A peaceful ride

Vashon Island Trails

I'm an experienced rider, but always slightly apprehensive getting back in the saddle after a long break.  All horses are potentially dangerous and can buck, rear, bolt, or just plain trip and fall down. Riding takes mental discipline more than anything else. You don't even have to be particularly fit, but horses can sense if you are indecisive or fearful.  

“Some people have hypothesised that the element of danger in human-horse interactions provides particular therapeutic benefits, through self-mastery, emotional regulation, learning how to take calculated risk or overcoming fear.” 
Kirrilly Thompson

That's true, I suppose, but I'm long past the stage of life where I relish "the element of danger." For me, the mental benefit comes from the pleasure of connecting with nature from the back of a nice horse. What a privilege. I'm as good a rider as I'm ever going to be, so why take unnecessary risks?

Speaking of good, Moe was a perfect horse.  I always lead on our trail rides, which means paying more attention.  Guess it did Moe good packing kids around at summer camp.  He's in excellent shape and walked quietly down the trail. Marianne's horse, despite his advanced age and various aliments, did fine too.  He would follow Moe through the gates of hell. So the ride did us all good.

The weekend rolls around again.  John says he has some "serious football" to watch tomorrow night and there "might be swearing."  That must mean the Buckeyes have a big game.

We have another day of dry warm weather before things change on Sunday. I'm working on getting the beds ready for compost in October.  Actually, I'm trying a composted waste/sawdust product called "Growco," which supposedly has more nutrients and is cleaner than municipal compost, which can contain bits of trash. The nice guy who brought the bark for me last spring said he would come and spread it.

See you Monday!

Friends for life

In a moment of weakness, I gave the crows a half bag of slightly rancid Trader Joe's peanuts.  That should cement our friendship for the next 6 months.

September finishes with the most perfect fall weather imaginable. Today and tomorrow will be in the 70's, probably the last warm days this year. After a week of goofy jet lag, we're finally getting back into our normal routine. Our trip already feels like it happened a long time ago, almost to someone else. Why is that?

My friend Marianne invited me out to Vashon Island today for a trail ride if her horse is up to it.  He's an old guy with many health issues, but seems to keep on going like the energizer bunny.

I get to ride gentle Moe again, who is back at the boarding stable after spending the summer at a horse camp on the Island. Presumably working hard there, although there were mixed reports about his behavior with the kids. He's a smart old dude and knows exactly how much he can get away with. I've never had a problem with him, but then, I'm even older and a maybe a bit smarter.

I'm not leasing Moe this winter, but his owner agreed to let me rent him on per ride basis, which is a perfect arrangement.  Today will be interesting, since neither of us rode since last spring. But if nothing else, a nice escape from the current news cycle.

Try to remember

September 26th is Johnny Appleseed Day, the comical Disney figure who traveled the wilds of America spreading apple seeds. He was in fact a serious missionary by the name of John Chapman, an original American St. Francis, with a love and respect for all living creatures.

Chapman was one of the first ethical vegetarians and went to great pains not to hurt animals, including insects. The apples he cultivated were an important crop and most went into the production of hard cider.  In the 1800's, the average Massachusetts settler consumed about 35 gallons of hard cider a year.  

The new Honey-crisp apples (my favorite) are in the stores, so today is a good day to remember to eat an apple and maybe take a day off eating meat in honor of Johnny Appleseed.  Have you tried following the "Meatless Monday" habit?  We did for a while, and I plan to get back in the habit of cooking vegetarian supper on Mondays. They say if everyone gave up meat just one day a week, it would have a tremendous impact on global health and saving precious resources.

The eastern part of the country is still getting drenched, but our September weather is at the peak of perfection.  But sunrise was at 7:01 this morning, sunset at 6:58.  We are tipping over into the dark time.  No wonder so many lovely and poignant songs have been written about the bittersweet month of September.

Sunrise, sunset

There's a gorgeous harvest moon setting in the west this morning.  We're right at the autumnal equinox, that most pleasant time of year with 12 hours of daylight. Sunset and sunrise are both at 7.  

Best of all, the weather is perfect. After a smoky hot August, what a pleasure breathing cool, clean air again.  Who needs the gym, when you can spend the morning working outside?

