England

The Arrival in England

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Sunday, June 4, 1995

I've been up since 3:30 am when my brother called to tell me his car had been firebombed. Great way to start a vacation. So I spend the rest of the morning watching Politically Incorrect and of course, Mystery Science Theater 3000 on Comedy Central while I check my e-mail, eat breakfast and pack. I even manage to find time to call a couple of my best friends. Everyone seems terribly excited for me. I am, as usual, strangely unemotional, but still hyped in my own way.

I think I finally have everything. Passport, new luggage, all my clothes, even the traveller's checks. AAA was happy enough to take a personal check from me two years ago when I wasn't a member, but now, they suddenly can't because I've been a member less than a year. Odd. So spent most of Friday afternoon frantically scrambling to get to the bank so I can get a Certified Check, then get back to AAA before they close.

I'm leaving my car at home in the hopes that it will be safer there. Of course, this means I get to walk to Metro. Turns out my suitcase is 30 pounds. And I get to carry it all the way. What fun. But it is nice to be able to get to the airport without driving.

Dulles has got to be the smallest "big" airport in the world. Everyone is crammed into this little entry hall trying to check in. Then everyone has to go through one security gate to get to the gates. Of course this involves some sort of shuttle bus. It seems to be an unwritten law that the gate you are leaving from or arriving at will be the farthest from the actual terminal. I'm leaving from gate C2. Yes, way, way, down at the end of the hall. I'm early, but not too early. Time enough to read before I have to fight through the crowd to board. Everyone always wants to get on and off the plane as quickly as possible. Never mind that the plane will always be sitting at the terminal gate for at least a half-hour until you leave, gotta get on now! Man, them 747's are huge. Just glad I have a window seat. The flight should be about 6 1/2 to 7 hours. During which the Flight Attendants will pester us with drinks, food (twice) and a movie. Not much time to sleep, but I take what I can get. The movie (after about 2 hours of TV programs), is The Quick and The Dead. I sleep through it, and my seatmate tells me something went wrong with the tape partway through, and they never finished it. Guess I didn't miss much after all. I had asked for a vegetarian meal, and when I got the menu, it looked like I had lucked out. Cheese tortellini. One of my all-time favorites. However, my travel agent seems to have reserved a Vegan/Strict Vegetarian meal for me. This means much salad, and some sort of evil rice & vegetable dish. True airline food strikes again. One of these days I'll get it right. Or something. By the time I wake up, the continental breakfast has already been served. Naturally. Guess I'll just pay the big prices at the airport.

Monday, June 5, 1995

Clearing customs is easier & quicker than I thought, and my bag is even here. I never cease to marvel when this works right. I also happily discover that I managed to bring along the instructions for meeting the group, and that I've arrived at the right terminal. I only have to wait an hour and a half. Enough time to scrounge some breakfast. Man, I hope I can find them, or I am seriously screwed. Still, I seem to have done OK so far. Maybe I'm getting my brother's good Karma, which seems to have left him lately.

After a breakfast of a bagel & cream cheese with orange juice (I would say OJ, but I'm trying to stay away from all that this month), I find the group without any problem. However, we seem to be short one Tour Leader. Turns out his plane is terribly late due to mechanical difficulties, and his luggage was nearly declared lost, only to be discovered in another carrier off to the side. Anyway, we are 3 hours late getting off. Gives me a chance to catch up on sleep while we wait in the bus.

First stop: Stonehenge. Man, is this place interesting. Just stunning with all those huge blocks of stone. Run into too many more of these spots and I will run out of film & souvenir money quickly. Our first stop, and I'm buying stuff.

Then we drive to Shaftsbury for lunch. I'm not sure what it is about English roads. They all seem so narrow. This could be partly because we're in a huge bus, but these roads, especially the back ones that we take have no shoulders and they all have hedgerows growing along the side. Wild. Even, or perhaps especially, in cities like Shaftsbury. I thought some of the towns in Maryland had narrow streets. So we're walking down one of the steep brick historic streets, and Keith, our Tour Leader, and some others go over by the wall of the ruined abbey looking at some birds. Then this woman bolts out of her house across the street telling them to leave the birds alone and don't they have any sense? Apparently she likes the birds. At the top of the hill is this "quaint" little restaurant where I have a tomato & cheese sandwich and a schon for lunch. Apparently cheese is a vegetable.

