When we came back from breakfast there was a large leather cover over the bed, it said "Luggage" in italics. Apparently, we are supposed to pack, place our luggage outside our cabins this evening and leave tomorrow morning. I can't believe it, our epic honeymoon cruise is coming to an end. I'm already suffering withdrawal. We returned all of our library books this morning on our way to Trivia. Trivia is always lots of fun, but sometimes crazy-making. This morning, for example. When asked for the name of Garfield the cat's teddy bear, I immediately wrote down Pookie, but than scribbled it out and put something dumb. You may think "Pookie" is dumb, but actually it's right. I don't think we'll ever win a Princess keychain or Princess carabiner, but that will not be for lack of trying.
People take Trivia very seriously. I don't think they understand the meaning of the name. The cruise director staff is constantly calming down the disgruntled masses and warding against cheaters. I don't know why you would cheat at Trivia, especially when the prizes are Princess keychains. This afternoon will be our last Trivia. Today is all about lasts: last lunch; last dinner; last walk around the promenade; last complimentary chocolates...
Our last two ports were both Canadian and named in honour of Saint John. First we went to St. John's in Newfoundland, and then to Saint John in New Brunswick. Yesterday, we spent most of our time in New Brunswick trying to find a solid internet connection because school had just started for Chris and work for me. Gulp. We eventually got online at a Starbucks, along with every other passenger from our ship, and the ship next door, and the one around the corner. Saint John is on the Bay of Fundy which gets the highest tides in the world. Fifty foot tides! As we came alongside I looked down, down at the enormous tires hanging on chains from the pier and when we left six hours later, the tires had floated to the top. We couldn't use our own gangways, instead the port provided three that were rigged up to different decks as the tide rose. A lone bagpiper played for us when we were meant to leave, but a computer glitch showed some people as ashore, so we left an hour late. Now we know, you can be late; they won't actually leave without you.
Chris finally has some homework to tear into. He is the opposite of every student everywhere, and practically danced when he found one assignment had been posted.
Tomorrow morning, in the wee hours, we will sail past Long Island. Around 4:30 am we will take on our pilot; then we'll pass under the Verazzano bridge, slip past the Statue of Liberty and come alongside around 6:00 am. I am thinking about getting up early to see the sights, but I am pretty sure the sun will still be shining on another part of the planet and the sights will be invisible.
Thank you Frank and Vicki for making this Amazing experience possible.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Scotland Rules!
The theme of the last few days has been high seas, howling winds and the tenacity of hope. We visited the Fram museum in Oslo, Norway. The Fram is a sailing ship with a deep, thick, rounded hull. It looks a little like a hazelnut and was designed to withstand the crushing ice of the polar seas. The Fram museum is the Fram itself in a building with a sharp roof, and it is one of the best museums I've been to. We clambered all over the solid ship--up the sloping deck, down steep ladders past the narrow cabins and deep into the hold. We saw photos and silent films of a the ship locked in ice, the ship being tossed about in a storm--the round hull rolling recklessly--the ship on its way to the Antarctic, its deck swarming with sled dogs. We saw photos of grizzled men with frozen beards. The men's arms stood out from their sides, the shape of their necks lost in headgear. I sometimes found it difficult to plod back up the sledding hill in all of my layers, so thick that the whole length of my legs rubbed together with every step. Swish, crunch, swish, crunch.These men traversed mountains dressed in wolfskins, snowshoed across glaciers, and survived for years on hard tack and seal fat.
