It may be March but I’m still thinking about February 23.
Important day: I had the best burger my taste buds have experienced in MONTHS. Well, it was also the only burger I’ve had in months, unless you count lamb or buffalo. Which are quite tasty but don’t really qualify, for a red white and blue American, the way a 100 % beef burger (and not the McDonald’s venue) does.
Where, might you ask, did I find this? Some fabulous burger joint called “Brady’s” (in London). This place churns out the real deal with superb red meat, a nice size patty – not too thick, not too thin, not shriveled up on the bun. And perfectly medium rare. The kind of pink in the middle that allows the burger to still be juicy. Nothing worse than ordering a burger, waiting amidst wafting smells of sweet onions sautéing happily in butter, only to receive a brown hockey puck.
This burger also comes with the right-size bun, not that huge overwhelming tasteless thing, just a fresh, soft accompaniment that allows the beef – really good beef, reportedly from Scotland – to shine.
Add to that a generous portion of excellent blue cheese, melted just so, some greens but not too many, a thinly sliced red, non-woody tomato, and I was beyond ready to dive in. After slathering on some ketchup and good English mustard – the kind with the horseradish of course – I did just that.
It lived up to all my anticipation.
But that’s not all. Accompanied by a thick oreo milkshake, I was thinking I was back in a good U.S. diner, like that one in Kansas City – the name escapes me – but the burgers and shakes I’ll never forget.
Now it’s a little dicey, I think, to order a milkshake here because they often seem to hold true to their name: milky. With a little ice cream thrown in. I much prefer the opposite, particularly since the last item on my wishlist is anything that tastes like milk.
So yes, Brady’s delivered on the shake, too.
While I consumed all of this bun, cheese, burger, shake business, my better half had the healthier option – burger sans cheese, half the bun and a side of greens. Though he did go for the shake…
Suffice it to say I did not regret a single kilo calorie.
This wonderful repast followed a trip to the Museum of London, which is well worth a visit. Bonus: it’s free.
Then a nap. Great way to spend a Sunday.
In other news…January’s high points included:
- The Snowman. Apparently this is one of those yearly Must-sees for many British families. Based on a book, the show is done to music with no words. Thankfully we have the book and CD so we had a good understanding of the story going in. Lovely performance, west end caliber naturally, 20 minutes too long.
- Visit to Jane the hygienist. Kids tell her EVERYTHING. Hillarious. Reason for not using automatic toothbrush? Mom hasn’t changed the batteries. Do we drink juice for breakfast? Yes. Followed by Jane’s lecture about sugar, holes in teeth…etc. Aiy yai yai.
- Visit to the Natural Science Museum’s Atmospheric exhibit – which was very cool. And a little imax action too, this one from the cockpit of British air forces. Also very cool.
- Wordsworth poetry classes with Alice. I like Wordsworth better this time around. So much literature is better digested later in life; seems unfair to make us all go through it when we 1) can’t understand it properly, let along appreciate it and 2) would be better served reading the Catcher and the Rye and all its friends. (Said Catcher book didn't have the same panache when I read it a few years ago. Clearly too old for it.)
- A fun two-person act at the Tricycle Theatre (local venue; the show had received good reviews) that Joe and I checked out, with dinner at a charming little gastropub conveniently located across the street.
- Claire and I joined some other ASL moms and kids for a bust of an outing on the Golden Hynde. Rarely do I have uncomplimentary things to say about educational outings, but this one got on my nerves. About the ship:
The Golden Hinde, London's replica of Sir Francis Drakes warship offering visitors an unforgettable Living History Experience. The Golden Hinde is a full-sized reconstruction of the Tudor warship in which Sir Francis Drake circumnavigated the globe in 1577 – 1580.
Now it wasn’t the ship that was annoying; it was the entire outing starting w/ the bosomy Marge in charge type who shepherded our group from start to finish. She barked out orders to don costumes (just dirty smocks and hats). Claire took one look and flatly told me she wasn’t dressing up. I said that was fine. Some battles…why bother with them?
Unfortunately Marge (aka George -- women on board were bad luck, hence the masculine identity) overheard her and tartly informed both of us that dressing up is part of the experience. While her tone left something to be desired, I did tell Claire that it might behoove her to throw the smock on over her clothes. That met w/ steely-eyed resistance, so I said I would dress up, which did a little to appease George. But not much.
Then onto the musty ship, where we had to hunker, bent over, and listen to a very loud, fat man wander around the ship bumping into things. He was apparently the drunken sailor.
This already had Excedrin written all over it. Then the barber surgeon started his gig, which was a very rich description of how he amputated.
At that point I felt ill from head to stomach. Meanwhile Claire was part of a group being yelled at to row harder or some such thing. She expressed her dislike of the experience to my neighbor so when we caught up w/ each other she was buried in games on Melissa’s i-phone.
We made a beeline out of there an hour and a half early, attempting to do so covertly – only to find the drunken sailor right behind us on the gangplank. Oops.
Then on to John Lewis’ dining room because…well, why not? It was warm, offered plenty of good food choices and had no drunkenly behavior or gruesome descriptions of life at sea back in the 1700’s. And I could stand up straight.
Incidentally, practically no one returned on these voyages, and if you did, you came back w/ a humped back from standing stooped over for years on end. And it was bad luck to bathe so gee, wouldn’t the olfactory experience be pleasurable…
- “A flea in Her Ear” was also on my theatre list in January – this one w/ the ladies (St. John’s Wood Women’s Club). Light-hearted, quick language, a bit of a spoof 18th century style. We all enjoyed it, I think it’s safe to say.
- Also in recent weeks I hit a book group meeting – discussion of The Female Brain (which frankly sounds dull but is quite a good elliptical read). Our discussion was just ok but the Mexican food that went with it, courtesy of Szerina, was superb.
- Joe and I enjoyed “The Rivals” with our neighbors following good Indian fare at The Mint Leaf. (Though the first 10 minutes had me worried; I was convinced I was going to snooze. Rather, once I got into the language, it was very smart, very light-hearted, and as always on the West End, very well done.)
- Not to be left out, we also went to “George’s Marvelous Medicine.” We’ve, as a family, all gotten into Raold Dahl more heavily than we might have were we still in North Carolina (having visited the Raold Dahl museum, read most of his books, including his non-autobiography autobiography and watched/re-watched some of his films).
Ava was lined up to go w/ her class to see George before we jerked her out of Abercorn and plopped her into ASL. So I felt it only fair to line up tickets to the show, which was great fun, I must say. That Raold Dahl did have quite the sense of humor. Probably wouldn’t fly in today’s politically correct world (who can get away with writing about creating medicine from shampoo, hair spray, paint, flea medicine and the like to improve Grandma’s demeanor…). And then to have her shrink to nothingness and end the story there. Hmmm…
- In late January I linked up with the SJWWC for a walk around the Victoria and Albert. This is a museum that has something like 2 ½ miles of exhibits…we focused on 12-14 varying in size, medium and timeframe, had a great guide who was witty, well spoken and well read and good w/ a big, unwieldy group.
So there you have it. My attempt to capture what we did in the earliest part of 2011. We'll soon embark on spring break: adventures that will involve cold weather and family catch up in the west and midwestern parts of the USA! Bring on the red meat...
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Cruisin’!
24 December…
After a week of paralyzed airports, Eurostar issues, UK train disruptions, road havoc (all due to our 3 ½ inches of snow) we made it out of the country!
It seems like a measly amount of snow to have locked everything up (well it is a measly amount) but given London hasn’t had to deal w/ real winter conditions much if at all, there simply isn’t the support to respond.
I heard plenty of poo-pooing from those who deal w/ that ugly Northeastern US weather…and all I have to say is go to Texas and see what happens when it snows. Tax money just doesn’t get pumped into snow plows for the onesy twosy snowstorms. Maybe a/c instead?
While I’m the first to cut England slack on facing up to winter weather, I must say Heathrow in particular needs to get its act together. One of the world’s largest airports has got to get itself access to some de-icing equipment and a few plows, even if they just rent the stuff once or twice a year.
And for heavens sake why don’t they have a crisis plan that includes communication so people aren’t trapped in (or locked out) of the terminals as flights upon flights are cancelled? Not to mention the fact that some air carriers just stopped answering the deluge of calls as panicked passengers sought options for their holiday travels.
I assume, since 9/11, that a crisis plan exists for a terrorism hit; maybe they could adopt some of the strategies for weather-related standstills? (or maybe they learned nothing from the earlier ash crisis…who am I to say, I supposed; I’m pretty far removed from airport management). Common sense would say…
But I as usual digress! We had the good luck to get to a quiet Heathrow, our terminal just waking up. We had plenty of time to get through the process, have breakfast and board our bus to the plane. Always kills me when you have a 15 minute ride across the airplane parking lot to hike up into the jet. Seems more fitting for those Salt Lake flights, where a handful of people bend down to squeeze in and if the plane isn’t full, you’re asked to disperse throughout for weight efficiency.
We parted London on time, smooth sailing er flying to Barcelona. God must have known my desperation to get out of the gray and enjoy a change of scenery after three of us suffered from swine flu, three weeks of lingering effects and trying to fit in all the Christmas busy-ness while feeling more like going back to bed.
Our luggage found us in sunny, crisp Spain, where we met up with a growing group of fellow cruisers – young, old, families, signles, whatever. We were shephered to buses and off to the port shortly thereafter for a painless check in and we were on board in early afternoon!
Our first order of business: lunch. This meal was at the Grand Pacific Dining Room, where we sat by the windows and gazed out at sparkling water. Ahhh the sun.
And then it was off to explore the ship, check out our cabins and get settled. We had adjoining rooms – twins for the kids, a king for us, windows in both. Ahh that all important door in between. No complaints!
A bit later we joined a tour around the ship to get the lay of the land, then had a tour of the spa (priorities, people, priorities). We each got a small demo of various massage techniques. I’ve no doubt spa appointments for my kids are in their future as both love having their backs massaged. Must be genetic.
We also perused the restaurant optioins and elected for a Spanish dinner meal; the lobster tacos spoke to us. And they were indeed fabuous; as we pulled away from harbor en route to Casa Blanca we toasted our first day on the Norweigian Jade.
Post-mealtime we hit a Christmas show – lots of holiday singing and dancing. Enjoyed by all and it put us in the Christmas Eve frame of mind!
I ended the day in the fitness center – I know I know – on vacation? Frankly, though, if you can’t find time to exercise while on holiday, then hang it up entirely (my philosophies…take em or leave em).
Christmas Day at sea
We started a very relaxing day with breakfast at the Garden Café, a very casual, very big buffet. It doesn’t take long to discern that it’s all about the food on board. Kids love all the options buffets offer so it makes breakfast easy.
Afterward we attended a non-denominational Christmas service in the ship’s auditorium, which featured Christmas music with lounge piano player on keyboard and Catholic priest. In that order. Optional communion service at the end.
Apparently this – I’m referring to optional communion – wasn’t enough for one of the passengers. She was heard complaining more than once about it not being Catholic enough. Nevermind that nowhere in the literature did it mention a Catholic Mass.
Frankly I don’t have much patience for the whining. She’s the one who chose to be away from her home Parish on a big boat with a very diverse group of people who – shock of all shocks – may not be on the Catholic bandwagon. (I was quite surprised to see a Catholic priest, let alone have the option of a communion service; we were more than fine with the interdenominational effort. Scale expectations, people…
Anyway, some of us thought the service was nice, with appropriate messaging for the holidays.)
Then we were off to laze around the ship and for lunch we hit the Garden Café, spending the afternoon playing games, working out, decorating Christmas cookies. This event, designed for kids, was besieged by adults and pimply faced 18 year old boys. Anything for a cookie, I guess. The kids had fun with frosting and candies.
After the sugar fest we joined in a caroling session around the piano with cruise director Gary, who really was everywhere at once on the Norwegian Jade. He led a rousing rendition of Deck the Halls, Rudolph, Jingle Bells, all the festive faves.
For Christmas dinner we dined at the Alazar as the menu featured traditional Christmas favorites – turkey and all the trimmings, ham and such. Even Claire skipped the kids meal for the turkey and mashed potatoes. Actually, she ventured into foreign territory in the food department several times on this trip. Food beyond carbs; who knew?
December 26 – Claire’s 9th birthday
I don’t remember much about my 9th birthday but it certainly wasn’t spent on a cruise ship. And someone I talked w/ recently actually had the gall to say “wouldn’t your kids rather be home than cramped up on a ship over the holidays?”
Considering the opportunities for Christmas on the high seas are limited for us, that their friends and family aren’t hanging around London for big festive dinners and that our options for sharing holidays with family in the U.S. involve impersonal hotels, well I’d venture to say THEY’RE ALL OVER THE CRUISE!
Claire’s day started with breakfast, then onto join the masses in the Stardust Theatre to group up for our Casa Blanca excursion – city highlights. It was a cattle call with a big bunch of tourists all grouping up for their respective buses. Off to 32 we eventually went – first stop Hassan II Mosque, the third largest in the world.
It did go on forever, this Mosque – with its gorgeous, hand-crafted décor – carved wood, hand painted tiling, plaster, etc. We saw main and lower levels, Turkish and Moroccan style baths, male and female prayer areas. And the area around it is a lovely seaside setting. More on the Mosque:
The great Hassan II Mosque was commissioned by its namesake, King Hassan II, in part to provide Casablanca with a single landmark monument. On his birthday, July 9, 1980, the king declared:
I wish Casablanca to be endowed with a large, fine building of which it can be proud until the end of time... I want to build this mosque on the water, because God's throne is on the water. Therefore, the faithful who go there to pray, to praise the creator on firm soil, can contemplate God's sky and ocean.
Designed by French architect Michel Pinseau, construction of the Hassan II Mosque began in July 1986 on land reclaimed (without compensation to the former residents) from a run-down area near the sea. The goal for completion of the mosque was King Hassan II's 60th birthday in 1989, but it ended up not being finished until August 30, 1993.
The project is estimated to have cost as much as $800 million, funds that were remarkably raised entirely from public subscription. International reports have suggested both local resentment and less-than-voluntary donations to the project, but Moroccans seem to be genuinely proud of their monument. The massive fundraising also had a positive side-effect: it temporarily reduced Morocco's money supply and brought down inflation.
Nearly all the materials of the Hassan II Mosque are from Morocco, with the sole exceptions of the imported white granite columns and glass chandeliers (from Murano, near Venice). The marble is from Agandir, the cedar wood is from the Middle Atlas and the granite comes from Tafraoute.
Over 6,000 Moroccan master craftsmen and artisans were employed to work these local materials into the intricate decorations that embellish the entire structure. When construction passed its deadline in the early 1990s, 1,400 men worked by day and 1,000 worked by night to bring the vast project to completion.
The most distinctive characteristic of the Hassan II Mosque is its spectacular location on a platform over the Atlantic Ocean. Uniquely, part of the mosque's floor is made of glass so worshippers can kneel directly over the sea.
Above, an automated sliding roof opens (on special occasions) to the heavens.
At 689 feet, the Great Mosque's minaret is the tallest structure in Morocco and the tallest minaret in the world. At night, lasers shine a beam from the top of the minaret toward Mecca, "to point the way to God." The building was designed to withstand earthquakes and has a heated floor and electric doors.
The style of the Hassan II Mosque displays strong Moorish influences, bringing to mind the Alhambra and Mezquita in Spain. Horseshoe arches prevail both outside and in, and the walls and columns of the interior are delicately carved in a variety of intricate patterns.
There is a huge women's gallery on the right as you face the prayer area, which is beautifully carved of dark wood. The prayer area in the back is spacious and carpeted in red. Downstairs are Turkish-style baths and fountains for washing.
Then off to see more of Casa Blanca, which seemed rather large and industrial, not terribly clean or quaint. So stick with the movie for your romantic Casa Blanca experience. The old town dates to the 1900’s so not the depth of history other Moroccan cities have.
That said, we did get to see some lovely homes, the king’s palace (well really the king’s well-secured palace gates and similarly well-secured big yard). And we walked through the oldest quarter of the city, with its traditional Moroccan architecture, stopping at a market with plenty of fish, much to Claire’s dismay. Any potential meat or fish smell sends her over the edge.
Casa Blanca reminded us of India, though with fewer women out and about and garb less colorful. According to our guide, there is greater religious freedom in Morocco than in other parts of the world, with Jewish, Christian and Islamic people living harmoniously for centuries.
In fact, Morocco is proud to have been such a staunch protector of its Jewish population during the 2nd World War. The guide noted this and said the Jewish population continues to be a very vibrant, visible part of society and political expression in Morocco.
Islamic dress is a choice in the country as opposed to a government requirement, we were told. And for those of you on the edge of your seat, Morocco’s main source of economy is agriculture.
After the market we stopped at a bazaar selling handicrafts. Again, reminiscent of India – less pressure to buy, though, with an entire busload of people rather than just the kids and me being watched, assisted, etc. by the 5+ clerks manning the shop. Let’s not forget the tea and soft drinks offered, along with the weaving demonstrations and the dozens of perfectly folded, plastic wrapped quilts laid out around the room. I always shuddered as I walked away empty handed – or nearly so – as I thought about how much work it was to painstakingly refold and return to those small plastic sleeves for the next demo, likely for what’s assumed to be a wealthy tourist empowered with credit card and desire for over-priced Indian goods likely made by women and young adults (read children) who receive little if any of the monies exchanged.
Worse, I suppose, is us walking away empty handed as I did numerous times, taking the pennies these families subsist upon with me.
In my defense, not all traveling foreigners are rich, not all of us allow ourselves to be taken advantage of with (often) severely inflated prices and frankly, I can’t solve the third world’s problems with one – or even several – rugs that look great in India but in practice in North Carolina, one can only handle so many elephants.
Yeah well anyway in Casa Blanca we got away without big tapestry demos and happily re-boarded the ship for a late lunch at the crazed Garden Café. Everyone else had returned from their excursion with an appetite, too, apparently.
In the afternoon we played Clue, our new favorite family game for everyone except Ava, who’s not quite old enough to appreciate it.
Claire’s dinner choice for the day was Spanish so we again enjoyed good salsa and those fabulous lobster tacos, among other things. The birthday desserts abounded: a small cake, flan, a chocolate cake and some other Spanish specialty. The wait staff sang to Claire and brought out fake candles (flames and ships: not a good mix).
December 27
Agadir. I started the day out circling the deck – the ship has a jogging track up near the top and a walking path on 7. Breezy but nice, I liked the one up top – great views and not much activity early in the day.
Today we opted for breakfast at the Grand Pacific, with its quiet ambience and lovely views. Fresh omelettes, pancakes, etc. Ava’s discovered cream as her new favorite pancake topping.
We grouped up again in the theatre for our outing to agadir. As it was last to leave, much less chaotic than the previous day, we were soon en route and our first stop: the Kasbah– lovely old sand-castle like ruins overlooking Agadir. A series of narrow switchbacks were navigated by our trusty bus driver – glad he was driving and not me.
Agadir is a sprawling, coastal community circled by hills and mountains. With its sparkling water and bright blue sky, on our sunny day it was spectacular.
Some poor camels were waiting with their phsy owners/handlers at the top. Tourists could traverse the parking lot atop the straggly beasts. Claire was picked up and perched on a camel, which didn’t do much for her or us so we opted out from this cheesy photo opp. Ah the romance of riding a worn-out, cranky, smelly camel on asphalt, swaying uncomfortably past tour buses flanked by drivers smoking imitation Pall Malls while cameras clicked and scavengers tried to sell cheap watches and wallets…
We did walk up and around the fortress, which had gaping holes opening into steep drops – no signs of warning or fences. You’re on your own in Agadir, I guess.
