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.
Wednesday, October 2, 2019
"He smelled of cigarettes and whiskey, the smell of Cambridge and youth"
It is 6:30 AM.
I do not have any point of reference. I am not certain why we are in Cambridge. We visited Oxford because of our enjoyment of Inspector Morse and Inspector Lewis. Hey, people visit the White House because of "Olympus has Fallen" ( I am not serious).
On our one day journey to Oxford, we had met a gentleman who said Cambridge was impressive. Also, Cambridge is a stop on our journey to Southwold.
Betty is sleeping. The weather is sunny. I need coffee. I need a walk.
We arrived in darkness. The entrance with the classic Rolls Royce in the circle driveway is impressive. But. we could not see a lot.
The hotel facade is impressive. The Spa rooms are separate from the main building. I pass through the lobby. I turn left and walk to the intersection. I am looking for coffee - Starbucks. A Starbuck opens before the other coffee shops.
I turn right. Regents Street looks more commercial. I have no great infinity for Starbucks. I would prefer a local shop. But, Starbucks - like McDonald's - is uniform and open. It is a place locals use for the same reasons.
I am hungry. Joy! Across the street is a Starbucks. The first coffee is still dripping. I am the second person in the shop.
I order coffee and a biscuit. I find a comfortable chair and I am happy. The biscuit disappears. A few more customers arrive.
Leaving, I turn to the left again.
Cambridge is not Oxford. Oxford seemed more compact. older and less overtly commercial. Cambridge is modern. A few blocks, there is a multi-story indoor shopping mall. There are restaurants and shops.
It is about 7:30 AM, traffic is picking up. On Regent Street, I find a small college. I have never quite figured out the British University system. A student claims attendance at Cambridge, but, actually, they attended one of the colleges. Within that system, there are major colleges and lesser colleges. Colleges within the system are recognized for different academia, for example, divinity.
I pass several colleges with signs saying students only. I do enter Sidney Sussex College mall (more later). The architecture is familiar.
I walk up to the Round Church. I am now on Bridge Street (yep, same street different name) It is not open. But, the garden has a bench to sit and rest. This is the first quiet place I have found. It is a 12 century round church. It becomes my stop and rest for the next two days.
I continue up Bridge Street. It is 8 AM and traffic and more pedestrians. I walk up to Chesterton Rd. I feel as I did when I found the privity of Cardinal John Henry Newman in London. Sanctity!!!
Also, there is Father Brown. There is Grantchester.
And, the bicycles. Wave after wave of bicycles. Twenty. Then thirty. You feel the wind as they pass. They are indifferent to you. It is their world. I have been to Rome and I was not intimidated. I am intimidated. These are weapons.
I seem to be entering a more residential area and turn around. It is about 9AM.
As always, the walk back is quicker.
We are changing to a room in he main building and have made arrangements to have luggage moved while we are out. We talk to the front desk. Although we had not intended to have dinner in the hotel restaurant, with the encouragement of the young man at the desk, we have reservations.
There is a large park across the street from the hotel.
Betty has been remarkable. She began the trip with an injuried foot that made walking difficult. Now, she is back to taking the long sightseeing walks we enjoy.
We leave the hotel around 11AM and walk up Regent Street. It is early lunch at Pret a Manger. it is crowded. We are lucky and find seats.
With people on the street, I am starting to warm up to Cambridge. A very vibrate city. Very Young. A lot more tourists than you would expect. It is mid October. School has begun.
As we move up Regent St. We pass a candy store. It is across St John's College. Halloween candy is out. The candies are similar but slightly different packaging.
There is a porter outside St. John's College. There are specific hours for tourists. Other than those hours, the college is not open. Of course, there is a cost associated with the tour.
Betty sees a Toni & Guy across from the Round Church. She makes an appointment for tomorrow.
The Street changes its name to Bridge Street. Betty explains that "punting" is a big thing in Cambridge. You can "punt" all the way to Grantchester (There is the PBS again).
"Punt" is a flat-bottomed boat with a square-cut bow. The "punter" propels the punt by pushing against the river bed with a pole.
The bridge crosses over the River Cam and the street changes again to Magdalene Street. A number of tour "punting" operations are on the side on the bridge. We decide not to go "punting". We do some shopping at the stores. I visit a wine store.
I am interested in how wine is marketed. Obviously, there are great wines. I have that experience. Where that first taste tells you that wine can be exceptional. Most wine is more mundane. Often, more it is marketing. And. tradition.
Obviously, there is no representation of California wines. A strong showing for South American. French, of course. Italian.
Overall, I am not impressed. It ia not exciting. The store does have a wine bar. I am tempted. It is about 2 PM - too early. If Betty was with me, maybe.
We turn back. We turn right at St John's College. There are older stores and restaurants. We walk under some scaffolding. We pass "Newton's Apple Tree. There is a bookstore- Heffers Bookstore. If there is a bookstore, we will be there.
It is somewhat a student store. I look for a copy of "Pride and Prejudges" for Caroline and Poirot for Betty. I am disappointed. No "Pride and Prejudges". And, very pedestrian copies of Poirot. Nothing worth buying. I decide that the UK is not the place to buy interesting copies of English authors.
We walk towards University of Cambridge and Kings College. I had passed this way in the morning.
Stores are opposite the University. There is a fee to tour the college and there are specific hours.
I need to show Betty the Corpus Clock. The Corpus Clock was designed by John C Taylor and inaugurated in 2008 by Stephen Hawking.
I will try to describe. It is a large sort of golden colored mantel clock with a large cricket type insect perch on time tracking the seconds and minutes as they click by. Yeah, you have to see it.
I do note that it located on the corner of Trumpington Street/Kings Parade and Bene't Street.
We start back the way we came. I am surprised that we have held up as well as we have. Yesterday's travel was great fun and adventure. It was also thirteen hours of stressful travel.
I show Betty the open market I discovered this morning. Of course, there is a MacDonald's just off the market.
The market is very interesting. It is a mixture of food and needful and needless items for sale.We wander towards Regent Street. The streets are full of bicycles again. Autos clog the narrow streets. Rush hour has begun.
It is a longer walk back as we make little detours on the way. I am always surprised how much we walk and the distances we travel.
We take the path through the park. The park is very public. Football, students at play, small kids and walkers. And, bicycles . Careless, Thoughtless. Cambridge City Government view auto as clogging their streets (which they do). Therefore, they encourage bicycles. They actually track the number of bicycles on the road. They proudly display the daily number along the walking paths.
Unfortunately, for pedestrians, autos stay off paths and sidewalks. Bikers do not see the distinction. Hell, they see pedestrians as targets.
We walk to the light and cross. We turn right and walk 200 yds to the hotel.
The standard is pleasant. I judge European hotels by the shower and bathroom. And, that the television works.
We rest. then, dress for our early dinner at the hotel.
We walk into the restaurant about 7PM. The restaurant is empty. I think we are in a void in the hotel occupancy. It is Wednesday and mid October.
We are greeted by the restaurant assistant manager. She is delightful. I do not remember the menu. I do remember that the food was tasty and well prepared. I remember our server. She did not disappear when not serving. We talked. We learnt. We knew a little about each other when desert arrived.
As we experienced at the Gonville Hotel, the staff was exceptional. It was personal service.
Tomorrow, Cambridge and the Wren Library.
I do not have any point of reference. I am not certain why we are in Cambridge. We visited Oxford because of our enjoyment of Inspector Morse and Inspector Lewis. Hey, people visit the White House because of "Olympus has Fallen" ( I am not serious).
On our one day journey to Oxford, we had met a gentleman who said Cambridge was impressive. Also, Cambridge is a stop on our journey to Southwold.
Betty is sleeping. The weather is sunny. I need coffee. I need a walk.
We arrived in darkness. The entrance with the classic Rolls Royce in the circle driveway is impressive. But. we could not see a lot.
The hotel facade is impressive. The Spa rooms are separate from the main building. I pass through the lobby. I turn left and walk to the intersection. I am looking for coffee - Starbucks. A Starbuck opens before the other coffee shops.
I turn right. Regents Street looks more commercial. I have no great infinity for Starbucks. I would prefer a local shop. But, Starbucks - like McDonald's - is uniform and open. It is a place locals use for the same reasons.
I am hungry. Joy! Across the street is a Starbucks. The first coffee is still dripping. I am the second person in the shop.
I order coffee and a biscuit. I find a comfortable chair and I am happy. The biscuit disappears. A few more customers arrive.
Leaving, I turn to the left again.
Cambridge is not Oxford. Oxford seemed more compact. older and less overtly commercial. Cambridge is modern. A few blocks, there is a multi-story indoor shopping mall. There are restaurants and shops.
It is about 7:30 AM, traffic is picking up. On Regent Street, I find a small college. I have never quite figured out the British University system. A student claims attendance at Cambridge, but, actually, they attended one of the colleges. Within that system, there are major colleges and lesser colleges. Colleges within the system are recognized for different academia, for example, divinity.
I pass several colleges with signs saying students only. I do enter Sidney Sussex College mall (more later). The architecture is familiar.
I walk up to the Round Church. I am now on Bridge Street (yep, same street different name) It is not open. But, the garden has a bench to sit and rest. This is the first quiet place I have found. It is a 12 century round church. It becomes my stop and rest for the next two days.
I continue up Bridge Street. It is 8 AM and traffic and more pedestrians. I walk up to Chesterton Rd. I feel as I did when I found the privity of Cardinal John Henry Newman in London. Sanctity!!!
Also, there is Father Brown. There is Grantchester.
And, the bicycles. Wave after wave of bicycles. Twenty. Then thirty. You feel the wind as they pass. They are indifferent to you. It is their world. I have been to Rome and I was not intimidated. I am intimidated. These are weapons.
I seem to be entering a more residential area and turn around. It is about 9AM.
As always, the walk back is quicker.
We are changing to a room in he main building and have made arrangements to have luggage moved while we are out. We talk to the front desk. Although we had not intended to have dinner in the hotel restaurant, with the encouragement of the young man at the desk, we have reservations.
There is a large park across the street from the hotel.
Betty has been remarkable. She began the trip with an injuried foot that made walking difficult. Now, she is back to taking the long sightseeing walks we enjoy.