When we left Oslo we learned we would skip our next port in the hope of reaching Greenock, Scotland before the roughest weather hit, kicked up from a hurricane and a tropical storm spun off of the East coast of the States. This ship glides through the water. We are so large and so heavy and so full of stabilizers, that most of the time it's hard to tell we're even moving. It took ten foot waves and near gale force winds to get us to shimmy and shake. The stabilizers prevent the typical pitching and rolling, so instead we rock and vibrate, like a train. The dining room becomes a sea of bobbling heads; people bump into walls, chairs and each other, servers rush to carry plates to safety. Chris found he couldn't comfortably read, so, just like the intrepid explorers of Antarctica, we spent the afternoon watching movies. One was surprisingly OK, "The Vow", and the other was disappointingly even worse than we expected, "The Accidental Husband". Chris also watched ESPN, when the signal allowed. We ate our meals by the large windows and watched, hypnotized, as the waves rolled by, the wind sheering off their tops and streaking them in white. Occasionally, the stabilizers, the waves and wind would fall out of synch and the ship would rumble and groan. At some point in the night the knocking and tapping of phantom items came to an end, the shuddering and shaking dropped off and we found ourselves safe in the lee of the Hebrides. Day two at sea was no big thing. The Promenade deck was even reopened.
Today was brilliant. Chris has declared it his favorite day so far, and decided that we should move. To Scotland. We came in to Greenock and passed through the friendliest, most cheerful tourism and information center. We were given clear and detailed instructions on how and where to catch the train to Glasgow, where we met up with friends and had a lovely afternoon. It was a nice treat to actually see people we know and get to have some real catching-up conversations. Throughout the day, everyone we came across was nice: the information center volunteer; the man in the corner shop who sold me a top up voucher for my phone; the girl in the phone shop who told me I needed a new SIM card for my top up voucher to work, but that I could get one for a pound across the street; the girls selling train tickets; the gentleman checking train tickets; the waiters at the coffee shop and at the restaurant; the people lining the streets waiting for the parade of returning Olympic champions. Glasgow has certainly lived up to its reputation as a friendly city ;) Even the weather treated us well, with mostly blue skies. We felt right at home and called out the names of our faithful British companions as we strolled the streets, "WHSmith", "Primark", "Argos", "Pret!" "Sainsbury's Local". We took the opportunity to stock up on some British treats. Tomorrow morning I will figure out how to smuggle crumpets past the buffet greeters to the toaster. In the end, under a dramatic sky of rolling clouds, a great big team of bagpipers gave us a wonderful send off as the wind blew our ship safely off the pier. As Chris said, it felt like the town was actually glad to have us come visit.
When we left Oslo we learned we would skip our next port in the hope of reaching Greenock, Scotland before the roughest weather hit, kicked up from a hurricane and a tropical storm spun off of the East coast of the States. This ship glides through the water. We are so large and so heavy and so full of stabilizers, that most of the time it's hard to tell we're even moving. It took ten foot waves and near gale force winds to get us to shimmy and shake. The stabilizers prevent the typical pitching and rolling, so instead we rock and vibrate, like a train. The dining room becomes a sea of bobbling heads; people bump into walls, chairs and each other, servers rush to carry plates to safety. Chris found he couldn't comfortably read, so, just like the intrepid explorers of Antarctica, we spent the afternoon watching movies. One was surprisingly OK, "The Vow", and the other was disappointingly even worse than we expected, "The Accidental Husband". Chris also watched ESPN, when the signal allowed. We ate our meals by the large windows and watched, hypnotized, as the waves rolled by, the wind sheering off their tops and streaking them in white. Occasionally, the stabilizers, the waves and wind would fall out of synch and the ship would rumble and groan. At some point in the night the knocking and tapping of phantom items came to an end, the shuddering and shaking dropped off and we found ourselves safe in the lee of the Hebrides. Day two at sea was no big thing. The Promenade deck was even reopened.