Back on the bus we headed to the other side of the city for our Fantasia horse race/camel experience.
Third world entertainment (a far cry from Broadway, to put it mildly). We pulled up to our outdoor green space with trash in the corners of the lawn. Entertainers dressed in various costumes welcomed us into the park area, where chairs were set off to the right, facing a stage covered with dirty carpets. Behind were five men in traditional Moroccan or Berber costumers (I guess) mounted on horseback.
A few minutes later, as the audience sipped tea (we passed -- old habit from India: skepticism on hygiene) out of small glasses, some dancers took the stage. They were older, the lead guy missing a number of critical teeth. Those in place looked pretty abused. They did some swaying and hip wiggling on stage, pulled people from the audience up participate (always good to dodge that bullet), then segued to the horsemen doing a mad dash down the pasture and shooting their guns in the air at the end.
(How is it that when guns are shot in Agadir it’s harmless but when it happens in the US it’s blood, death and media?) Ugh
What the Agadir horse/gun men lacked in coordinated effort they made up for in sound effect.
Next on stage was a young, more appealing belly dancer in a bright blue costume. She gyrated for quite some time – maybe 10 minutes too long – then some really wily gymnasts in hot pink took the stage. They were fun to watch as they did flips and towers and all kinds of physically challenging maneuvers with each other.
The last stage act was a group of male dancers/musicians with wigs and bright red costumes. Their wigs were memorable; otherwise, nothing to report.
After our fine friends the horseman ran through a final time, with one poor guy toppling off, our show was complete. (BTW this horse race business was supposed to be a symbol of manhood, courage and hospitality – so what does that say about the poor guy who fell off?)
Back on the bus, we were off to another part of Agadir for a presentation at an herbal pharmacy. There our busload clamored into a room with a couple benches and we listened to a guy give us a spiel on how various herbal meds work on ailments from herpes to excema, snoring to circulation issues.
Someone volunteered for a 5 minute massage with the special Agadir massage oil and sales person’s assistant. He had to remove his shirt – maybe it was a good thing I restrained my impulse to volunteer?
The sales guy had all kinds of teas, cooking oil, etc. but I think he didn’t sell as much as he’d hoped. I’m not sure how many people wanted to raise a hand for the herbal version of Viagra or for weight-loss tea in front of a bus-sharing crowd.
I did have to laugh at the wide range of ailments some of his products covered. Miracle cures of the desert.
We also made a stop at a shop, of course – some beautiful furniture.
Despite my sarcastic commentary, we found Agadir to be charming, and a lovely coastal city.
Back on board, we had a bite at the grill by the pool, then the kids and Joe swam a bit; I supervised. Take me back to Texas and those really hot temps and warm pools, then I’m all about the pool. Otherwise, x-nay on the pool-a.
Later we hit the Spinnaker lounge for family bingo. No big (or small!) winnings for Webers, but we had fun. At 6:00 we headed off to Tapinyaki for dinner. It’s one of those Japanese restaurants where the chefs cook in front of you. The place only has 16 seats with sittings of eight staggered. So an intimate experience. What our chef lacked in expertise (he did some egg juggling, tossed one in his hat, etc. but also dropped a couple and broke them on the grill) he made up for in crowd interaction and humor.
Both Joe and I tried to play egg basketball by catching a piece of cooked egg in our mouth but I missed, he scored.
A’s meal was chicken and noodles, I had lobster and squid, Claire and Joe had steak. And we all enjoyed delicious fried rice. Our meal wrapped up with fruit and green tea ice cream. Not my favorite.
We ended the evening with a ship show – the magicians and a couple of amazing acrobats/dancers. I’m selling them short in this blog entry because I’m tired and can’t cough up specific awe-inspiring tricks and acts, but suffice it to say our attention was captivated, I still am amazed at the strength and dexterity of those two acrobatically inclined dancers can do. A husband/wife team, they even had their son appear in one act. As for the magicians, it's a mystery to me how they did what they appeared to have done but didn't really do.
December 28
The beach!!! Today we joined the masses for a late breakfast, then I had a fabulous massage after a great workout. FABULOUS. The massage, mind.
Then we got ready for a non-excursion day at the beach in Las Palmos.
Bonus: a sunny, warm day had dawned.
After an easy walk to the beach, we holed up and spent a couple hours alternately reading, sun bathing and looking for shells. Eventually we got hungry and sought a seaside table in vain but opted for the best-looking pizzeria on the strip. (There were plenty of pizza options – apparently when on vacation on an island in Spain pizza appeals.)
Ours had a great table indoors overlooking the beach so we settled in for a slow, relaxed meal of excellent pizza and pasta.
From there we stopped at a gelateria. You know those ferrera rocher chocolates that are so good? Well the gelato they make with them is even better.
Back toward the ship, we wandered through a mall – aren’t they all the same – then settled in for a bit before drinks and the evening show, this time a Spanish flamenco ballet. Defiinitely the best costumes and most changes. Gorgeous dresses.
Afterward – dinner – with lines in the dining rooms we grabbed a drink and played cards in the Atrium, a great place to hang out as someone was usually working the piano or strumming a guitar. Eventually the Old Grand Pacific buzzed us for dinner and I continued the Italian theme of the day…tortellini.
December 29
Today was our Funchal day, though not until afternoon so we slept in, had a lazy morning on board the ship and disembarked at 1:30 for our excursion, which was a particularly good one, with a superb guide.
Our agenda for the day: a bus ride inland, passing through Sao Martinho to the Socorridos ravine. "Eira do Serrado is reached after a short drive along a winding road, offering spectacular views of the interior of the island. Here, it is a short and easy walk up to the viewpoint on Pico de Serrado at an altitude of approximately 3,592 feet (1,094 meters), for an amazing view down onto the village of Curral das Freiras. Curral das Freiras (Nuns Valley) is a small village nestling between almost perpendicular mountains in the heart of the island. In 1566, the nuns from the Santa Clara convent fled from pirates attacking Funchal and found seclusion here where they also brought the convent's treasure."
The views were amazing. Waterfalls, canyons, hills/mountains, the sea, incredible greenery with flowers sprinkled throughout, fog drifting over a nearby peak…
Incredibly piterusque and quite a contrast, weatherwise, to when we boarded the bus – warm, sunny air down below, downright chilly and very windy at the viewpoint.
Incidentaly, Funchal’s history goes back over five centuries when early Portuguese settlers colonised the coast of a bright and sunny bay where fennel (funcho) grew in abundance, giving its name to the new town of Funchal.
From our windy viewpoint (and the mega tourist trap store at the bottom of the trail) we headed to Monte, a small village, perched up in the hills overlooking Funchal. It was formerly a health resort for Europe's high society, including Austrian Emperor Charles I.
Upon leaving the bus we climbed up to Monte Church, which overlooks the city and dates from 1818. It stands on the spot where an original chapel was built by the first two children to be born on Madeira island.
This is also the location of the tomb of Charles I, Karl von Habsburg-Lothringen, the last Emperor of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.
From the steps up to the church we could see the famous Monte Tobaggans...
Originally a fast means of transport down to Funchal for people living in Monte, Monte’s infamous toboggan sledges appeared around 1850.
Still in use today, they attract thousands of tourists every year who want to make this exciting experience of sliding at high speed on narrow, winding streets down to Funchal. These two-seater wicker sledges glide on wooden runners, pushed and steered by two men traditionally dressed in white cotton clothes and a straw hat, using their rubber-soled boots as brakes.
The downhill journey to Funchal is made in about 10 minutes on a total course of 2 km, reaching at times a speed of 48 km/hour. Adventurous, yet safe, an ‘old-fashioned’ toboggan ride to make your way down from Monte is the perfect contrast to the high-technology cable car going up to Monte.
As exciting as the toboggan rides looked, we passed as age limits precluded Ava’s participation.
After again meeting up w/ our group we wandered to the gondola for a beautiful lift down the hillside, which used to sport a rack railway connecting Monte and Funchal.
At the bottom we were whisked off to a final stop for Madeira (appropriate, no?) tasting in a charming little tasting room with wooden barrels for tables, stools for perching whilst drinking.
We tried two types – a medium dry and edium sweet, leaving with a small bottle of the medium dry. Should be tasty over ice cream…
Back at ship!
For dinner we opted to eat at Papa’s – good Italian food in a casual setting. Thing big wooden tables, great ocean views. My pork saltimbocca – their specialty –was excellent. We scooted early so we could hit the evening show, this time a showdown with the audience determining the winner. Great fun! Afterward we returned to our Italian restaurant for dessert.
December 30
At sea! Somehow the time flies when there isn’t a major agenda. Now how is that? Games, books, workout room, hanging by the pool…
At some point we rotated from one end of the ship to the other to continue enjoying the sunshine and a Beer Fest. On tap: German beer and food, along with live music.
We also stopped in to hear Cruise Director Gary’s presentation about his career in show biz. A Scotsman, he is a classicly trained pianist who, through haphazard meetings with stars in Paris, ended up working in Vegas, then the Lido in Paris, which then led to acts on various cruises. And at sea he was asked to fill in for a fired cruise director (the guy was found sauced under the piano) and since then has worked in the cruise business, on and off the sea, for several years.
In his spare time he’s dedicated to animal rescue and has a place in Italy set up to care for stray dogs, cats, a few donkeys, some ducks, etc. We all enjoyed his talk and of course bought his book, Stars, Staterooms & Stowaways, a collection of anecdotes about his life and career.
For dinner we ate at Le Bistro, a fancy French restaurant. I particularly liked this one, with its perfect mushroom soup. As Claire says, the restaurant has a lovely atmosphere and we all left very satisfied.
Our entertainment for the evening was “Broadway in the Atrium,” a set of “star-studded songs from musical theatre’s rich history and from today’s stages.” One of our favorite gathering spots on the ship, it was a lovely way to end the day, listening to beautiful voices belt out familiar tunes.
31 December
New Year’s Eve!
And how did you spend the last day of 2010? We zipped down for breakfast, fought for (and found!) a table (so far this week we’ve been with the majority on the timing of our hunger pangs, thus tracking down a place to sit takes a little longer).
Then we were off to check out a bit of Malaga, starting with a bus ride through the city and along the coast and on to the magnificent Nerja Caves – Cuevas de Nerja – a series of huge caverns stretching for almost five kilometres and home to the world’s largest stalagmite, a 32 metre high column measuring 13 metres by 7 metres at its base.
There are three Galleries – Show Gallery, Upper Gallery and New Gallery – with each gallery containing a number of Halls.
The Upper Gallery and New Gallery contain many of the prehistoric cave paintings, but tourist access to these areas is limited to special groups (and while we’re special people, we weren’t part of this group tour).
Finding the cave…
On January 12th 1959, five local lads from the village of Maro decided to go hunting for bats and headed for a pothole known locally as ‘La Mina’ where they saw a number of bats exiting through the hole in the rocks.
The boys returned the next day with tools to dislodge a couple of stalagtites in the entrance. Once inside, they found themselves able to descend to a huge cavern where they discovered a number of skeletons next to some ceramic pottery.
Excited by their find, they went back to tell their family, friends and teachers but it wasn’t until the cave was visited by a medical expert and a photographer that the true extent of their discovery became apparent.
The first photographs of the caves were published in the Málaga newspaper ‘Sur’ about 100 days after their discovery and after first being called ‘Cueva de las Maravillas’, they then became ‘Cueva de Nerja’.
The Nerja Caves were officially inaugurated on June 12th 1960 and opened to the public.
Definitely worth experiencing, we were taken aback by the size and beauty of the stalagtites and stalagmites. (We saw the largest stalagmites columns in the world, 161 feet high and 59 feet in diameter!) As big as church pillars and with similarities to Gothic architecture. And in fact, the brochures about the caves noted their “capricious rocky formations can be compared to Modernist cathedrals, and their eight rooms include the Room of the Cataclysm, as well as the Room of the Cascade.”
We oohed and aahed with the rest of our group, discerning different images in the cracks, crevices, walls…
Today, the public at large can visit about a third of the cave, while scientists and academics can arrange to study deeper aspects of it. The cavernous areas are so
large concerts and festivals are held inside.
After visiting the caves we went to the city center of Nerja, which is part of what’s known as the Balcony of Europe and dates from 1487. The city sports a 9th century castle above the sea. We checked out the city’s 17th century Savior Church, constructed in Baroque-Mudejar style and the 16th century Our Lady of Sorrows Hermitage with its paintings by the master Alonso Cano. The old quarter of town sports charming cafes and small shops with local handicrafts and local products such as sweet wine, olive oil, honey and tropical fruits.
Back on the bus we enjoyed views of the subtropical coast, where sugar cane, avocado and custard trees grow in abundance.
And then to the ship!
Our dinner plan for New Year’s Eve was the steakhouse, Cagney’s. And it was wickedly good! Wonderful steak, best views of any of the restaurants late in the evening, as the light sparkled off the water.
The show of the evening was called “Elements,” which included magic and a “visual feast of flying,” music and dance, “reveling in the four elements – Earth, Air, Water and Fire.” Another great performance.
We’ve decided we like this one-hour nightly show; each has been different, entertaining for all of us and not too lengthy.
Naturally we moved on to the New Year’s Eve party, opting for some time in the Spinnaker Lounge, where a live band played. And we later rotated to the Atrium, where a pianist got us all in the New Year’s mood. The place was soon packed and we all sang/danced and of course kissed as the new year countdown took place. The kids ate it all up though Claire was ready to exit about 10 minutes after the big event.
Ava, meanwhile, was just getting juiced up for the party. Hmmm this could be a glimpse of things to come?
January 1
2011!!! Fitting, I think, to have a day at sea on Jan 1.
Our day was spent with a little of this and that – a towel-folding demo, for starts.
Each day our stewards left our room sparkling and decorated with animals folded from towels. My favorite was the monkey hanging from our ceiling. They made gorillas, dogs, bears, you name it. Very creative.
So the ship had a little demo on how to create these creatures at home. You could even purchase a DVD (that was deemed less than necessary for us). Let me warn you now if you opt to visit: you won’t find any cute towel creatures to welcome you. I do well to get them into a square, thankyouverymuch!
For lunch we ate on the deck, BBQ ribs and burgers from the grill. Delish!
In the afternoon the kids and Joe checked out the “name that tune” contest with Gary, the cruise director who seemed to be everywhere on this ship. I spent that time sweating.
And as our last evening meal rolled around, we opted for Asian: the Jasmine Garden, which I thought was very good.
With that final meal we’d tried nearly every dining option -- sans sushi -- on board and found it all quite appealing. And in fact, too much of a good thing!
Overall cruise musings…we had a great first long cruise – nice mix of down time and activity, plus it was all choreographed so easy to just go along and enjoy. We met several people who are regular cruisers, even taking back to back boats (which I wouldn’t do…too much of a good thing, plus I’m thinking on day 11 I’d get itchy feet).
We are of the opinion that we’ll cruise again, but in the interim there are many other ways to explore/vacation that we’ll enjoy. Some of that has to do with our age and activity level (I am, after all, the woman who drags us to the top of the dome, tower, bridge, etc.) as we explore various spots.
It was very nice not to move hotels and the service was fabulous. It goes without saying the food was over the top, as were the facilities in general.
I also think that for multi-generational vacations, reunions, etc. a cruise is ideal – something for everyone, easy access for all, the opportunity for everyone to go their own way and re-convene to share experiences.
For families, the kids club, cookie and cupcake decorating, trivia contests, family bingo, excursions, polls, game rooms, etc. it’s clearly a great venue from toddle to teen.
Bonus: motion sickness wasn’t much of an issue – that one rocky morning didn’t send anyone into the fetal position.
Our trip home involved plenty of waiting after a final breakfast in the significantly less crowded Garden Café. With cards, books and newspapers in hand we made our way uneventfully back to Alma Square.
And after Christmas crackers (which I think are a GREAT Christmas tradition) and a light meal (boy was it great to not eat rich restaurant food) we delved into what was under the tree. Santa had indeed visited!
After a week of paralyzed airports, Eurostar issues, UK train disruptions, road havoc (all due to our 3 ½ inches of snow) we made it out of the country!
It seems like a measly amount of snow to have locked everything up (well it is a measly amount) but given London hasn’t had to deal w/ real winter conditions much if at all, there simply isn’t the support to respond.
I heard plenty of poo-pooing from those who deal w/ that ugly Northeastern US weather…and all I have to say is go to Texas and see what happens when it snows. Tax money just doesn’t get pumped into snow plows for the onesy twosy snowstorms. Maybe a/c instead?
While I’m the first to cut England slack on facing up to winter weather, I must say Heathrow in particular needs to get its act together. One of the world’s largest airports has got to get itself access to some de-icing equipment and a few plows, even if they just rent the stuff once or twice a year.
And for heavens sake why don’t they have a crisis plan that includes communication so people aren’t trapped in (or locked out) of the terminals as flights upon flights are cancelled? Not to mention the fact that some air carriers just stopped answering the deluge of calls as panicked passengers sought options for their holiday travels.
I assume, since 9/11, that a crisis plan exists for a terrorism hit; maybe they could adopt some of the strategies for weather-related standstills? (or maybe they learned nothing from the earlier ash crisis…who am I to say, I supposed; I’m pretty far removed from airport management). Common sense would say…
But I as usual digress! We had the good luck to get to a quiet Heathrow, our terminal just waking up. We had plenty of time to get through the process, have breakfast and board our bus to the plane. Always kills me when you have a 15 minute ride across the airplane parking lot to hike up into the jet. Seems more fitting for those Salt Lake flights, where a handful of people bend down to squeeze in and if the plane isn’t full, you’re asked to disperse throughout for weight efficiency.
We parted London on time, smooth sailing er flying to Barcelona. God must have known my desperation to get out of the gray and enjoy a change of scenery after three of us suffered from swine flu, three weeks of lingering effects and trying to fit in all the Christmas busy-ness while feeling more like going back to bed.
Our luggage found us in sunny, crisp Spain, where we met up with a growing group of fellow cruisers – young, old, families, signles, whatever. We were shephered to buses and off to the port shortly thereafter for a painless check in and we were on board in early afternoon!
Our first order of business: lunch. This meal was at the Grand Pacific Dining Room, where we sat by the windows and gazed out at sparkling water. Ahhh the sun.
And then it was off to explore the ship, check out our cabins and get settled. We had adjoining rooms – twins for the kids, a king for us, windows in both. Ahh that all important door in between. No complaints!
A bit later we joined a tour around the ship to get the lay of the land, then had a tour of the spa (priorities, people, priorities). We each got a small demo of various massage techniques. I’ve no doubt spa appointments for my kids are in their future as both love having their backs massaged. Must be genetic.
We also perused the restaurant optioins and elected for a Spanish dinner meal; the lobster tacos spoke to us. And they were indeed fabuous; as we pulled away from harbor en route to Casa Blanca we toasted our first day on the Norweigian Jade.
Post-mealtime we hit a Christmas show – lots of holiday singing and dancing. Enjoyed by all and it put us in the Christmas Eve frame of mind!
I ended the day in the fitness center – I know I know – on vacation? Frankly, though, if you can’t find time to exercise while on holiday, then hang it up entirely (my philosophies…take em or leave em).
