 1 PM to 3PM.
We stop for something to eat at the Cornish Bakery. It is almost closing time so the menu at the counter is limited. We are hungry and pasty are very filling.
I still have chips and ale at the hotel. It has been a long day.
Tomorrow. Enjoy Southwold. I am glad we are here.
Thursday, October 3, 2019
Cambridge is the womb of spies
I cannot imagine what Cambridge looked like in the 1930s.
Cambridge has a more utilitarian feel to it. The students seem more diverse than those we saw at Oxford. Very small sample.
We are up early. I do not go for my morning walk. Betty has read about Fitzbillies. A Cambridge tradition for breakfast.
We arrive at the original Fitzbillies on Trumpington Rd. Fitzbillies is famous for its Chelsea Bun. Founded in 1920, it is a quaint corner restaurant.
The service and food is good. That is a compliment. The people watching is extraordinary. In the corner, there is a professor looking like a gentleman trying to impress a younger lady. There are eastern European tourists adjusting to the English menu. Children with a mother, being polite.
Breakfast is leisurely. Betty has a mid morning appointment at Toni & Guy.
We cross in front of Cambridge University. We decide to met again in about an hour and half and then plan the rest of our day.
It is a sunny day. The temperature is comfortable. I have no destination in mind. I walk up Bridge St. (Regents Street) to the Cam River and the "Punting" vendors under the bridge.
I decide to look for the Bridge of Sighs - Cambridge. The bridge was built in 1831 and named after the Bridge of Sighs in Venice (it does not resemble). The bridge cross over the River Cam at St. John's College.
I turn left for no reason at all. And, as often happens, I find adventure.
At intersection, I turn left. I am somewhat interested in following the river. My idea is to complete a rough circle back to Toni & Guy and meet with Betty.
After a block or so, the road becomes tree covered and somewhat private - very little traffic. on right, there is a park and parking area. To my left, I am tracking with the river. It appears to be very much an enclosed park. There are fences. The occasional gates are open.
There is some work being done. For no real reason, I turn right at one of the gates. It is a small road and the secondary, larger gate is open. There are no signs forbidding entry. There are also no welcoming signs.
I meander into the park. Within fifty yards, I realize that I am at the rear of one one of the colleges. From the main road in front of the colleges, you do not realize how extensive the grounds are.
There is the River Cam. I walk the shore as I see punts with tourists being poled. It is calming and traditional. The surroundings are english green with large trees, green grass and fine paths. I am looking for a bridge to cross over to the impressive buildings.
I know that any moment a security officer will walk up and ask me to leave. I am that obvious. A singular figure on a background of green. Plus, it is obvious I have no idea where I am.
I see the bridge. The bridge aligns with a massive building with a portico the width of the building. There is a guard. He eyes me as I walk up the path.
When in doubt, act like you belong. I have the advantage of age. I have the excuse of age. If he stops me, "Holy cow, I am lost. I did not know". I am prepared.
Nothing. He knows and I know. But, he is not quite sure. I simply am not worth it.
I walk tall with my shoulders back. I am self consciously confident.
I enter through a door. I am now joined by other tourists who entered through the front gate of Trinity College and paid. I entered through the back door and I am waiting for the tap on the shoulder.
I follow the tourists - a man and woman - into anteroom . There is a reception desk. The woman at the desk is very pleasant. "Do I want a ticket to see the library". "Of course".
I climb the stairway up to the Wren Library.
The Wren Library was designed by Christopher Wren in 1676 and completed in 1695.
I love bookstores and libraries. I have been fortunate during our journeys to visit several great libraries. Now, Wren and it was by accident.
The tourist ticket takes you to the exhibit area of the library. The books are in sealed glass exhibit cases with the books open and turned to specific pages. I know that does not sound breath taking, but it is.
There is A.A. Milne's manuscript of Winnie-the-Pooh, Capell collection of Shakespeare, autographed poems by Milton, the first printed book in English and more. I am joyful.
I am now more confident. Apparently, the entrance ticket allows you to wonder the grounds of Trinity. With students and tourists, I have disappeared into the masses.
My hour and half is almost up. It is time to meet Betty and have lunch. I am excited to tell Betty of my adventure.
I turn left onto King's Parade and head toward the park in front of Toni & Guy. Consistently, Betty has been more satisfied with the cuts and coloring in Europe and UK than the US. And, there is always Florence.
Betty looks great. We walk up to the Bridge again. Betty asked if I found the "Bridge of Sighs". I did not. Reality is that I came very close. My guess is that there are two ways to view the Bridge - a Punting tour or paying the entry fee to St John's.
We walk back to the Cambridge University. I tell Betty about my adventure. She is not impressed.
It is about 1 PM and the weather is about to turn cooler. We stop for lunch at the The Senate Bar & Bistro. It is soup, sandwich and beer. Betty has lemonade.
After lunch, we cross the street to view Great St. Mary's Church. I climb the bell tower for a view of Cambridge.
It is a quiet and lazy afternoon. We walk and find a small bookstore. Surely, they have interesting books. No.