Today was brilliant. Chris has declared it his favorite day so far, and decided that we should move. To Scotland. We came in to Greenock and passed through the friendliest, most cheerful tourism and information center. We were given clear and detailed instructions on how and where to catch the train to Glasgow, where we met up with friends and had a lovely afternoon. It was a nice treat to actually see people we know and get to have some real catching-up conversations. Throughout the day, everyone we came across was nice: the information center volunteer; the man in the corner shop who sold me a top up voucher for my phone; the girl in the phone shop who told me I needed a new SIM card for my top up voucher to work, but that I could get one for a pound across the street; the girls selling train tickets; the gentleman checking train tickets; the waiters at the coffee shop and at the restaurant; the people lining the streets waiting for the parade of returning Olympic champions. Glasgow has certainly lived up to its reputation as a friendly city ;) Even the weather treated us well, with mostly blue skies. We felt right at home and called out the names of our faithful British companions as we strolled the streets, "WHSmith", "Primark", "Argos", "Pret!" "Sainsbury's Local". We took the opportunity to stock up on some British treats. Tomorrow morning I will figure out how to smuggle crumpets past the buffet greeters to the toaster. In the end, under a dramatic sky of rolling clouds, a great big team of bagpipers gave us a wonderful send off as the wind blew our ship safely off the pier. As Chris said, it felt like the town was actually glad to have us come visit.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Passenger in Transit
Our cabin smells like cantaloupe. Chris succumbed to a similar but, according to the CDC guidelines, less severe version of my stomach bug. He was not officially quarantined, but spent all of our day at sea cloistered in the cabin watching "Twilight's" melodramatic "Breaking Dawn". While I only had a taste for jello, Chris only wanted cantaloupe. Both of us thought crackers were OK, too. Yesterday was his first day out in the big world, in the vibrant city of Copenhagen. It was actually a change-over day; most of the passengers disembarked in the morning and new passengers came on board for the next cruise, the crossing. We had to carry "Passenger in Transit" cards when we went ashore and got to feel like Emerald Princess natives when we came back on board. The emergency drill passed barely noticed, we only had to put down our books to plug our ears at the sounding of the general alarm. For hours afterwards I saw people wandering around with life jackets. May as well explore and have a drink, now that I'm up.
Copenhagen is a cool city. At least I think it is. We'll have to come back to both Stockholm and Copenhagen some day. We couldn't really explore either city, as throughout both one of us walked cradling a still tender tummy. Even still, we appreciated the beautiful architecture of Copenhagen, the abundance of bicycles and the miles of pedestrian zones. Lots of the main streets and squares have been torn up and blocked off while the city frantically renovates and upgrades the metro system, the roads. We've noticed lots of construction on this cruise, everything has to be finished before the winter weather sets in and work freezes to a halt.
Although we didn't see much of Stockholm on foot, it reminds me of a cleaner, brighter version of St. Petersburg. The cities' bones are quite similar. Both are built across dozens of islands, with countless bridges crisscrossing the rivers and canals. In both cities the buildings reflected in the water look like cakes; in St. Petersburg the buildings are wide and sprawling, great big sheet cakes, while in Stockholm they're more square and contained, dainty little petit fours. And, both cities are large and busy. For us, the best, most captivating part of our visit to Stockholm was the archipelago. It took a few hours to navigate away from the city and through the thousands of islands. Apparently the Baltic does not have much of a tide, so houses are built right up against the water. Large ships must maintain a slow speed to not throw out a destructive wake. Chris and I sat up in the dining room and looked out as rocky, pine-covered islands of every size drifted past. We saw little wooden summer houses perched on the edge of even the smallest islands and listened to the lecturer describe Sweden's enlightened relationship with the outdoors.
Copenhagen is a cool city. At least I think it is. We'll have to come back to both Stockholm and Copenhagen some day. We couldn't really explore either city, as throughout both one of us walked cradling a still tender tummy. Even still, we appreciated the beautiful architecture of Copenhagen, the abundance of bicycles and the miles of pedestrian zones. Lots of the main streets and squares have been torn up and blocked off while the city frantically renovates and upgrades the metro system, the roads. We've noticed lots of construction on this cruise, everything has to be finished before the winter weather sets in and work freezes to a halt.