Christmas Day at sea
We started a very relaxing day with breakfast at the Garden Café, a very casual, very big buffet. It doesn’t take long to discern that it’s all about the food on board. Kids love all the options buffets offer so it makes breakfast easy.
Afterward we attended a non-denominational Christmas service in the ship’s auditorium, which featured Christmas music with lounge piano player on keyboard and Catholic priest. In that order. Optional communion service at the end.
Apparently this – I’m referring to optional communion – wasn’t enough for one of the passengers. She was heard complaining more than once about it not being Catholic enough. Nevermind that nowhere in the literature did it mention a Catholic Mass.
Frankly I don’t have much patience for the whining. She’s the one who chose to be away from her home Parish on a big boat with a very diverse group of people who – shock of all shocks – may not be on the Catholic bandwagon. (I was quite surprised to see a Catholic priest, let alone have the option of a communion service; we were more than fine with the interdenominational effort. Scale expectations, people…
Anyway, some of us thought the service was nice, with appropriate messaging for the holidays.)
Then we were off to laze around the ship and for lunch we hit the Garden Café, spending the afternoon playing games, working out, decorating Christmas cookies. This event, designed for kids, was besieged by adults and pimply faced 18 year old boys. Anything for a cookie, I guess. The kids had fun with frosting and candies.
After the sugar fest we joined in a caroling session around the piano with cruise director Gary, who really was everywhere at once on the Norwegian Jade. He led a rousing rendition of Deck the Halls, Rudolph, Jingle Bells, all the festive faves.
For Christmas dinner we dined at the Alazar as the menu featured traditional Christmas favorites – turkey and all the trimmings, ham and such. Even Claire skipped the kids meal for the turkey and mashed potatoes. Actually, she ventured into foreign territory in the food department several times on this trip. Food beyond carbs; who knew?
December 26 – Claire’s 9th birthday
I don’t remember much about my 9th birthday but it certainly wasn’t spent on a cruise ship. And someone I talked w/ recently actually had the gall to say “wouldn’t your kids rather be home than cramped up on a ship over the holidays?”
Considering the opportunities for Christmas on the high seas are limited for us, that their friends and family aren’t hanging around London for big festive dinners and that our options for sharing holidays with family in the U.S. involve impersonal hotels, well I’d venture to say THEY’RE ALL OVER THE CRUISE!
Claire’s day started with breakfast, then onto join the masses in the Stardust Theatre to group up for our Casa Blanca excursion – city highlights. It was a cattle call with a big bunch of tourists all grouping up for their respective buses. Off to 32 we eventually went – first stop Hassan II Mosque, the third largest in the world.
It did go on forever, this Mosque – with its gorgeous, hand-crafted décor – carved wood, hand painted tiling, plaster, etc. We saw main and lower levels, Turkish and Moroccan style baths, male and female prayer areas. And the area around it is a lovely seaside setting. More on the Mosque:
The great Hassan II Mosque was commissioned by its namesake, King Hassan II, in part to provide Casablanca with a single landmark monument. On his birthday, July 9, 1980, the king declared:
I wish Casablanca to be endowed with a large, fine building of which it can be proud until the end of time... I want to build this mosque on the water, because God's throne is on the water. Therefore, the faithful who go there to pray, to praise the creator on firm soil, can contemplate God's sky and ocean.
Designed by French architect Michel Pinseau, construction of the Hassan II Mosque began in July 1986 on land reclaimed (without compensation to the former residents) from a run-down area near the sea. The goal for completion of the mosque was King Hassan II's 60th birthday in 1989, but it ended up not being finished until August 30, 1993.
The project is estimated to have cost as much as $800 million, funds that were remarkably raised entirely from public subscription. International reports have suggested both local resentment and less-than-voluntary donations to the project, but Moroccans seem to be genuinely proud of their monument. The massive fundraising also had a positive side-effect: it temporarily reduced Morocco's money supply and brought down inflation.
Nearly all the materials of the Hassan II Mosque are from Morocco, with the sole exceptions of the imported white granite columns and glass chandeliers (from Murano, near Venice). The marble is from Agandir, the cedar wood is from the Middle Atlas and the granite comes from Tafraoute.
Over 6,000 Moroccan master craftsmen and artisans were employed to work these local materials into the intricate decorations that embellish the entire structure. When construction passed its deadline in the early 1990s, 1,400 men worked by day and 1,000 worked by night to bring the vast project to completion.
The most distinctive characteristic of the Hassan II Mosque is its spectacular location on a platform over the Atlantic Ocean. Uniquely, part of the mosque's floor is made of glass so worshippers can kneel directly over the sea.
Above, an automated sliding roof opens (on special occasions) to the heavens.
At 689 feet, the Great Mosque's minaret is the tallest structure in Morocco and the tallest minaret in the world. At night, lasers shine a beam from the top of the minaret toward Mecca, "to point the way to God." The building was designed to withstand earthquakes and has a heated floor and electric doors.
The style of the Hassan II Mosque displays strong Moorish influences, bringing to mind the Alhambra and Mezquita in Spain. Horseshoe arches prevail both outside and in, and the walls and columns of the interior are delicately carved in a variety of intricate patterns.
There is a huge women's gallery on the right as you face the prayer area, which is beautifully carved of dark wood. The prayer area in the back is spacious and carpeted in red. Downstairs are Turkish-style baths and fountains for washing.
Then off to see more of Casa Blanca, which seemed rather large and industrial, not terribly clean or quaint. So stick with the movie for your romantic Casa Blanca experience. The old town dates to the 1900’s so not the depth of history other Moroccan cities have.
That said, we did get to see some lovely homes, the king’s palace (well really the king’s well-secured palace gates and similarly well-secured big yard). And we walked through the oldest quarter of the city, with its traditional Moroccan architecture, stopping at a market with plenty of fish, much to Claire’s dismay. Any potential meat or fish smell sends her over the edge.
Casa Blanca reminded us of India, though with fewer women out and about and garb less colorful. According to our guide, there is greater religious freedom in Morocco than in other parts of the world, with Jewish, Christian and Islamic people living harmoniously for centuries.
In fact, Morocco is proud to have been such a staunch protector of its Jewish population during the 2nd World War. The guide noted this and said the Jewish population continues to be a very vibrant, visible part of society and political expression in Morocco.
Islamic dress is a choice in the country as opposed to a government requirement, we were told. And for those of you on the edge of your seat, Morocco’s main source of economy is agriculture.
After the market we stopped at a bazaar selling handicrafts. Again, reminiscent of India – less pressure to buy, though, with an entire busload of people rather than just the kids and me being watched, assisted, etc. by the 5+ clerks manning the shop. Let’s not forget the tea and soft drinks offered, along with the weaving demonstrations and the dozens of perfectly folded, plastic wrapped quilts laid out around the room. I always shuddered as I walked away empty handed – or nearly so – as I thought about how much work it was to painstakingly refold and return to those small plastic sleeves for the next demo, likely for what’s assumed to be a wealthy tourist empowered with credit card and desire for over-priced Indian goods likely made by women and young adults (read children) who receive little if any of the monies exchanged.
Worse, I suppose, is us walking away empty handed as I did numerous times, taking the pennies these families subsist upon with me.
In my defense, not all traveling foreigners are rich, not all of us allow ourselves to be taken advantage of with (often) severely inflated prices and frankly, I can’t solve the third world’s problems with one – or even several – rugs that look great in India but in practice in North Carolina, one can only handle so many elephants.
Yeah well anyway in Casa Blanca we got away without big tapestry demos and happily re-boarded the ship for a late lunch at the crazed Garden Café. Everyone else had returned from their excursion with an appetite, too, apparently.
In the afternoon we played Clue, our new favorite family game for everyone except Ava, who’s not quite old enough to appreciate it.
Claire’s dinner choice for the day was Spanish so we again enjoyed good salsa and those fabulous lobster tacos, among other things. The birthday desserts abounded: a small cake, flan, a chocolate cake and some other Spanish specialty. The wait staff sang to Claire and brought out fake candles (flames and ships: not a good mix).
December 27
Agadir. I started the day out circling the deck – the ship has a jogging track up near the top and a walking path on 7. Breezy but nice, I liked the one up top – great views and not much activity early in the day.
Today we opted for breakfast at the Grand Pacific, with its quiet ambience and lovely views. Fresh omelettes, pancakes, etc. Ava’s discovered cream as her new favorite pancake topping.
We grouped up again in the theatre for our outing to agadir. As it was last to leave, much less chaotic than the previous day, we were soon en route and our first stop: the Kasbah– lovely old sand-castle like ruins overlooking Agadir. A series of narrow switchbacks were navigated by our trusty bus driver – glad he was driving and not me.
Agadir is a sprawling, coastal community circled by hills and mountains. With its sparkling water and bright blue sky, on our sunny day it was spectacular.
Some poor camels were waiting with their phsy owners/handlers at the top. Tourists could traverse the parking lot atop the straggly beasts. Claire was picked up and perched on a camel, which didn’t do much for her or us so we opted out from this cheesy photo opp. Ah the romance of riding a worn-out, cranky, smelly camel on asphalt, swaying uncomfortably past tour buses flanked by drivers smoking imitation Pall Malls while cameras clicked and scavengers tried to sell cheap watches and wallets…
We did walk up and around the fortress, which had gaping holes opening into steep drops – no signs of warning or fences. You’re on your own in Agadir, I guess.
Back on the bus we headed to the other side of the city for our Fantasia horse race/camel experience.
Third world entertainment (a far cry from Broadway, to put it mildly). We pulled up to our outdoor green space with trash in the corners of the lawn. Entertainers dressed in various costumes welcomed us into the park area, where chairs were set off to the right, facing a stage covered with dirty carpets. Behind were five men in traditional Moroccan or Berber costumers (I guess) mounted on horseback.
A few minutes later, as the audience sipped tea (we passed -- old habit from India: skepticism on hygiene) out of small glasses, some dancers took the stage. They were older, the lead guy missing a number of critical teeth. Those in place looked pretty abused. They did some swaying and hip wiggling on stage, pulled people from the audience up participate (always good to dodge that bullet), then segued to the horsemen doing a mad dash down the pasture and shooting their guns in the air at the end.
(How is it that when guns are shot in Agadir it’s harmless but when it happens in the US it’s blood, death and media?) Ugh
What the Agadir horse/gun men lacked in coordinated effort they made up for in sound effect.
Next on stage was a young, more appealing belly dancer in a bright blue costume. She gyrated for quite some time – maybe 10 minutes too long – then some really wily gymnasts in hot pink took the stage. They were fun to watch as they did flips and towers and all kinds of physically challenging maneuvers with each other.
The last stage act was a group of male dancers/musicians with wigs and bright red costumes. Their wigs were memorable; otherwise, nothing to report.
After our fine friends the horseman ran through a final time, with one poor guy toppling off, our show was complete. (BTW this horse race business was supposed to be a symbol of manhood, courage and hospitality – so what does that say about the poor guy who fell off?)
Back on the bus, we were off to another part of Agadir for a presentation at an herbal pharmacy. There our busload clamored into a room with a couple benches and we listened to a guy give us a spiel on how various herbal meds work on ailments from herpes to excema, snoring to circulation issues.
Someone volunteered for a 5 minute massage with the special Agadir massage oil and sales person’s assistant. He had to remove his shirt – maybe it was a good thing I restrained my impulse to volunteer?
The sales guy had all kinds of teas, cooking oil, etc. but I think he didn’t sell as much as he’d hoped. I’m not sure how many people wanted to raise a hand for the herbal version of Viagra or for weight-loss tea in front of a bus-sharing crowd.
I did have to laugh at the wide range of ailments some of his products covered. Miracle cures of the desert.
We also made a stop at a shop, of course – some beautiful furniture.
Despite my sarcastic commentary, we found Agadir to be charming, and a lovely coastal city.
Back on board, we had a bite at the grill by the pool, then the kids and Joe swam a bit; I supervised. Take me back to Texas and those really hot temps and warm pools, then I’m all about the pool. Otherwise, x-nay on the pool-a.
Later we hit the Spinnaker lounge for family bingo. No big (or small!) winnings for Webers, but we had fun. At 6:00 we headed off to Tapinyaki for dinner. It’s one of those Japanese restaurants where the chefs cook in front of you. The place only has 16 seats with sittings of eight staggered. So an intimate experience. What our chef lacked in expertise (he did some egg juggling, tossed one in his hat, etc. but also dropped a couple and broke them on the grill) he made up for in crowd interaction and humor.
Both Joe and I tried to play egg basketball by catching a piece of cooked egg in our mouth but I missed, he scored.
A’s meal was chicken and noodles, I had lobster and squid, Claire and Joe had steak. And we all enjoyed delicious fried rice. Our meal wrapped up with fruit and green tea ice cream. Not my favorite.
We ended the evening with a ship show – the magicians and a couple of amazing acrobats/dancers. I’m selling them short in this blog entry because I’m tired and can’t cough up specific awe-inspiring tricks and acts, but suffice it to say our attention was captivated, I still am amazed at the strength and dexterity of those two acrobatically inclined dancers can do. A husband/wife team, they even had their son appear in one act. As for the magicians, it's a mystery to me how they did what they appeared to have done but didn't really do.
December 28
The beach!!! Today we joined the masses for a late breakfast, then I had a fabulous massage after a great workout. FABULOUS. The massage, mind.
Then we got ready for a non-excursion day at the beach in Las Palmos.
Bonus: a sunny, warm day had dawned.
After an easy walk to the beach, we holed up and spent a couple hours alternately reading, sun bathing and looking for shells. Eventually we got hungry and sought a seaside table in vain but opted for the best-looking pizzeria on the strip. (There were plenty of pizza options – apparently when on vacation on an island in Spain pizza appeals.)
Ours had a great table indoors overlooking the beach so we settled in for a slow, relaxed meal of excellent pizza and pasta.
From there we stopped at a gelateria. You know those ferrera rocher chocolates that are so good? Well the gelato they make with them is even better.
Back toward the ship, we wandered through a mall – aren’t they all the same – then settled in for a bit before drinks and the evening show, this time a Spanish flamenco ballet. Defiinitely the best costumes and most changes. Gorgeous dresses.
Afterward – dinner – with lines in the dining rooms we grabbed a drink and played cards in the Atrium, a great place to hang out as someone was usually working the piano or strumming a guitar. Eventually the Old Grand Pacific buzzed us for dinner and I continued the Italian theme of the day…tortellini.
December 29
Today was our Funchal day, though not until afternoon so we slept in, had a lazy morning on board the ship and disembarked at 1:30 for our excursion, which was a particularly good one, with a superb guide.
Our agenda for the day: a bus ride inland, passing through Sao Martinho to the Socorridos ravine. "Eira do Serrado is reached after a short drive along a winding road, offering spectacular views of the interior of the island. Here, it is a short and easy walk up to the viewpoint on Pico de Serrado at an altitude of approximately 3,592 feet (1,094 meters), for an amazing view down onto the village of Curral das Freiras. Curral das Freiras (Nuns Valley) is a small village nestling between almost perpendicular mountains in the heart of the island. In 1566, the nuns from the Santa Clara convent fled from pirates attacking Funchal and found seclusion here where they also brought the convent's treasure."
The views were amazing. Waterfalls, canyons, hills/mountains, the sea, incredible greenery with flowers sprinkled throughout, fog drifting over a nearby peak…
Incredibly piterusque and quite a contrast, weatherwise, to when we boarded the bus – warm, sunny air down below, downright chilly and very windy at the viewpoint.
Incidentaly, Funchal’s history goes back over five centuries when early Portuguese settlers colonised the coast of a bright and sunny bay where fennel (funcho) grew in abundance, giving its name to the new town of Funchal.
From our windy viewpoint (and the mega tourist trap store at the bottom of the trail) we headed to Monte, a small village, perched up in the hills overlooking Funchal. It was formerly a health resort for Europe's high society, including Austrian Emperor Charles I.
Upon leaving the bus we climbed up to Monte Church, which overlooks the city and dates from 1818. It stands on the spot where an original chapel was built by the first two children to be born on Madeira island.
This is also the location of the tomb of Charles I, Karl von Habsburg-Lothringen, the last Emperor of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.
From the steps up to the church we could see the famous Monte Tobaggans...
Originally a fast means of transport down to Funchal for people living in Monte, Monte’s infamous toboggan sledges appeared around 1850.
Still in use today, they attract thousands of tourists every year who want to make this exciting experience of sliding at high speed on narrow, winding streets down to Funchal. These two-seater wicker sledges glide on wooden runners, pushed and steered by two men traditionally dressed in white cotton clothes and a straw hat, using their rubber-soled boots as brakes.
The downhill journey to Funchal is made in about 10 minutes on a total course of 2 km, reaching at times a speed of 48 km/hour. Adventurous, yet safe, an ‘old-fashioned’ toboggan ride to make your way down from Monte is the perfect contrast to the high-technology cable car going up to Monte.
As exciting as the toboggan rides looked, we passed as age limits precluded Ava’s participation.
After again meeting up w/ our group we wandered to the gondola for a beautiful lift down the hillside, which used to sport a rack railway connecting Monte and Funchal.
At the bottom we were whisked off to a final stop for Madeira (appropriate, no?) tasting in a charming little tasting room with wooden barrels for tables, stools for perching whilst drinking.
We tried two types – a medium dry and edium sweet, leaving with a small bottle of the medium dry. Should be tasty over ice cream…
Back at ship!
For dinner we opted to eat at Papa’s – good Italian food in a casual setting. Thing big wooden tables, great ocean views. My pork saltimbocca – their specialty –was excellent. We scooted early so we could hit the evening show, this time a showdown with the audience determining the winner. Great fun! Afterward we returned to our Italian restaurant for dessert.
December 30
At sea! Somehow the time flies when there isn’t a major agenda. Now how is that? Games, books, workout room, hanging by the pool…
At some point we rotated from one end of the ship to the other to continue enjoying the sunshine and a Beer Fest. On tap: German beer and food, along with live music.
We also stopped in to hear Cruise Director Gary’s presentation about his career in show biz. A Scotsman, he is a classicly trained pianist who, through haphazard meetings with stars in Paris, ended up working in Vegas, then the Lido in Paris, which then led to acts on various cruises. And at sea he was asked to fill in for a fired cruise director (the guy was found sauced under the piano) and since then has worked in the cruise business, on and off the sea, for several years.
In his spare time he’s dedicated to animal rescue and has a place in Italy set up to care for stray dogs, cats, a few donkeys, some ducks, etc. We all enjoyed his talk and of course bought his book, Stars, Staterooms & Stowaways, a collection of anecdotes about his life and career.
For dinner we ate at Le Bistro, a fancy French restaurant. I particularly liked this one, with its perfect mushroom soup. As Claire says, the restaurant has a lovely atmosphere and we all left very satisfied.
Our entertainment for the evening was “Broadway in the Atrium,” a set of “star-studded songs from musical theatre’s rich history and from today’s stages.” One of our favorite gathering spots on the ship, it was a lovely way to end the day, listening to beautiful voices belt out familiar tunes.
31 December
New Year’s Eve!
And how did you spend the last day of 2010? We zipped down for breakfast, fought for (and found!) a table (so far this week we’ve been with the majority on the timing of our hunger pangs, thus tracking down a place to sit takes a little longer).
Then we were off to check out a bit of Malaga, starting with a bus ride through the city and along the coast and on to the magnificent Nerja Caves – Cuevas de Nerja – a series of huge caverns stretching for almost five kilometres and home to the world’s largest stalagmite, a 32 metre high column measuring 13 metres by 7 metres at its base.