We leave the hotel around 11AM and walk up Regent Street. It is early lunch at Pret a Manger. it is crowded. We are lucky and find seats.
With people on the street, I am starting to warm up to Cambridge. A very vibrate city. Very Young. A lot more tourists than you would expect. It is mid October. School has begun.
As we move up Regent St. We pass a candy store. It is across St John's College. Halloween candy is out. The candies are similar but slightly different packaging.
There is a porter outside St. John's College. There are specific hours for tourists. Other than those hours, the college is not open. Of course, there is a cost associated with the tour.
Betty sees a Toni & Guy across from the Round Church. She makes an appointment for tomorrow.
The Street changes its name to Bridge Street. Betty explains that "punting" is a big thing in Cambridge. You can "punt" all the way to Grantchester (There is the PBS again).
"Punt" is a flat-bottomed boat with a square-cut bow. The "punter" propels the punt by pushing against the river bed with a pole.
The bridge crosses over the River Cam and the street changes again to Magdalene Street. A number of tour "punting" operations are on the side on the bridge. We decide not to go "punting". We do some shopping at the stores. I visit a wine store.
I am interested in how wine is marketed. Obviously, there are great wines. I have that experience. Where that first taste tells you that wine can be exceptional. Most wine is more mundane. Often, more it is marketing. And. tradition.
Obviously, there is no representation of California wines. A strong showing for South American. French, of course. Italian.
Overall, I am not impressed. It ia not exciting. The store does have a wine bar. I am tempted. It is about 2 PM - too early. If Betty was with me, maybe.
We turn back. We turn right at St John's College. There are older stores and restaurants. We walk under some scaffolding. We pass "Newton's Apple Tree. There is a bookstore- Heffers Bookstore. If there is a bookstore, we will be there.
It is somewhat a student store. I look for a copy of "Pride and Prejudges" for Caroline and Poirot for Betty. I am disappointed. No "Pride and Prejudges". And, very pedestrian copies of Poirot. Nothing worth buying. I decide that the UK is not the place to buy interesting copies of English authors.
We walk towards University of Cambridge and Kings College. I had passed this way in the morning.
Stores are opposite the University. There is a fee to tour the college and there are specific hours.
I need to show Betty the Corpus Clock. The Corpus Clock was designed by John C Taylor and inaugurated in 2008 by Stephen Hawking.
I will try to describe. It is a large sort of golden colored mantel clock with a large cricket type insect perch on time tracking the seconds and minutes as they click by. Yeah, you have to see it.
I do note that it located on the corner of Trumpington Street/Kings Parade and Bene't Street.
We start back the way we came. I am surprised that we have held up as well as we have. Yesterday's travel was great fun and adventure. It was also thirteen hours of stressful travel.
I show Betty the open market I discovered this morning. Of course, there is a MacDonald's just off the market.
The market is very interesting. It is a mixture of food and needful and needless items for sale.We wander towards Regent Street. The streets are full of bicycles again. Autos clog the narrow streets. Rush hour has begun.
It is a longer walk back as we make little detours on the way. I am always surprised how much we walk and the distances we travel.
We take the path through the park. The park is very public. Football, students at play, small kids and walkers. And, bicycles . Careless, Thoughtless. Cambridge City Government view auto as clogging their streets (which they do). Therefore, they encourage bicycles. They actually track the number of bicycles on the road. They proudly display the daily number along the walking paths.
Unfortunately, for pedestrians, autos stay off paths and sidewalks. Bikers do not see the distinction. Hell, they see pedestrians as targets.
We walk to the light and cross. We turn right and walk 200 yds to the hotel.
The standard is pleasant. I judge European hotels by the shower and bathroom. And, that the television works.
We rest. then, dress for our early dinner at the hotel.
We walk into the restaurant about 7PM. The restaurant is empty. I think we are in a void in the hotel occupancy. It is Wednesday and mid October.
We are greeted by the restaurant assistant manager. She is delightful. I do not remember the menu. I do remember that the food was tasty and well prepared. I remember our server. She did not disappear when not serving. We talked. We learnt. We knew a little about each other when desert arrived.
As we experienced at the Gonville Hotel, the staff was exceptional. It was personal service.
Tomorrow, Cambridge and the Wren Library.
Tuesday, September 24, 2019
And God said to Noah "Let it rain" And Noah said "Hell, No"
The rain returned about 3 PM as we returned to the hotel. The hard rain started about 4 PM.
The island of England is defined by its rivers. Scotland is also defined by its Lochs (lakes). Water is everywhere.
As the weather comes off the North Atlantic, it is always rain. Flooding is a common occurrence. The roads are narrow with two lanes with a few feet of shoulder on each side. Sometimes none. The roads are curves. Often, there are drop offs either to a Loch or a steep hill. On a dry day, driving must be fun.
In the evening we had decided to go for the earlier bus. As we wake, we now know we need to be on that bus. It is ugly outside.
I pay the bill around 7 AM and call a taxi.
The bus station is not crowded. I checked. we are assured seats. The bus is outside. The engine is running. Our confidence grows.
As I explained earlier, the train service from Oban to the rest of Scotland is under repair. Normally, travelers take a train directly from Oban to Glasgow. The bus service is the backup plan. The buses are tourist buses under contract to ScotRail system.
The bus leaves on time. Our train leaves @ 11 AM. We have plenty of time - little over 2 hours. Yesterday's journey was about an hour and fifteen minutes.
It is poring outside. No let up. We make good time. Then, the first of detours to the local stations. No passengers. I am less confident.
Traffic grows. Trucks pass us going the other way. Our mirrors come within inches of each other. The drivers nerves are unbelievable. Logging trucks are the scariest .
Time passes too quickly. We are not on time. We are going to be late if traffic gets heavier.
We turn right out of the last local station stop. We come to a stop. A dead stop. Five minutes, we do not move. Cars are turning around. Traffic moves to fill those spaces. Twenty minutes. We have gone 800 yards.
The driver is in contact with his dispatcher. There is a major accident ahead with injuries.
Hold the train? Please. I try to find out the next train. I am glad that we have taken the later flight from Glasgow.
The driver is exceptional. He keeps us informed. I find that the next train to Glasgow does not allow enough time. Trains are incurring delays because of the rain and flooding.
ScotRail has arranged for a bus at the station to drive to the Glasgow airport. Now, can we get there and when. At first, hopes rise. We find that we are among people who need to get somewhere - predominately, the Glasgow Airport.
Traffic does not move. We are now forty minutes waiting to pass the accident. We have been moving, but slowly.
This is the only road around Loch Lomond and from there to Glasgow.
Finally, we pass the accident. It is on a curve with little shoulder on one side and a hill on he other. The cars are demolished. It is surprising that anyone survived. They are sports car. Best guess - bad road, wet road and bad driver.
The bus driver says that we are lucky there were no deaths. The road would have been closed for investigation.
Despite passing the accident, we move slowly. Commercial traffic has picked up. Everyone seemed to have been surprised by the hard rain. Water is flowing off the hills onto the road.
We arrive at the station around 12:20 PM. There is a bus.The bus to Glasgow Airport and then to Glasgow Train Station has not arrived yet. The occupants of this other bus are travelers who also missed the train.
You can tell people are trying to be gentle and patient. The crowd psychic is "what if there is not enough room". "Who gets to go".
Within ten minutes, the salvation arrives. We load up the bus. Everyone gets to go.
As we pull out of the station parking lot, my hope is that the road will widen and traffic flow will improve.
We turn left onto the same road we just exited. Traffic moves slowly. Minutes. I am starting to think of options, backup plans, for our flight. The British Airways tickets are basically non refundable. I remind myself our objective is Cambridge. What is an extra $600 dollar?
Within minutes, my pray is to get anywhere safely.
This is the best bus driver ever- hands down. I would trust my life on his driving. Hell, I did.
I took the window seat. I look out the window and literally cannot see the shoulder. I only see a steep drop of 15-20 feet into Loch Lemond.
It continues to rain. Traffic moves slowly because of the volume, weather and the trucks. If we came within inches before, we are within an inch of the mirrors of the logging trucks on the other side of the road. There is no choice. There is no shoulder on their side.
Betty wanted to see Loch Lemond. We have seen Loch Lemond as few have seen.
We have began to give up hope of making the plane. We accept our fate - vacation is adventure. This is an adventure. We are not enjoying, but there is a fatalist relaxation. We smile. We talk to other passengers.
The two women in front of us are from Iowa. They are opinionated. They are sisters. They are in competition with each other. That passes time.
It is about 1:30 PM and we are still moving slowly.
The passengers begin to cheer as we approach another truck. This could be a sport.
The rain has lightened. It is more of a mist. Suddenly, the road is now a four lane highway with a median. The bus picks up speed. We are now cruising.
The problem with maps is that it is hard to imagine actual distances. When possible, I have tried to locate our bus on the map. We have traveled to the south end of the Loch and we now turn directly towards Glasgow.
The driver passes up other cars. He is speeding.
I see a sign pointing to the Glasgow airport. We are thirty miles from the airport. It is 2:30 PM.
The rain has stopped. Skies are lightened. We cross a bridge. The driver is confident. We are very confident.
As I leave the bus, I smile to bus driver. All I can say is "terrific". He knows he is great.
Glasgow Airport is larger than Edinburgh's. We roll our luggage into the terminal and find the British Airways counter. We have about 50 minutes.
The security line is long but efficient. European security is full body scan every time. It is separation of computers, your quart bag and personal items. For the second time, I have a second screening which takes time.
We are safe - only a quarter mile to our gate and the gauntlet of Duty Free Zone. Most importantly, we have 35 minutes to the gate.
We have not eaten since the biscuits in Oban. At the gate, we grab sandwiches and beverages. Of course, we are the last section to board. The ground crew is polite.
We have assigned seats but not assigned overhead space. We walk outside onto the tarmac. We climb the stairs. We find our seats and there is overhead space.
We have found the commercial aircraft seats to be much better that in America. Take off is on time. We are back on schedule. It is an hour flight to Heathrow. We have done it. This was an adventure. I think I learnt to slow down and be optimistic. Betty has been great and calm.
The weather has turned dry and blue skies. I look out the window at the English countryside. We must be low since I can see the houses and villages so clearly.