We are s-l-o-w-l-y getting over the nasty jet lag. I have a lot of respect for people who do this frequently.  I still wake up around 2 am, but can usually go back to sleep for a couple of hours. Then I feel all wonky again about 4 in the afternoon, which is 1 am in Paris.  It feels good being home. Paris may be the food capitol of the world, but nothing beats simple home-cooked meals. 

Just a few little notes

We were at the Symphony yesterday afternoon, and heard a magnificent performance of Beethoven's Violin Concerto, played by virtuoso Augustin Hadelich.

It took almost an hour to drive the short distance downtown, due the double whammy of the Seahawk game and a weekend closure of the Alaska Way viaduct. As we inched through the construction zones in our car-hostile downtown, I thought about the ease of public transportation in London and Paris. With all our money and brilliant American technology, we're a century behind here on the most basic urban infrastructure.

Anyway, it was nice seeing our friends, even though we didn't have much time to visit before the concert.  From the program:

Beethoven’s Violin Concerto reminds us all: Every moment is precious. This flawless creation turns each simple gesture — even just one repeated note — into a profound event. Violinist Augustin Hadelich, a musician as heroic as he is sensitive, dispatches Beethoven’s immortal concerto with his “silvery tone, pinpoint intonation and surprising turns of phrase."

Speaking of precious moments, Amanda sent me these pictures of the girls on a hike at Golden Doe recreation area near Twisp.  They are growing up so fast and we miss them dearly.

 And what's this?  A new member of the family?

Autumn arrives

The Last Rose of Summer

Tis the last rose of summer
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone:
No flower of her kindred,
No rose-bud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
Or give sigh for sigh...

Thomas Moore

It still felt like summer when we left, but the rain finally came and the grass is starting to green up again.  It was too dry even for weeds, but now all the tiny seeds in the beds are coming up and I have a mess on my hands.

I'm always amazed how fast gardens go to wrack and ruin. I don't spend that many long hours outside in the summer, it's more of a constant puttering and keeping up on the small things.  Anyway, it sure shows when I'm away.

The season change is welcome after yet another scorching summer-- the air is cool and fresh this morning after overnight rain, and the trees starting to change color.  The pink sedums are the prettiest thing in the garden right now.

I'm looking into ordering some good quality bulk mulch, and hopefully a strapping man to spread it around for me. The soil needs amendment anyway, and I'm tired of wheel-barrowing endless leaves from across the street. They don't fall for another month and the weeds are sprouting now.

What a pleasure writing on my laptop again.  The iPad was a handy travel tool, but tedious for pecking out long posts with two fingers.  And stupid spellchecker skunked me on the small screen again and again-- making funny mistakes like calling "creme brulee" "crime brulee." John was my proofreader, but some days I was too tired to even care about typos.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed our impromptu travel log.  I'm sorry I couldn't put our own photos on the blog with the iPad. We took quite a few pictures of course, and I'll put together the best ones for a book or slideshow. Looking back, it already feels like a fine adventure, and you soon forget about the discomfort and stress of long distance travel.

Our minds might be home, but our bodies haven't got the message yet.  I wake up at about 1:00 am, thinking "Oh good, I've slept through the night." Nope.

I'm no stranger to insomnia, and this type is not worth fighting. Just get up and do something.  Sleep is impossible when your body is wide awake and convinced it's lunch time. They say it takes a full day for your body to adjust to each hour of time change.  So that would be about a week.

Approximately 125,210 steps later

The ankle-twisting cobblestones of Paris...

The Greenwich Mean Time line (really)

We are home.  It's now 10:35 pm in Seattle, 7:35 am in Europe. My poor tricked body is wide awake, ready for another day hoofing it around Paris.

We landed in Seattle the same time we left Paris-- same day, about 11 am. We almost made it through the early TV news, which was 3 am in Paris. But after 4 hours of sleep I was up. Everyone says east-to-west jet lag is the worst.

What an adventure. We learned so much, not just about the places we went but about ourselves. Our vacations tend to be laid back and relaxing, like California, so this trip was something completely different.

Getting around European cities alone requires tremendous stamina and resourcefulness (Good for you, Dan and Rebecca!) We feel pretty good about how much ground we covered in just 10 days. In retrospect, of course, I would have planned things differently, but we still made wonderful memories. And I got my Eurostar to Paris train that I'd been looking forward to for so long.