There are three Galleries – Show Gallery, Upper Gallery and New Gallery – with each gallery containing a number of Halls.
The Upper Gallery and New Gallery contain many of the prehistoric cave paintings, but tourist access to these areas is limited to special groups (and while we’re special people, we weren’t part of this group tour).
Finding the cave…
On January 12th 1959, five local lads from the village of Maro decided to go hunting for bats and headed for a pothole known locally as ‘La Mina’ where they saw a number of bats exiting through the hole in the rocks.
The boys returned the next day with tools to dislodge a couple of stalagtites in the entrance. Once inside, they found themselves able to descend to a huge cavern where they discovered a number of skeletons next to some ceramic pottery.
Excited by their find, they went back to tell their family, friends and teachers but it wasn’t until the cave was visited by a medical expert and a photographer that the true extent of their discovery became apparent.
The first photographs of the caves were published in the Málaga newspaper ‘Sur’ about 100 days after their discovery and after first being called ‘Cueva de las Maravillas’, they then became ‘Cueva de Nerja’.
The Nerja Caves were officially inaugurated on June 12th 1960 and opened to the public.
Definitely worth experiencing, we were taken aback by the size and beauty of the stalagtites and stalagmites. (We saw the largest stalagmites columns in the world, 161 feet high and 59 feet in diameter!) As big as church pillars and with similarities to Gothic architecture. And in fact, the brochures about the caves noted their “capricious rocky formations can be compared to Modernist cathedrals, and their eight rooms include the Room of the Cataclysm, as well as the Room of the Cascade.”
We oohed and aahed with the rest of our group, discerning different images in the cracks, crevices, walls…
Today, the public at large can visit about a third of the cave, while scientists and academics can arrange to study deeper aspects of it. The cavernous areas are so
large concerts and festivals are held inside.
After visiting the caves we went to the city center of Nerja, which is part of what’s known as the Balcony of Europe and dates from 1487. The city sports a 9th century castle above the sea. We checked out the city’s 17th century Savior Church, constructed in Baroque-Mudejar style and the 16th century Our Lady of Sorrows Hermitage with its paintings by the master Alonso Cano. The old quarter of town sports charming cafes and small shops with local handicrafts and local products such as sweet wine, olive oil, honey and tropical fruits.
Back on the bus we enjoyed views of the subtropical coast, where sugar cane, avocado and custard trees grow in abundance.
And then to the ship!
Our dinner plan for New Year’s Eve was the steakhouse, Cagney’s. And it was wickedly good! Wonderful steak, best views of any of the restaurants late in the evening, as the light sparkled off the water.
The show of the evening was called “Elements,” which included magic and a “visual feast of flying,” music and dance, “reveling in the four elements – Earth, Air, Water and Fire.” Another great performance.
We’ve decided we like this one-hour nightly show; each has been different, entertaining for all of us and not too lengthy.
Naturally we moved on to the New Year’s Eve party, opting for some time in the Spinnaker Lounge, where a live band played. And we later rotated to the Atrium, where a pianist got us all in the New Year’s mood. The place was soon packed and we all sang/danced and of course kissed as the new year countdown took place. The kids ate it all up though Claire was ready to exit about 10 minutes after the big event.
Ava, meanwhile, was just getting juiced up for the party. Hmmm this could be a glimpse of things to come?
January 1
2011!!! Fitting, I think, to have a day at sea on Jan 1.
Our day was spent with a little of this and that – a towel-folding demo, for starts.
Each day our stewards left our room sparkling and decorated with animals folded from towels. My favorite was the monkey hanging from our ceiling. They made gorillas, dogs, bears, you name it. Very creative.
So the ship had a little demo on how to create these creatures at home. You could even purchase a DVD (that was deemed less than necessary for us). Let me warn you now if you opt to visit: you won’t find any cute towel creatures to welcome you. I do well to get them into a square, thankyouverymuch!
For lunch we ate on the deck, BBQ ribs and burgers from the grill. Delish!
In the afternoon the kids and Joe checked out the “name that tune” contest with Gary, the cruise director who seemed to be everywhere on this ship. I spent that time sweating.
And as our last evening meal rolled around, we opted for Asian: the Jasmine Garden, which I thought was very good.
With that final meal we’d tried nearly every dining option -- sans sushi -- on board and found it all quite appealing. And in fact, too much of a good thing!
Overall cruise musings…we had a great first long cruise – nice mix of down time and activity, plus it was all choreographed so easy to just go along and enjoy. We met several people who are regular cruisers, even taking back to back boats (which I wouldn’t do…too much of a good thing, plus I’m thinking on day 11 I’d get itchy feet).
We are of the opinion that we’ll cruise again, but in the interim there are many other ways to explore/vacation that we’ll enjoy. Some of that has to do with our age and activity level (I am, after all, the woman who drags us to the top of the dome, tower, bridge, etc.) as we explore various spots.
It was very nice not to move hotels and the service was fabulous. It goes without saying the food was over the top, as were the facilities in general.
I also think that for multi-generational vacations, reunions, etc. a cruise is ideal – something for everyone, easy access for all, the opportunity for everyone to go their own way and re-convene to share experiences.
For families, the kids club, cookie and cupcake decorating, trivia contests, family bingo, excursions, polls, game rooms, etc. it’s clearly a great venue from toddle to teen.
Bonus: motion sickness wasn’t much of an issue – that one rocky morning didn’t send anyone into the fetal position.
Our trip home involved plenty of waiting after a final breakfast in the significantly less crowded Garden Café. With cards, books and newspapers in hand we made our way uneventfully back to Alma Square.
And after Christmas crackers (which I think are a GREAT Christmas tradition) and a light meal (boy was it great to not eat rich restaurant food) we delved into what was under the tree. Santa had indeed visited!
Monday, January 3, 2011
Catching up in the New Year
Back to the carols in December...
Ok so the Trafalgar tree didn’t look any worse for the wear, and caroling was ok but it was raining so a bit of a damper, literally. Still, they had a good crowd of die-hards.
Among other things as 2010 wound down:
Claire participated in a Christmas concert at the American Church. Third and fourth grade students, along with junior high, high school and staff/faculty choir members put together a lovely event to raise money for London’s soup kitchen.
A very nice concert attended by passels of parents, featuring a wide array of songs, from gospel to contemporary.
During her last week of school, the third grade had a tea party, wherein the kids all dressed up and used their best etiquette to sip tea and eat scones they’d made in class. Not a bad way to wrap up before the holidays.
We also made chocolate cupcakes with peanut butter frosting in celebration of Claire’s birthday for sharing with her class. Doesn’t get much better, especially since we used Patty’s fabulous cocoa, which is sadly now finished.
Ava’s class wrapped up well, too, with a visit from Father Christmas and a party that involved lots of sweet treats.
And for a final hurrah, lunch with friends at Café Med as big flakes of snow came down.
Over the weekend we went to the National Wildlife Photographer Exhibit of the Year at the Natural History Museum. It’s a great exhibit and one the kids and I enjoyed in 2009, too.
This perusal was followed by lunch at a Dutch pancake place (think really big crepes – bigger than the really big plates they’re served on -- sweet and savory. Delish. And then a stop at Whole Foods for good beef because it is of course critical to serve a decent meatloaf for my husband’s birthday celebration.
And I must say, Whole Foods came through. Well that and yours truly’s skills in the kitchen.
Sunday found us at Royal Albert Hall for “White Christmas,” one of the many holiday concerts/singalongs held there this time of year.
This one featured the Capital Voices and the London Concert Orchestra, led by John Rigby, conductor, with star soloists Jacinta Whyte and Matt Little.
The show included all-time favourite Christmas songs such as:
It's the most wonderful time of the year
I’m dreaming of a White Christmas
Let it snow
Candlelight Carol
Ding dong! Merrily on high
Santa Baby
Winter Wonderland
The twelve days of Christmas
Jingle Bell Rock
Baby it's cold outside
We Three Kings
Silent Night
Santa Claus is coming to town
Have yourself a merry little Christmas
All I want for Christmas is you
I wish it could be Christmas every day!
The show was fabulous and we enjoyed our box seats (who knew when I ordered them that we’d have a box). More room and a great vantage point, though since the acoustics are fabulous, it really doesn’t matter where you are in the Royal Albert for a great auditory experience.
The show had a great festive feel, with jokes and plenty of laughter, audience participation (we all got into “Twelve Days” as groups of people in various parts of the Hall were called to stand up and belt out a part of the song along with movement…i.e. wiggling hips to mimic geese laying eggs…) and dancing in the aisles.
A delightful way to enjoy the spirit of the holidays!
Our festivities continued on Monday as the kids and I spent 5 ½ hours at the Olympia Horse Show, watching horses (go figure) and some dogs, too. Along with all kinds of jumping competitions, dog agility finals and the Shetland Pony Grand National, we were entertained by The Ukrainian Cossacks, who did amazing acrobatic feats on rapidly moving horses, The Household Cavalry’s Musical Ride and a War Horse themed Christmas Finale.
Suffice it to say, by 11 Ava and I were definitely horse-weary. Thankfully Father Christmas made his appearance on a stagecoach; he livened everyone up as he wrapped up the show and we were off to the tube!
Later in the week Joe and I went to “Over the Rainbow,” a West End production about Judy Garland. It was a poignant, well-done play. And the following day: lunch with Dad at a delicious little Italian deli.
Throughout the week we watched the fiasco at Heathrow as our 3 ½ inches of snow caused pandemonium…cancelled flights upon cancelled flights, tents outside the terminals, fights at the counters. Thankfully by Christmas Eve it seemed the airport was more or less in working order, and to Barcelona we flew!
Ok so the Trafalgar tree didn’t look any worse for the wear, and caroling was ok but it was raining so a bit of a damper, literally. Still, they had a good crowd of die-hards.
Among other things as 2010 wound down:
Claire participated in a Christmas concert at the American Church. Third and fourth grade students, along with junior high, high school and staff/faculty choir members put together a lovely event to raise money for London’s soup kitchen.
A very nice concert attended by passels of parents, featuring a wide array of songs, from gospel to contemporary.
During her last week of school, the third grade had a tea party, wherein the kids all dressed up and used their best etiquette to sip tea and eat scones they’d made in class. Not a bad way to wrap up before the holidays.
We also made chocolate cupcakes with peanut butter frosting in celebration of Claire’s birthday for sharing with her class. Doesn’t get much better, especially since we used Patty’s fabulous cocoa, which is sadly now finished.
Ava’s class wrapped up well, too, with a visit from Father Christmas and a party that involved lots of sweet treats.
And for a final hurrah, lunch with friends at Café Med as big flakes of snow came down.
Over the weekend we went to the National Wildlife Photographer Exhibit of the Year at the Natural History Museum. It’s a great exhibit and one the kids and I enjoyed in 2009, too.
This perusal was followed by lunch at a Dutch pancake place (think really big crepes – bigger than the really big plates they’re served on -- sweet and savory. Delish. And then a stop at Whole Foods for good beef because it is of course critical to serve a decent meatloaf for my husband’s birthday celebration.
And I must say, Whole Foods came through. Well that and yours truly’s skills in the kitchen.
Sunday found us at Royal Albert Hall for “White Christmas,” one of the many holiday concerts/singalongs held there this time of year.
This one featured the Capital Voices and the London Concert Orchestra, led by John Rigby, conductor, with star soloists Jacinta Whyte and Matt Little.
The show included all-time favourite Christmas songs such as:
It's the most wonderful time of the year
I’m dreaming of a White Christmas
Let it snow
Candlelight Carol
Ding dong! Merrily on high
Santa Baby
Winter Wonderland
The twelve days of Christmas
Jingle Bell Rock
Baby it's cold outside
We Three Kings
Silent Night
Santa Claus is coming to town
Have yourself a merry little Christmas
All I want for Christmas is you
I wish it could be Christmas every day!
The show was fabulous and we enjoyed our box seats (who knew when I ordered them that we’d have a box). More room and a great vantage point, though since the acoustics are fabulous, it really doesn’t matter where you are in the Royal Albert for a great auditory experience.
The show had a great festive feel, with jokes and plenty of laughter, audience participation (we all got into “Twelve Days” as groups of people in various parts of the Hall were called to stand up and belt out a part of the song along with movement…i.e. wiggling hips to mimic geese laying eggs…) and dancing in the aisles.
A delightful way to enjoy the spirit of the holidays!
Our festivities continued on Monday as the kids and I spent 5 ½ hours at the Olympia Horse Show, watching horses (go figure) and some dogs, too. Along with all kinds of jumping competitions, dog agility finals and the Shetland Pony Grand National, we were entertained by The Ukrainian Cossacks, who did amazing acrobatic feats on rapidly moving horses, The Household Cavalry’s Musical Ride and a War Horse themed Christmas Finale.
Suffice it to say, by 11 Ava and I were definitely horse-weary. Thankfully Father Christmas made his appearance on a stagecoach; he livened everyone up as he wrapped up the show and we were off to the tube!
Later in the week Joe and I went to “Over the Rainbow,” a West End production about Judy Garland. It was a poignant, well-done play. And the following day: lunch with Dad at a delicious little Italian deli.
Throughout the week we watched the fiasco at Heathrow as our 3 ½ inches of snow caused pandemonium…cancelled flights upon cancelled flights, tents outside the terminals, fights at the counters. Thankfully by Christmas Eve it seemed the airport was more or less in working order, and to Barcelona we flew!
Written sometime before Christmas...
One Late December Day
Ok. I am taking time away from what I’m not sure (you know when your schedule gets so derailed you’re suddenly bereft of any idea what to do? – that’s my current state. The flu, which I just learned was most likely the dreaded SWINE flu, did me in. Not only was I virtually unproductive while in the throes of it (other than to address Christmas cards), it made me LAZY.
So I have a million things I could/should be doing but I simply can’t be bothered. How’s that for a holiday attitude?
Ava’s off early today, one of those days where we spend as much time getting ready for school as she does actually being at school…
In keeping with my do nothing scheme, I believe we’ll go have lunch and find a birthday present for Claire.
I did drag myself to pilates today and was reminded how quickly the core muscles turn to jelly without regular, systematic torture. That is, I should hasten to add, for those of us past our 20’s.
On the fun side of late, it’s delightful to see London all lit up. Probably because it gets dark here around 4:00 these days, they feel a need to compensate by REALLY doing great Christmas lights. Because the society here doesn’t get too bogged down with not acknowledging the holiday because of concern over offending the non-Christmas crowd, there’s plenty of holiday display.
And no, it’s not an overtly religious country so don’t get the idea that there’s someone preaching the good news on every corner. Or any corner, for that matter. (Huge apathy in the church going department here, we're told.) Maybe that makes it easier to jump headlong into the light hearted festivities of the season without feeling you’ll offend the non-Christian population? Who knows. Who cares…
Last week the student protests over heightened tuition led to pandemonium in the streets and the Trafalgar Square Christmas tree was set on fire. I was trapped in a cab trying to get to a Joe work function, so the cab driver and I got a play by play of the protests-turned-riot: defilement of Winston Churchill’s statue, Treasury break-in, injured students/police officers, the Prince of Wales and Camilla’s car “attacked.”
It sounded like all hell broke loose from the radio. Other news outlets didn’t frame it quite as dramatically, so I’m not really sure how severe the damage was.
I did eventually make it to the Christmas dinner and, happily, wasn’t the last one into the pub. Though part of me wanted to stay near the radio to see what other drama might occur in Trafalgar Square.
This afternoon the kids and I are going to traipse down there and see how the tree fared, listen to some Christmas carols and take in the holiday cheer.
Last week was my ladies luncheon at the Dorchester, one of London’s nicer hotels. Last year we had our lovely luncheon there, too, and Hugh Grant was sited. I missed this chapter as I was in the coat check line frantically trying to get back to ASL to pick up Claire on time.
This year, no Hugh. But great fun with champagne, Christmas crackers and a decadent dessert. As with most sit-down dinners, the food was fine but not terribly memorable (rubber chicken at weddings, anyone?). Great company and we were entertained by ASL’s high school choir.
The same week I also had the opportunity to go to Paris for the day. So decadent, don’t you think? I was invited to go with a wonderful group of six women to celebrate a 50th birthday. So off we went to Kings Cross, enjoying our coffee and watching the reader board tell us the Eurostar was delayed…but still, we were off to Paris.
Eventually we did leave in the midst of a snowstorm, which then led to a slower train.
BUT we did make it to Paris, compensating with champagne on the train.
Then to lunch at a lovely little boutique restaurant in a lovely little oh so Parisian hotel. After a very long, decadently French lunch with plenty of wine, we strolled through the town, down to the Champs Elysses, took a turn on the Ferris Wheel overlooking Paris, all decorated and beautiful for Christmas, and hit the Christmas market.
Then it was time to go home! More champagne and a free upgrade to first class as the train was slow going back…no complaints – I was still home by midnight. And had a wonderful little getaway.
Ok. I am taking time away from what I’m not sure (you know when your schedule gets so derailed you’re suddenly bereft of any idea what to do? – that’s my current state. The flu, which I just learned was most likely the dreaded SWINE flu, did me in. Not only was I virtually unproductive while in the throes of it (other than to address Christmas cards), it made me LAZY.
So I have a million things I could/should be doing but I simply can’t be bothered. How’s that for a holiday attitude?
Ava’s off early today, one of those days where we spend as much time getting ready for school as she does actually being at school…
In keeping with my do nothing scheme, I believe we’ll go have lunch and find a birthday present for Claire.
I did drag myself to pilates today and was reminded how quickly the core muscles turn to jelly without regular, systematic torture. That is, I should hasten to add, for those of us past our 20’s.
On the fun side of late, it’s delightful to see London all lit up. Probably because it gets dark here around 4:00 these days, they feel a need to compensate by REALLY doing great Christmas lights. Because the society here doesn’t get too bogged down with not acknowledging the holiday because of concern over offending the non-Christmas crowd, there’s plenty of holiday display.
And no, it’s not an overtly religious country so don’t get the idea that there’s someone preaching the good news on every corner. Or any corner, for that matter. (Huge apathy in the church going department here, we're told.) Maybe that makes it easier to jump headlong into the light hearted festivities of the season without feeling you’ll offend the non-Christian population? Who knows. Who cares…
Last week the student protests over heightened tuition led to pandemonium in the streets and the Trafalgar Square Christmas tree was set on fire. I was trapped in a cab trying to get to a Joe work function, so the cab driver and I got a play by play of the protests-turned-riot: defilement of Winston Churchill’s statue, Treasury break-in, injured students/police officers, the Prince of Wales and Camilla’s car “attacked.”
It sounded like all hell broke loose from the radio. Other news outlets didn’t frame it quite as dramatically, so I’m not really sure how severe the damage was.
I did eventually make it to the Christmas dinner and, happily, wasn’t the last one into the pub. Though part of me wanted to stay near the radio to see what other drama might occur in Trafalgar Square.
This afternoon the kids and I are going to traipse down there and see how the tree fared, listen to some Christmas carols and take in the holiday cheer.
Last week was my ladies luncheon at the Dorchester, one of London’s nicer hotels. Last year we had our lovely luncheon there, too, and Hugh Grant was sited. I missed this chapter as I was in the coat check line frantically trying to get back to ASL to pick up Claire on time.