Our experience with the air travel has been exceptional. Yes, they are full flights. But, everything I have read has not proven true during our three flights. The attendants have been professional and courtesies. The seats are better than what you experience in economy with US standard airlines. The horror stories about last minute gouging at the gate have not occurred. They are on time - well reasonably.
In an hour we have landed and moving to the far, far gate. Well, to be honest, all gates at Heathrow are a far, far, far.
Down a corridor. Down a another corridor - you get the idea. We are the end of the line and the line has disappeared. We are follow signs. It is so empty. Finally, an automatic door opens and we are in terminal 3. We have been here before so we know where the Underground station is.
We are now about to become experienced Underground and London train travelers.
In the past, we have taken cabs. This time we have decided to take the Piccadilly Line to Kings Crossing or is it St. Pancras Station? The map says St. Pancras. The train station says Kings Crossing.
We are using Oyster cards. When Bill and the kids left they gave us their cards to use. We are outside zone 4 so I am not sure of the fare.
I do stop and ask the attendant - there is always an attendant. he swaps the two cards we offer and we are past the turnstile. Down an elevator to the platform, all the terminals are stops and Kings Crossing is an all stop. First train is within minutes. We have our luggage and backpacks.
We sit and ride. There are 19 stops or about 50 minute ride. The train to Cambridge is every half hour so we are fine.
It is rush hour - about 5 PM and the train is surprisingly full for a train moving into London. The train does empty slightly. Then, we pass a point and we are now moving with the commuters homeward bound.
We exit and escalator up to a tunnel. We follow the signs. Are we at Kings Crossing or St Pancras?
The answer is that it is the same station - to the right is St Pancras to the left is Kings Crossing. Of course, I do not figure this out until we purchase our tickets and start looking for the gate. I stand in front of the wrong gates entrance for five minutes. Until I realize that Kings Crossing is to the left.
We have seven minutes to cross the station floor, pass our tickets through the turnstile and run down the train looking for room.
They are all full. We edge in and try to make room for our luggage. We huddle in a corner away from the door. We have another hour and some minutes trip ahead of us. It is about 6:50 PM. This is a local. It is dark outside.
I have been standing for a long time. I have tried to remember when we ate. I know we had something at the bus station, then I think something at the airport. usually, I remember meals but I honestly have no idea.
The train empties as we move away from London and the immediate urban area. Finally, we have seats. The train ride feels long. Our day is almost over. We are well past twelve hours of travel - buses, plane, the Underground, trains.
Finally, Cambridge - not without a question. There is Cambridge and there is North Cambridge. Which station?
We pick Cambridge. We cross over to the station. At 8:30 PM, the station is relaxing at the end of the day. The cab station is clearly marked. We roll over to the cab stand. We have reservations at the Gonville Hotel. After our last two hotels, we are hesitant. How large is Cambridge? We have been to Oxford. Is Cambridge the same or different - smaller or larger?
The cab driver is pleasant. And, apparently takes the shortest route.
There is an aged Rolls Royce outside. The interior is grand. The two gentlemen at the front desk are professional. We look like hell. They attitude is if we are grand travelers.
Betty had made reservations a few weeks ago. At the last moment, she added a day. Tonight"s reservation is in a Spa room. What a great way to end the journey. It is after 9 PM.
Betty relaxes orders room service. I need a drink to celebrate a great adventure.
The bar is not full but for Tuesday night, there are guests. I have a whiskey and enjoy.
The bed is luxurious. It is TV. A great shower. A free in-room bar and snacks.
Tomorrow morning we move to a more standard room, but tonight we celebrate.
The island of England is defined by its rivers. Scotland is also defined by its Lochs (lakes). Water is everywhere.
As the weather comes off the North Atlantic, it is always rain. Flooding is a common occurrence. The roads are narrow with two lanes with a few feet of shoulder on each side. Sometimes none. The roads are curves. Often, there are drop offs either to a Loch or a steep hill. On a dry day, driving must be fun.
In the evening we had decided to go for the earlier bus. As we wake, we now know we need to be on that bus. It is ugly outside.
I pay the bill around 7 AM and call a taxi.
The bus station is not crowded. I checked. we are assured seats. The bus is outside. The engine is running. Our confidence grows.
As I explained earlier, the train service from Oban to the rest of Scotland is under repair. Normally, travelers take a train directly from Oban to Glasgow. The bus service is the backup plan. The buses are tourist buses under contract to ScotRail system.
The bus leaves on time. Our train leaves @ 11 AM. We have plenty of time - little over 2 hours. Yesterday's journey was about an hour and fifteen minutes.
It is poring outside. No let up. We make good time. Then, the first of detours to the local stations. No passengers. I am less confident.
Traffic grows. Trucks pass us going the other way. Our mirrors come within inches of each other. The drivers nerves are unbelievable. Logging trucks are the scariest .
Time passes too quickly. We are not on time. We are going to be late if traffic gets heavier.
We turn right out of the last local station stop. We come to a stop. A dead stop. Five minutes, we do not move. Cars are turning around. Traffic moves to fill those spaces. Twenty minutes. We have gone 800 yards.
The driver is in contact with his dispatcher. There is a major accident ahead with injuries.
Hold the train? Please. I try to find out the next train. I am glad that we have taken the later flight from Glasgow.
The driver is exceptional. He keeps us informed. I find that the next train to Glasgow does not allow enough time. Trains are incurring delays because of the rain and flooding.
ScotRail has arranged for a bus at the station to drive to the Glasgow airport. Now, can we get there and when. At first, hopes rise. We find that we are among people who need to get somewhere - predominately, the Glasgow Airport.
Traffic does not move. We are now forty minutes waiting to pass the accident. We have been moving, but slowly.
This is the only road around Loch Lomond and from there to Glasgow.
Finally, we pass the accident. It is on a curve with little shoulder on one side and a hill on he other. The cars are demolished. It is surprising that anyone survived. They are sports car. Best guess - bad road, wet road and bad driver.
The bus driver says that we are lucky there were no deaths. The road would have been closed for investigation.
Despite passing the accident, we move slowly. Commercial traffic has picked up. Everyone seemed to have been surprised by the hard rain. Water is flowing off the hills onto the road.
We arrive at the station around 12:20 PM. There is a bus.The bus to Glasgow Airport and then to Glasgow Train Station has not arrived yet. The occupants of this other bus are travelers who also missed the train.
You can tell people are trying to be gentle and patient. The crowd psychic is "what if there is not enough room". "Who gets to go".
Within ten minutes, the salvation arrives. We load up the bus. Everyone gets to go.
As we pull out of the station parking lot, my hope is that the road will widen and traffic flow will improve.
We turn left onto the same road we just exited. Traffic moves slowly. Minutes. I am starting to think of options, backup plans, for our flight. The British Airways tickets are basically non refundable. I remind myself our objective is Cambridge. What is an extra $600 dollar?
Within minutes, my pray is to get anywhere safely.
This is the best bus driver ever- hands down. I would trust my life on his driving. Hell, I did.
I took the window seat. I look out the window and literally cannot see the shoulder. I only see a steep drop of 15-20 feet into Loch Lemond.
It continues to rain. Traffic moves slowly because of the volume, weather and the trucks. If we came within inches before, we are within an inch of the mirrors of the logging trucks on the other side of the road. There is no choice. There is no shoulder on their side.
Betty wanted to see Loch Lemond. We have seen Loch Lemond as few have seen.
We have began to give up hope of making the plane. We accept our fate - vacation is adventure. This is an adventure. We are not enjoying, but there is a fatalist relaxation. We smile. We talk to other passengers.
The two women in front of us are from Iowa. They are opinionated. They are sisters. They are in competition with each other. That passes time.
It is about 1:30 PM and we are still moving slowly.
The passengers begin to cheer as we approach another truck. This could be a sport.
The rain has lightened. It is more of a mist. Suddenly, the road is now a four lane highway with a median. The bus picks up speed. We are now cruising.
The problem with maps is that it is hard to imagine actual distances. When possible, I have tried to locate our bus on the map. We have traveled to the south end of the Loch and we now turn directly towards Glasgow.
The driver passes up other cars. He is speeding.
I see a sign pointing to the Glasgow airport. We are thirty miles from the airport. It is 2:30 PM.
The rain has stopped. Skies are lightened. We cross a bridge. The driver is confident. We are very confident.
As I leave the bus, I smile to bus driver. All I can say is "terrific". He knows he is great.
Glasgow Airport is larger than Edinburgh's. We roll our luggage into the terminal and find the British Airways counter. We have about 50 minutes.
The security line is long but efficient. European security is full body scan every time. It is separation of computers, your quart bag and personal items. For the second time, I have a second screening which takes time.
We are safe - only a quarter mile to our gate and the gauntlet of Duty Free Zone. Most importantly, we have 35 minutes to the gate.
We have not eaten since the biscuits in Oban. At the gate, we grab sandwiches and beverages. Of course, we are the last section to board. The ground crew is polite.
We have assigned seats but not assigned overhead space. We walk outside onto the tarmac. We climb the stairs. We find our seats and there is overhead space.
We have found the commercial aircraft seats to be much better that in America. Take off is on time. We are back on schedule. It is an hour flight to Heathrow. We have done it. This was an adventure. I think I learnt to slow down and be optimistic. Betty has been great and calm.
The weather has turned dry and blue skies. I look out the window at the English countryside. We must be low since I can see the houses and villages so clearly.
Our experience with the air travel has been exceptional. Yes, they are full flights. But, everything I have read has not proven true during our three flights. The attendants have been professional and courtesies. The seats are better than what you experience in economy with US standard airlines. The horror stories about last minute gouging at the gate have not occurred. They are on time - well reasonably.
In an hour we have landed and moving to the far, far gate. Well, to be honest, all gates at Heathrow are a far, far, far.
Down a corridor. Down a another corridor - you get the idea. We are the end of the line and the line has disappeared. We are follow signs. It is so empty. Finally, an automatic door opens and we are in terminal 3. We have been here before so we know where the Underground station is.
We are now about to become experienced Underground and London train travelers.
In the past, we have taken cabs. This time we have decided to take the Piccadilly Line to Kings Crossing or is it St. Pancras Station? The map says St. Pancras. The train station says Kings Crossing.
