You Can't Take the (whi)Sky From Me!

I am trying so hard to make it to nine o’clock, and I just don’t think it’s going to happen.

Our day started at 0630 (okay, technically Nate’s didn’t start until 0700, when I got stern) so that we could finish packing and then go grab some breakfast before meeting up with the others at 0730. We bid a fond farewell to our little Yotel room (which may have seriously been our most favorite hotel on this entire trip- certainly a damn sight better than the EasyHotel) and headed upstairs for some grub.

Nathan, of course, didn’t want anything, but I took advantage of the M&S Simply Food (side note: I cannot tell you how much I wish our country had this chain…) to grab a tuna and red-pepper sandwich, along with a few snacks for the flight. Once we’d gotten our little cat herd in once place, we began to amoeba our way towards check-in, where we learned why you’re supposed to show up two hours before your international flight is scheduled to leave.

We stood in that damn queue, inching our way forward, for an hour. And no, I am not exaggerating for the sake of a better story- in fact I’m actually being a bit modest, because I distinctly remember glancing at my time-piece and realizing an hour had passed, and yet we still hadn’t made it to the front…

Eventually we did, however, and from there we went on to security- where they confiscated my Febreeze (which, in all fairness, was in a 6oz bottle- but there was less than 3.5oz of it… oh well…) (and, by the way, a total life-saver in terms of keeping our limited clothing supply bearable) and tried to take my Stag’s Breath whisky liqueur, but I started to kick up a high holy fuss until Nathan calmly pointed out that no matter what the agent thought it looked like, the label on the bottle was 10cl, which was within our volume rights.

I got to keep it.

We had to book it through the rest of the airport, since they were already boarding our flight, but we all made it on okay (although for a while there we thought for sure the Jeff and Elizabeth kitties were going to miss it) and settled in for another eight-hour test of endurance.

(Safely on board!)

Customs was shockingly efficient, but security managed to irritate me. Nathan and I ended up in the body-scan line, which apparently cannot handle scanning such dangerous articles as sunglasses or gold bracelets (I really freaking hate it when they take my bracelet away from me- it was my great-grandmother’s, and there is literally no reason for them to make me take it off). Before I got in they asked if I had anything in my pockets. I told them no. I went and stood in the stupid thing, then they had me stand outside of it, not moving, where they again asked if I had anything in my pockets (shockingly I had not managed to get anything into them between one side of the machine and the other) and then they left me there while they glared at me and didn’t say anything, then they frisked me, and finally said into their little walkie-talkie “female cleared”.

What. The. Hell.

Seriously, I get that it’s for our safety or whatever, but you’d think they’d at least do me the courtesy of telling me why the hell I have to stand in one place, not moving. What about me was so suspicious that there had to be walkie-talkies involved?? And, as Nathan pointed out, the whole thing is just stupid if you’re not subjecting everyone to the same process, which they were not. The other queue, which Jeff and Elizabeth were in, was not subjected to the body scan (although they did unpack their bag because apparently their rolled up clothing looked like food- and yet they let the girl ahead of them take through an over-the-size-limit Tupperware container of pork and beans. Again I say: What. The. Hell.)

Ugh.

We had about a four hour layover in CLT, which was uneventful, as was the final leg home to Birmingham. It is definitely nice to be in my clean apartment, snuggled up in my high thread-count sheets, after the luxury of a shower which involved a loofah and conditioner. And now I’m going to stop fighting, and go to sleep (after all, as far as my body is concerned, it's after two in the morning tomorrow...)

I Can't Let You Do That, Nate...

First of all, I really must exclaim over how freaking cool this Yotel is! It’s like being in a freaking space station (or possibly an iPod…)! I absolutely love it, especially the space-age violet lighting... They should make college dorms like this… (and if you haven’t clicked on the link to their website yet, you really should.)