A few observations:

1. London is exciting (if you like that sort of thing) but exhausting.  Millions of people travel from around the world to literally mob the famous sites, like Buckingham Palace and Westminster Abbey. I'm glad I saw it way back in the 1970's.

2. Be prepared to stand in line for a long time, whenever you go. We managed only a couple of the big attractions in London, and our best day was in Greenwich, which actually felt like a real English town.

3. I realized I can walk much further than I thought! This is good. And if you walk 14,000 steps a day, you can eat Brie and chicken pastry pie, sausage and mash, chips and pints of beer and not gain weight.  In fact, you might even lose some.

4. England has some catching up to do with home appliances. Especially washing machines. However, they have mastered the little electric kettle, that boils your tea water in 3 minutes flat. I want one.

5. Paris is lovely. Paris is intimidating. Google Translate is not particularly helpful. The men are sophisticated and tailored, the young people beautiful, the women all wear pretty shoes on the street with flowing summer dresses and tailored linen outfits. Everyone is well groomed and they can spot Americans a block away.

6. When it comes to public transportation, most American cities suck. 

7.  My husband is excellent at figuring out public transportation. I followed him around like a puppy. Uber is indescribably helpful in a pinch. Ditto iPhones, which can even direct you to exact graves in ancient Paris cemeteries.

8. When time is limited, be more thoughtful about what you choose to do. Impulsive is not always a good thing. You can't see everything. Avoid guided tours, unless they involve food and wine in Paris.

9.  Whatever you take along to wear in Paris, it won't look right. Get over it.

10. It is almost impossible to get a bad meal in Paris, but dining out is another new culture to navigate. Food service doesn't even begin until about 7:30 in restaurants, late for the weary tourist.  I'm only slightly ashamed to say we ate hamburgers and drank wine one evening looking out on our private balcony. 

11.  But most of all, I was just grateful for the small and important things, like staying healthy, making tricky connections, flights and trains that left on time, hotels and apartments that had a key waiting for us. But most of all, the steady companionship of a (mostly) uncomplaining husband. We had a good time.

Massive Charles de Gaulle Airport, gateway to Seattle

via Delta Airlines, non-stop 10 hour flight

 

Au Revoir, Paris

We skipped the longest line imaginable to “go up” this afternoon, and admired her from the Seine river boat instead, along with the outside of Notre Dame.

So...all good things come to an end.  A rude awakening tomorrow morning for our 10 am flight back to Seattle. Where we will land about the same time we took off, on the same long day. Airline gods willing, that is.  Wish us luck.

Chopin and Morrison

Our morning pilgrimage to Cimetiere du Pere-Lachaise Paris to search out musical shrines: the graves of Chopin and Jim Morrison.  I played “Light My Fire” on my phone and remembered, just for a few seconds, feeling like 17 again.

Americans in Paris

I walked over 17,000 steps yesterday...about 8 miles. A record?  John slightly less, because he didn’t make a side trip to H&M for a few light cheap things. He’s probably relieved I don’t have energy for any real Parisian clothes shopping.  Gosh, it was hot. How do you pack for such a trip? I was sweltering all day in a synthetic tunic top and pants. In London, I never went out without a coat. Travel packing is much harder for women. Although I don’t know why I worry about it- all the tourists at breakfast this morning looked pretty rumbled.

Enough about my clothing woes. You might remember that John spent several weeks in Paris long ago, on a work project for Boeing. He’s good at the logistics of travel anyway, but here he already has the Metro down, and said little has changed except you buy paper tickets instead of tokens. We set off early to the Musee Cluny near the Sorbonne to see the famous “Lady and the Unicorn” tapestries.  They are much bigger and more beautiful than you can imagine from any photograph or reproduction. For a few minutes, we actually had the silent room to ourselves before groups started arriving.  The first must see checked off the list.

I bought one day, hop on/hop off Seine boat passes, and then we boarded near Notre Dame Cathrdral.  It was a beautiful morning and we should just stayed put and enjoyed the round trip ride. Sometimes being impulsive works out, but often, it takes you down an unexpected path and time you might have spent otherwise is used up.  We got off a the Champ Elysee dock, as I wanted to see the iconic view of the Arch de Triumph from the famous boulevard.  This turned into about a mile walk one way from the river. London feels big, but Paris feels enormous. All those wide streets and plazas designed for conquering Army parades, going around the block can easily be a quarter mile.