We are using Oyster cards. When Bill and the kids left they gave us their cards to use. We are outside zone 4 so I am not sure of the fare.
I do stop and ask the attendant - there is always an attendant. he swaps the two cards we offer and we are past the turnstile. Down an elevator to the platform, all the terminals are stops and Kings Crossing is an all stop. First train is within minutes. We have our luggage and backpacks.
We sit and ride. There are 19 stops or about 50 minute ride. The train to Cambridge is every half hour so we are fine.
It is rush hour - about 5 PM and the train is surprisingly full for a train moving into London. The train does empty slightly. Then, we pass a point and we are now moving with the commuters homeward bound.
We exit and escalator up to a tunnel. We follow the signs. Are we at Kings Crossing or St Pancras?
The answer is that it is the same station - to the right is St Pancras to the left is Kings Crossing. Of course, I do not figure this out until we purchase our tickets and start looking for the gate. I stand in front of the wrong gates entrance for five minutes. Until I realize that Kings Crossing is to the left.
We have seven minutes to cross the station floor, pass our tickets through the turnstile and run down the train looking for room.
They are all full. We edge in and try to make room for our luggage. We huddle in a corner away from the door. We have another hour and some minutes trip ahead of us. It is about 6:50 PM. This is a local. It is dark outside.
I have been standing for a long time. I have tried to remember when we ate. I know we had something at the bus station, then I think something at the airport. usually, I remember meals but I honestly have no idea.
The train empties as we move away from London and the immediate urban area. Finally, we have seats. The train ride feels long. Our day is almost over. We are well past twelve hours of travel - buses, plane, the Underground, trains.
Finally, Cambridge - not without a question. There is Cambridge and there is North Cambridge. Which station?
We pick Cambridge. We cross over to the station. At 8:30 PM, the station is relaxing at the end of the day. The cab station is clearly marked. We roll over to the cab stand. We have reservations at the Gonville Hotel. After our last two hotels, we are hesitant. How large is Cambridge? We have been to Oxford. Is Cambridge the same or different - smaller or larger?
The cab driver is pleasant. And, apparently takes the shortest route.
There is an aged Rolls Royce outside. The interior is grand. The two gentlemen at the front desk are professional. We look like hell. They attitude is if we are grand travelers.
Betty had made reservations a few weeks ago. At the last moment, she added a day. Tonight"s reservation is in a Spa room. What a great way to end the journey. It is after 9 PM.
Betty relaxes orders room service. I need a drink to celebrate a great adventure.
The bar is not full but for Tuesday night, there are guests. I have a whiskey and enjoy.
The bed is luxurious. It is TV. A great shower. A free in-room bar and snacks.
Tomorrow morning we move to a more standard room, but tonight we celebrate.
Friday, September 6, 2019
""You (Scots) come of a race of men the very wind of whose name has swept to the ultimate seas."
We wake to clouds. You can see the ferry docked.
I am out early for a walk. I follow the bay walk again. Daylight and walking with my head up, I start to get a better feel for Oban.
Oban is a port town with access to the Scottish Highlands. Oban is commercial fishing. Oban is tourists. Oban is local businesses.
I am looking for coffee and biscuit. I know where the Costa shop is, but I want something more local. I am also looking for the Green Shack.
John and Angela toured Scotland last year on their honeymoon. They loved Scotland. On their visit to Oban, they found the "Green Shack".
I am not certain if the discovery was fortuitous or a referral. I do know that I had seen a Rick Stevens program on touring the Highlands of Scotland and what to do in Oban. "The Green Shack" was the highlight.
I pass the Oban Distillery. I have checked and the tours are full. We leave tomorrow morning so the Distillery will be next time. (Now that is hopeful thinking - how many times do you plan in a lifetime to visit Oban).
I note how many Fish & Chips places there are. I count six. Many of the business I walk past are no open yet. It is 6:30 AM.
I walk past last night's Chips Shop. I follow the curve and the streets become more residential. There are a few small hotels. Moving to my right, I begin to walk to the bus station.
There is a small souvenir shop. It is closed. I walk around and find the rail station and parking lot. No trains. A few cars.
I pass around the front and start to follow the docks. There is restaurant and offices.
About 150 yards, I see the "Green Shack". It is small. Well, it is called a "Shack". There is no indoor seating. There are two picnic tables with benches.
I turn back to the bus station. I am hungry and nothing is open. The station has a small kiosk that sells beverages and biscuits. I seat with the passengers waiting for today's bus and enjoy.
One of the reason I wanted to stop by the bus station is to check the schedule for tomorrow. I also want to assure that this is where we need to be tomorrow. Our tickets are "all day" tickets. There is a bus at 8:00AM and another around 9:15. We can take either if there is room.
The 9:30 is more convenient - less rushing etc. But, the 8 AM gives us flexibility if something goes wrong.
The sky is a light gray. Temperature is low 50's. The forecast is for rain.
I work back to the hotel with a biscuit for Betty. I refuse to even buy coffee at the hotel. I have checked the "hotel" websites and the room price are substantially lower. Apparently, the weather has deterred attendance at the auction.
I bring to the front desk's attention. Nothing. Best Western website is useless.
We call a cab. Betty's foot is definitely improving. But, walking a half mile to the Oban dock would be stretching a good thing. Our goal is to stroll Oban and. then, the Green Shack.
Over our journeys, we have fallen into a comfortable rhythm. My very early morning walk to orient us for the day ahead. Where are the stations. How far of a walk. What sites are close by. Betty always find residences in great locations. Paris was fantastic. Rome was the best. London, Dublin, Venice - all have been great.
The cab drops us off at the bus stop. The Green Shack is about the size of a hot dog stand in Chicago.
It is a walk up and order. The menu is on a chalk board. There are the regulars - mussels, lobster, soup.
The kitchen is behind the counter. Two women take the orders. They are polite and comfortable with tourists. They do not waste time. They expect you not to waste their time.
After consultation with Betty, I order lobster for Betty. I order shell fish. Betty holds two bench seats at one of the picnic tables. There is a canopy over the tables. The view is cross the walkway at one story buildings along the bay, The ferry is less than a hundred years away. In short, it is practical.
You are here for the seafood. It is great. It is fresh.
I am still hungry. I doubt if I will return to Oban. I order the mussels.
This is my great moment. A woman takes my order over the high counter. I reach into my pocket and start to count out my payment. I do not hand over a 10 or 20 pound note. I am going for exact. I am only slightly nervous. The woman knows I am not local. She smiles. She is impressed.
I am impressed with myself. From now on, I am confident with my coinage - 1 and 2 pound coins and pence.
The mussels are fantastic and plentiful. I keep eating and there is more. I am very content.
Betty loved her lobster. It is not New England lobster. It is smaller.
It is early. We share the tables but there is room.
We clean our area. We need to walk around Oban. There are not a lot of shops. I confirm tomorrow's bus schedule - I am still not certain as to whether we will try for the earlier bus.
The weather is mutable.
We take a cab back to the hotel. We have brought food back so dinner in the room.
We decide for the earlier bus.
Tomorrow - the greatest adventure.
I am out early for a walk. I follow the bay walk again. Daylight and walking with my head up, I start to get a better feel for Oban.
Oban is a port town with access to the Scottish Highlands. Oban is commercial fishing. Oban is tourists. Oban is local businesses.
I am looking for coffee and biscuit. I know where the Costa shop is, but I want something more local. I am also looking for the Green Shack.
John and Angela toured Scotland last year on their honeymoon. They loved Scotland. On their visit to Oban, they found the "Green Shack".
I am not certain if the discovery was fortuitous or a referral. I do know that I had seen a Rick Stevens program on touring the Highlands of Scotland and what to do in Oban. "The Green Shack" was the highlight.
I pass the Oban Distillery. I have checked and the tours are full. We leave tomorrow morning so the Distillery will be next time. (Now that is hopeful thinking - how many times do you plan in a lifetime to visit Oban).
I note how many Fish & Chips places there are. I count six. Many of the business I walk past are no open yet. It is 6:30 AM.
I walk past last night's Chips Shop. I follow the curve and the streets become more residential. There are a few small hotels. Moving to my right, I begin to walk to the bus station.
There is a small souvenir shop. It is closed. I walk around and find the rail station and parking lot. No trains. A few cars.
I pass around the front and start to follow the docks. There is restaurant and offices.
About 150 yards, I see the "Green Shack". It is small. Well, it is called a "Shack". There is no indoor seating. There are two picnic tables with benches.
I turn back to the bus station. I am hungry and nothing is open. The station has a small kiosk that sells beverages and biscuits. I seat with the passengers waiting for today's bus and enjoy.
One of the reason I wanted to stop by the bus station is to check the schedule for tomorrow. I also want to assure that this is where we need to be tomorrow. Our tickets are "all day" tickets. There is a bus at 8:00AM and another around 9:15. We can take either if there is room.
The 9:30 is more convenient - less rushing etc. But, the 8 AM gives us flexibility if something goes wrong.
The sky is a light gray. Temperature is low 50's. The forecast is for rain.
I work back to the hotel with a biscuit for Betty. I refuse to even buy coffee at the hotel. I have checked the "hotel" websites and the room price are substantially lower. Apparently, the weather has deterred attendance at the auction.
I bring to the front desk's attention. Nothing. Best Western website is useless.
We call a cab. Betty's foot is definitely improving. But, walking a half mile to the Oban dock would be stretching a good thing. Our goal is to stroll Oban and. then, the Green Shack.
Over our journeys, we have fallen into a comfortable rhythm. My very early morning walk to orient us for the day ahead. Where are the stations. How far of a walk. What sites are close by. Betty always find residences in great locations. Paris was fantastic. Rome was the best. London, Dublin, Venice - all have been great.
The cab drops us off at the bus stop. The Green Shack is about the size of a hot dog stand in Chicago.
It is a walk up and order. The menu is on a chalk board. There are the regulars - mussels, lobster, soup.
The kitchen is behind the counter. Two women take the orders. They are polite and comfortable with tourists. They do not waste time. They expect you not to waste their time.
After consultation with Betty, I order lobster for Betty. I order shell fish. Betty holds two bench seats at one of the picnic tables. There is a canopy over the tables. The view is cross the walkway at one story buildings along the bay, The ferry is less than a hundred years away. In short, it is practical.