Although we didn't see much of Stockholm on foot, it reminds me of a cleaner, brighter version of St. Petersburg. The cities' bones are quite similar. Both are built across dozens of islands, with countless bridges crisscrossing the rivers and canals. In both cities the buildings reflected in the water look like cakes; in St. Petersburg the buildings are wide and sprawling, great big sheet cakes, while in Stockholm they're more square and contained, dainty little petit fours. And, both cities are large and busy. For us, the best, most captivating part of our visit to Stockholm was the archipelago. It took a few hours to navigate away from the city and through the thousands of islands. Apparently the Baltic does not have much of a tide, so houses are built right up against the water. Large ships must maintain a slow speed to not throw out a destructive wake. Chris and I sat up in the dining room and looked out as rocky, pine-covered islands of every size drifted past. We saw little wooden summer houses perched on the edge of even the smallest islands and listened to the lecturer describe Sweden's enlightened relationship with the outdoors.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Grumpy Old Men
The green pine trees, craggy rocks and red wooden houses of Sweden are quietly gliding by outside our balcony. Chris is on his way up to the 16th deck to work out. I am sitting at our cabin's desk, waiting out the last thirty minutes of my 24-hour quarantine. They take their stomach bugs seriously on Emerald Princess. Good thing I had Chris to fuss and coo, "poor little sweetie" and pick out movies and make sure I rehydrated, otherwise I just felt like a criminal. At 8am, when the doctor's clinic opened, we paid the 55 dollars for a visit, because that was the only way to get any over-the-counter drugs. The gift shop remains closed when in port. Our cabin was cleaned, our linens changed by specially trained crew and I had 24-hours of free room service. Not any old room service, mind, but the Emerald Princess bland diet room service, which is really all that appealed any way. The incoming tray was handed directly to Chris -- the room service attendant is not allowed to enter the room -- the used trays were not placed outside in the hallway but handed off over the threshold when we called. Instead of going ashore in Helsinki, we both caught up on the sleep we'd missed the night before, watched three movies, ate five jello pots, and finished our books. We're really getting the full cruise ship experience.
For the two days before the "onset of the illness" we raced around St. Petersburg. In order to get ashore in St. Petersburg, without individual visas, we had to sign up for excursions. Before the first excursion of the first day we were all assembled in the Princess Theater in rows according to our tour and our bus number. Sadly, even the streamlined efficiency of Princess cruises could not overwhelm the slow moving bureaucracy that is Russian immigration. Our bus finally pulled out of the newly built and wind-swept "largest passenger terminal in the Baltic" one hour behind schedule. This was not our guide's fault, nor was the subsequent rush hour traffic, but so many of our fellow passengers complained and grumbled. The poor guide, Inna, was stuck in a bad place. Half the passengers wanted to rush and get back to the ship in time for their afternoon excursions, and the other half wanted to get their money's worth and take their time. The palace rooms at Peterhof were opulent and ornate, gilded and exquisitely crafted, but the golden fountains, glistening in the sun, and the rainbow-catching spray were the best part. There are no pumps, just the force of gravity, pushing the water through the pipes and out into the sunshine. In the afternoon, we motored up and down the Neva on a tour boat seeing the city as it's meant to be seen, from the water. We couldn't enter the canals because the high waters would have made the bridges into decapitators. We ended our chaotic, non-stop day with an evening at the ballet, Swan Lake. I am glad we did the excursions, because we really are trying to get the full experience of cruising life and we definitely saw a lot -- of St. Petersburg, and of our fellow passengers -- but I wish we could have explored on our own. There is so much more to see in a city than just the sites. On the second day we did get two hours of free time. Chris and I spent most of it at "Dom Knigi", the House of Books.