Then on to Plymouth. Somehow I manage to sleep most of the way. I got maybe 3 or 4 hours of sleep on the plane, so I don't know why I'm so tired. I'm also concerned that I haven't brought enough books. I finished one in the airport, and I seem to be halfway through a second. Yes, I've found some time to read as well as sleep on the bus.

Well, we get to Plymouth a little late, but this is only to be expected after a 2 hour delay waiting for Keith at the airport, so supper isn't until 7:30. Tonight, the cheese and mushroom and spinach Lasagna. Yes, cheese 3 meals in a row! Our first big meal together, then a meeting afterwards for the group. Some people are surprised to find that a good share of us are librarians. Everyone else seems to be retired.

After dinner, I take a walk around the Citadel with the Winzenreids. Fun family. Plymouth, like most English cities, seems to be very densely populated. And much of it seems to be in subdivisions of identical houses. Street after street of identical roofs. Apparently one contractor got the lot job, and there was a big sale at Hechinger's. Also, the place seems to be covered in war memorials.

After the walk, it's time to settle down with some good British TV. However, our choices at the hotel seem to be news and interview shows, and American shows & movies. We end up watching an NYPD Blue from about 3 weeks ago.

Tuesday June 6, 1995

Finally, a shower and a change of clothes. Everything feels much better now. British morning TV is much the same as American morning TV. Except it is either much more serious, or more bizarre. BBC 1&2 had the usual heavy news and interviews while Channel 4 had this odd Big Breakfast show. Sort of like British MTV does the Today show. Today they had something about various sunblockers which involved models sitting out in the sun, and the whole movie Brady Bunch. Except for Shelly Long who seems to be on her own tour, and pre-taped a segment.

And down for a big breakfast of Rice Krispies, toast and a fried egg. Also offered were grapefruit pieces in syrup, plums or something in syrup, and baked beans, sausage & tomato with the fried egg. Possibly English, certainly Australian.

Then we spend an hour or so wandering around Plymouth. I explore the seafront at The Hoe. First I spend about ten minutes studying maps and determining that the same place they had the Pilgrim plaque & stone was also the Mayflower Steps. Not much, just steps that go down into the harbor, but still interesting. Then I wander around the mazes of walkways on the waterfront. Hey, if you're going to see someplace, you're going to have to go exploring.

Then it's on the bus for a drive through Dartmoor. This is indeed a wild-looking place. Not quite as scary-looking during the day, but not a place you want to spend a night. Sheep & cattle grazing all over, including right up to or on the road. Again, the roads are very narrow, and I can't imagine driving the bus down them. We also get a view of the infamous Dartmoor Prison. Again, not as scary when viewed from aways off in the daylight, but still not anywhere where I'd like to spend too much time. Or do time.

We stop at Bovey Tracey for lunch. As we pull into the parking lot, we see some guys actually thatching a house. So of course we all have to go out and take pictures of them. We then scatter for lunch. I see a sign that says "downtown", or something, so I take off that way. I may have actually been the only one, because I never saw anyone else. Found a place that did a great vegetarian pasta. so far, I seem to have done rather well for food. None of the horrid "traditional" English food, or even Indian. Well, apart from that baked beans for breakfast thing.

As we drive to Glastonbury, I am struck again by the fact that, at least in the rural section of Britain, the 20th century was sort of grafted on. The old roadways may have been paved, but that's all that was done to them. In the towns, the houses are still of the Old Style. If they do have a driveway and garage, it was because they paved over part of their lawn, cut a hole in the omnipresent hedge, and had a shed sitting on the grounds already. It seems like you could take away all of the modern things, and the place wouldn't be affected too much.

Glastonbury has several stories attached to it, apparently. Most of them center around King Arthur. It is said that Joseph of Aramathea came to Britain, and moved here. And that the Tor outside of town with the tower of St. Michael's Cathedral on it was the Island of Avalon where Arthur and Gueneviere are both buried. Who knows. I do know that even though the marker on top says it is only 518 feet high, you have to climb every one of those 518 feet. The view is worth it, though. The tower is incredible, and the view is breathtaking. The wind is also very strong. We have stopped here for about and hour and a quarter, and we need all of it to find our way through the town and up the Tor. Everyone else has stopped to see the ruined abbey. The Winzenreids and I are the only ones brave enough (or mad enough) to attempt the climb. As it turns out, while we are climbing, Keith discovers that the bus must be parked in the abbey tour parking lot, and not where we left it. We don't find this out until we get back to the parking lot at 4:00, and find the bus not to be there. Keith shows up 10 minutes later to tell us what happened, and we wait another 10 minutes for the bus to show up. Some people seemed to be upset, or at least determined to kid us about it, but in this case, we can give it back even better.