You are here for the seafood. It is great. It is fresh.
I am still hungry. I doubt if I will return to Oban. I order the mussels.
This is my great moment. A woman takes my order over the high counter. I reach into my pocket and start to count out my payment. I do not hand over a 10 or 20 pound note. I am going for exact. I am only slightly nervous. The woman knows I am not local. She smiles. She is impressed.
I am impressed with myself. From now on, I am confident with my coinage - 1 and 2 pound coins and pence.
The mussels are fantastic and plentiful. I keep eating and there is more. I am very content.
Betty loved her lobster. It is not New England lobster. It is smaller.
It is early. We share the tables but there is room.
We clean our area. We need to walk around Oban. There are not a lot of shops. I confirm tomorrow's bus schedule - I am still not certain as to whether we will try for the earlier bus.
The weather is mutable.
We take a cab back to the hotel. We have brought food back so dinner in the room.
We decide for the earlier bus.
Tomorrow - the greatest adventure.
Wednesday, August 7, 2019
"The only way of catching a train I have ever discovered is to miss the train before"
It is early. We have an 8:40 Train to Oban. Actually, a train and bus ride ahead of us.
As explained before, I am a nervous traveler. I am better with experience. For example. I am now very comfortable with the Italian train system. The Underground is great. Paris is comfortable.
This is the first time to Oban. We will take the train and a bus.
Looking back, it appears that the bus ride is due to the Highland Rail System under repair. Oban does have a train station. But, then we would have missed a great adventure.
The day begins with the checkout. Best Western Hotels have an overall excellent reputation in Europe. What we discovered over five days in Glasgow and Oban is that the reputation is justified on the Continent and, horribly, untrue in the UK.
The young lady refuses to accept our twenty pound sterling note. She is adamant. She cannot accept the twenty pound Bank of Scotland note (which a story in itself - basically, a twenty pound note is a twenty pound note). She explains that the notes are being replaced and she can only accept new notes.
I try to point out that the notes are from the bank's ATM down the street yesterday. I explain that the change over is only for older five and ten notes.
After ten minutes and the cab arriving, she agrees to wavier the room charge in lieu of not accepting the twenty pound sterling.
I ask the cab driver as he helps us with luggage. Of course, he shrugs and says bluntly "of course, she does know what she is talking about".
We were without heat for our entire stay. We were without water for a day. We reserved a lower floor I expected an accommodation in the bill. I did get an ill-informed young woman who was more than willing to argue a $18.00 room service bill while the cab awaits.
The cab ride is quick. We pay and tip. We are early. The coffee kiosk is open. The gate for the train is announced. Tickets. We find seats. The train is a local and, therefore, semi-full. I am surprised. It is early Sunday morning.
We stow our luggage. The train pulls out on time.
The ride is pleasant as the clouds turn gray and thicken. There are two very young men across the aisle. I am guessing mid teens. They are on a hiking journey. The older boy seems to be experienced. He is very confident.
They are staying at a hostel and will hike the area during the day.
We had hope to see the great vistas of Scotland. The ragged bluffs. The green glens. The view from the coach is hindered by the foliage on both sides and the lack of sun light.
The stops come with less regularity. The foliage thickens. It begins to rain.
Our stop is the last station. By this time, the passengers have thinned. We are greeted as we exit the train by a very nice guide who walks to the parking lot. She is self assured. I am now almost assured.
We load our luggage and find seats. The rain is more than a drizzle.
A very nice tourist bus contracted by ScotRail due to the shutdown of the Highland Rail.
I have no idea how long the bus ride will be. It is a narrow road used by cars, buses and trucks including logging. We pass each other with little room for error. Often, the bus and the other vehicle have to use the road shoulder. It is the only road. We pass through villages and small stops along the way. Traffic is light. We climb. Now, the rain covers the windows. I am reminded of the song - McArthur Park - something about "melting".
It is getting hot in the bus. We have no idea if we are near or far from Oban.
A sign of the approach of a larger town is the increase in the number of homes. we also are on the descent.
With the rain and fogged windows, Oban appears not as quaint as we envisioned. Shops and homes.
Cars parked on the street. Where is our hotel? Where we will be dropped? And, the rain.
The bus drops us off at the Oban Rail Station. We collect luggage. We are on time and early for check in.
We are in the heart of Oban. Restaurants and hotels curve around the bay. There is a ferry docked. Betty has hopes that we can take a day trip to one of the islands off shore.
We head to the Costa Coffee Shop. It is lunch time. We need to make a phone call to the hotel to see about directions and early check in.
The shop is full. Lunch time and shelter from the weather. Coffee and sandwiches type place. We try to avoid listening to immediate conversations.
I walk outside and find the taxi station and return.
WiFi is jammed and we have trouble getting on. As an hour passes and fewer user, it improves slightly. We are always careful using public WIFI which limits our access.
Finally, it is close to permitted check-in. The rain is lighter, but the wind has picked up. Collecting our carry on luggage and backpacks, we cross over to the taxi station.
From our driver, we learn that our hotel is not known as a Best Western. It is the Muthu Queens Oban Hotel.
The Muthu Hospitality Group is avarice. The Group has aggressively brought up small local hotels and resorts in the UK and Europe. The focus is profitability. I would avoid any hotel owned by this Group.
In Oban, Muthu is ubiquitous. Hotels line the curve of the bay. In pleasant weather, the view of the bay, islands offshore and the cruise ships must be great. There is a sidewalk along the sea wall that borders the road. Now, we notice the wind and the temperature dropping.
The taxi pulls into a narrow parking area with room for 8 cars. There is no room to park on the street.
The desk person checks us in. Again, Betty has reserved a room on the first floor. Again, the room is on the top floor. Again, there is no elevator.
We are again told tough luck. "We are full due to an auction on Monday".
We find out later that Best Western brand has little or no control over their UK members. The hotels belong only to use the Best Western US reservation system.
The room is pleasant. We check. There is water and heat. But, there is no television.
It is 2:30 PM. The weather is unpleasant. The bar does not open til 5.
I call down. The desk person comes up and confirms the TV does not work. She advises that she will have maintenance look at it as soon as they return from one of the other Muthu hotels. They are there trying to restore heat to that hotel. Notice a trend!
We are about a half mile from Oban. We are tired and getting back into a cab is not attractive.
We wait. After an hour, I go down to check. Nothing. Rude. Indifferent.
About 4:30, maintenance arrives. It is a loose connection of the coaxial cable to the wall. He tightens. We have TV.
We are thinking about dinner. There is a dining room. I am upset and I do want to give this management anymore money than I have to.
I suggest Fish and Chips. I have looked at Trip Advisor and Yelp and there are a number of shops. I start out with the wind and soaking rain. I have a North Face 3/4 quarter length jacket which is waterproof.
I am walking against the wind and at the beginning, reasonably comfortable. What I forget is my shoes. My shoes quickly become soggy. I am alone on the sidewalk. Justly so.
I have forgotten it is Sunday. What will be open. I cannot use my phone - no signal and with the rain and darkness it would be impossible to read. I do see the Oban Distillery. I turn away from the beach road towards the Main Street. I find a Fish & Chips shop open.
The counter guy looks at me as I enter. he gives me the "are you crazy" look. When I ask for extra chips, he nods and smiles with indulgence.
I start back holding the large warm back close to my body. Obviously, I have not allowed for time, distance and a cold wind that now hits my face.
I make good time. Fortunately, the food is neither soggy nor cold. Well, it is not warm - but, it is fried fish and chips and they are firm.
It is a lot of food.
Tomorrow - sightseeing in Oban and the "Green Shack".
As explained before, I am a nervous traveler. I am better with experience. For example. I am now very comfortable with the Italian train system. The Underground is great. Paris is comfortable.
This is the first time to Oban. We will take the train and a bus.
Looking back, it appears that the bus ride is due to the Highland Rail System under repair. Oban does have a train station. But, then we would have missed a great adventure.
The day begins with the checkout. Best Western Hotels have an overall excellent reputation in Europe. What we discovered over five days in Glasgow and Oban is that the reputation is justified on the Continent and, horribly, untrue in the UK.
The young lady refuses to accept our twenty pound sterling note. She is adamant. She cannot accept the twenty pound Bank of Scotland note (which a story in itself - basically, a twenty pound note is a twenty pound note). She explains that the notes are being replaced and she can only accept new notes.
I try to point out that the notes are from the bank's ATM down the street yesterday. I explain that the change over is only for older five and ten notes.
After ten minutes and the cab arriving, she agrees to wavier the room charge in lieu of not accepting the twenty pound sterling.
I ask the cab driver as he helps us with luggage. Of course, he shrugs and says bluntly "of course, she does know what she is talking about".
We were without heat for our entire stay. We were without water for a day. We reserved a lower floor I expected an accommodation in the bill. I did get an ill-informed young woman who was more than willing to argue a $18.00 room service bill while the cab awaits.
The cab ride is quick. We pay and tip. We are early. The coffee kiosk is open. The gate for the train is announced. Tickets. We find seats. The train is a local and, therefore, semi-full. I am surprised. It is early Sunday morning.
We stow our luggage. The train pulls out on time.
The ride is pleasant as the clouds turn gray and thicken. There are two very young men across the aisle. I am guessing mid teens. They are on a hiking journey. The older boy seems to be experienced. He is very confident.
They are staying at a hostel and will hike the area during the day.
We had hope to see the great vistas of Scotland. The ragged bluffs. The green glens. The view from the coach is hindered by the foliage on both sides and the lack of sun light.
The stops come with less regularity. The foliage thickens. It begins to rain.
Our stop is the last station. By this time, the passengers have thinned. We are greeted as we exit the train by a very nice guide who walks to the parking lot. She is self assured. I am now almost assured.
We load our luggage and find seats. The rain is more than a drizzle.
A very nice tourist bus contracted by ScotRail due to the shutdown of the Highland Rail.
I have no idea how long the bus ride will be. It is a narrow road used by cars, buses and trucks including logging. We pass each other with little room for error. Often, the bus and the other vehicle have to use the road shoulder. It is the only road. We pass through villages and small stops along the way. Traffic is light. We climb. Now, the rain covers the windows. I am reminded of the song - McArthur Park - something about "melting".