We eventually got back on track and made stops at the Paris Opera House and the massive Church of the Madeline. Then we went out to dinner, which was quite an experience in itself for homebodies like us. An ordinary Monday night, and the restaurants and cafes were jammed with people eating out.  It was a much fancier meal than we’re accustomed to, in Seattle this place would be exceptional, but just one of thousands of restaurants just like it in Paris. I had oysters and steak, John had onion soup and lamb. And the best crime brûlée we’ve ever tasted. Our waiter said the Prime Minister had dined there the night before. Anything seems believable in Paris. Once agin, I slept like the dead.

This morning, after a a brief stop to see the stained glass windows at St. Chappell, we took the Metro to the Montmartre area for a 3 hour walking food tour.

Food is serious business in France, and we learned in great detail about the culture of eating, the lifestyle, the daily food shopping, the importance of seasonal food.  I lost count of how many shops we stopped at, everthing from chocolate and bakery to butcher and cheese and pastry.  Our guide was enthusiastic and funny, and eventually we found ourselves sampling all the things he bought and drinking wine in a small private restaurant.  At least 10 types of different cheeses and meats, along with many fresh baguettes and wine. The tour stretched on to 4 hours, so we certainly got our money’s worth.  It finally ended in the sidewalk with a freshly made jam crepe.  I loved the bohemian Montmartre neighborhood, home of the original starving artists and of course, Mimi.

No tummy problems (knock wood) despite all the unfamiliar foods. Tomorrow is our last full day in Paris.  How fast the time has gone.

C’est ci bon

Luck was with us today on the Eurostar route to Paris. Due to engineering works on the tracks, there were fewer trains runnng than usual this weekend.  I reserved the 10:20 am train months ago and fortunately I picked that particular one, not the earlier or later, because both trains on either side of us were cancelled as we sat in the station this morning. Meaning hundreds of people stranded in London with seriously messed up travel plans.

The maximum speed is an astonishing 200+ mph.  That is surely the fastest we’ve ever moved on ground. After leaving London and blasting through the Kent countryside, you are soon under the English Channel. We had backward facing seats, but I wasn’t about to complain, being so happy just to have a train at all. Disorienting at first, I soon got used to it.  We were diverted off the high speed rails in France, so our trip took an extra hour, but gave more time to look at the French countryside. We had “premium economy class” so they even brought us a nice little meal with with wine.

Oh, Paris. Many years since I was last here, but how lovely it still is. The gorgeous architecture. The Sunday streets were teeming with people at restaurants, cafes, the stylish clothing stores, food markets.  The weather is unseasonably warm and will hit 80 tomorrow. All my London clothes (what’s left of them) are too hot.

We are staying in a hotel on the Left Bank. We have a 6th floor room with a balcony. I guess we’re not on Portsoken Street anymore.

River stories

Blogging on the iPad has its own unique set of frustrations! We are taking photos, of course, many I’d like to share as we go along, but I’m unable to upload them from our phones to the blog.  The pictures you’re seeing are just post cards off the internet.  Well, putting together a collection of the best will be a fun project when we get home.  I haven’t bothered to set up any of the other photo sharing services. I spend too much time pecking away as it is.

One of the ironies of long distance travel is by the time you are settled in, adjusted and able to get around with ease, it’s time to move on. For example, I wish we had spent the day at Kew Gardens instead of Windsor.  A week is just not enough. That’s lesson number one.  I’d love to see more of England.  But this international trip (I’m not calling it a vacation) is a learning experience for us. Central London is an exciting and fascinating place, but with the cultural diversity and multitude of languages, there’s little sense of being in England at all.

But if you avoid the giant tourist attractions and head out a bit, it’s a much nicer experience. London is made up of hundreds of separate neighborhoods and districts, all with unique atmosphere.

We had a wonderful day yesterday, out on our own in Greenwich.  From practically our backyard, we can take the river bus service up and down the Thames. Greenwich is a short but interesting ride, as the Thames is always up to something- the tide rushing in or out, windy or calm, you never know. You pass by posh apartment buildings along the river, once the site of the most dismal slums. The river is brown, but not running with sewage. You can sit back and contemplate this where the British Empire pushed out into the world.