This year, no Hugh. But great fun with champagne, Christmas crackers and a decadent dessert. As with most sit-down dinners, the food was fine but not terribly memorable (rubber chicken at weddings, anyone?). Great company and we were entertained by ASL’s high school choir.
The same week I also had the opportunity to go to Paris for the day. So decadent, don’t you think? I was invited to go with a wonderful group of six women to celebrate a 50th birthday. So off we went to Kings Cross, enjoying our coffee and watching the reader board tell us the Eurostar was delayed…but still, we were off to Paris.
Eventually we did leave in the midst of a snowstorm, which then led to a slower train.
BUT we did make it to Paris, compensating with champagne on the train.
Then to lunch at a lovely little boutique restaurant in a lovely little oh so Parisian hotel. After a very long, decadently French lunch with plenty of wine, we strolled through the town, down to the Champs Elysses, took a turn on the Ferris Wheel overlooking Paris, all decorated and beautiful for Christmas, and hit the Christmas market.
Then it was time to go home! More champagne and a free upgrade to first class as the train was slow going back…no complaints – I was still home by midnight. And had a wonderful little getaway.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Brrr!!!!
It’s wintertime in London (or at least it has been for the past few weeks…a few inches of snow, closed airports, icy sidewalks, commuting challenges (ok nightmares). Yesterday temperatures popped up a bit, though, and for the weekend it's supposed to be in the 40's, then back down again next week.
I must say I haven't been miserable (yet) this time around; I’ve discovered boiled wool and at 40 am finally taking my father’s advice, which is to dress appropriately for the weather. And you know, it works. That and walking from point A to point B as fast as humanly possible.
It’s been two weeks of illness, both kids taking turns with some virus from hell. They and everyone else at school it seems. Ava’s been alternating between laughing and crying on the couch, one minute singing Christmas carols, the next seeking a hug and moaning tearfully about her stomach, nose, throat, neck, the list goes on.
Claire woke up the the other day vomiting – the kid is adamant about not missing school EVER so I knew she was ill when she flatly informed me she was going back to bed, no school in her plans that day. The next day she rallied but a week+ later still is plagued by a cough.
I hit the wall this week, went to bed one night with the worst chills/fever I’ve experienced since I was a child. The next day I was certain someone had pummeled my back while I slept. Nothing that exciting went on at my house. Apparently the flu settled into my lungs and was having a hey day. Somehow Ava and I resurrected ourselves that morning and made it to the NHS to treat her ear infection. While we were there the doctor took my temperature and hastily wrote us both prescriptions. Happily we’re now on antibiotics and my back is no longer killing me.
Despite all that, we’ve managed to hit most of our Christmas festivities – Ava’s school concert was yesterday and as always, was delightful. The kids sang tons of songs, brought out the recorders and looked great in various costumes and finery.
Claire’s writers’ presentation was yesterday and was equally well done. Each child shared his or her work with parents in small groups, then took turns performing poems with their partners. The kids had to work hard on timing as the point was to recite parts of the poems by themselves and parts in tandem. Very nicely done and enjoyed by all.
Joe and I enjoyed a dinner out with some of his colleagues the other night. I must say I was amused with a similar conversation I had (separately) with the people on either side of me. Both are married (to different people) and older than we are, no kids.
And both made a point of telling me a couple times that traveling/moving is SO much easier without kids.
Now I don’t dispute that some aspects are easier – after all, we didn’t always have kids. But I am reminded of a conversation I had with a very wise woman I worked with in Michigan.
She said: your life changes when you have kids. It doesn’t stop.
That thought came to mind as both were reassuring me that their lifestyles allowed them so much freedom. I suspect that while there is some truth to that, the reality is this:
If I opted for a lifestyle of no kids, I’m sure I’d push the same line – don’t we all justify?
As for traveling w/ kids, it can be done, we certainly do – but we modify to make sure we all enjoy it. Just as you modify depending on your budget, interests, age, etc.
And based on the individuals I was chatting with, who both left the restaurant before 10, you can’t tell me they’re dancing on tables in Maui at 2:00 a.m. or backpacking through Europe and staying at hostels (which I am proud to say, I did…). Frankly they’re not going to stay in anything less than a Marriott at this stage).
Regarding travel freedom, these are people who work like dogs so the amount of time they actually spend traveling for fun is no more than anyone else.
The kicker to this conversation about how much freedom the no kids lifestyle offers was when they told me how they have to get their dogs sorted out whenver they leave. Both have two. Now if that isn’t a ball and chain I don’t know what is…
LOL! Now on to getting some things in order for the holidays...nothing like being sick to throw a kink in the best laid plans.
I must say I haven't been miserable (yet) this time around; I’ve discovered boiled wool and at 40 am finally taking my father’s advice, which is to dress appropriately for the weather. And you know, it works. That and walking from point A to point B as fast as humanly possible.
It’s been two weeks of illness, both kids taking turns with some virus from hell. They and everyone else at school it seems. Ava’s been alternating between laughing and crying on the couch, one minute singing Christmas carols, the next seeking a hug and moaning tearfully about her stomach, nose, throat, neck, the list goes on.
Claire woke up the the other day vomiting – the kid is adamant about not missing school EVER so I knew she was ill when she flatly informed me she was going back to bed, no school in her plans that day. The next day she rallied but a week+ later still is plagued by a cough.
I hit the wall this week, went to bed one night with the worst chills/fever I’ve experienced since I was a child. The next day I was certain someone had pummeled my back while I slept. Nothing that exciting went on at my house. Apparently the flu settled into my lungs and was having a hey day. Somehow Ava and I resurrected ourselves that morning and made it to the NHS to treat her ear infection. While we were there the doctor took my temperature and hastily wrote us both prescriptions. Happily we’re now on antibiotics and my back is no longer killing me.
Despite all that, we’ve managed to hit most of our Christmas festivities – Ava’s school concert was yesterday and as always, was delightful. The kids sang tons of songs, brought out the recorders and looked great in various costumes and finery.
Claire’s writers’ presentation was yesterday and was equally well done. Each child shared his or her work with parents in small groups, then took turns performing poems with their partners. The kids had to work hard on timing as the point was to recite parts of the poems by themselves and parts in tandem. Very nicely done and enjoyed by all.
Joe and I enjoyed a dinner out with some of his colleagues the other night. I must say I was amused with a similar conversation I had (separately) with the people on either side of me. Both are married (to different people) and older than we are, no kids.
And both made a point of telling me a couple times that traveling/moving is SO much easier without kids.
Now I don’t dispute that some aspects are easier – after all, we didn’t always have kids. But I am reminded of a conversation I had with a very wise woman I worked with in Michigan.
She said: your life changes when you have kids. It doesn’t stop.
That thought came to mind as both were reassuring me that their lifestyles allowed them so much freedom. I suspect that while there is some truth to that, the reality is this:
If I opted for a lifestyle of no kids, I’m sure I’d push the same line – don’t we all justify?
As for traveling w/ kids, it can be done, we certainly do – but we modify to make sure we all enjoy it. Just as you modify depending on your budget, interests, age, etc.
And based on the individuals I was chatting with, who both left the restaurant before 10, you can’t tell me they’re dancing on tables in Maui at 2:00 a.m. or backpacking through Europe and staying at hostels (which I am proud to say, I did…). Frankly they’re not going to stay in anything less than a Marriott at this stage).
Regarding travel freedom, these are people who work like dogs so the amount of time they actually spend traveling for fun is no more than anyone else.
The kicker to this conversation about how much freedom the no kids lifestyle offers was when they told me how they have to get their dogs sorted out whenver they leave. Both have two. Now if that isn’t a ball and chain I don’t know what is…
LOL! Now on to getting some things in order for the holidays...nothing like being sick to throw a kink in the best laid plans.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
York should not be neglected!
Why bother trying to make order out of the disorder in this blog at this point, is my theory. Nearly December and I’m going to write about York in October, like it or not!
For October’s long weekend, we headed off to northern England, to check out the town York, which we’d heard was a must. (This York business caused some confusion with Ava, who relayed to her class where she'd gone. Convinced we'd gone to New York, Ms. Cox keeps telling Ava New York isn't part of the U.K. I think Ava is still confused as to exactly where York is, if it isn't in the U.S. or England.)
Any we agree that both York and New York are not to be missed.
Day one of this adventure: we cabbed it to King’s Cross for a 9 a.m. train after seeing Patty and Steve off to Heathrow.
Our two-hour train ride flew by and we stepped out to ponder navigation around town, to the hotel, etc. Low and behold, before even leaving the train station we spotted a big sign pointing to the hotel across the street. Does it get any easier…
We ditched our bags and headed to the city centre (I’ve become so British, right? Centre vs center…) for lunch. Lovely place, York – wall around the city, medieval streets/buildings teeming with cool shops, cafes, chain and independent stores.
We crossed a bridge over the River Ouse to get into the heart of the city and found a little Danish café that was doing a lively business.
Plus it had counter service (long sit down lunches make us restlss and suck the day away, we’ve decided).
So after soup, jacket potatoes and pork sandwiches we were off to the Jordik Viking Museum. It’s a good one. Per the web site...
The remains of 1,000 year old houses are revealed beneath your feet, objects taken from the excavations are explored, and Viking-age timbers are brought before your eyes. New audio and video displays help you to investigate all of the information gathered from the 5-year long dig at Coppergate and piece together the jigsaw of where the Vikings came from, why they came here, how they lived and died, and where they travelled to.
At JORVIK Viking Centre you are standing on the site of one of the most famous and astounding discoveries of modern archaeology. Between the years 1976-81, archaeologists from York Archaeological Trust revealed the houses, workshops and backyards of the Viking-Age city of Jorvik, as it stood 1,000 years ago. These incredible findings enabled them to build the JORVIK Viking Centre on the very site where the excavations had taken place, creating a groundbreaking visitor experience that enabled you to experience life in Viking-Age York.
As you travel around the Viking-age city of Jorvik aboard our state of the art time capsules you will encounter the old-Norse speaking citizens, see inside their houses and back yards, experience a blast of smoke from blacksmith's furnace and enjoy the smell of home-cooked stew inside the home of our amber worker.
Now I’m not terribly sure about the smell of home-cooked stew; I think it was over-powered by the stench of hides drying and the privy. Or else the stew left ALOT to be desired.
But the exhibit was very cool – bit of Disney ride in Viking boat meets hands-on history appealing to or repelling all senses, sometimes all at once. Hmm. Reminds me of India, now that I think about it! LOL
From this museum we headed off to Barley Hall, the entry to which we walked by twice before finally figuring out where it was hidden. Tough to hide such a big structure, too, I might add.
Barley Hall is a stunning medieval house, once home to the Priors of Nostell and the Mayor of York. Until the 1980s the house was hidden under the relatively modern facade of a derelict office block. Only when the building was going to be destroyed was the amazing medieval building discovered and its history uncovered.
The building has now been lovingly restored to its original splendour with stunning high ceilings, beautiful exposed timber frames, and possibly the only horn window in England. It has been decorated to replicate what it would have looked like as the Snawsell home around 1483 and boasts a magnificent Great Hall. Visitors to Barley Hall can make themselves at home and sit on the chairs and handle the objects and experience what it would have been like to live in Medieval England.
I like that "lovingly restored" business, don't you?
We enjoyed touring the place – the great hall was probably my favorite. The kids got to play some medieval games upstairs – bowling, among other things.
From there we stopped for sugar at Betty’s, a small shop with pastries, cookies, teas & coffees…the other Betty’s, a big tea shop, had a line around the corner so clearly it’s a hot York ticket.
Then we stopped at The Minster, an immense cathedral that is gorgeous. And steeped in history, as noted below (a diatribe I know but just think how many thousands of years this spot has been of religious importance.)
The first Minster: 7th to 11th Centuries
York's first Minster was built for the baptism of the Anglo Saxon King, Edwin of Northumbria. Edwin was christened in a small wooden church that had been built for the occasion, this event occurred on Easter Sunday in the year 627. Almost immediately Edwin ordered that this small wooden church should be rebuilt in stone. Edwin was killed in battle in 633 and the task of completing the stone Minster fell to Oswald.
This small stone church built on the same site as the original wooden one was enlarged over time. It survived through the Viking age in York but was badly damaged by fire in the year 1069 when the Normans finally took control of the city of York. While we know something of the history of these early versions of York Minster, to date no archaeological evidence of them has been uncovered.
The Norman Minster: 1100 - 1220
Once the invading Normans had taken control of the city a decision was taken to build a new Minster on a fresh site to replace the old fire damaged Saxon Minster. Around the year 1080 Thomas of Bayeux became Archbishop and started building a cathedral that in time grew into the Minster we have today. This vast Norman church was completed around 1100, and the base of some of its distinctive columns can be seen today in the Undercroft.
During the mid twelfth century the Norman church was enlarged at both East and West; this may have been due to fire damage sustained in 1137, but this now seems unlikely.
Today's Minster: from 1220 into the future
In 1215 Walter Gray became archbishop and he was to serve the cathedral for 40 years. It was Walter who started to transform the Norman Church in to the Minster we have today. Firstly the South and North transepts were built, Walter died before they were completed. In 1291 work began on the Nave (western end) this was completed by around 1360. Work then transferred to the East end with the building of the Lady Chapel and then the Quire this was completed by around 1405. In 1407 the central tower collapsed and work on its replacement was not finished until 1433. Between 1433 and 1472 the Western towers were added and the Minster finally completed. The Minster that we know today had taken about 250 years to build.
Heritage and challenge
From 1472 until 1829 the fabric of the building changed very little although there were big changes to the way in which worship in the Minster was carried out. In February 1829 Jonathan Martin deliberately started a fire in the Quire. This act of arson resulted in the destruction of the entire east end roof and timber vault and all the wooden furniture of the Quire. Just 11 years later a second, accidental, fire destroyed the Nave roof and vault.
In the twentieth century two major events affected the building. Between 1967 and 1972 major work was undertaken to stop the Central tower collapsing. This involved close co-operation between engineers and archaeologists, but no trace of the Saxon Minster was uncovered.
On the 9th of July 1984 fire broke out in the South Transept after the Minster had been hit by lightning. The damage resulting from 3 hours of fire took some 4 years to fully repair and restore.
The cathedral is awesome in size, décor and detail, and the crypt illustrates its history beautifully through artifacts and illustrations.
We passed on the tower climb (probably to the relief of my family) as it was for the over eight crowd only. Our tour day more than complete, we headed back to the hotel, walking over part of the wall en route (gorgeous the way the wall encircles the old part of the city).
Back at our immense hotel (it’s a monolithic thing that just keeps going – we had a “garden room” (another name for basement out of the way room which management has deemed perfect for families with potentially loud children, I think). Our journey from lobby to room was a good 5-7 minute walk, which doesn’t sound like much but bear in mind it’s all in the same building…
I’ve no doubt this hotel had an abundance of very nice rooms; ours more than met our needs but no need to lounge in luxury there. We did very much enjoy the breakfast space – lovely room overlooking a gorgeous garden. And the property is probably well enjoyed for special events (i.e. the wedding taking place the weekend we were there) given its proximity to transportation, its size and the elegance of many of its rooms.
After collapsing for a bit we made off to J. Baker’s bistro moderne for our evening meal. A very modern look and feel, yet warm and comfortable, the place had an unusual – and delicious – menu, plus a few items specifically for kids.
Claire had the gnocchi, Ava fish and chips (which were about the best looking and – I sampled – best tasting – fish and chips I’ve had, ever). We all had just baked bread in the shape of bones (reference to the Jorvik place, maybe).
My aubergine stater was amazing (that would be eggplant), and I enjoyed my fish dish, too, particularly the potatoes. Dessert was heavenly – billed as chocolate cake but it was really a decadent brownie.
Ambience: urban chic. Great cow art downstairs. Yes, still urban chic, cows and all.
Sunday
We started our day slow – Joe took a walk, I headed to the fitness center in my flip flops. This broken toe business is wearing. But alas, after collecting coffee, I sucked it up and did the stairmaster barefoot. Then lifted weights, which felt great as it’s been forever since I’ve lifted w/ machines. Only the fitness obsessed can appreciate the small joys of making the muscles ache…Traci, I’m sure you’re with me.
Breakfast: good buffet with the ever popular bacon for the kids. I did step out there and try vegetarian sausages but they tasted like sawdust so I can’t imagine why anyone would bother.
From our hotel we headed off to the York Castle Museum, trailing along the city wall en route. Our first stop, though, was Clifford’s Tower, which we climbed (ha! I did get a climb in, aside from the stairmaster).
'The history of York', declared King George VI, 'is the history of England', and in many ways the history of Clifford's Tower is the history of York.
In 1068-9, William the Conqueror built two motte and bailey castles in York, to strengthen his military hold on the north: the mound of the second, now known as the 'Old Baile', can be seen clearly across the river from Clifford's Tower.
But very soon afterwards both castles were burnt by a Danish fleet, supported by the people of York. William thereupon savagely laid waste wide areas of northern England as a warning and punishment, and rebuilt both castles. The mound on which Clifford's Tower now stands became the core of the principal fortress, York Castle, defended-as can also clearly be seen from the tower-on one side by the River Ouse and on the other by the River Foss.
As the core of one of the most important fortresses in the north, the tower played a crucial role in later medieval history, when York Castle sometimes served as the seat of royal government and always as the administrative focus of Yorkshire.
Having witnessed the upheavals of the northern Pilgrimage of Grace against Henry VIII-whereafter the rebel leader Robert Aske was allegedly hung from its walls in chains to die slowly of starvation-the tower narrowly escaped demolition in Elizabethan times, when its keeper began to demolish it in order to sell its materials, beginning inside the tower so as to avoid detection.
Happily our experience didn't involve hanging from walls and starving to death; we were there on a gorgeous blue sky day so we had a spectacular view.
From the tower we walked across the yard to the York Castle Museum, which is very cool, too. And very big.
York Castle Museum is one of Britain's leading museums of everyday life. It shows how people used to live by displaying thousands of household objects and by recreating rooms, shops, streets - and even prison cells.
The Victorian streets were the highlight of the visit, as was the outdoor courtyard/play area – the kids burned off steam with hula hoops while we absorbed the sun. GREAT weather.
We also hit the attached millhouse, where the kids could grind wheat into flour the hard way.
Then it was off to the Shambles, the best preserved Medieval street in Europe. It’s a lovely little street with quaint buildings and shops. We also wandered through the the market, opting for street food for lunch (crepes and sausages). We then shopped around a bit, checked out the street entertainers and walked along the wall back to the hotel.
There we spent some time in the pool and sauna before dinner, then headed off to Melton’s Too for our evening meal. This was a more traditional restaurant – dark, worn wood planking on the floor, wooden tables, exposed brick walls. Joe and I shared starters and tapas, kids had homemade pasta and some of our food, which ranged from chorizo and mash to four different types of smoked fish. Ava ate all the salmon; think of the health value.
We also had stuffed peppers and Turkish meatloaf. My favorite was the chorizo and mash, though the blue cheese and zucchini dish was hard to beat. And the sticky toffee pudding was fabulous.
Monday
This morning Joe walked the city wall, I had another fitness center day. Given we aren’t gym members it’s nice to pop into one occasionally for a change of pace.
After trekking the length of a football field from our room to breakfast, we ditched our luggage and hit the National Railway Museum. That place is immense, with warehouses full of trains old and new, royal and for the masses. We could climb up some, peer in windows, watch footage of times past wherein the train played a key role, the kids even got to ride a miniature train. Great stuff and you could spend hours there. We spent a couple and had to pry ourselves away to catch our own train!