It is getting hot in the bus. We have no idea if we are near or far from Oban.
A sign of the approach of a larger town is the increase in the number of homes. we also are on the descent.
With the rain and fogged windows, Oban appears not as quaint as we envisioned. Shops and homes.
Cars parked on the street. Where is our hotel? Where we will be dropped? And, the rain.
The bus drops us off at the Oban Rail Station. We collect luggage. We are on time and early for check in.
We are in the heart of Oban. Restaurants and hotels curve around the bay. There is a ferry docked. Betty has hopes that we can take a day trip to one of the islands off shore.
We head to the Costa Coffee Shop. It is lunch time. We need to make a phone call to the hotel to see about directions and early check in.
The shop is full. Lunch time and shelter from the weather. Coffee and sandwiches type place. We try to avoid listening to immediate conversations.
I walk outside and find the taxi station and return.
WiFi is jammed and we have trouble getting on. As an hour passes and fewer user, it improves slightly. We are always careful using public WIFI which limits our access.
Finally, it is close to permitted check-in. The rain is lighter, but the wind has picked up. Collecting our carry on luggage and backpacks, we cross over to the taxi station.
From our driver, we learn that our hotel is not known as a Best Western. It is the Muthu Queens Oban Hotel.
The Muthu Hospitality Group is avarice. The Group has aggressively brought up small local hotels and resorts in the UK and Europe. The focus is profitability. I would avoid any hotel owned by this Group.
In Oban, Muthu is ubiquitous. Hotels line the curve of the bay. In pleasant weather, the view of the bay, islands offshore and the cruise ships must be great. There is a sidewalk along the sea wall that borders the road. Now, we notice the wind and the temperature dropping.
The taxi pulls into a narrow parking area with room for 8 cars. There is no room to park on the street.
The desk person checks us in. Again, Betty has reserved a room on the first floor. Again, the room is on the top floor. Again, there is no elevator.
We are again told tough luck. "We are full due to an auction on Monday".
We find out later that Best Western brand has little or no control over their UK members. The hotels belong only to use the Best Western US reservation system.
The room is pleasant. We check. There is water and heat. But, there is no television.
It is 2:30 PM. The weather is unpleasant. The bar does not open til 5.
I call down. The desk person comes up and confirms the TV does not work. She advises that she will have maintenance look at it as soon as they return from one of the other Muthu hotels. They are there trying to restore heat to that hotel. Notice a trend!
We are about a half mile from Oban. We are tired and getting back into a cab is not attractive.
We wait. After an hour, I go down to check. Nothing. Rude. Indifferent.
About 4:30, maintenance arrives. It is a loose connection of the coaxial cable to the wall. He tightens. We have TV.
We are thinking about dinner. There is a dining room. I am upset and I do want to give this management anymore money than I have to.
I suggest Fish and Chips. I have looked at Trip Advisor and Yelp and there are a number of shops. I start out with the wind and soaking rain. I have a North Face 3/4 quarter length jacket which is waterproof.
I am walking against the wind and at the beginning, reasonably comfortable. What I forget is my shoes. My shoes quickly become soggy. I am alone on the sidewalk. Justly so.
I have forgotten it is Sunday. What will be open. I cannot use my phone - no signal and with the rain and darkness it would be impossible to read. I do see the Oban Distillery. I turn away from the beach road towards the Main Street. I find a Fish & Chips shop open.
The counter guy looks at me as I enter. he gives me the "are you crazy" look. When I ask for extra chips, he nods and smiles with indulgence.
I start back holding the large warm back close to my body. Obviously, I have not allowed for time, distance and a cold wind that now hits my face.
I make good time. Fortunately, the food is neither soggy nor cold. Well, it is not warm - but, it is fried fish and chips and they are firm.
It is a lot of food.
Tomorrow - sightseeing in Oban and the "Green Shack".
Tuesday, August 6, 2019
"Glasgow is less polite than Edinburgh ..... they keep in real"
The weather holds.
Still no heat. We understand that with the older buildings they often share boilers. We are told that the boiler is less than two years old. Apparently, the boiler is current, the pipes may have been new at the coronation of Victoria.
We discover that ownership of the Scottish hospitality industry is foreign and seems to be dominated by individuals from India. Decision making, therefore, lacks immediacy.
It is Saturday.
I wake early. I am now somewhat oriented. I turn left, past King's Theater to Sauchiehall Street. It is seven blocks of renovation. I walk to the train station. My goal is to become familiar with the train station. We leave early tomorrow morning for Glasgow. I want to print our tickets.
I have checked my phone and I have a message that I am about to end my International Phone & Data Usage Plan. From the early planning of the trip, our International Plan has been in turmoil.
I do reflect that from our first trip in 2014, smart phone usage has improved greatly. In 2014, Verizon did not offer any service. You were talking about "unlocking", replacement of simm card or purchasing an international phone.
I knew that I was closing in on my 100 MB monthly limit. But, the text message is confusing and the alternative offered does not make sense.
I return to Starbucks on Buchanan Street. Order coffee. Log on to their WiFi and call Verizon. I found that calling directly to International Customer Service is the most effective. Now, it is 9AM in Glasgow and late evening somewhere in USA. Hard to believe, I spend the next hour and ten minutes on the phone via WiFi. I do not loss the connection. It is Verizon's International 800 number. But, still remarkable.
Most importantly, we resolve the problem. Verizon renews my monthly International Plan and gives me a credit to offset. Very generous and very helpful.
It is only 10AM and there is walking to do. I walk to the end of Buchanan St. I turn left and walk up the street. I am sightseeing. Others are beginning a Saturday morning. I do get a feel for the architecture of Glasgow - at least, this area. It is Victorian and reflects the glory period of Glasgow.
I turn back towards the hotel. I do have a goal - I need shaving cream. When you want a drug store ...
Argyle Street is filling with shoppers. Centre Glasgow is very much alive and well.
I find a drugstore - a Superdrug. We are scheduled to fly to London Tuesday so I am looking for travel size.
My opinion of Glasgow continues to improve. It is a very vibrant city. It is friendly, but not outgoing.
It has been a long walk already. I cross back over St Vincent towards Bath. I zigzag looking for nothing special just enjoying. I find great little parks. I am also looking for a place to eat lunch later with Betty.
Almost back to the hotel, I pass the King's Theater where Sheik the Musical is playing. It is a Saturday Morning performance. Kids and parents everywhere.
It is lunch time. Still no heat. And, the weekend crew at front desk is no longer apologetic. We notice that there are a lot of Russians in the hospitality business.
Betty and I walk briefly looking on both sides of Sauchiehall Street for a place to have lunch. We decide on J. D.Wetherspoon. This is important since it is here that I invent the greatest condiment. It is a mixture of HP Sauce and Tartar Sauce. Great with chips. Hell goes with anything.
The remainder of the afternoon is a leisurely walk to Buchanan Street. It is Saturday and we shop. We want to buy - but, we live in the Southwest with summer temperatures over 100 so wool sweaters, hats and scarfs will sit in the closet.
We do a little shopping for dinner. We leave early Sunday morning. We are excited to get back on the road. The more adventurous part of our journey is upcoming.
Tomorrow is Oban.
Still no heat. We understand that with the older buildings they often share boilers. We are told that the boiler is less than two years old. Apparently, the boiler is current, the pipes may have been new at the coronation of Victoria.
We discover that ownership of the Scottish hospitality industry is foreign and seems to be dominated by individuals from India. Decision making, therefore, lacks immediacy.
It is Saturday.
I wake early. I am now somewhat oriented. I turn left, past King's Theater to Sauchiehall Street. It is seven blocks of renovation. I walk to the train station. My goal is to become familiar with the train station. We leave early tomorrow morning for Glasgow. I want to print our tickets.
I have checked my phone and I have a message that I am about to end my International Phone & Data Usage Plan. From the early planning of the trip, our International Plan has been in turmoil.
I do reflect that from our first trip in 2014, smart phone usage has improved greatly. In 2014, Verizon did not offer any service. You were talking about "unlocking", replacement of simm card or purchasing an international phone.
I knew that I was closing in on my 100 MB monthly limit. But, the text message is confusing and the alternative offered does not make sense.
I return to Starbucks on Buchanan Street. Order coffee. Log on to their WiFi and call Verizon. I found that calling directly to International Customer Service is the most effective. Now, it is 9AM in Glasgow and late evening somewhere in USA. Hard to believe, I spend the next hour and ten minutes on the phone via WiFi. I do not loss the connection. It is Verizon's International 800 number. But, still remarkable.
Most importantly, we resolve the problem. Verizon renews my monthly International Plan and gives me a credit to offset. Very generous and very helpful.
It is only 10AM and there is walking to do. I walk to the end of Buchanan St. I turn left and walk up the street. I am sightseeing. Others are beginning a Saturday morning. I do get a feel for the architecture of Glasgow - at least, this area. It is Victorian and reflects the glory period of Glasgow.
I turn back towards the hotel. I do have a goal - I need shaving cream. When you want a drug store ...
Argyle Street is filling with shoppers. Centre Glasgow is very much alive and well.
I find a drugstore - a Superdrug. We are scheduled to fly to London Tuesday so I am looking for travel size.
My opinion of Glasgow continues to improve. It is a very vibrant city. It is friendly, but not outgoing.
It has been a long walk already. I cross back over St Vincent towards Bath. I zigzag looking for nothing special just enjoying. I find great little parks. I am also looking for a place to eat lunch later with Betty.
Almost back to the hotel, I pass the King's Theater where Sheik the Musical is playing. It is a Saturday Morning performance. Kids and parents everywhere.
It is lunch time. Still no heat. And, the weekend crew at front desk is no longer apologetic. We notice that there are a lot of Russians in the hospitality business.
Betty and I walk briefly looking on both sides of Sauchiehall Street for a place to have lunch. We decide on J. D.Wetherspoon. This is important since it is here that I invent the greatest condiment. It is a mixture of HP Sauce and Tartar Sauce. Great with chips. Hell goes with anything.
The remainder of the afternoon is a leisurely walk to Buchanan Street. It is Saturday and we shop. We want to buy - but, we live in the Southwest with summer temperatures over 100 so wool sweaters, hats and scarfs will sit in the closet.