Our hotel in Bristol is fantastic. One of the best I've ever stayed in. We have an iron, pants presser, blowdrier, and even hot chocolate. Good meal, too, after we finally find the dining room. It's starting to look like British hotels have added the dining rooms on the back with long connecting hallways to the rest of the hotel. I had the mushroom stroganoff. Quite good.

Andrew and I stay up late catching this British version of NYPD Blue called Out Of The Blue, and some of The Last Temptation of Christ. Too long as it turns out. Breakfast was scheduled at 7:30. We are awakened at 7:45.

Wednesday, June 7, 1995

My alarm was set right, and apparently works, we just slept right through it. Could've slept to noon, easily. So I'm in & out of the shower in about 2 minutes, and we're packed & downstairs in another 5. Man is that embarassing. Well, we made it, anyways. Andrew does his shower when we go back up.

Now it's off to the cave & paper mill at Glastonbury. The caves are decent, but our guide is exceptional. The paper mill is also surprisingly interesting. It's one of, if not the, last hand-made papermill in Britain. It's simple, but still tough work. And for some reason, I can't think of a reason to pick up some paper at the shop. Perhaps I am insane. Or maybe I'm just taking this trip for me. Then again, not buying paper is hardly a statement because I think that I'm the only one who really wants the paper, and possibly one of those caligraphy pen sets. On the way out, we have to go through a penny arcade. Well, actually most of the things are 20p. It's got a lot of old carnival things, and a Hall of Mirrors. I actually go through the mirror maze, which is great fun.

Then we're off to Bath. They do a huge business showing people the old Roman Baths. There's a hot spring there, and the Great Bath seems to still be operational, even though you can't go in because the water is untreated. In the archeological dig section, it's quite humid. In the cave, we expected this, but in these ruins, you'd think they would want to keep it a bit drier, so they wouldn't have plants growing all over the place. They also had an exhibit of some of the offerings that were left at the temple section, including curses that people would carve into little metal pages, then put on the altar or something. Most of them seemed to be people upset at thieves who had stolen some of their clothing, and they wanted the thieves to pay in their own blood. Most of them involved blood, somehow.

And now over to the Bath Abbey. Spectacular-looking church. And they have this amazing stained-glass window at one end, the East Window. This finally induces me to buy something at a souvenir shop. I pick up a postcard at the window and a guide to it for the princely sum of 32p. My, what a big spender. The other thing that strikes me about this church is the number of "tombstones" in it. Well, maybe they are tombstones. Markers all up and down the aisles saying "Beneath this stone lies the remains of..." Apparently, people are actually buried there. And all over the wall are blocks saying "Near this marker lies..." It kind of bugs me. Not sure if I could face going to a graveyard every week for church. Well, probably saves on funeral processions, anyway. Have the main service and the graveside service all at once.

Right next to the huge Abbey is the Bath SDA Church. Very small. Almost looks like it used to be the Abbey's garage. Of course it's locked, so we don't get to see inside. That would be interesting.

Then it's up to the Pulteney Bridge. Nice-looking bridge, has coffee shops along one side of it. Not sure why I wanted to see it, though. Keith said we should see it, and one day I'll figure out why. By this time, I have only enough time to grab a fried egg sandwich for lunch at a cafe, since the sub shop I was going to go to seems to be out of business, and the Pizza Hut will probably take too long. In keeping with English egg tradition, the yolk is still soft. Apparently, you have to really demand a hard yolk over here. One day I'll figure that out as well.

Of all the places we've visited so far (and admittedly, since this is only Wednesday, that hasn't been too many), this is the place with the most tourists. The town is just littered with them. I'm even pressed into service taking some family's picture. What a crowd. Busloads of retirees (OK, much like our tour, but much more so), and tons of families with young children. Even worse than the tourist crowds in DC because of the compression factor.

Since we're trying to see so many places in one day, we're obviously running late, which means we have to shorten the stop that all the librarians were really looking forward to. We're stopping at Hay-on-Wye, the town composed mostly of used-book stores. We have an hour. Not nearly enough time. I hit as many as I can, but I still don't manage to find anything that I can't convince myself is also available at home, and so not worth the energy to drag it around for the next couple of weeks. Still, we need much, much more time to browse. A day or so might be good.