For the two days before the "onset of the illness" we raced around St. Petersburg. In order to get ashore in St. Petersburg, without individual visas, we had to sign up for excursions. Before the first excursion of the first day we were all assembled in the Princess Theater in rows according to our tour and our bus number. Sadly, even the streamlined efficiency of Princess cruises could not overwhelm the slow moving bureaucracy that is Russian immigration. Our bus finally pulled out of the newly built and wind-swept "largest passenger terminal in the Baltic" one hour behind schedule. This was not our guide's fault, nor was the subsequent rush hour traffic, but so many of our fellow passengers complained and grumbled. The poor guide, Inna, was stuck in a bad place. Half the passengers wanted to rush and get back to the ship in time for their afternoon excursions, and the other half wanted to get their money's worth and take their time. The palace rooms at Peterhof were opulent and ornate, gilded and exquisitely crafted, but the golden fountains, glistening in the sun, and the rainbow-catching spray were the best part. There are no pumps, just the force of gravity, pushing the water through the pipes and out into the sunshine. In the afternoon, we motored up and down the Neva on a tour boat seeing the city as it's meant to be seen, from the water. We couldn't enter the canals because the high waters would have made the bridges into decapitators. We ended our chaotic, non-stop day with an evening at the ballet, Swan Lake. I am glad we did the excursions, because we really are trying to get the full experience of cruising life and we definitely saw a lot -- of St. Petersburg, and of our fellow passengers -- but I wish we could have explored on our own. There is so much more to see in a city than just the sites. On the second day we did get two hours of free time. Chris and I spent most of it at "Dom Knigi", the House of Books.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Epic Honeymoon Cruise
Some days ago, who knows how many, we left Portland, OR passed through Chicago and Munich and ended up, travel-weary and a little woozy, at the baggage reclaim in Copenhagen airport. Along with five or six others, we were bused to the ship, led through security, given our key cards (which also act as I.D. and shipboard credit card) and directed to our room, D317. We met our cabin steward, a tall, humorous, Polish guy called Kris, and were told to get ready for the emergency drill. Looking around at our muster station, Chris and I decided we must represent a minority group amongst Princess customers. We sat, orange life-jackets carefully folded on our laps, and watched as repeat-customers dozed off to the shout and crackle of the PA.
By now we have explored most of the decks -- my favorite is definitely the Promenade deck, which as the name implies, allows us to walk completely around the ship. Three times around equals one mile, because, as we now know, this ship is enormous. Not only is the circumference 1/3 of a mile (1,760 feet!) , but the height is staggering. We tower above everything else in port. The views are amazing, no matter where we are: from our balcony we watch the moon light up a strip of the sea; from the dining rooms we look out over miles of water, or at a rocky islands covered in pines; from the promenade we gaze over the stern, hypnotised by the swirling, washing-machine chaos being churned out behind us. Our wake stretches out behind us for miles.
We haven't yet eaten in the formal dining rooms, we've had all of our dinners in the buffet restaurants on the fifteenth deck. Immediately before entering the buffet we are directed to sanitize our hands--with 3,000 passengers and 1,500 crew, this plan makes a lot of sense. At peak times in the buffet lines you must be savvy and alert to keep your plate safe. Groups or individuals can suddenly reverse, cornering you by the oatmeal pots; while a passenger examines the spread to his right, his towering plate lists dangerously in his left hand; you must protect your plate from unpredictable elbows and shoulders flying in from port or starboard.
Apart from arriving in Copenhagen, we've visited two ports so far, Oslo, Norway and Aarhus, Denmark. In my mind's eye I now equate Denmark with bikes. Bike paths run faithfully between the road and the sidewalk. Not American style bike lanes, which are usually just renamed shoulders, but real paths with their own curb and all. At large intersections the bikes have their own mini set of traffic lights! Everyone peddles along: men in suits; girls in dresses; grandmas; grandpas; young dads with a child in the back; teenagers; students. No one wears a helmet and no one carries a lock. The buildings and railings are lined, two or three deep, with bikes. Bikes are everywhere! And none of them are locked up. Aarhus is Denmark's second largest city, and it's biggest port. The bike-lined mile of pedestrian streets was heaving with people this Saturday. Everyone was out to shop, dine, catch up with friends, flirt, and check out the live music. We navigated the little streets and made our way north to the Botanic garden and Aarhus University. We like having a destination, no matter what it is, as it allows us to see more sides of the city. We were led down residential streets of multi-coloured row houses; past paint stores, grocery stores, bike shops, home goods stores, tiny mini marts nestled in garden-level basements; past some graffiti and some robust front gardens. We passed the art museum with its rainbow paned panoramic walkway and the big, modern library.