Great weekend out. Go to York! or New York!
For October’s long weekend, we headed off to northern England, to check out the town York, which we’d heard was a must. (This York business caused some confusion with Ava, who relayed to her class where she'd gone. Convinced we'd gone to New York, Ms. Cox keeps telling Ava New York isn't part of the U.K. I think Ava is still confused as to exactly where York is, if it isn't in the U.S. or England.)
Any we agree that both York and New York are not to be missed.
Day one of this adventure: we cabbed it to King’s Cross for a 9 a.m. train after seeing Patty and Steve off to Heathrow.
Our two-hour train ride flew by and we stepped out to ponder navigation around town, to the hotel, etc. Low and behold, before even leaving the train station we spotted a big sign pointing to the hotel across the street. Does it get any easier…
We ditched our bags and headed to the city centre (I’ve become so British, right? Centre vs center…) for lunch. Lovely place, York – wall around the city, medieval streets/buildings teeming with cool shops, cafes, chain and independent stores.
We crossed a bridge over the River Ouse to get into the heart of the city and found a little Danish café that was doing a lively business.
Plus it had counter service (long sit down lunches make us restlss and suck the day away, we’ve decided).
So after soup, jacket potatoes and pork sandwiches we were off to the Jordik Viking Museum. It’s a good one. Per the web site...
The remains of 1,000 year old houses are revealed beneath your feet, objects taken from the excavations are explored, and Viking-age timbers are brought before your eyes. New audio and video displays help you to investigate all of the information gathered from the 5-year long dig at Coppergate and piece together the jigsaw of where the Vikings came from, why they came here, how they lived and died, and where they travelled to.
At JORVIK Viking Centre you are standing on the site of one of the most famous and astounding discoveries of modern archaeology. Between the years 1976-81, archaeologists from York Archaeological Trust revealed the houses, workshops and backyards of the Viking-Age city of Jorvik, as it stood 1,000 years ago. These incredible findings enabled them to build the JORVIK Viking Centre on the very site where the excavations had taken place, creating a groundbreaking visitor experience that enabled you to experience life in Viking-Age York.
As you travel around the Viking-age city of Jorvik aboard our state of the art time capsules you will encounter the old-Norse speaking citizens, see inside their houses and back yards, experience a blast of smoke from blacksmith's furnace and enjoy the smell of home-cooked stew inside the home of our amber worker.
Now I’m not terribly sure about the smell of home-cooked stew; I think it was over-powered by the stench of hides drying and the privy. Or else the stew left ALOT to be desired.
But the exhibit was very cool – bit of Disney ride in Viking boat meets hands-on history appealing to or repelling all senses, sometimes all at once. Hmm. Reminds me of India, now that I think about it! LOL
From this museum we headed off to Barley Hall, the entry to which we walked by twice before finally figuring out where it was hidden. Tough to hide such a big structure, too, I might add.
Barley Hall is a stunning medieval house, once home to the Priors of Nostell and the Mayor of York. Until the 1980s the house was hidden under the relatively modern facade of a derelict office block. Only when the building was going to be destroyed was the amazing medieval building discovered and its history uncovered.
The building has now been lovingly restored to its original splendour with stunning high ceilings, beautiful exposed timber frames, and possibly the only horn window in England. It has been decorated to replicate what it would have looked like as the Snawsell home around 1483 and boasts a magnificent Great Hall. Visitors to Barley Hall can make themselves at home and sit on the chairs and handle the objects and experience what it would have been like to live in Medieval England.
I like that "lovingly restored" business, don't you?
We enjoyed touring the place – the great hall was probably my favorite. The kids got to play some medieval games upstairs – bowling, among other things.
From there we stopped for sugar at Betty’s, a small shop with pastries, cookies, teas & coffees…the other Betty’s, a big tea shop, had a line around the corner so clearly it’s a hot York ticket.
Then we stopped at The Minster, an immense cathedral that is gorgeous. And steeped in history, as noted below (a diatribe I know but just think how many thousands of years this spot has been of religious importance.)
The first Minster: 7th to 11th Centuries
York's first Minster was built for the baptism of the Anglo Saxon King, Edwin of Northumbria. Edwin was christened in a small wooden church that had been built for the occasion, this event occurred on Easter Sunday in the year 627. Almost immediately Edwin ordered that this small wooden church should be rebuilt in stone. Edwin was killed in battle in 633 and the task of completing the stone Minster fell to Oswald.
This small stone church built on the same site as the original wooden one was enlarged over time. It survived through the Viking age in York but was badly damaged by fire in the year 1069 when the Normans finally took control of the city of York. While we know something of the history of these early versions of York Minster, to date no archaeological evidence of them has been uncovered.
The Norman Minster: 1100 - 1220
Once the invading Normans had taken control of the city a decision was taken to build a new Minster on a fresh site to replace the old fire damaged Saxon Minster. Around the year 1080 Thomas of Bayeux became Archbishop and started building a cathedral that in time grew into the Minster we have today. This vast Norman church was completed around 1100, and the base of some of its distinctive columns can be seen today in the Undercroft.
During the mid twelfth century the Norman church was enlarged at both East and West; this may have been due to fire damage sustained in 1137, but this now seems unlikely.
Today's Minster: from 1220 into the future
In 1215 Walter Gray became archbishop and he was to serve the cathedral for 40 years. It was Walter who started to transform the Norman Church in to the Minster we have today. Firstly the South and North transepts were built, Walter died before they were completed. In 1291 work began on the Nave (western end) this was completed by around 1360. Work then transferred to the East end with the building of the Lady Chapel and then the Quire this was completed by around 1405. In 1407 the central tower collapsed and work on its replacement was not finished until 1433. Between 1433 and 1472 the Western towers were added and the Minster finally completed. The Minster that we know today had taken about 250 years to build.
Heritage and challenge
From 1472 until 1829 the fabric of the building changed very little although there were big changes to the way in which worship in the Minster was carried out. In February 1829 Jonathan Martin deliberately started a fire in the Quire. This act of arson resulted in the destruction of the entire east end roof and timber vault and all the wooden furniture of the Quire. Just 11 years later a second, accidental, fire destroyed the Nave roof and vault.
In the twentieth century two major events affected the building. Between 1967 and 1972 major work was undertaken to stop the Central tower collapsing. This involved close co-operation between engineers and archaeologists, but no trace of the Saxon Minster was uncovered.
On the 9th of July 1984 fire broke out in the South Transept after the Minster had been hit by lightning. The damage resulting from 3 hours of fire took some 4 years to fully repair and restore.
The cathedral is awesome in size, décor and detail, and the crypt illustrates its history beautifully through artifacts and illustrations.
We passed on the tower climb (probably to the relief of my family) as it was for the over eight crowd only. Our tour day more than complete, we headed back to the hotel, walking over part of the wall en route (gorgeous the way the wall encircles the old part of the city).
Back at our immense hotel (it’s a monolithic thing that just keeps going – we had a “garden room” (another name for basement out of the way room which management has deemed perfect for families with potentially loud children, I think). Our journey from lobby to room was a good 5-7 minute walk, which doesn’t sound like much but bear in mind it’s all in the same building…
I’ve no doubt this hotel had an abundance of very nice rooms; ours more than met our needs but no need to lounge in luxury there. We did very much enjoy the breakfast space – lovely room overlooking a gorgeous garden. And the property is probably well enjoyed for special events (i.e. the wedding taking place the weekend we were there) given its proximity to transportation, its size and the elegance of many of its rooms.
After collapsing for a bit we made off to J. Baker’s bistro moderne for our evening meal. A very modern look and feel, yet warm and comfortable, the place had an unusual – and delicious – menu, plus a few items specifically for kids.
Claire had the gnocchi, Ava fish and chips (which were about the best looking and – I sampled – best tasting – fish and chips I’ve had, ever). We all had just baked bread in the shape of bones (reference to the Jorvik place, maybe).
My aubergine stater was amazing (that would be eggplant), and I enjoyed my fish dish, too, particularly the potatoes. Dessert was heavenly – billed as chocolate cake but it was really a decadent brownie.
Ambience: urban chic. Great cow art downstairs. Yes, still urban chic, cows and all.
Sunday
We started our day slow – Joe took a walk, I headed to the fitness center in my flip flops. This broken toe business is wearing. But alas, after collecting coffee, I sucked it up and did the stairmaster barefoot. Then lifted weights, which felt great as it’s been forever since I’ve lifted w/ machines. Only the fitness obsessed can appreciate the small joys of making the muscles ache…Traci, I’m sure you’re with me.
Breakfast: good buffet with the ever popular bacon for the kids. I did step out there and try vegetarian sausages but they tasted like sawdust so I can’t imagine why anyone would bother.
From our hotel we headed off to the York Castle Museum, trailing along the city wall en route. Our first stop, though, was Clifford’s Tower, which we climbed (ha! I did get a climb in, aside from the stairmaster).
'The history of York', declared King George VI, 'is the history of England', and in many ways the history of Clifford's Tower is the history of York.
In 1068-9, William the Conqueror built two motte and bailey castles in York, to strengthen his military hold on the north: the mound of the second, now known as the 'Old Baile', can be seen clearly across the river from Clifford's Tower.
But very soon afterwards both castles were burnt by a Danish fleet, supported by the people of York. William thereupon savagely laid waste wide areas of northern England as a warning and punishment, and rebuilt both castles. The mound on which Clifford's Tower now stands became the core of the principal fortress, York Castle, defended-as can also clearly be seen from the tower-on one side by the River Ouse and on the other by the River Foss.
As the core of one of the most important fortresses in the north, the tower played a crucial role in later medieval history, when York Castle sometimes served as the seat of royal government and always as the administrative focus of Yorkshire.
Having witnessed the upheavals of the northern Pilgrimage of Grace against Henry VIII-whereafter the rebel leader Robert Aske was allegedly hung from its walls in chains to die slowly of starvation-the tower narrowly escaped demolition in Elizabethan times, when its keeper began to demolish it in order to sell its materials, beginning inside the tower so as to avoid detection.
Happily our experience didn't involve hanging from walls and starving to death; we were there on a gorgeous blue sky day so we had a spectacular view.
From the tower we walked across the yard to the York Castle Museum, which is very cool, too. And very big.
York Castle Museum is one of Britain's leading museums of everyday life. It shows how people used to live by displaying thousands of household objects and by recreating rooms, shops, streets - and even prison cells.
The Victorian streets were the highlight of the visit, as was the outdoor courtyard/play area – the kids burned off steam with hula hoops while we absorbed the sun. GREAT weather.
We also hit the attached millhouse, where the kids could grind wheat into flour the hard way.
Then it was off to the Shambles, the best preserved Medieval street in Europe. It’s a lovely little street with quaint buildings and shops. We also wandered through the the market, opting for street food for lunch (crepes and sausages). We then shopped around a bit, checked out the street entertainers and walked along the wall back to the hotel.
There we spent some time in the pool and sauna before dinner, then headed off to Melton’s Too for our evening meal. This was a more traditional restaurant – dark, worn wood planking on the floor, wooden tables, exposed brick walls. Joe and I shared starters and tapas, kids had homemade pasta and some of our food, which ranged from chorizo and mash to four different types of smoked fish. Ava ate all the salmon; think of the health value.
We also had stuffed peppers and Turkish meatloaf. My favorite was the chorizo and mash, though the blue cheese and zucchini dish was hard to beat. And the sticky toffee pudding was fabulous.
Monday
This morning Joe walked the city wall, I had another fitness center day. Given we aren’t gym members it’s nice to pop into one occasionally for a change of pace.
After trekking the length of a football field from our room to breakfast, we ditched our luggage and hit the National Railway Museum. That place is immense, with warehouses full of trains old and new, royal and for the masses. We could climb up some, peer in windows, watch footage of times past wherein the train played a key role, the kids even got to ride a miniature train. Great stuff and you could spend hours there. We spent a couple and had to pry ourselves away to catch our own train!
Great weekend out. Go to York! or New York!
Monday, November 22, 2010
Thanksgiving Success
Yes I know, it’s too early for Thanksgiving. However, since we’ll be eating cod or some Welsh specialty on Thanksgiving proper, we decided to have our big American feast a few days early.
So yesterday was all about food.
I spent last week trying to get a headstart on the meal deal, plus I think the process is great fun to stretch out a bit…searching out ingredients, ordering food, perusing recipes (one time, early in my marriage, my husband incredulously asked if I was actually reading a cookbook. And yes, I was.).
This was all fun and games until the turkey business went pear-shaped (love that British expression). First I’d thought perhaps I’d do something radically different and go with pouissins (fancy name for small chickens). I.e. six of these little chicks for our six adults and one standard chicken for the five kids.
We’d extended our early T’giving food plans to our Australian and Texan neighbors. Who doesn’t like a happy secular holiday with plenty of food?)
The reasoning here – about poussins, not Texans and Australians --was to avoid the challenge of 1) locating a turkey (they are to be had here but are costly, many places require advance ordering and they often aren’t available until two days before T’giving. Plus I don’t have a big oven here. That said, it’s not a tinker toy (one would think we all have ovens the size of toasters here, the way some ex-pats exaggerate about the inadequacy of their appliances. Or maybe they had ovens on steroids at home?).
Anyway, it is prudent to make sure the bird will fit in the oven while also allowing the oven heat to circulate properly, thus helping to ensure a properly cooked hunk of poultry.
But then I noted the poussins and chicken were going to eat all my oven space and then some, plus I’d have to fuss over 7 birds rather than one.
So turkey ended up being the logical choice, and a 10 or 12 pounder would work, I figured.
Next mission: finding one. Three stores later, no birds available until next week.
Hmmm.
Ocado to the rescue. Now don’t let the word get out, but (shock of all shocks) I purchased a frozen bird. This was after I picked out a lovely free range 12 pound animal that had purportedly enjoyed a fantastic life wandering the fields with his 10 favorite female friends, eating a splendorous fruit, grain and nut diet. Said bird would then have been humanely sacrificed and rushed to my kitchen for a splendid T’giving feast. Not only would his happy, healthy, carefree life have been cut short gently, he would of course be juicy, flavorful, chemical-free etc etc.
As I moved toward the “purchase” button I read the fine print: available in December.
Scratch the homespun heirloom happy go lucky turkey.
What was available in the 12 pound range was a frozen bird. No details on how he lived, but let’s get real here: turkey isn’t the world’s sexiest meat. (I’m having vague recollections of the turkey farm I toured in Germany eons ago. The experience would convert most to beef, pork, venison, squid, anything but poultry. But that’s another story.)
While that was off-putting, it didn’t really turn me off turkey. I just find it’s a bit bland (that word just says it all, doesn’t it?). And in fact I feel quite vindicated on my feelings about turkey, having listened to my foodie program earlier today (Splendid Table). The program featured a chef who, when asked how he does T’gving, said he avoids it, roasting a big chicken, stuffed with fabulous chestnut stuffing, instead.
HA! I am not the only one who thinks turkey is overrated. Of course, if you smother it in really good gravy…
Now I must say I can’t believe I’m telling the world that I happily settled for a frozen bird, but the reality was I was a bit desperate, plus quite pleased with the price. And Ocado could deliver two days before I needed it, plenty of time to thaw the thing.
This delivery business wasn’t smooth sailing, though. I had carefully orchestrated delivery from 3 and 4 that day because I had a Tudor outing at the Nat’l Portrait Gallery from 10 to 2 ish, then had to get back here to get something accomplished and await the grocery man. (Let’s face it, I’m behind on everything due to Tudor outings and such.)
He showed up just before 4, dropped the bags and ran. I ignored said bags for 20 minutes, then started putting things away. Only to find no turkey. Someone’s brown and serve rolls instead. GREAT.
In a panic – and rushing out the door to collect Ava – I called Ocado. On hold.
Caller # 5 in the queu.
Collected Ava. Got disconnected. Frantically re-dialed. Now caller 3 in the queu. Short window before Claire retrieval and finally someone picked up only to tell me she’d call back after doing some reconnaissance. As I was about to walk over to ASL, she phoned to say the driver was again en route, this time w/ the turkey. Dilemna. Claire. Turkey. AHHH. Friend Kelly to the rescue. She happened by to pick up something up as I was in my state of frenzy and took over Claire pick up.
Ten minutes later, my bird was indeed swapped out for the rolls.
Phew.
Now that it’s 48 hours past the feast, I have to say that was one of the best turkeys I’ve ever eaten. Whether he never saw the light of day, was pumped up with hormone infested pellets, crowded in with a bunch of birds he hated or whatever, he made a mighty good feast. Juicy, tender and flavorful (this is coming from a serious turkey skeptic).
It also helped to not over-cook said bird and to slather him up w/ butter, salt and pepper, then a maple syrup/black pepper glaze (this was my 2010 experiment and I’ve already committed it to my recipe book).
The glaze contributed to the best gravy I personally have ever concocted. (Drippings plus malt vinegar, of all things, the roux and some chicken broth…fabulous.)
Everything else was tasty too – cornbread/sausage stuffing (with my recent favorite cornbread recipe), homemade rolls – Mom’s buttery sweet roll recipe, those cranberries I’d cranked on earlier, mashed potatoes with plenty of real Irish butter (yes, it is better), Melissa’s green bean casserole (it’s not T’giving without the French fried onion casserole), sweet potatoes with brown sugar/pecan topping, pecan pie, a big green salad w/ feta that, even on day 2 of the feast, I still haven’t found room to fit in, either on my plate or in my tummy.
A thoroughly fabulous T’giving with great company and cocktails to start and finish, thx to the Texans.
I hope, as you read this, that you’re eagerly anticipating my favorite holiday, and that you glory in your turkey, frozen or fresh, free range or “housed” (sounds better than caged, right?).
So yesterday was all about food.
I spent last week trying to get a headstart on the meal deal, plus I think the process is great fun to stretch out a bit…searching out ingredients, ordering food, perusing recipes (one time, early in my marriage, my husband incredulously asked if I was actually reading a cookbook. And yes, I was.).
This was all fun and games until the turkey business went pear-shaped (love that British expression). First I’d thought perhaps I’d do something radically different and go with pouissins (fancy name for small chickens). I.e. six of these little chicks for our six adults and one standard chicken for the five kids.
We’d extended our early T’giving food plans to our Australian and Texan neighbors. Who doesn’t like a happy secular holiday with plenty of food?)
The reasoning here – about poussins, not Texans and Australians --was to avoid the challenge of 1) locating a turkey (they are to be had here but are costly, many places require advance ordering and they often aren’t available until two days before T’giving. Plus I don’t have a big oven here. That said, it’s not a tinker toy (one would think we all have ovens the size of toasters here, the way some ex-pats exaggerate about the inadequacy of their appliances. Or maybe they had ovens on steroids at home?).
Anyway, it is prudent to make sure the bird will fit in the oven while also allowing the oven heat to circulate properly, thus helping to ensure a properly cooked hunk of poultry.
But then I noted the poussins and chicken were going to eat all my oven space and then some, plus I’d have to fuss over 7 birds rather than one.
So turkey ended up being the logical choice, and a 10 or 12 pounder would work, I figured.
Next mission: finding one. Three stores later, no birds available until next week.
Hmmm.