Nathan and I got up bright and early with the idea of running (not literally) back down to the Royal Mile to pick me up a girl-kilt. We did this will our full packs in tow, since we were supposed to be checked out of the house by 1000, and to Waverley train station by 1130. Once we started shopping around, however, I couldn’t find one that I felt justified in purchasing. They were all either expensive and overpriced, or cheaper but still overpriced considering the cheap fabric (not to mention the issue of finding my size and a tartan I liked), and when it came right down to it none of them really called my name. So I sulked for a while, then remembered a gorgeous rainbow moonstone and rose quartz necklace I’d seen at a vendor the other day, and dragged Nathan down to see if it was still there. If it wasn’t, I had the backup plan of buying a piece of jewelry incorporating green Scottish marble (from the vendor I’d previously purchased my true moonstone pendant from). Weeelllll, as it turned out, the vendors weren’t there at 0930. Nor were they there are 1000. Nathan was well and truly irritated with me by this point, so I pathetically submitted to heading down to the train station, where we verified the fact that our train didn’t leave until 1130. After a bit of wheedling (of which I am just a smidge ashamed) I coerced him into heading back to the vendor area one more time, with the caveat that if they still weren’t there he had the right to a free punch.

Fortunately for my arm, they were there. At least, the Two Skies people and their Scottish marble were, so after much dithering (my tiny fingers make it quite difficult to pick up rings at open air markets) we finally selected one flanked with silver trinity knots, and it was with great satisfaction that I allowed him to herd me back to the train station, where we were just in time to meet the others as they walked in.

The train ride was about four hours long, much of which Nathan and I passed in pleasant conversation with the elder Scottish ladies who sat across the table from us. Scots seem to be far more friendly than the English, as a general rule. Of course, that’s not entirely fair- the people in Portsmouth and Keswick were quite friendly- mostly it was the Londoners who were complete twats.

(One of the nice Scotttish ladies)


(Reading was the other way I passed the time.)

Once at King’s Cross we took the obligatory Hogwarts Express Photos, then scattered like light-exposed cockroaches.

(You always knew I was a witch, didn't you!)


(King's Cross, looking up.)

Nathan and I headed back to the National Gallery, where the coat-check people were assholes to me, and although it was clearly marked everywhere that the Galleries closed at 1800, they shut off the lights at 1730. We stubbornly stayed the course for a few more minutes, but finally gave up and left, bringing the grand total of our time spent in the National Gallery up to a robust fifty minutes. ::sigh:: I never did manage to see the Portrait Gallery…

In need of the kind of comfort that can only be provided by delicious food, we returned to Victoria and The Marquis (home of the only non-douche Londoner we’d met). Nathan had a steak, I indulged in Moroccan-spiced bangers and mash, and we each had a pint of the delightfully refreshing Kopparberg pear cider. Much mollified, we returned to Victoria Station, where we just so happened to run into another part of our cat herd, with whom we teamed up to hop on a train down to Gatwick. Sadly, no meeping people or erudite beggars made an appearance on that journey...

And so we return to the delights of the Yotel, which again- I cannot recommend enough. How brilliant to be already at the airport! How fun to have all sorts of special lighting and a moving bed and amazing shower!

(Coming down the hallway to our "pod". Yes, they call them "pods".)


(The bed in it's couch form, tucked conveniently out of the way.)


(Looking into the glass-and-mirror walled bathroom- the shower is on the right end.)


(Yet another mirror- hello Nate!)

All in all, an excellent way to finish up our holiday in the UK...

This Is How I Roll (Gleefully)

Yeah, it was definitely time for some non-group-time this evening.

But let me back up to the rest of the day, which was really quite delightful. I had already been out-voted on the hiking part of my “Let’s hike to Castlerigg Stone Circle!” suggestion, but everyone was definitely down to drive to them, and thus we did. The stones are on a much smaller scale than those of Stonehenge, but impressive nonetheless, especially since you can actually get in and among them.

(...and on them...)


(Happy happy love stones!)


(The view from the inside of the stones.)

Also, there were lots of sheep milling about, which for some reason continues to amuse and charm me. They declined to be squeezed (prudish creatures), which was a shame, but I did get a bit of (dung-free) wool from one of the stones where they’d passed too close. So how’s that for a unique souvenir?

(Heeeeerrrreee sheepy sheepy sheep!)

From there we hit the road again, this time aiming for Hadrian’s Wall. Well, aiming for a parking lot down a little hill from a portion of the wall, if you want to get technical. One can’t very well go around running one’s rental van into other people’s historical Thingies, can one?

(It's pretty long.) (That's what she said.)