This is the first time either of us has visited Scandinavia, it's fun to see the people. I recognise my fine hair and easily-burning scalp in the people we pass, my height does not feel out of place. For once I feel I am "ethneutral", I am not usually addressed in English, but Chris is. Oslo is a lovely city. Once again we chose some destinations and explored the streets. The architecture is varied -- some cake-like buildings, some pointy, doily-like buildings, lots of yellow, orange and red. The streets run into each other at odd angles and we had to pay attention to stay on the same street. We saw the Nobel Peace Prize Museum (that does not sell imitation coins), the National Library and the National Gallery. Our final destination was the Vigeland Park which was designed by Gustav Vigeland and filled with his work. His statues are a tribute to humans and to life, in all of its stages. Everyone is naked (the statues, I mean), but they are all engaged in normal activities -- swinging a child, fighting, hugging, crying, consoling, dancing, playing. His style is not overly detailed or so-realistic-it's-creepy. Instead they seem like sketches in statue form, all of the emotions and movements are so perfectly conveyed.
By now we have explored most of the decks -- my favorite is definitely the Promenade deck, which as the name implies, allows us to walk completely around the ship. Three times around equals one mile, because, as we now know, this ship is enormous. Not only is the circumference 1/3 of a mile (1,760 feet!) , but the height is staggering. We tower above everything else in port. The views are amazing, no matter where we are: from our balcony we watch the moon light up a strip of the sea; from the dining rooms we look out over miles of water, or at a rocky islands covered in pines; from the promenade we gaze over the stern, hypnotised by the swirling, washing-machine chaos being churned out behind us. Our wake stretches out behind us for miles.
We haven't yet eaten in the formal dining rooms, we've had all of our dinners in the buffet restaurants on the fifteenth deck. Immediately before entering the buffet we are directed to sanitize our hands--with 3,000 passengers and 1,500 crew, this plan makes a lot of sense. At peak times in the buffet lines you must be savvy and alert to keep your plate safe. Groups or individuals can suddenly reverse, cornering you by the oatmeal pots; while a passenger examines the spread to his right, his towering plate lists dangerously in his left hand; you must protect your plate from unpredictable elbows and shoulders flying in from port or starboard.
Apart from arriving in Copenhagen, we've visited two ports so far, Oslo, Norway and Aarhus, Denmark. In my mind's eye I now equate Denmark with bikes. Bike paths run faithfully between the road and the sidewalk. Not American style bike lanes, which are usually just renamed shoulders, but real paths with their own curb and all. At large intersections the bikes have their own mini set of traffic lights! Everyone peddles along: men in suits; girls in dresses; grandmas; grandpas; young dads with a child in the back; teenagers; students. No one wears a helmet and no one carries a lock. The buildings and railings are lined, two or three deep, with bikes. Bikes are everywhere! And none of them are locked up. Aarhus is Denmark's second largest city, and it's biggest port. The bike-lined mile of pedestrian streets was heaving with people this Saturday. Everyone was out to shop, dine, catch up with friends, flirt, and check out the live music. We navigated the little streets and made our way north to the Botanic garden and Aarhus University. We like having a destination, no matter what it is, as it allows us to see more sides of the city. We were led down residential streets of multi-coloured row houses; past paint stores, grocery stores, bike shops, home goods stores, tiny mini marts nestled in garden-level basements; past some graffiti and some robust front gardens. We passed the art museum with its rainbow paned panoramic walkway and the big, modern library.