Greenwich is home of the Cutty Sark, on magnificent display at the ferry dock. Once the fastest sailing ship in the world, it made the trip between England and Australia in record time.  Maritime Greenwich a world heritage site, so there were lots of visitors, but it felt wonderfully like a normal English town. We stopped at a bakery for tea and tarts then set off to find the Royal Observatory, the exact location of Greenwich Mean Time, the prime meridian of the world. Yes, you can actually stand on a little piece of it for free.

From there we wandered back into town and had quite a good bowl of pho (no kidding) for lunch. The best things seem to happen by accident, and we stumbled into the St. Alfege Church, on that site for a thousand years and the baptism place of Henry VIII. Also the church home of Thomas Tallis, the father of English church music.

Finally a visit to The Queen’s House, a Tudor mansion filled with fascinating art including the famous “Armada Portrait” of Elizabeth I. And no crowds at all. It was a wonderful day. As we left the ferryboat we saw a large tour group being herded on, and took a big sigh of relief it wasn’t us.

We are going to a play this afternoon, and then must strike camp and sadly leave England tomorrow, just when we figured things out.

With a bit of luck, Eurostar will depart on time and whisk us under the English Channel to Paris.

Pub grub

England has always been synonymous with bad food. That’s fortunately changed, although we’ve Americanized the world. Hamburgers are ubiquitous, ditto nachos, hot dogs, tortilla chips and so on. Actually it’s just a different kind of bad food.  I don’t remember any of that junk from the 1970’s. Pub grub was just sausage rolls, scotch eggs and cheese and pickle (chutney) sandwiches.  Kids drank “fruit squash” not coke. 

After my disastrous fried food overload the first day, I’ve been more careful.  Still, I’m eating things I don’t at home, like white bread and ice cream. We especially enjoyed the fresh hot crumpets, scones with clotted cream and jam, and today mini apple pie and Bakewell tart.  John is still hoping to sample Victoria Sponge Cake, so often featured on the Great British Bake-off. Well, it is vacation. 

In our neighborhood, heart of the financial district, pre packaged sandwiches, salads and take out food is the thing.  The shops are everywhere. You see exhausted workers grabbing up arm loads of the stuff on the way home from work. Neither of us will eat prepared food that’s been sitting around for days.  It’s interesting that there are so many options for food, yet so few good choices.  

Some of the pubs are lovely establishments, others just grubby drinking holes. We went back to our local pub last night, mostly because I was too tired to walk more than a block.  It’s noisy, but I like The Minories, sitting under an ancient convent brick ceiling,with the trains literally roaring overhead every few minutes. Where else in the world but London. 

John had a simple steak sandwich he liked.  I had “sausage and mash” which sounds (and can be) awful.  But this was artisan links arranged on a mound of mashed potatoes, with carmelized onion, fresh peas and a touch of brown gravy.  My kind of food, and delicious. I ate the whole thing. The portion size was perfect and it cost 11 pounds, about what you would pay in Seattle for such a tasty meal, if you could find it. In fact, food prices seem about the same, and often less. 

After several days, we’re getting the basic domestic skills figured out. We can take showers now without screams coming from the bathroom.  I made a cooked breakfast this morning on the hot plate-type stove.  Ham and cheese omelette with fried tomatoes and toast.  The washing machine/dryer combo remains a electronic egnima.  It starts and stops without reason, the cycles last for hours, and worse of all, it locks your clothes inside until they are well and truly wrinkled.  

As for the city, we are getting around fine and have the basics figured out. In other words, feeling right at home just before we have to leave...a shame.

We had the best day ever today, which I’ll write about later.

Windsor Castle tourist attraction-trap

You know that Roger Miller “England Swings” song that’s been running through your head since I put it on the blog? That England doesn’t exist anymore.

I knew that! But several times a day, John still comments, “well, what did you expect?” And my reply always the truthful same: I don’t know what I expected after 40 years. Who does?

Suffice to say, no “bobbies on bicycles,” unless you count heavily armed paramilitary officers, but these are surprisingly few and far between, when you consider the terrorism risk. But this city is so vast, so incomprehensively diverse and complex, how could you ever watch everything, or anything for that matter? So everyone just “keeps calm and carries on” with great haste and purpose. Just like the motto on the stupid coffee cup.