Anyway, we got there and engaged in a bit of “Stay on your side of the wall, you filthy heathen!” and, “Wouldn’t want to be on your side, anyway, you barbaric Englishman!” (I was, of course, playing the part of the afore-mentioned heathen Pict).

(Picts make a break for it!)

After that we crossed the border...

(And we welcome it.)

...and Team A headed for Drumlanrig Castle, where we did not go into the castle itself (got there a bit too late in the day), but did wander the estates thereof.

(Ooo, arty.)

I engaged in a bit of a roll down a hill (shrieking with glee the entire time) (edit: it ended up being one of my favorite parts of the trip), which left me feeling drunk as a skunk, so I had to lay there for a bit and recover.

(WheeeEEEeeeEEEeee!)


(Uuuuggggghhhh...)

There was also a totally awesome playground area: old-school playground, with plenty of character-building splinters and metal burns for all. I was thrilled, and definitely took the opportunity to slide down the giant-ass slide (as did Nate).

(Again I say- wheeeeeeeee!)


(Nathan made some sort of manly noise equivalent to whee, I'm sure.)

Finally we headed to our hotel (in a town called Hamilton just outside of Glasgow) where our cat-herd was reunited and a bit of hissing and spitting ensued. We decided that the best course of action would be for everyone to go their separate ways for the evening, and so Nathan and I had a nice little date at a Tuscan restaurant (where I had the most cheese-infused lasagna I’ve ever encountered), and then spent a quiet evening writing postcards and the like.

The Twice-Climbed Hill

I feel compelled to say that the Lake District is one of the most beautiful (pastoral) places I’ve ever seen.

(There's sheep in them thar hills.)

Truth be told, Nathan and I feel like we’d rather have come here to spend a week instead of dashing about all over the place. But then we wouldn’t have seen as much of London as we did, sooo… obviously we need to come back.

Anyway, we started out this morning with the familiar, dubious offering that is a Holiday Inn Express's idea of 'continental breakfast', and then headed out for Liverpool to take photos on Penny Lane (it’s a Beatles thing).

(Insert Beatles reference here.)

From there we went to Windermere, where I got my most intense UK hiking experience yet. Not so much because the hike was difficult (although it wasn’t exactly easy), but because I did it twice. See, our little cat herd had decided to hike up to Orrest Head, but of course part of the herd set out first- that being Heather and Elizabeth (who, in all fairness, only did so because Elizabeth was worried about slowing the rest of us down)- soon followed by a second part of the herd- that being Don and Barbara- finally followed by the rest of the herd who had been waiting for the second part of the herd to come back from the toilet before we got going (tricksy elders got the drop on us!). As soon as we realized what they’d done, the rest of us (Jeff, Ben, Curt, Alana, Nate, and I) scampered after them (Eel was being pushed in a buggy, lucky little monkey)- only to find ourselves at a fork in the trail. To the left was labeled, in large letters “Public Path”, but to the right, in eensy weensy letters, it said “Orrest Head View Point”.

(To the left)


(To the right, with Ben in the distance.)

Nathan didn’t see his parents to the right, so I was sent loping down the more winding left path to see if I could find them (me being, in the words of one of my fellow travelers, ‘the fittest one among us!’) I caught sight of them rounding a bend about twenty yards from me and hollered, “You’re going the wrong way!” to which Barbara replied, “But this is how Heather and Elizabeth went!” which put me in a bit of a spot. Finally I said, “Oh never mind- I’ll head back and let them know what’s going on.”

So I did.

It was decided that the rest of us would go ahead and head up the right path, but Jeff elected to wait at the fork. “They’ll be back eventually,” he assured us. So up we went on the switch-backing road, occasionally dodging traffic, until it finally turned into an actual trail, which made pushing the buggy a little more challenging, but not undoable.

(Taking an admittedly unnecessary break on the way up.)

Maybe fifteen minutes later we came up to where our trail joined with another trail, and who should be coming around the corner but Don and Barbara!

“Oh crap,” I said, then sprinted ahead to find Ben (I’d been hanging back with Curt and Eel, the better to “protect them from bears”) to ask him to use his phone to call Jeff and let him know to come on up- but then Elizabeth said sheepishly, “Um, I have the other phone…” (we’d bought two disposables for just such occasions…) So I told them to continue to the top while I went and got Jeff, and said that if I got down there and he was gone I’d come back up, so to wait for me.