This is the first time either of us has visited Scandinavia, it's fun to see the people. I recognise my fine hair and easily-burning scalp in the people we pass, my height does not feel out of place. For once I feel I am "ethneutral", I am not usually addressed in English, but Chris is. Oslo is a lovely city. Once again we chose some destinations and explored the streets. The architecture is varied -- some cake-like buildings, some pointy, doily-like buildings, lots of yellow, orange and red. The streets run into each other at odd angles and we had to pay attention to stay on the same street. We saw the Nobel Peace Prize Museum (that does not sell imitation coins), the National Library and the National Gallery. Our final destination was the Vigeland Park which was designed by Gustav Vigeland and filled with his work. His statues are a tribute to humans and to life, in all of its stages. Everyone is naked (the statues, I mean), but they are all engaged in normal activities -- swinging a child, fighting, hugging, crying, consoling, dancing, playing. His style is not overly detailed or so-realistic-it's-creepy. Instead they seem like sketches in statue form, all of the emotions and movements are so perfectly conveyed.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
The People Upstairs and the Green Belt
They must have wooden floors up there; no brown, one-millimeter-thick, industrial carpet softens the noise. It’s a couple living above us. The wife worked for Imelda Marcos and stole half her shoes: tap shoes, golf shoes, combat boots, a pair of cleats, steel-toed construction boots, ballet point slippers and some wooden clogs. At least I assume some such footwear magnifies the pounding of her feet. Her husband has two peg legs, obviously. They have nightly square dance lessons and step aerobics throughout the day. Some times they go to the store, buy a bag of apples and bring them home to drop, over and over again. There’s an awful lot of vacuuming too.
Chris and I went on a day hike through “Happy Valley”, along the North Downs Way and back up through another valley to the train station. The London green belt is in zone 6. This means you can swipe your tube card and take a commuter train out to a valley, where there are cows and birds and wide-open views. The walk was lovely, just long enough to tucker us out, but not so long as to make anyone (Chris!) grumpy (“I hate hiking!”). We had perfect weather, warm with long periods of sun. Chris got to pet a lot of dogs out on their walk, and he even got to pet three horses. We walked past a field and called the horses over. The enormous beasts eagerly trotted over and looked for apples in our hands. Chris held out his hand and let the horse’s big lips cover his whole fist. Chris didn’t have an apple. Then we pet them. I was nervous that the horse would bite Chris’s hand off, and then we’d have a problem. So I took pictures to distract the horse, and myself. They were sweeties though, and did not bite off Chris’s hand, or his face. They just waited patiently to be stroked. Horses are big.
Our guidebook was very detailed. “Walk one meter, turn left and walk fifteen meters, pass to the left of the cattle-guard. Walk 200 meters with the field to your right and a wood to your left”. Our guidebook was so detailed we got confused. We assumed that the cattle guard in front of our face must not be right, or else it wouldn’t require such precise directions. Soon though it turned the hike into a scavenger hunt! We eagerly sought out the table with two benches, or the metal cattle barrier, we knew what sort of landmarks waited for us up ahead. I suppose because we were just in the suburbs of London, the hike did not follow a single path, instead a trail was cobbled together from all of the green spaces. We passed through an old village and stopped at a church that was written in the Domesday Book. The parish was founded in 1076. America was founded seven hundred years later. Woah.
Chris and I went on a day hike through “Happy Valley”, along the North Downs Way and back up through another valley to the train station. The London green belt is in zone 6. This means you can swipe your tube card and take a commuter train out to a valley, where there are cows and birds and wide-open views. The walk was lovely, just long enough to tucker us out, but not so long as to make anyone (Chris!) grumpy (“I hate hiking!”). We had perfect weather, warm with long periods of sun. Chris got to pet a lot of dogs out on their walk, and he even got to pet three horses. We walked past a field and called the horses over. The enormous beasts eagerly trotted over and looked for apples in our hands. Chris held out his hand and let the horse’s big lips cover his whole fist. Chris didn’t have an apple. Then we pet them. I was nervous that the horse would bite Chris’s hand off, and then we’d have a problem. So I took pictures to distract the horse, and myself. They were sweeties though, and did not bite off Chris’s hand, or his face. They just waited patiently to be stroked. Horses are big.