Ocado to the rescue. Now don’t let the word get out, but (shock of all shocks) I purchased a frozen bird. This was after I picked out a lovely free range 12 pound animal that had purportedly enjoyed a fantastic life wandering the fields with his 10 favorite female friends, eating a splendorous fruit, grain and nut diet. Said bird would then have been humanely sacrificed and rushed to my kitchen for a splendid T’giving feast. Not only would his happy, healthy, carefree life have been cut short gently, he would of course be juicy, flavorful, chemical-free etc etc.
As I moved toward the “purchase” button I read the fine print: available in December.
Scratch the homespun heirloom happy go lucky turkey.
What was available in the 12 pound range was a frozen bird. No details on how he lived, but let’s get real here: turkey isn’t the world’s sexiest meat. (I’m having vague recollections of the turkey farm I toured in Germany eons ago. The experience would convert most to beef, pork, venison, squid, anything but poultry. But that’s another story.)
While that was off-putting, it didn’t really turn me off turkey. I just find it’s a bit bland (that word just says it all, doesn’t it?). And in fact I feel quite vindicated on my feelings about turkey, having listened to my foodie program earlier today (Splendid Table). The program featured a chef who, when asked how he does T’gving, said he avoids it, roasting a big chicken, stuffed with fabulous chestnut stuffing, instead.
HA! I am not the only one who thinks turkey is overrated. Of course, if you smother it in really good gravy…
Now I must say I can’t believe I’m telling the world that I happily settled for a frozen bird, but the reality was I was a bit desperate, plus quite pleased with the price. And Ocado could deliver two days before I needed it, plenty of time to thaw the thing.
This delivery business wasn’t smooth sailing, though. I had carefully orchestrated delivery from 3 and 4 that day because I had a Tudor outing at the Nat’l Portrait Gallery from 10 to 2 ish, then had to get back here to get something accomplished and await the grocery man. (Let’s face it, I’m behind on everything due to Tudor outings and such.)
He showed up just before 4, dropped the bags and ran. I ignored said bags for 20 minutes, then started putting things away. Only to find no turkey. Someone’s brown and serve rolls instead. GREAT.
In a panic – and rushing out the door to collect Ava – I called Ocado. On hold.
Caller # 5 in the queu.
Collected Ava. Got disconnected. Frantically re-dialed. Now caller 3 in the queu. Short window before Claire retrieval and finally someone picked up only to tell me she’d call back after doing some reconnaissance. As I was about to walk over to ASL, she phoned to say the driver was again en route, this time w/ the turkey. Dilemna. Claire. Turkey. AHHH. Friend Kelly to the rescue. She happened by to pick up something up as I was in my state of frenzy and took over Claire pick up.
Ten minutes later, my bird was indeed swapped out for the rolls.
Phew.
Now that it’s 48 hours past the feast, I have to say that was one of the best turkeys I’ve ever eaten. Whether he never saw the light of day, was pumped up with hormone infested pellets, crowded in with a bunch of birds he hated or whatever, he made a mighty good feast. Juicy, tender and flavorful (this is coming from a serious turkey skeptic).
It also helped to not over-cook said bird and to slather him up w/ butter, salt and pepper, then a maple syrup/black pepper glaze (this was my 2010 experiment and I’ve already committed it to my recipe book).
The glaze contributed to the best gravy I personally have ever concocted. (Drippings plus malt vinegar, of all things, the roux and some chicken broth…fabulous.)
Everything else was tasty too – cornbread/sausage stuffing (with my recent favorite cornbread recipe), homemade rolls – Mom’s buttery sweet roll recipe, those cranberries I’d cranked on earlier, mashed potatoes with plenty of real Irish butter (yes, it is better), Melissa’s green bean casserole (it’s not T’giving without the French fried onion casserole), sweet potatoes with brown sugar/pecan topping, pecan pie, a big green salad w/ feta that, even on day 2 of the feast, I still haven’t found room to fit in, either on my plate or in my tummy.
A thoroughly fabulous T’giving with great company and cocktails to start and finish, thx to the Texans.
I hope, as you read this, that you’re eagerly anticipating my favorite holiday, and that you glory in your turkey, frozen or fresh, free range or “housed” (sounds better than caged, right?).
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Comfort food
Written last Wednesday. One would think I could write and post same day, but apparently not.
Ok so what does comfort food mean to you? For me it’s polenta, warm, just the right amount of salty, just the right amount of thick/chewy but not chewy, with just the right amount of good Parmesan and BUTTER. None of that substitute stuff.
This I subjected my kids to tonight. They actually also love it. Put a grain in front of them and they’re happy. My husband, not so much. His idea of comfort food is probably something different. Midwestern meatloaf and mashed potatoes, likely?
When I think comfort food I don’t think mac n’ cheese, though for many that ranks. (Maybe my brother still fondly reflects on it; he kept Kraft in business for a while. Today I think he tends more toward a really good steak and my mother’s incredibly perfect seasoned salad. This is nothing more than an olive oil/vinaigrette mixture w/ just the right amount of seasoning, but somehow no one else gets it perfect.)
What else ranks on my comfort list…I would have to say oxtail soup with barley (again, my mom’s). It’s really rough when you grow up with a REALLY good cook. I won’t even get started on her pie crust. Or potato salad.
Do not ask me how I felt a need to extrapolate on polenta and barley soup; maybe it’s because I’m consumed with Thanksgiving. Today I had a foodie heaven day. I started at Whole Foods, where you leave (I should say I left) with a SMALL brown bag in exchange for 26 pounds. OUCH.
These cranberries better be good.
But I did so enjoy perusing the aisles with the people stocking them (9 a.m. is a great Whole Foods time), though there aren’t many samples out. So if you’re diet obsessed, go then.
From Whole Foods I moved on to a Thai cooking class, wherein the chef cooked up Thai comfort good (hence my digression. I knew there must be a connection somewhere).
Her comfort food was an incredibly good curry chicken served over coconut rice. I could get used to this.
Then I collected Claire and made DECADENT (and I do mean decadent) brownies. 80 percent dark chocolate. Big eggs. Plenty of REALLY good butter.
You’d think with all this food talk I’d weigh 200 pounds. Not to worry. Even in my limping state I get plenty of activity schlepping around London, usually carrying at least 10 pounds worth of groceries, kid stuff, books, the like. Plus Sam at pilates is trying to kill me so I haven’t many calories to spare.
We moved on from the really good butter in the really decadent brownies to conjuring up cranberry sauce (with those whole foods cranberries that cost a million dollars). And no, I don’t do the jellied stuff out of the can. Once I year I crave cranberries and given the infrequency, they better be the real deal.
Tomorrow: head start on the cornbread stuffing. You know the drill. No stove top here, sister.
Ok so what does comfort food mean to you? For me it’s polenta, warm, just the right amount of salty, just the right amount of thick/chewy but not chewy, with just the right amount of good Parmesan and BUTTER. None of that substitute stuff.
This I subjected my kids to tonight. They actually also love it. Put a grain in front of them and they’re happy. My husband, not so much. His idea of comfort food is probably something different. Midwestern meatloaf and mashed potatoes, likely?
When I think comfort food I don’t think mac n’ cheese, though for many that ranks. (Maybe my brother still fondly reflects on it; he kept Kraft in business for a while. Today I think he tends more toward a really good steak and my mother’s incredibly perfect seasoned salad. This is nothing more than an olive oil/vinaigrette mixture w/ just the right amount of seasoning, but somehow no one else gets it perfect.)
What else ranks on my comfort list…I would have to say oxtail soup with barley (again, my mom’s). It’s really rough when you grow up with a REALLY good cook. I won’t even get started on her pie crust. Or potato salad.
Do not ask me how I felt a need to extrapolate on polenta and barley soup; maybe it’s because I’m consumed with Thanksgiving. Today I had a foodie heaven day. I started at Whole Foods, where you leave (I should say I left) with a SMALL brown bag in exchange for 26 pounds. OUCH.
These cranberries better be good.
But I did so enjoy perusing the aisles with the people stocking them (9 a.m. is a great Whole Foods time), though there aren’t many samples out. So if you’re diet obsessed, go then.
From Whole Foods I moved on to a Thai cooking class, wherein the chef cooked up Thai comfort good (hence my digression. I knew there must be a connection somewhere).
Her comfort food was an incredibly good curry chicken served over coconut rice. I could get used to this.
Then I collected Claire and made DECADENT (and I do mean decadent) brownies. 80 percent dark chocolate. Big eggs. Plenty of REALLY good butter.
You’d think with all this food talk I’d weigh 200 pounds. Not to worry. Even in my limping state I get plenty of activity schlepping around London, usually carrying at least 10 pounds worth of groceries, kid stuff, books, the like. Plus Sam at pilates is trying to kill me so I haven’t many calories to spare.
We moved on from the really good butter in the really decadent brownies to conjuring up cranberry sauce (with those whole foods cranberries that cost a million dollars). And no, I don’t do the jellied stuff out of the can. Once I year I crave cranberries and given the infrequency, they better be the real deal.
Tomorrow: head start on the cornbread stuffing. You know the drill. No stove top here, sister.
Monday, November 15, 2010
How do you wash a tie?
That’s the topic of the morning, as Ava came home with applesauce on her tie. (This would be a critical component of the Abercorn uniform, which I must say, was tied successfully by yours truly yesterday.)
This tieing of the tie was somewhat of an accomplishment given
1) her father typically does it…but hard to reach across the Atlantic this week, therein leaving me in charge of one crisp, proper knot. You can see I’m stretching for descriptors on properly tied ties.
2) I don’t have much tie expertise.
And 3) Tie-tying under the duress of morning mayhem takes the process to a new – and not necessarily good – level. (Some days it’s all we can do just to get out the door in something other than our underwear, let alone ramp it up on accessories.)
Getting back to my question of the hour, I tried sponging; I’ll get back to you on my level of success. Or not; somehow I doubt you’re sitting on the edge of your chair on this one.
As for other mundane topics, ever ponder light switches? Normally I don’t bother, either, but this weekend I had the opportunity. Why, for instance, doesn’t the switch closest at hand turn on the lamp similarly…closest at hand?
It’s a Seinfeld sort of thing, I suppose.
Anyway, I’d been laying awake at the fine Ramada Inn Tunbridge Wells, trying not to wake up my two sleeping beauties, pondering all the things I haven’t yet done (not things like writing the world’s greatest novel or learning to scuba…though the first holds appeal, the second none whatsoever). The list running through my mind was more along the lines of Thanksgiving menus, ironing, ordering school clothes.
Tired of my ramblings, I hit the nearest light switch, which lit the whole place up like a fire. The next one lit the kids’ side, even though they can’t reach said switch from their bed. The third hit the light over the mirror and TV. And the last one – a long reach from little old me – nailed my lamp. Hmmph.
Similarly, at home the light in the patio is governed by a switch in the living room, as far from the light as you can get and still remain in the living room.
And then there are two light upstairs that are governed by one switch; I’ve yet to understand why, when its sister switch could do one of the jobs…
You really can write about nothing. Maybe Seinfeld was also created at 6 a.m. without coffee.
As for mid-October onward…
York? I wrote a diatribe on this trip (great town in northern England which we as a family thoroughly enjoyed a few weeks ago. I'll regurgitate my prose at a later date; it takes some time to decode chicken scratch).
Post-York:
With a little extra time on our hands upon our return, Claire and I met up with friends for an outing to the Natural History Museum and its Amazonia exhibit – a one room wonder. The exhibit brought nature and art together through abstract paintings, photography and sculpture (i.e. works that resembled bones with splotches of color, extreme close ups of nature photos, etc.).
Also during our museum visit we lunched and checked out the bugs. I'm not sure if it's best to check them out before, thereby putting a damper on the appetite, or after, which could provoke indigestion...
The most striking thing about this particular Natural History Museum visit was our discovery of a new entrance (the building is huge but apparently I hadn’t been imaginative enough to get beyond the main entrance, generally featuring a line out to the sidewalk).
This new way in didn’t have even a glimpse of a line and it opened a whole new world of natural history to us. I maintain you could live in London all your life, hit two or three museums per week and still never cover it all.
Upon return to routine that week I fit in an India lunch with the American School London’s international group. This is an organization open to all ASL parents, its goal to provide international experiences – through food, culture, art, learning – to the community. I think it’s a very valuable organization, given ASL can lean toward being a “mini-America” experience unless you push outside the boundaries.
The culinary arm of the group is particularly interesting (the foodie in my surfaces). This lunch was at an Indian woman’s home, with demonstrations of how to prepare homecooked Indian food. Naturally the dishes are less complex, less heavy, less intensely spicy than many restaurants throw at you. It was all very good, though I do like Indian food with some serious HEAT!
On the theatre side, I took myself out with a group of ladies to see “Flashdance.” Flashback to high school! As is everything I’ve seen on the West End, it was very well done, but the male lead was a little light. That is, he could have been taller, darker, more handsome and with a deeper voice – could I get any more critical this morning?
Perhaps I should just say he didn’t come off quite as heroic as the movie version.
Other members of our party echoed similar opinions, someone noting that the lead in Dirty Dancing was considerably less Patrick Swayze-ish. She said it ruined the experience for her. I prefer to herald PS in that role so will pass on DD at the theatre.
Further to the art scene, a few of us gathered for the Treasures of Budapest exhibit at the Royal Arts Academy. Very thorough representation, it seemed to me (and according to the Royal Academy):
This exhibition showcases the breadth and wealth of one of the finest collections in Central Europe. The exhibition features over 200 works and includes paintings, drawings and sculpture from the early Renaissance to the twentieth century. Selected works by artists including Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, El Greco, Rubens, Goya, Manet, Monet, Schiele, Gauguin and Picasso are on display, many of which have not previously been shown in the UK.
The Museum of Fine Arts, Budapest houses the state collection of international art works in Hungary and includes the Esterházy collection, acquired by the Hungarian state in 1871. The collection began in the seventeenth century but expanded during the rule of Prince Nikolaus II Esterházy (1765 – 1833) who was responsible for developing the fine collection of Old Master paintings and drawings which will be showcased in the exhibition. One of the highlights of the exhibition will be Raphael's 'Virgin and Child with St John the Baptist', 1508 (known as The Esterházy Madonna).
This perusal of art, followed by lunch at Fortnum & Mason, made for an extraordinary day out.
And now I'm onto making toast and peeling kids off the bed. Happy Tuesday!
This tieing of the tie was somewhat of an accomplishment given
1) her father typically does it…but hard to reach across the Atlantic this week, therein leaving me in charge of one crisp, proper knot. You can see I’m stretching for descriptors on properly tied ties.
2) I don’t have much tie expertise.
And 3) Tie-tying under the duress of morning mayhem takes the process to a new – and not necessarily good – level. (Some days it’s all we can do just to get out the door in something other than our underwear, let alone ramp it up on accessories.)
Getting back to my question of the hour, I tried sponging; I’ll get back to you on my level of success. Or not; somehow I doubt you’re sitting on the edge of your chair on this one.
As for other mundane topics, ever ponder light switches? Normally I don’t bother, either, but this weekend I had the opportunity. Why, for instance, doesn’t the switch closest at hand turn on the lamp similarly…closest at hand?
It’s a Seinfeld sort of thing, I suppose.
Anyway, I’d been laying awake at the fine Ramada Inn Tunbridge Wells, trying not to wake up my two sleeping beauties, pondering all the things I haven’t yet done (not things like writing the world’s greatest novel or learning to scuba…though the first holds appeal, the second none whatsoever). The list running through my mind was more along the lines of Thanksgiving menus, ironing, ordering school clothes.
Tired of my ramblings, I hit the nearest light switch, which lit the whole place up like a fire. The next one lit the kids’ side, even though they can’t reach said switch from their bed. The third hit the light over the mirror and TV. And the last one – a long reach from little old me – nailed my lamp. Hmmph.
Similarly, at home the light in the patio is governed by a switch in the living room, as far from the light as you can get and still remain in the living room.
And then there are two light upstairs that are governed by one switch; I’ve yet to understand why, when its sister switch could do one of the jobs…
You really can write about nothing. Maybe Seinfeld was also created at 6 a.m. without coffee.
As for mid-October onward…
York? I wrote a diatribe on this trip (great town in northern England which we as a family thoroughly enjoyed a few weeks ago. I'll regurgitate my prose at a later date; it takes some time to decode chicken scratch).
Post-York:
With a little extra time on our hands upon our return, Claire and I met up with friends for an outing to the Natural History Museum and its Amazonia exhibit – a one room wonder. The exhibit brought nature and art together through abstract paintings, photography and sculpture (i.e. works that resembled bones with splotches of color, extreme close ups of nature photos, etc.).
Also during our museum visit we lunched and checked out the bugs. I'm not sure if it's best to check them out before, thereby putting a damper on the appetite, or after, which could provoke indigestion...
The most striking thing about this particular Natural History Museum visit was our discovery of a new entrance (the building is huge but apparently I hadn’t been imaginative enough to get beyond the main entrance, generally featuring a line out to the sidewalk).
This new way in didn’t have even a glimpse of a line and it opened a whole new world of natural history to us. I maintain you could live in London all your life, hit two or three museums per week and still never cover it all.
Upon return to routine that week I fit in an India lunch with the American School London’s international group. This is an organization open to all ASL parents, its goal to provide international experiences – through food, culture, art, learning – to the community. I think it’s a very valuable organization, given ASL can lean toward being a “mini-America” experience unless you push outside the boundaries.
The culinary arm of the group is particularly interesting (the foodie in my surfaces). This lunch was at an Indian woman’s home, with demonstrations of how to prepare homecooked Indian food. Naturally the dishes are less complex, less heavy, less intensely spicy than many restaurants throw at you. It was all very good, though I do like Indian food with some serious HEAT!
On the theatre side, I took myself out with a group of ladies to see “Flashdance.” Flashback to high school! As is everything I’ve seen on the West End, it was very well done, but the male lead was a little light. That is, he could have been taller, darker, more handsome and with a deeper voice – could I get any more critical this morning?
Perhaps I should just say he didn’t come off quite as heroic as the movie version.
Other members of our party echoed similar opinions, someone noting that the lead in Dirty Dancing was considerably less Patrick Swayze-ish. She said it ruined the experience for her. I prefer to herald PS in that role so will pass on DD at the theatre.
Further to the art scene, a few of us gathered for the Treasures of Budapest exhibit at the Royal Arts Academy. Very thorough representation, it seemed to me (and according to the Royal Academy):
This exhibition showcases the breadth and wealth of one of the finest collections in Central Europe. The exhibition features over 200 works and includes paintings, drawings and sculpture from the early Renaissance to the twentieth century. Selected works by artists including Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, El Greco, Rubens, Goya, Manet, Monet, Schiele, Gauguin and Picasso are on display, many of which have not previously been shown in the UK.
The Museum of Fine Arts, Budapest houses the state collection of international art works in Hungary and includes the Esterházy collection, acquired by the Hungarian state in 1871. The collection began in the seventeenth century but expanded during the rule of Prince Nikolaus II Esterházy (1765 – 1833) who was responsible for developing the fine collection of Old Master paintings and drawings which will be showcased in the exhibition. One of the highlights of the exhibition will be Raphael's 'Virgin and Child with St John the Baptist', 1508 (known as The Esterházy Madonna).
This perusal of art, followed by lunch at Fortnum & Mason, made for an extraordinary day out.
And now I'm onto making toast and peeling kids off the bed. Happy Tuesday!
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Dorset
Sept 29 – Oct 1 found me, with the Alice Leader contingency of ladies, catching a train to Dorset…
My first order of business was to limp to the tube, meet up w/ the group at Waterloo and watch the rain fall as we headed coastal, toward Weymouth. Lovely country and a great day to be watching the world go by.