We shop up King's Parade towards where it becomes Trumpington Rd. We turn right to Pembroke St. It is late afternoon. We stop at the Museum of Archaeology. Pembroke Street turns into Downing Street.
We stop at another small University Museum. Betty remains outside. I very briefly enter and view.
Downing Street ends at Emmanuel College with the Indoor Shopping Mall to the left.
Betty informs me that her relative was a professor at the college 300 years or so ago. I am very impressed.
We are tired and pass up looking through the gate. It is close to 4PM and the middle of October. It will be dark soon. we stop at Tesco for food to eat in our room. I need to eat quickly since I need to visit a laundromat tonight.
I have researched available laundromats and selected one I think I can find and is self service (I have found that you have to be careful on this issue). It is always a little embarrassing to walk through a lobby with a large bag(s). You do feel everyone is looking at you. Particularly, a lobby of the Gonville.
It is dark. I am not sure what to expect. There is still traffic. The laundromat is in the opposite direction of today's and yesterday's touring. How long to walk a mile and quarter?
I turn right and walk past library. I turn to the right again. It is a commercial street. The street is quiet with little traffic. It is more of a residential neighborhood.
I pass restaurants which are still waiting for patrons to arrive from work.
I continually scan both sides of the street. I really do not want to use data.
The Laundromat is on the other side of the street and next to a Tesco Express. I scan the machines to see if I will know how to operate. I then start to look the cost per load and the cost of soap. Do I have enough coins to do all the laundry.
I do not. I separate the laundry into three piles - Betty, John and gentle. I have two other "laundromaters"to share the machines. There are open machines. I load three machines, pay and start. I am out of coins and the changer does not work.Let me explain, one and two pound are coins. So these are not quarters we are taking about. I have a great deal of loose coins in my pockets, but only a few pound coins.
I go next door to Tesco Express. I could ask the clerk for change. Instead, I buy a soda and hand the clerk a ten pound note. She bags it and hands me my change.
AHA. My newly gained skill with the UK monetary system comes out. She hands me a one pound coin instead of two pound coin. By accident or as a slight of hand, I point out that my change is incorrect. She hesitates. I insist. She finally checks her cash draw and determines that she was wrong. I smile a prideful smile.
The hardest part of a tour of a laundromat is the waiting. It is the drying process that takes multiple cycles. Fortunately, these machines are efficient. I sort and fold. I neatly place into the bags and begin my walk back to the hotel. The walk back seems quicker. I know where I am going. The restaurants are more active. They look very interesting.
I try again to act nonchalant as I walk through the lobby. Of course, the elevator is glass so I falsely feel the eyes watch and know where I have been.
Tomorrow - Southwold. The end of the journey.
Cambridge has a more utilitarian feel to it. The students seem more diverse than those we saw at Oxford. Very small sample.
We are up early. I do not go for my morning walk. Betty has read about Fitzbillies. A Cambridge tradition for breakfast.
We arrive at the original Fitzbillies on Trumpington Rd. Fitzbillies is famous for its Chelsea Bun. Founded in 1920, it is a quaint corner restaurant.
The service and food is good. That is a compliment. The people watching is extraordinary. In the corner, there is a professor looking like a gentleman trying to impress a younger lady. There are eastern European tourists adjusting to the English menu. Children with a mother, being polite.
Breakfast is leisurely. Betty has a mid morning appointment at Toni & Guy.
We cross in front of Cambridge University. We decide to met again in about an hour and half and then plan the rest of our day.
It is a sunny day. The temperature is comfortable. I have no destination in mind. I walk up Bridge St. (Regents Street) to the Cam River and the "Punting" vendors under the bridge.
I decide to look for the Bridge of Sighs - Cambridge. The bridge was built in 1831 and named after the Bridge of Sighs in Venice (it does not resemble). The bridge cross over the River Cam at St. John's College.
I turn left for no reason at all. And, as often happens, I find adventure.
At intersection, I turn left. I am somewhat interested in following the river. My idea is to complete a rough circle back to Toni & Guy and meet with Betty.
After a block or so, the road becomes tree covered and somewhat private - very little traffic. on right, there is a park and parking area. To my left, I am tracking with the river. It appears to be very much an enclosed park. There are fences. The occasional gates are open.
There is some work being done. For no real reason, I turn right at one of the gates. It is a small road and the secondary, larger gate is open. There are no signs forbidding entry. There are also no welcoming signs.
I meander into the park. Within fifty yards, I realize that I am at the rear of one one of the colleges. From the main road in front of the colleges, you do not realize how extensive the grounds are.
There is the River Cam. I walk the shore as I see punts with tourists being poled. It is calming and traditional. The surroundings are english green with large trees, green grass and fine paths. I am looking for a bridge to cross over to the impressive buildings.
I know that any moment a security officer will walk up and ask me to leave. I am that obvious. A singular figure on a background of green. Plus, it is obvious I have no idea where I am.
I see the bridge. The bridge aligns with a massive building with a portico the width of the building. There is a guard. He eyes me as I walk up the path.