We do a little shopping for dinner. We leave early Sunday morning. We are excited to get back on the road. The more adventurous part of our journey is upcoming.
Tomorrow is Oban.
Friday, August 2, 2019
"The Great thing about Glasgow is that if there is a Nuclear attack, it'll look exactly the same afterwards"
The above quote is not accurate. For centuries, Glasgow was the economic center of Scotland and, for that matter, the United Kingdom.
We were told Glasgow was the "murder capital of Europe". Gangs roamed the streets. Criminals and gangs rule.
Glasgow has suffered. With the decline of manufacturing in the UK in 70's and 80's, Glasgow did see a substantial decline in population. There was urban flight to the suburbs. The city of Glasgow reached a peak in 1938 with a population of 1,127,825.
Today, Glasgow is a city of 615,070 with 1,209,143 people living in the Greater Glasgow urban area and 1,800,000 in metropolitan area. That is approximately 33% of Scotland's population.
Glasgow is a port city with access to world markets by the Firth of Clyde.
The city's East End remains a problem area with high unemployment.
The City Center of Glasgow is very vibrant and cosmopolitan urban area, There is construction every where. The train station. the Streets. The buildings. The Glasgow School of Art which has burnt twice - once in 2014 and gain in 2018.
The city is very pedestrian friendly. The City Center is an easy walk. Except of the hills. Oh, I forgot to mention the hills. Scotland is a land of hills - steep hills.
I start the day before dawn. It is dark as I walk to try to find a coffee shop. My first impression of the neighborhood. Yes, we are on a border. Two blocks behind the hotel is a major commuter artery with heavy traffic. There are high rise residential and office complex. The streets are empty. The street that appears to have shops and restaurants are fenced and torn up. We are about six blocks from the heavily damaged Glasgow School of Art. Major portion of the structure is being demolished which results in further street blockage and an extended (inaccurate) perception of decay.
I find a small family owned coffee shop. It is more of a sandwich shop for local office employees. The coffee is not great. The ambience is functional. There is a lack of morning biscuits.
I eat and drink quietly. No WIFI.
I do not dally. I leave disheartened.
It is still dark. I begin my long walk. Betty will not awake for awhile.
Why are we in Glasgow? Lots of good reasons actually. We are on our way to Oban. Our son and daughter in law honeymooned in Scotland and praised their journey and, especially, Oban.
We do not drive. We relay on trains and occasionally, buses. By traveling to Oban, we hope will give us a chance to see the outstanding scenery of Scotland's Highlands. By crossing from the east coast of Scotland and to the west coast, we will gain a fuller flavor of Scotland.
It is also a time to rest. we have been traveling for 18 days and four cities, three flights and lots of sightseeing. We have another 12 days with a long journey to Southwold, England.
As the sky lightens, I start up St Vincent Street. When I say "up" I mean up. I am concerned that although Betty's foot has improved greatly, but this hill is steep. I am walking back to the Central Station which is my "known point". Also When the cab took us to the hotel, I was impressed. I am going to find that a drinkable cup of coffee.
In the UK, there are several serviceable coffee chains for a morning roll and coffee. Starbucks, Nero and Costa are ubiquous. In London, there are lots of independents.
I pass offices and lots of "To Let" signs. There are small sandwich shops but nothing is open. We like to walk when possible. I am concerned that we may have to use cabs - the steep hills and distant to Glasgow sites.
The city is coming to life. More cars. I am saved. I find a Starbucks. I start to understand Glasgow better. It is a working city. It is a little like Dublin. Yes, they welcome tourists but the city's geography does not cater to tourists.
Glasgow has a great sense of humor. The equestrian statute of Wellington on Exchange Square is daily topped with a traffic cone. This commentary on the quinntessential hero of Britain is a statement that all is not well with the UK. The cone is removed every morning and replaced by "vandals" every night.
When I return to the hotel, Betty is up and getting ready. She asks where should we go. My answer is that I am not certain. The focus is to relax. The water is running in the room but still no heat. They have given us a small portable heater.
We leave the hotel and turn left. We walk to the Theater and turn right and walk up Bath Street.
Earlier I saw a restaurant called "The Butterfly and The Pig". The menu looked interesting and local. As opposed to the kids, I tend not to check YELP reviews. I trust my luck and feel.
It is somewhat early so we get a table without a reservation. I did burritos in Edinburgh. Betty and I had several very good meals so far in Scotland. But, nothing which would be considered "Scottish crusine.
There is haggis as an appetizer on the menu. I am not certain. But, I know I have to try. Fortunately, haggis has evolved. It no longer is stuffed sheep stomach. The menu is not specific as to ingredients.
I am guessing that "haggis" means by definition sheep liver, sheep heart and other undefined parts of sheep.
It was not bad. I would order again - but, only in Scotland.
I also order steak pie. Betty has often ordered pies. This is my first. It is very tasty - a large beef pot pie. Lunch is leisurely.
We walk down Bath Street to Buchanan Street. Buchanan Street is a closed pedestrian street, The open mall is about seven to eight blocks long with stores on both sides. The temperature is mild so the stroll and window shopping is pleasant.
And, there it is. Another family tradition to be continued. There is the Hard Rock Cafe of Glasgow. We go souvenir shopping. Not great.
We decide that we are tired and a drink sounds great. It is a narrow building with the restaurant up a staircase. Remember Glasgow is our rest stop. Slow down. Restore.
We find a booth and order cocktails. It is not crowd - too early. the bar area is small. We have a chance to talk with the server. He shares my admiration of Queen and Freddy Mercury. The Queen movie is a few months away,
We begin our walk back. We discover that you can walk around the steep hill, It is still a climb but not as tiring.
Still no heat, but the television works and the room is pleasant. It is a quick trip to Tesco Express. Dinner in the room.
Tomorrow - more walking.
We were told Glasgow was the "murder capital of Europe". Gangs roamed the streets. Criminals and gangs rule.
Glasgow has suffered. With the decline of manufacturing in the UK in 70's and 80's, Glasgow did see a substantial decline in population. There was urban flight to the suburbs. The city of Glasgow reached a peak in 1938 with a population of 1,127,825.
Today, Glasgow is a city of 615,070 with 1,209,143 people living in the Greater Glasgow urban area and 1,800,000 in metropolitan area. That is approximately 33% of Scotland's population.
Glasgow is a port city with access to world markets by the Firth of Clyde.
The city's East End remains a problem area with high unemployment.
The City Center of Glasgow is very vibrant and cosmopolitan urban area, There is construction every where. The train station. the Streets. The buildings. The Glasgow School of Art which has burnt twice - once in 2014 and gain in 2018.
The city is very pedestrian friendly. The City Center is an easy walk. Except of the hills. Oh, I forgot to mention the hills. Scotland is a land of hills - steep hills.
I start the day before dawn. It is dark as I walk to try to find a coffee shop. My first impression of the neighborhood. Yes, we are on a border. Two blocks behind the hotel is a major commuter artery with heavy traffic. There are high rise residential and office complex. The streets are empty. The street that appears to have shops and restaurants are fenced and torn up. We are about six blocks from the heavily damaged Glasgow School of Art. Major portion of the structure is being demolished which results in further street blockage and an extended (inaccurate) perception of decay.
I find a small family owned coffee shop. It is more of a sandwich shop for local office employees. The coffee is not great. The ambience is functional. There is a lack of morning biscuits.
I eat and drink quietly. No WIFI.
I do not dally. I leave disheartened.
It is still dark. I begin my long walk. Betty will not awake for awhile.
Why are we in Glasgow? Lots of good reasons actually. We are on our way to Oban. Our son and daughter in law honeymooned in Scotland and praised their journey and, especially, Oban.
We do not drive. We relay on trains and occasionally, buses. By traveling to Oban, we hope will give us a chance to see the outstanding scenery of Scotland's Highlands. By crossing from the east coast of Scotland and to the west coast, we will gain a fuller flavor of Scotland.
It is also a time to rest. we have been traveling for 18 days and four cities, three flights and lots of sightseeing. We have another 12 days with a long journey to Southwold, England.
As the sky lightens, I start up St Vincent Street. When I say "up" I mean up. I am concerned that although Betty's foot has improved greatly, but this hill is steep. I am walking back to the Central Station which is my "known point". Also When the cab took us to the hotel, I was impressed. I am going to find that a drinkable cup of coffee.
In the UK, there are several serviceable coffee chains for a morning roll and coffee. Starbucks, Nero and Costa are ubiquous. In London, there are lots of independents.
I pass offices and lots of "To Let" signs. There are small sandwich shops but nothing is open. We like to walk when possible. I am concerned that we may have to use cabs - the steep hills and distant to Glasgow sites.
The city is coming to life. More cars. I am saved. I find a Starbucks. I start to understand Glasgow better. It is a working city. It is a little like Dublin. Yes, they welcome tourists but the city's geography does not cater to tourists.
Glasgow has a great sense of humor. The equestrian statute of Wellington on Exchange Square is daily topped with a traffic cone. This commentary on the quinntessential hero of Britain is a statement that all is not well with the UK. The cone is removed every morning and replaced by "vandals" every night.
When I return to the hotel, Betty is up and getting ready. She asks where should we go. My answer is that I am not certain. The focus is to relax. The water is running in the room but still no heat. They have given us a small portable heater.
We leave the hotel and turn left. We walk to the Theater and turn right and walk up Bath Street.
Earlier I saw a restaurant called "The Butterfly and The Pig". The menu looked interesting and local. As opposed to the kids, I tend not to check YELP reviews. I trust my luck and feel.
It is somewhat early so we get a table without a reservation. I did burritos in Edinburgh. Betty and I had several very good meals so far in Scotland. But, nothing which would be considered "Scottish crusine.
There is haggis as an appetizer on the menu. I am not certain. But, I know I have to try. Fortunately, haggis has evolved. It no longer is stuffed sheep stomach. The menu is not specific as to ingredients.
I am guessing that "haggis" means by definition sheep liver, sheep heart and other undefined parts of sheep.
It was not bad. I would order again - but, only in Scotland.
I also order steak pie. Betty has often ordered pies. This is my first. It is very tasty - a large beef pot pie. Lunch is leisurely.