Our guidebook was very detailed. “Walk one meter, turn left and walk fifteen meters, pass to the left of the cattle-guard. Walk 200 meters with the field to your right and a wood to your left”. Our guidebook was so detailed we got confused. We assumed that the cattle guard in front of our face must not be right, or else it wouldn’t require such precise directions. Soon though it turned the hike into a scavenger hunt! We eagerly sought out the table with two benches, or the metal cattle barrier, we knew what sort of landmarks waited for us up ahead. I suppose because we were just in the suburbs of London, the hike did not follow a single path, instead a trail was cobbled together from all of the green spaces. We passed through an old village and stopped at a church that was written in the Domesday Book. The parish was founded in 1076. America was founded seven hundred years later. Woah.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
The Newcastle
We rode the Megabus to Newcastle. What’s so mega about a Megabus? Not much, perhaps the length of the journey, or the mega-deal of the unmegacious prices. We left at four, after Chris finished his shift, (and after we loaded up on the café's goodies). The bus lumbered through the dusk, past the suburbs of London, into night, and we swayed to a wheezing halt in downtown Newcastle at eleven pm. There we had a fabulous visit with the fabulous Gerry and Adele. On Saturday we clambered aboard the train to Durham (a ten-minute journey) and enthusiastically showed Chris our old streets, shops and homes and investigated the new development (restaurants and bars) down by the river. The day was beautiful and mild; we admired the architecture, the cathedral, the castle, the bridges and the cobbled streets. We glared and scoffed at the unfortunate university buildings that came into the world in the sixties, a decade of concrete, clunky shapes and no respect for natural light. Gerry and I argued is the Union building the most hideous, or the library? I guess the library at least has beautiful books inside; you should never judge a book by its library!
Chris had to head home to London the next day to be back in time for work, but I got to stay a little longer—it was my “reading week” and I had no classes. After hanging out in downtown Newcastle, Adele and I flung ourselves about the room as we perfected every Wii challenge. The Wii is the first video game thing since Tetris to claim my attention for more than fourteen seconds. The next day we wandered along the coast, to the end of a nearly endless pier, through the mud to a Collingwood monument, and had a perfect cup of tea before going to the cinema.
If you haven't seen "True Grit" you should, unless you don't like movies. In that case, I'm sorry, there's nothing we can do for you. Then watch it again, because it is beautiful and extremely re-watchable. On Wednesdays Chris and I can go to the cinema--that's what we call it here in Engerland--for half price (a mobile phone deal), and a couple of weeks ago we saw "Black Swan". The music swirled around my head for the next ninety-nine hours. I'd like to thank my brother for shattering my be-a-ballerina dreams, and my parents for never signing me up for ballet lessons.
Chris had to head home to London the next day to be back in time for work, but I got to stay a little longer—it was my “reading week” and I had no classes. After hanging out in downtown Newcastle, Adele and I flung ourselves about the room as we perfected every Wii challenge. The Wii is the first video game thing since Tetris to claim my attention for more than fourteen seconds. The next day we wandered along the coast, to the end of a nearly endless pier, through the mud to a Collingwood monument, and had a perfect cup of tea before going to the cinema.
If you haven't seen "True Grit" you should, unless you don't like movies. In that case, I'm sorry, there's nothing we can do for you. Then watch it again, because it is beautiful and extremely re-watchable. On Wednesdays Chris and I can go to the cinema--that's what we call it here in Engerland--for half price (a mobile phone deal), and a couple of weeks ago we saw "Black Swan". The music swirled around my head for the next ninety-nine hours. I'd like to thank my brother for shattering my be-a-ballerina dreams, and my parents for never signing me up for ballet lessons.
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