We are not really guided tour types, but I decided to book just one. This isn’t a particular criticism of the tour we took yesterday to Windsor Castle, about 25 miles from London.  It was probably typical of most. The morning started very early, because we had to take the Underground in rush hour across town to the Victoria Coach (bus) station for 8:15 departure. Despite the general chaos, people seemed to find their departing bus for day tours far and wide.

The trip to Windsor is supposed to take 45 minutes, but it stretched to an hour and a half due to gridlock traffic and an accident on the M-something.  At last we arrived at the Castle town. From the coach park, our guide said we would “walk briskly up the hill” to the entrance.  No kidding, and it was quite a hike with folks struggling keep up. We lost sight of the guide and were basically carried along with the crowd of thousands. Like a giant tourist pilgrimage, half Chinese, who move in groups. Once again, we stood in slow lines for the airport security check.  Our weapon was already confiscated, so no problem.

Finally we were actually inside Windsor Castle, that is, the part they let you troop around in. The guide left us and it was nice being finally able to explore at our own pace. You can see why the Queen loves her weekend home. It is surrounded by beautiful country side, most of which she owns and can ride her horse as she pleases. It is the oldest, continuously occupied castle in the world.  Windsor is magnificent, almost to the point of feeling fake. At times I could have sworn I was in Disneyland. I kept forgetting this was the real thing.  Remember the little country wedding there in May? We actually got to go in the exquisite St. George Chapel where it took place. Jealous?

In summary, the Queen owns lots of stuff: priceless paintings, endless chinaware sets, gold, tapestries, furniture beyond belief and so on. And this is just her weekend home, it doesn’t even include Buckingham Palace. Speaking of which, at 1 pm it was time to try and find the bus park again. The town of Windsor is basically a shopping mall (I recognized many stores) but laid out on confusing medieval streets. Directions and finding things isn’t easy. When someone tells you “it’s just across the road” it can mean anything.

We found the bus again (fortunately John wrote down the license) and headed back to London. Most of the poor souls on the bus were actually touring Buckingham Palace in the late afternoon. Can you imagine. We had the half day tour, but it sure felt like a full day to us.

We are walking about 14,000 steps a day, according to our phones. This is normal for John, but quite a bit for me. We are well but weary.

An easier day today hopefully.  More later...

Cheers!

The Queen’s horses and Art

So the day started with John committing a crime in the Queen’s stable. We went to Buckingham Palace to tour the Royal Mews, one of the tourist attractions that requires passing through a metal detector, just like an airport.  The tiny pocket knife he carries everywhere with the LOCKING BLADE (horror of horrors) is illegal in Britain. The palace security girls were very nice, and offered to call the police to “explain” the law in more detail.  No thanks.

To make a long story short, they confiscated the evil knife for “destruction” and John signed some sort of paper granting him amnesty. Being England, it was all very polite.  I said, what a civilized country! John said this a country that fears a 63 year old man with a finely crafted pen knife. I said be grateful you didn’t wind up in the dock at the Old Bailey. 

Anyway, I liked the mews, home of the royal cars and the over-the-top golden carriage that gets dragged out once in a blue moon. And the beautiful horses.  I actually saw and smelled a few which made it worthwhile.  

I’m embarrassed to say we then went to McDonald’s for a familiar old hamburger and coke and it was one of the cleanest places we’ve been in London.

The Tate Britain was the next must see just for their collection of pre-Raphelite paintings.  I thought it was thrilling seeing many of the beautiful originals; so did a lot of other people since it was the most popular gallery.  They had room after room of monotonous Turners. They had a appropriately spooky William Blake room that was deserted except for a few mystics.  Then we had a $5 cup of tea in the basement cafe.  

Most tourists would have soldiered on to the next attraction, but we still had to make our way home to the east end via river taxi and Tube.  Which is actually becoming ho hum easy.  We have housekeeping duties here and spend a lot of time just getting the washing machine/dryer to work. Actually John took on the technical challenge of the diabolical machine, which I appreciate. The cycle runs for about 4 hours, drying everything to a wrinkled, shrinked-up crisp, so you have to plan ahead which clothes you want to ruin.  Why did I bring my good clothes? I’m saving a few nice things out for Paris. 