Upon arrival at the train station we marched off with our suitcases; our trusty bus whisked us off to the Wise Man pub in West Stafford and we had pub grub in a warm, woody setting. The local cider: good (it’s apparently cider making time here so we naturally got on board with the seasons). The local chili: not so good. Who does chili on rice, anyway?
From The Wise Man we hit the Dorset County Museum, which was supposed to have plenty of Hardy items to peruse. However, our tour guide apologetically noted X was missing, Y they couldn’t find, Z was under protection, etc.
We all had a good chuckle at their expense.
Then off to Max Gate, Hardy’s home, which he designed. It’s a Gothic looking, stately but not particularly grand home. There one of the very elderly actresses who played Tess’ sister in one of the theatre productions done during Hardy’s time was present. She couldn’t hear well but shared memories of rehearsing in the parlor. The Swiss woman in our group visited with her for a bit, spending most of the conversation trying to convince her she wasn’t German. In fact, she’s from the French part of Switzerland, so really not inclined to jump on board w/ the German business.
The room in which this little old lady held audience was one of a few we could tour (ok, one of two if you didn’t count the entry way). In the other room we were given a welcome by a Hardy expert, who recited some of his poetry, bringing it alive with his Dorset accent. What I remember best was the old sofa on the far side of the room; someone expired upon it 100 years ago.
Then we were off to the Yalbury Cottage (at least my faction of the group; others were chauffeured to their respective hotels.). Our cottage was in a quiet, rural spot with cows and ponies frolicking in the pastures behind.
My window looked out upon this pastoral scene, which felt straight out of a Hardy novel. He captures the essence of the landscape and weather beautifully in his prose.
After some re-group time we met for dinner at the Yalbury, which I have to say has a great chef. I’d stay there for the food alone. Short commute, too. Apparently said chef used to work for 4 Seasons as an executive chef.
At the moment I can’t remember what I ate (unbelievable, isn’t it). Of course it is a month later.
Ah yes…now I recall. Scallop starter, vegetable and spelt pie for my main (sounds so healthy but believe me it packed a wallop of really good butter) and apple flan to finish. Perfect for the season.
I do remember the conversation at our table…it went from “why are our kids taking the tube for their field trips?” (vs. busing, why 3rd grade and not the older/potentially more seasoned 5th graders, for example.) I, for what it’s worth, didn’t really get concerned about losing my daughter on the tube. One, I guess we’ve already been down that path and am now de-sensitized? (thankfully a short-lived fright but all ended up fine), 2) Claire’s teacher is WAY on top of things and 3) the 3rd grade crowd seems to have enough acumen to sort themselves out (probably because ASL has drilled the protocol into them should they get separated from the group, tube or no tube).
Ok back to the table conversation. Yes so it ranged from the tube to plastic surgery (re-building of cheekbones – who knew?). As my friend Allison says, I thought you did that through weight loss.
Then we moved on to 3rd grade girls and carbohydrates. This I refuse to make an issue in my humble home.
Oh and this led into obesity in the U.S. Phew doesn’t it sound like we were all a bunch of carpies (is that the right word or am I referring to fish?). Yes, there is an obesity problem there but it’s also a growing problem (no pun intended) here, in India, Mexico, you name it…blame it on Nintendo, TV, internet, McDonalds, laziness, cheese, beer, whatever.
The following day I had a fabulous omelette. I do mean fabulous. Boy that sounds funny right after my paragraph on obesity. LOL.
Then off to Hardy’s childhood home, a lovely little cottage with tiny upstairs rooms. We then went to Bere Regis, famous for its connection to Hardy's novel 'Tess of the d’Urbervilles', first published in 1891, where it is referred to as 'Kingsbere'. (Never mind that he described it as a “half dead townlet.”) We stopped at the church there, lovely with carved roof and Tuberville stained glass window.
Then it was time to eat again (these trips are heavily weighted toward food, again no pun intended). This time: the Greyhound. I think we pre-ordered, then all re-ordered and confused the kitchen, wherein we all passed around some starters and desserts because we didn’t want to add insult to injury. I recall thinking the soup (which I did not order) was quite good.
After all that food we simply had to move, and Alice had arranged two walk options for us. Being a gimp, I opted for the putz around Dorchester – “Far from the Madding Crowd” walk. We hit the points on our map, had time to tool around antiquing and shopping a bit, then slipped back to the hotel for some down time.
In my case, a massage at a room in a very cool inn dating back to the 1500’s. The masseuse was fabulous and doctored up my toe with some homeopathic meds. I’ll try anything to move the healing along (anything except the R-I-C-E treatment at this point, apparently. Don’t worry, my time came.).
Truly a fabulous afternoon – historic walk with friends, nap, massage, bath and dinner, all in the space of a few hours.
Our coach (sounds so Cinderalla doesn’t it? Never mind; it was a bus with a bit of a grouchy driver) whisked (lumbered) us off to dinner, this time at the Blue Vinny. Great name, you think? Another good meal; I seem to recall fish this time.
And on Friday we enjoyed another amazing breakfast before heading off to Stinsford Church. Hardy and his wives are buried in the churchyard, and he was baptized within. I shall probably always recall best Alice swearing like a sailor inside; I can’t remember the story she was recounting but it was most amusing and blasphemous! (I’ve always wanted to use that term!!!)
We then stopped for coffee/tea before hitting the train back to Waterloo. 1) we had a little time to kill and 2) one can never have enough of a warm beverage living here, it seems.
Actually, Szerina and I used our coffee time to go on on a mad, fast paced shopping trip that netted nothing (I was looking for warm slippers to accommodate foot issues. You know as well as I that when you go in search of such specific items they are NO WHERE to be found.).
All too soon we were back on a train homeward bound. Another great Alice Leader adventure!
My first order of business was to limp to the tube, meet up w/ the group at Waterloo and watch the rain fall as we headed coastal, toward Weymouth. Lovely country and a great day to be watching the world go by.
Upon arrival at the train station we marched off with our suitcases; our trusty bus whisked us off to the Wise Man pub in West Stafford and we had pub grub in a warm, woody setting. The local cider: good (it’s apparently cider making time here so we naturally got on board with the seasons). The local chili: not so good. Who does chili on rice, anyway?
From The Wise Man we hit the Dorset County Museum, which was supposed to have plenty of Hardy items to peruse. However, our tour guide apologetically noted X was missing, Y they couldn’t find, Z was under protection, etc.
We all had a good chuckle at their expense.
Then off to Max Gate, Hardy’s home, which he designed. It’s a Gothic looking, stately but not particularly grand home. There one of the very elderly actresses who played Tess’ sister in one of the theatre productions done during Hardy’s time was present. She couldn’t hear well but shared memories of rehearsing in the parlor. The Swiss woman in our group visited with her for a bit, spending most of the conversation trying to convince her she wasn’t German. In fact, she’s from the French part of Switzerland, so really not inclined to jump on board w/ the German business.
The room in which this little old lady held audience was one of a few we could tour (ok, one of two if you didn’t count the entry way). In the other room we were given a welcome by a Hardy expert, who recited some of his poetry, bringing it alive with his Dorset accent. What I remember best was the old sofa on the far side of the room; someone expired upon it 100 years ago.
Then we were off to the Yalbury Cottage (at least my faction of the group; others were chauffeured to their respective hotels.). Our cottage was in a quiet, rural spot with cows and ponies frolicking in the pastures behind.
My window looked out upon this pastoral scene, which felt straight out of a Hardy novel. He captures the essence of the landscape and weather beautifully in his prose.
After some re-group time we met for dinner at the Yalbury, which I have to say has a great chef. I’d stay there for the food alone. Short commute, too. Apparently said chef used to work for 4 Seasons as an executive chef.
At the moment I can’t remember what I ate (unbelievable, isn’t it). Of course it is a month later.
Ah yes…now I recall. Scallop starter, vegetable and spelt pie for my main (sounds so healthy but believe me it packed a wallop of really good butter) and apple flan to finish. Perfect for the season.
I do remember the conversation at our table…it went from “why are our kids taking the tube for their field trips?” (vs. busing, why 3rd grade and not the older/potentially more seasoned 5th graders, for example.) I, for what it’s worth, didn’t really get concerned about losing my daughter on the tube. One, I guess we’ve already been down that path and am now de-sensitized? (thankfully a short-lived fright but all ended up fine), 2) Claire’s teacher is WAY on top of things and 3) the 3rd grade crowd seems to have enough acumen to sort themselves out (probably because ASL has drilled the protocol into them should they get separated from the group, tube or no tube).
Ok back to the table conversation. Yes so it ranged from the tube to plastic surgery (re-building of cheekbones – who knew?). As my friend Allison says, I thought you did that through weight loss.
Then we moved on to 3rd grade girls and carbohydrates. This I refuse to make an issue in my humble home.
Oh and this led into obesity in the U.S. Phew doesn’t it sound like we were all a bunch of carpies (is that the right word or am I referring to fish?). Yes, there is an obesity problem there but it’s also a growing problem (no pun intended) here, in India, Mexico, you name it…blame it on Nintendo, TV, internet, McDonalds, laziness, cheese, beer, whatever.
The following day I had a fabulous omelette. I do mean fabulous. Boy that sounds funny right after my paragraph on obesity. LOL.
Then off to Hardy’s childhood home, a lovely little cottage with tiny upstairs rooms. We then went to Bere Regis, famous for its connection to Hardy's novel 'Tess of the d’Urbervilles', first published in 1891, where it is referred to as 'Kingsbere'. (Never mind that he described it as a “half dead townlet.”) We stopped at the church there, lovely with carved roof and Tuberville stained glass window.
Then it was time to eat again (these trips are heavily weighted toward food, again no pun intended). This time: the Greyhound. I think we pre-ordered, then all re-ordered and confused the kitchen, wherein we all passed around some starters and desserts because we didn’t want to add insult to injury. I recall thinking the soup (which I did not order) was quite good.
After all that food we simply had to move, and Alice had arranged two walk options for us. Being a gimp, I opted for the putz around Dorchester – “Far from the Madding Crowd” walk. We hit the points on our map, had time to tool around antiquing and shopping a bit, then slipped back to the hotel for some down time.
In my case, a massage at a room in a very cool inn dating back to the 1500’s. The masseuse was fabulous and doctored up my toe with some homeopathic meds. I’ll try anything to move the healing along (anything except the R-I-C-E treatment at this point, apparently. Don’t worry, my time came.).
Truly a fabulous afternoon – historic walk with friends, nap, massage, bath and dinner, all in the space of a few hours.
Our coach (sounds so Cinderalla doesn’t it? Never mind; it was a bus with a bit of a grouchy driver) whisked (lumbered) us off to dinner, this time at the Blue Vinny. Great name, you think? Another good meal; I seem to recall fish this time.
And on Friday we enjoyed another amazing breakfast before heading off to Stinsford Church. Hardy and his wives are buried in the churchyard, and he was baptized within. I shall probably always recall best Alice swearing like a sailor inside; I can’t remember the story she was recounting but it was most amusing and blasphemous! (I’ve always wanted to use that term!!!)
We then stopped for coffee/tea before hitting the train back to Waterloo. 1) we had a little time to kill and 2) one can never have enough of a warm beverage living here, it seems.
Actually, Szerina and I used our coffee time to go on on a mad, fast paced shopping trip that netted nothing (I was looking for warm slippers to accommodate foot issues. You know as well as I that when you go in search of such specific items they are NO WHERE to be found.).
All too soon we were back on a train homeward bound. Another great Alice Leader adventure!
Thursday, November 4, 2010
India. Or not?!?
I was still in fly high mode after the 13.1 disorganized Run to the Beat race. (I'll go w/ 13.1 because it sounds longer than ½ a marathon. Even better would be the measurement in km but I’m not that good at math and am too lazy to google. That’s wicked bad down to the toes LAZY, isn’t it?).
Well anyway, still in my high flying mode, I recall getting up early the following day set the world on fire (generally that means I've gotten up before everyone else to putz in my kitchen and on my computer. Plus the toe/coffee table accident hadn't yet occurred so I had big plans and no distractions.)
Order of business: make coffee, check email. So while the French press was doing its thing and I was as of yet devoid of caffeine, I was sure the note I opened from my husband did not say he hadn't been let in and was catching a BA flight home in an hour.
How does a tired clean cut, nicely dressed businessman not get allowed into India's India-ness? Last time I saw him he didn't look like much of a threat to the country.
(Frankly I’m the one who occasionally runs around the house in a rave with bedhead. Husband? Not so much. And since he’s in human resources, his diplomacy skills are outstanding (when one is deficient in a category, i.e. self, one does notice these things).
At this point I had coffee, which did not change the content of his note. Hmmm!
So there you have it. Husband turned up exhausted later same day. Apparently he’d been shuffled from small waiting room to small waiting room along with others who couldn’t pass go.
He did manage to be returned to England via business class. A long way to go for nothing but miles…
The following day found me doing the St. Johns Wood walk with the London Walks people. Ironic, isn’t it, that later that day I would slam myself into the coffee table and find walking REALLY a drag.
The SJW walk was good, though the guide took plenty of potshots at the high retail value of homes in the area. Maybe she didn’t make the connection that we were with the St. Johns Wood Women’s Club…a group of women residing in…well, St. Johns Wood.
Then again maybe she enjoyed slamming residents w/ her snide comments?
Nevertheless, a good walk that carried us around the neighborhood to learn about historical events, buildings and famous faces in our back yard.
Some of the highlights:
St John's Wood is a district of north-west London, England, in the City of Westminster, and at the north-west end of Regent's Park. It is approximately 2.5 miles north-west of Charing Cross. Once part of the Great Middlesex Forest, it was later owned by the Knights of St John of Jerusalem.
St John's Wood was developed from the early 19th century onwards. It was one of the first London suburbs to be developed with a large amount of low density "villa" housing, as opposed to the terraced housing which was the norm in London up to the 19th century, even in expensive districts. Parts of St John's Wood have been rebuilt at a higher density, but it remains a highly desirable residential district.
St John's Wood is the location of Lord's Cricket Ground, home of Middlesex County Cricket Club and the Marylebone Cricket Club (MCC), and original headquarters of the sport. It is also famous for Abbey Road Studios and the street Abbey Road, where The Beatles recorded, notably the Abbey Road album, the cover of which features the band crossing the road. Paul McCartney has owned a property in the area since the 1960s along with many other famous music and film stars.
The King's Troop, Royal Horse Artillery has a barracks in St. John's Wood and regularly exercises their horses by parading them through the streets of St. John's Wood.
Chef Clarissa Dickson Wright grew up in St John's Wood, and the former Wrights' home is now home to supermodel Kate Moss. Actor Damian Lewis was born in St John's Wood. The Rolling Stones referenced it in their song "Play With Fire". The director, wit and physician Jonathan Miller was born into a wealthy family in the area. The British World War II flier Douglas Bader was born in St. John's Wood.
I must say I’ve yet to hit a cricket match, but that’s on the list…I believe the 2012 summer Olympics archery events and maybe others will be held at Lord’s, so watch for it on the telly!
As for the Beatles crossing, I step over that much-acclaimed crosswalk at least twice a day, if not more often. Much to the annoyance of many strategizing for the perfect Beatles replicated photo, I’ve walked through plenty of shots. Good thing for photoshop.
Re: Kate Moss. If I’ve seen her, she hasn’t registered. Clearly I don’t read enough People magazine.
As for the royal horses, we do see them regularly and had the opportunity to tour their barracks last year. That’s a must do, especially since the horses will be relocated next year.
More late; I’m fried!
Well anyway, still in my high flying mode, I recall getting up early the following day set the world on fire (generally that means I've gotten up before everyone else to putz in my kitchen and on my computer. Plus the toe/coffee table accident hadn't yet occurred so I had big plans and no distractions.)
Order of business: make coffee, check email. So while the French press was doing its thing and I was as of yet devoid of caffeine, I was sure the note I opened from my husband did not say he hadn't been let in and was catching a BA flight home in an hour.
How does a tired clean cut, nicely dressed businessman not get allowed into India's India-ness? Last time I saw him he didn't look like much of a threat to the country.
(Frankly I’m the one who occasionally runs around the house in a rave with bedhead. Husband? Not so much. And since he’s in human resources, his diplomacy skills are outstanding (when one is deficient in a category, i.e. self, one does notice these things).
At this point I had coffee, which did not change the content of his note. Hmmm!
So there you have it. Husband turned up exhausted later same day. Apparently he’d been shuffled from small waiting room to small waiting room along with others who couldn’t pass go.
He did manage to be returned to England via business class. A long way to go for nothing but miles…
The following day found me doing the St. Johns Wood walk with the London Walks people. Ironic, isn’t it, that later that day I would slam myself into the coffee table and find walking REALLY a drag.
The SJW walk was good, though the guide took plenty of potshots at the high retail value of homes in the area. Maybe she didn’t make the connection that we were with the St. Johns Wood Women’s Club…a group of women residing in…well, St. Johns Wood.
Then again maybe she enjoyed slamming residents w/ her snide comments?
Nevertheless, a good walk that carried us around the neighborhood to learn about historical events, buildings and famous faces in our back yard.
Some of the highlights:
St John's Wood is a district of north-west London, England, in the City of Westminster, and at the north-west end of Regent's Park. It is approximately 2.5 miles north-west of Charing Cross. Once part of the Great Middlesex Forest, it was later owned by the Knights of St John of Jerusalem.
St John's Wood was developed from the early 19th century onwards. It was one of the first London suburbs to be developed with a large amount of low density "villa" housing, as opposed to the terraced housing which was the norm in London up to the 19th century, even in expensive districts. Parts of St John's Wood have been rebuilt at a higher density, but it remains a highly desirable residential district.
St John's Wood is the location of Lord's Cricket Ground, home of Middlesex County Cricket Club and the Marylebone Cricket Club (MCC), and original headquarters of the sport. It is also famous for Abbey Road Studios and the street Abbey Road, where The Beatles recorded, notably the Abbey Road album, the cover of which features the band crossing the road. Paul McCartney has owned a property in the area since the 1960s along with many other famous music and film stars.
The King's Troop, Royal Horse Artillery has a barracks in St. John's Wood and regularly exercises their horses by parading them through the streets of St. John's Wood.
Chef Clarissa Dickson Wright grew up in St John's Wood, and the former Wrights' home is now home to supermodel Kate Moss. Actor Damian Lewis was born in St John's Wood. The Rolling Stones referenced it in their song "Play With Fire". The director, wit and physician Jonathan Miller was born into a wealthy family in the area. The British World War II flier Douglas Bader was born in St. John's Wood.
I must say I’ve yet to hit a cricket match, but that’s on the list…I believe the 2012 summer Olympics archery events and maybe others will be held at Lord’s, so watch for it on the telly!
As for the Beatles crossing, I step over that much-acclaimed crosswalk at least twice a day, if not more often. Much to the annoyance of many strategizing for the perfect Beatles replicated photo, I’ve walked through plenty of shots. Good thing for photoshop.
Re: Kate Moss. If I’ve seen her, she hasn’t registered. Clearly I don’t read enough People magazine.
As for the royal horses, we do see them regularly and had the opportunity to tour their barracks last year. That’s a must do, especially since the horses will be relocated next year.
More late; I’m fried!
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Jama Masjid, Old Delhi
Largest mosque in India
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