We walk down Bath Street to Buchanan Street. Buchanan Street is a closed pedestrian street, The open mall is about seven to eight blocks long with stores on both sides. The temperature is mild so the stroll and window shopping is pleasant.
And, there it is. Another family tradition to be continued. There is the Hard Rock Cafe of Glasgow. We go souvenir shopping. Not great.
We decide that we are tired and a drink sounds great. It is a narrow building with the restaurant up a staircase. Remember Glasgow is our rest stop. Slow down. Restore.
We find a booth and order cocktails. It is not crowd - too early. the bar area is small. We have a chance to talk with the server. He shares my admiration of Queen and Freddy Mercury. The Queen movie is a few months away,
We begin our walk back. We discover that you can walk around the steep hill, It is still a climb but not as tiring.
Still no heat, but the television works and the room is pleasant. It is a quick trip to Tesco Express. Dinner in the room.
Tomorrow - more walking.
Monday, May 20, 2019
"The Glasglow accent was so strong you could have built a bridge with it and known it would outlast the civilization that spawned it"
The weather holds.
Krispy Kreme from Tesco Express. Coffee at Starbucks. Life is good. Good Morning Edinburgh.
Looking back, I will remember the bookstores and coffee shops of Edinburgh. And, that I started to achieve a degree of comfortably with the British monetary system, I no longer hand a twenty Pound note to the clerk and wait for the change or hold my hand out to let the clerk pick out. I can actually pay with the change in my pocket.
It is about a forty-five minute train ride to Glasgow with local stops on the way.
We check out and request a cab from the front desk. I learn a valuable lesson. When staying at a hotel, have the desk order the cab. It is easy, quick and honest.
The driver takes us quickly to Waverly Station. I explain to Betty my lost ticket problem from yesterday. She is gracious and does not laugh.
I exhibit my new found expertise with the ticket kiosk and we both now have tickets.
The Economist is selling subscription at Waverly Station. We are early with about an hour wait. Betty engages one the young people in conversation and we leave Edinburgh with a subscription.
I mention to explain our approach to souvenirs We tend to buy books, artistic personal cards, notebooks, calendar diaries and small pieces of clothing. There are exceptions to the rule. Subscription to the Economist fits right in.
Our train is cancelled. I think that it had more to do with "consolidation". A train to Glasgow leaves Waverly about every thirty minutes.
We move to another platform. I go through my anxiety routine. Betty is reassuring and calming.
The train is more of a commuter than a rail. This are first trip on Scots Rail. We know our stop (we are less than confident).
I have had a number of discussions on "traveling" and, particularly, in our age group. All "traveling" is to be encouraged. Betty and I are not risk takers. But, we are adventurous. We have an advantage. We have time. We usually spend five days or more in a city. We can miss a train. We can loosely schedule. The only requirement is that the next hotel reservation.
This is a local. The trip reminds me that we are tourists. There is a real world outside the train window. We pass through suburbs. Commuter train stations. We see the parking lots and business parks. After about thirty minutes, we are underground.
We know the train station. Well, we hope it is the right station. We hope that the hotel is a reasonable distance. The stop is more of a subway stop than a train station. Can this be it. Are there two stops? Is there a upper stop and a lower stop. We have picked the wrong train?
Glasgow Central Station does have two levels. Apparently, trains from Edinburgh occupy that lower level.
The station is in major exterior and interior renovation. Following construction signs, we exit onto a side street.
Glasgow hills are not gentle. It is a lesson quickly learnt. The cab stand is only 100 yards away. It is a steep climb while pulling luggage and pack bags. Betty's foot is healing but walking is tough.
There is a line of cabs waiting for fares. We are a fare. But, the cab drivers apparently are not allowed to move.
Finally, a cab pulls out and the friendly cab driver helps load the luggage. He explains that this is the waiting area, The actual cab area is in front of the station. It is right turn not left and a flat fifty yards walk. It is around the corner. We did not see.
We are downtown. We drive by a lot of interesting stores and restaurants.
The hotel is on the edge of central Glasgow. Our experience in Europe conforms to Best Western reputation which is very good. Scotland is not Europe.
The hotel is a small boutique hotel. At check-in the manager is accommodating and accepts several of our out of date 5 and 10 pound sterling. He does fail to mention that we have no heat - it is Friday. The boiler is (a few years old) broken and repairmen are there.
We learn that with the older buildings which have been rehabbed many times that they often share boilers and utilities. The water is also turned off, but hopefully will be turned on in a couple of hours.
There is no elevator and, of course, they have put us on the third floor despite Betty's request due to injuried foot.
The room itself is pleasant. Although apparently being a Best Western Club Member is commonly ignored by Scottish Brand Holders. We find out later that Best Western is not well liked by their hotel management.
We are pleasant about the inconvenience since we are given the impression that it is short term. "It will be fixed shortly." Water did return the first night. But, no adjustment in the bill made or even offered.
By the time we have unpacked and settle in, it is late afternoon.
I go for a walk. My goal is to familiarize myself and to find snacks - I need a diet coke badly. Chips would be a good thing also.
At first, I am not overly impressed by the area. We are on the border of the commercial/business area. Glasgow is in a Renaissance. A few blocks down, a street for seven blocks is completing torn up. The large building across the street appears vacant. It may have been a school - it still might be. It is a great looking building but there is a look of vacancy about it. There is a theater with Shrek the Musical three blocks down.
Turning left out the hotel door, I walk straight for five short blocks. I find an outdoor laundromat in a gas station. I gratefully find a Tesco Express. I buy my coke and potato crisps (a bag of potato chips in US).
It is a pleasant evening room service, television and snacks.
Tomorrow, the hills of Glasgow.
Krispy Kreme from Tesco Express. Coffee at Starbucks. Life is good. Good Morning Edinburgh.
Looking back, I will remember the bookstores and coffee shops of Edinburgh. And, that I started to achieve a degree of comfortably with the British monetary system, I no longer hand a twenty Pound note to the clerk and wait for the change or hold my hand out to let the clerk pick out. I can actually pay with the change in my pocket.
It is about a forty-five minute train ride to Glasgow with local stops on the way.
We check out and request a cab from the front desk. I learn a valuable lesson. When staying at a hotel, have the desk order the cab. It is easy, quick and honest.
The driver takes us quickly to Waverly Station. I explain to Betty my lost ticket problem from yesterday. She is gracious and does not laugh.
I exhibit my new found expertise with the ticket kiosk and we both now have tickets.
The Economist is selling subscription at Waverly Station. We are early with about an hour wait. Betty engages one the young people in conversation and we leave Edinburgh with a subscription.
I mention to explain our approach to souvenirs We tend to buy books, artistic personal cards, notebooks, calendar diaries and small pieces of clothing. There are exceptions to the rule. Subscription to the Economist fits right in.
Our train is cancelled. I think that it had more to do with "consolidation". A train to Glasgow leaves Waverly about every thirty minutes.
We move to another platform. I go through my anxiety routine. Betty is reassuring and calming.
The train is more of a commuter than a rail. This are first trip on Scots Rail. We know our stop (we are less than confident).
I have had a number of discussions on "traveling" and, particularly, in our age group. All "traveling" is to be encouraged. Betty and I are not risk takers. But, we are adventurous. We have an advantage. We have time. We usually spend five days or more in a city. We can miss a train. We can loosely schedule. The only requirement is that the next hotel reservation.
This is a local. The trip reminds me that we are tourists. There is a real world outside the train window. We pass through suburbs. Commuter train stations. We see the parking lots and business parks. After about thirty minutes, we are underground.
We know the train station. Well, we hope it is the right station. We hope that the hotel is a reasonable distance. The stop is more of a subway stop than a train station. Can this be it. Are there two stops? Is there a upper stop and a lower stop. We have picked the wrong train?
Glasgow Central Station does have two levels. Apparently, trains from Edinburgh occupy that lower level.
The station is in major exterior and interior renovation. Following construction signs, we exit onto a side street.
Glasgow hills are not gentle. It is a lesson quickly learnt. The cab stand is only 100 yards away. It is a steep climb while pulling luggage and pack bags. Betty's foot is healing but walking is tough.
There is a line of cabs waiting for fares. We are a fare. But, the cab drivers apparently are not allowed to move.
Finally, a cab pulls out and the friendly cab driver helps load the luggage. He explains that this is the waiting area, The actual cab area is in front of the station. It is right turn not left and a flat fifty yards walk. It is around the corner. We did not see.
We are downtown. We drive by a lot of interesting stores and restaurants.
The hotel is on the edge of central Glasgow. Our experience in Europe conforms to Best Western reputation which is very good. Scotland is not Europe.
The hotel is a small boutique hotel. At check-in the manager is accommodating and accepts several of our out of date 5 and 10 pound sterling. He does fail to mention that we have no heat - it is Friday. The boiler is (a few years old) broken and repairmen are there.
We learn that with the older buildings which have been rehabbed many times that they often share boilers and utilities. The water is also turned off, but hopefully will be turned on in a couple of hours.
There is no elevator and, of course, they have put us on the third floor despite Betty's request due to injuried foot.
The room itself is pleasant. Although apparently being a Best Western Club Member is commonly ignored by Scottish Brand Holders. We find out later that Best Western is not well liked by their hotel management.
We are pleasant about the inconvenience since we are given the impression that it is short term. "It will be fixed shortly." Water did return the first night. But, no adjustment in the bill made or even offered.
By the time we have unpacked and settle in, it is late afternoon.
I go for a walk. My goal is to familiarize myself and to find snacks - I need a diet coke badly. Chips would be a good thing also.
At first, I am not overly impressed by the area. We are on the border of the commercial/business area. Glasgow is in a Renaissance. A few blocks down, a street for seven blocks is completing torn up. The large building across the street appears vacant. It may have been a school - it still might be. It is a great looking building but there is a look of vacancy about it. There is a theater with Shrek the Musical three blocks down.
Turning left out the hotel door, I walk straight for five short blocks. I find an outdoor laundromat in a gas station. I gratefully find a Tesco Express. I buy my coke and potato crisps (a bag of potato chips in US).
It is a pleasant evening room service, television and snacks.
Tomorrow, the hills of Glasgow.
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