London is interesting. I was last here in 1979, so saying things have changed is an understatement.  It’s more like a different country where English is the second language. Cosmopolitan is the nice word for it I guess.  

John said he thought London would be more like PBS.  His highlights today were the crumpet with jam, an excellent jasmine tea worth the price, and a slice of walnut cake.  I guess that sums it up. Still we are having fun together doing something so different. I’m feeling much better, and tomorrow we’re taking a tour bus to the Queens other digs at Windsor Castle. I only wish we had time to see more of the countryside.  

Twinings Tea Shop

I’m afraid I was a bit of a wet blanket yesterday morning, but by afternoon ready to venture out again. We decided to give the bus a try with the Oyster cards, and so went careening down the incredibly congested streets in the top front seat  of a double decker, watching the constant string of near misses.

The Londoners are fearless jaywalkers, weaving through traffic witthin an inch of lives. The tourists and senior citizens are the only ones who obey the walk/don’t signs, and even those can be tricky as the traffic is approaching from the “wrong” direction. The city has thoughtfully written on the sidewalk which way to look before crossing.

Anyway, we rode about 20 minutes to The Strand, past the Royal Justice Courts which looked like a giant palace. This is the home of the notorious Old Bailey where the high crimes are tried. Our area of town is  the finance types, the Strand is full of groups of barristers riding around in expensive cabs. Our destination was Twings Tea Shop, which has been in this location for 300 years. (Think about that, Americans.) We like Twings tea, so of course bought some. You can even buy tea by the bag and I grabbed a handful of chamomile for my stomach.

We boarded the bus again for Trafalger square to have a quick look at the giant lions. From there we found an Underground station back home. Dinner was a sad affair with crackers and packaged soup- we honestly couldn’t find anything nearby that wasn’t about fried food. Maybe it was the chamomile tea, but I slept like a rock last night and feel fully recovered. We’re thinking of Buckingham palace and the Tate Britain. A full day in the rain.

St Dunstan in the East

A couple pics of the ruins of St Dunstan in the East. A haunting little sanctuary and reminder of WWII now surrounded by bustling modern city. Layer upon layer of history everywhere- perhaps the most interesting thing about walking the London streets.

Mind the gap

Day 2. So much for “taking it easy.”

1. We walked to St Dunstan-in-the East. The church was destroyed in the Blitz but they planted a beautiful peaceful garden within the ruined standing walls.

2.  Next stop the picturesque Leadenhall market (popular with Harry Potter fans.)
        
3. Emergency shopping at Marks and Spencer to buy a warm “jumper” and two thick scarves for me. 69 degrees with a brisk wind off the Thames is apparently just a summer day here, but I’ve been cold.

4. Lunch with the financial crowd at wine bar. I had a salmon sandwich.

5. Off to our nearest underground station, by the remains of the Roman wall at the Tower of London.

6. After one harmless flub (took the wrong line) we soon figured out the underground and our Oyster cards.

7. A visit to the magnificent St. Paul’s cathedral. John climbed to the Golden Gallery in the dome (528 steps!) for a great view of all London.  I made it to the Stone Gallery, although that was pushing it at 376 steps.  The problem was once you started you were committed, as there was one narrow steep staircase up and another down.

8. Tube back ride at rush hour back to our  neighborhood, and yet another trip to Tesco Express.

9.  Curry sounded like a good idea in theory, and we found a a classy Thai restaurant on the next street.  Everything is topsy turvey with the time change and our bodies don’t like it. I spent a long night tossing and turning with heartburn, a novel malady for me. My sweet husband went out early and came back with an unpleasant but effective remedy that tastes like anise, my least favorite flavor.

Long story short, I haven’t left the apartment yet this morning, but making use of the time by figuring out the washer, a clever little contraption that both washes and dries.

Home sweet home

The 787 Dreamliner is aptly named. Nice job, John and friends at Boeing. We felt quite spoiled but then, you must eventually come back down to reality. Have you heard, London is a popular place to visit?  So much so that the plane had to park on the runway and busses unceremoniously drove us through the underbelly of the airport where we waited in line with thousands of other weary travelers to pass immigration. To the tune of 3 hours. I should not have scoffed at my brother-in-laws advice to carry a walking stick and/or requested assistance.  Live and learn.