When in doubt, act like you belong. I have the advantage of age. I have the excuse of age. If he stops me, "Holy cow, I am lost. I did not know". I am prepared.
Nothing. He knows and I know. But, he is not quite sure. I simply am not worth it.
I walk tall with my shoulders back. I am self consciously confident.
I enter through a door. I am now joined by other tourists who entered through the front gate of Trinity College and paid. I entered through the back door and I am waiting for the tap on the shoulder.
I follow the tourists - a man and woman - into anteroom . There is a reception desk. The woman at the desk is very pleasant. "Do I want a ticket to see the library". "Of course".
I climb the stairway up to the Wren Library.
The Wren Library was designed by Christopher Wren in 1676 and completed in 1695.
I love bookstores and libraries. I have been fortunate during our journeys to visit several great libraries. Now, Wren and it was by accident.
The tourist ticket takes you to the exhibit area of the library. The books are in sealed glass exhibit cases with the books open and turned to specific pages. I know that does not sound breath taking, but it is.
There is A.A. Milne's manuscript of Winnie-the-Pooh, Capell collection of Shakespeare, autographed poems by Milton, the first printed book in English and more. I am joyful.
I am now more confident. Apparently, the entrance ticket allows you to wonder the grounds of Trinity. With students and tourists, I have disappeared into the masses.
My hour and half is almost up. It is time to meet Betty and have lunch. I am excited to tell Betty of my adventure.
I turn left onto King's Parade and head toward the park in front of Toni & Guy. Consistently, Betty has been more satisfied with the cuts and coloring in Europe and UK than the US. And, there is always Florence.
Betty looks great. We walk up to the Bridge again. Betty asked if I found the "Bridge of Sighs". I did not. Reality is that I came very close. My guess is that there are two ways to view the Bridge - a Punting tour or paying the entry fee to St John's.
We walk back to the Cambridge University. I tell Betty about my adventure. She is not impressed.
It is about 1 PM and the weather is about to turn cooler. We stop for lunch at the The Senate Bar & Bistro. It is soup, sandwich and beer. Betty has lemonade.
After lunch, we cross the street to view Great St. Mary's Church. I climb the bell tower for a view of Cambridge.
It is a quiet and lazy afternoon. We walk and find a small bookstore. Surely, they have interesting books. No.
We shop up King's Parade towards where it becomes Trumpington Rd. We turn right to Pembroke St. It is late afternoon. We stop at the Museum of Archaeology. Pembroke Street turns into Downing Street.
We stop at another small University Museum. Betty remains outside. I very briefly enter and view.
Downing Street ends at Emmanuel College with the Indoor Shopping Mall to the left.
Betty informs me that her relative was a professor at the college 300 years or so ago. I am very impressed.
We are tired and pass up looking through the gate. It is close to 4PM and the middle of October. It will be dark soon. we stop at Tesco for food to eat in our room. I need to eat quickly since I need to visit a laundromat tonight.
I have researched available laundromats and selected one I think I can find and is self service (I have found that you have to be careful on this issue). It is always a little embarrassing to walk through a lobby with a large bag(s). You do feel everyone is looking at you. Particularly, a lobby of the Gonville.
It is dark. I am not sure what to expect. There is still traffic. The laundromat is in the opposite direction of today's and yesterday's touring. How long to walk a mile and quarter?
I turn right and walk past library. I turn to the right again. It is a commercial street. The street is quiet with little traffic. It is more of a residential neighborhood.
I pass restaurants which are still waiting for patrons to arrive from work.
I continually scan both sides of the street. I really do not want to use data.
The Laundromat is on the other side of the street and next to a Tesco Express. I scan the machines to see if I will know how to operate. I then start to look the cost per load and the cost of soap. Do I have enough coins to do all the laundry.
I do not. I separate the laundry into three piles - Betty, John and gentle. I have two other "laundromaters"to share the machines. There are open machines. I load three machines, pay and start. I am out of coins and the changer does not work.Let me explain, one and two pound are coins. So these are not quarters we are taking about. I have a great deal of loose coins in my pockets, but only a few pound coins.
I go next door to Tesco Express. I could ask the clerk for change. Instead, I buy a soda and hand the clerk a ten pound note. She bags it and hands me my change.
AHA. My newly gained skill with the UK monetary system comes out. She hands me a one pound coin instead of two pound coin. By accident or as a slight of hand, I point out that my change is incorrect. She hesitates. I insist. She finally checks her cash draw and determines that she was wrong. I smile a prideful smile.
The hardest part of a tour of a laundromat is the waiting. It is the drying process that takes multiple cycles. Fortunately, these machines are efficient. I sort and fold. I neatly place into the bags and begin my walk back to the hotel. The walk back seems quicker. I know where I am going. The restaurants are more active. They look very interesting.
I try again to act nonchalant as I walk through the lobby. Of course, the elevator is glass so I falsely feel the eyes watch and know where I have been.
Tomorrow - Southwold. The end of the journey.
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