Luckily we found our suitcases thrown in a pile in the baggage claim. John was happy I made him attach a goofy Pom Pom to his plain black suitcase. There was an unfortunate mix up with our prearranged driver, or perhaps he just gave up on us.  Thank goodness for my Uber app. We found our driver in the parking garage (just like Las Vegas) and after an hour of fierce traffic we were at our apartment home. The drive was quite a tour of London landmarks except we were a bit too dazed and tired to enjoy. The driver played political talk radio about the latest outrage from the mouth of Boris. (Just change the names and accents and we felt right at home.)

Our apartment isn’t quite as posh as it looks in these pictures (the Brits are not known for their plumbing) but we have everything we need with a Tesco Express around the corner. Best of all we are in a prime location within 10 minute walk of Tower Bridge and the Tower of London. We walked there last night and had beer and chicken wings at a pub called The Minories. The building was ancient, I thought it was an old train tunnel but was a convent of nuns now converted to a drinking establishment. You can google that for an interesting history.

As I an sleep challenged anyway, it took me a long time to “get off” last night when it was still 1 pm in Seattle. However exhaustion eventually won out. John went out early to Starbucks and discovered that an americano here comes with half cream.

Since we are jet lagged and just getting our bearings will spend the morning seeing some sights in this neighborhood, of which there are many. We’ve already decided some of the best places in London might not be the major tourist attractions which are literally mobbed.

Cherrio!

Leavin' on a jet plane

So the bags are (almost) packed and we’re (almost) ready to go. Our Virgin Atlantic non-stop flight leaves Seattle at 2 pm tomorrow, and we arrive London early Sunday morning.  If everything goes as planned, that is.

 

I’m taking an iPad instead of my heavy laptop.  Not to bore you with the technical details, but I blog on the Google Blogger platform with a Mac.  This works fine on the computer- not so great on iPad or iPhone. Let’s just say Google and Apple are not best buddies.  Not to mention, I never mastered that dual thumb action on tiny keyboards.

Anyway, I'll try to peck out some posts on the iPad. Forgive my typos. The only glitch is I can’t easily upload our own photos using the iPad. And dear blog readers, that might be a blessing.  I promise to make a little slide show later with just the best of the best.

Even without the computer, we are laden with ample technology, and you can reach us on email and text.  I hope to check in from Jolly Old in a few days.  Cheerio!

“This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,--
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.”

 

William Shakespeare

Happy Birthday, John

The lonely crow

The mornings are so quiet now. I miss that dawn chorus of birdsong we hear in spring and early summer. You get the impression that the birds have disappeared.  But they've just completed their breeding cycle, so there's no need to stake out and defend territory. Birds also moult in August and it takes several weeks to grow new feathers. They are vulnerable to predators, so why sing and advertise your location? 

The last crow kid from the nest across the street is still hanging around, although his siblings finally gave up and took off.  I threw him a handful of old ham scraps last week and that cemented our friendship for life.  Anyway, he's always watching me from the wire, the shed or the arbor.  He looks pretty scruffy and lonely.

Remember this wonderful old tune?

England Swings

What a beautiful Labor Day weekend. The weather was perfect. It felt good to stay home and putter around, as this coming Saturday we'll finally be off on our big trip. The disadvantage of planning a trip a year in advance is you have lots of time to fuss and worry over details.

I spent most of the weekend packing and unpacking, agonizing over clothing choices as if my life depended on it.  John has it easy. On Friday night, he will toss his suitcase on the bed and dutifully pack whatever I tell him to take.

Anyway, on YouTube videos of London, most people seem to be dressed in that universal urban uniform of jeans, leggings and sneakers. It seems to be always cloudy or raining, although actually, the long term forecast looks pretty good. As for Parisian style, I hope we can just blend in with the crowds.

Happy Birthday, Dad

“You don't stop laughing when you grow old, 

you grow old when you stop laughing.”
 George Bernard Shaw 

Our incredible Dad is 94 years young today.  We wish we could be with you, but send our thoughts and love. Have a wonderful day. 

Class of 2028

Kindergarten Camp on Friday, with buddies Maya, Phoebe and Dahlia. Amanda said Maya was a bit wide-eyed when she dropped her off at the big school, but by the time she picked her up at noon, she was all in.  

Here's to the next generation...purple hair and all!