And then I started running.

Well, not running exactly. If you’ve ever done any trail running you know that your descent is a lot more like a controlled fall/scramble than a run, and that’s what mine was like. I chose to go down the way that Heather and Elizabeth had come up, with the logic that if Jeff had gotten tired of waiting, that’s the way he’d head up. The trail was absolutely gorgeous, much prettier than the way we’d come up, as it sported views of forest and lake rather than people’s homes and sheep fields (which are a different kind of pretty, but are certainly not hard to find anywhere in the rural UK). It was also a bit more treacherous, but that was no matter. I passed a fork a time or two and hoped fervently I was picking the right one, which I apparently did because before too very long I recognized the bend in the trail where I’d earlier found Don and Barbara. I picked up the pace a little and then- ta da! There was Jeff, still patiently waiting.

“Why are you running?” he asked. (It wasn’t until later that I realized he must have thought something was wrong.)

“To get you!” I puffed to a stop next to him. “Turns out the two trails meet up- everyone’s at the top now.”

So back up we went, together.

The view from the top was absolutely breathtaking- you could see for miles in all directions. Forest, lake, hills- and of course plenty of sheep penned in by charming little stone walls. I did some yoga while I was up there, partially because I was in some need of some major stretching (I always am after a lot of travel) and partially because it just seemed the thing to do.

(See that? That's a LAKE. In a DISTRICT.)


(Downward Dog- so nice of Nate to snap a photo...)


(Catching my breath.)

I stayed behind a bit after everyone started down, communing with nature and generally being happy to be in fresh air again.

We left Windermere and headed north for Keswick, where we had a few rooms reserved at a hostel.

(There are cows as well as sheep.)


(But mostly sheep.)

Turns out Keswick is an utterly charming little town, complete with an open-air market (although we wouldn’t discover that until the following morning). The hostel itself was set right on a tiny river, and we sat there for a while watching ducks (including their fuzzy yellow and brown babies) go about their adorable business. Once we were checked in (and had rented towels, etc) we started up a load of laundry and then went in shifts to look for food.

I had the best veggie burger I’d ever had (it was made from actually vegetables, not just weird pressed grains) while Nate indulged in another round of fish and chips (not so good at the Portsmouth edition, but then he wasn’t expecting it to be).

(This is where the market would be, and where we found our food.)

Afterwards Nate and I teamed up to play some pool against Ben and Jeff, and won (I even managed to sink a few intentional shots- it was awesome), and then later Jeff and I ganged up against Ben (which should have been a sure thing since he sucks worse than I do, but right about the time Heather came in to watch Ben miraculously started sinking shots left and right; Jeff and I were a bit flabbergasted, and thoroughly trounced…).

Now the girls are in their tiny room, and the boys are in their slightly-less tiny room (how that happened I do not know) and I am in the top bunk not only because I always like the top bunk but because it seems prudent to give lower bunks to pregnant people and anyone over fifty.

Hither, Thither, and Yon (with a Diversion or Two)

Loooooong day.

We got up around 0800 so that we could get checked out and on the tube to Trafalgar Square by 0830.

(Geared up and on the go!)

What a great little area! You could see so many iconic structures from that point, and of course there were the four gigantic lions for me to clamber over, not to mention lovely fountains with various merpeople.

(To be frank I was far too tiny to actually clambor up on them...)


(Which did not actually keep me from trying...)


(I was big enough for this, tho'.)

(Goooood kitty...)


(Apparently if you're a merperson you can use dolphins as squirt guns...)

Someone had their bird of prey with them, and was exercising it by sending it for short flights across the square. We could not for the life of us figure out why Trafalgar Square for such activities, although we didn't let that stop us from waiting with bated breath for the creature to take out a pigeon… which it never did. The other birds of interest were the random mallards swimming in one of the fountains, and I thought to myself that The Mallards of Trafalgar Square sounds like an excellent name for a children’s book.

(Heeeere, ducky ducky ducky!)

The National Gallery opened at 1000, so we tore through a small portion like mini-hurricanes (we had to be back on the tube by 1030), and managed to see a few paintings by da Vinci and Michelangelo, as well as Titian and a few other Renaissance masters. I couldn’t help but think to myself (spoiled creature that I am) that I’m a bit tired of seeing paintings that I’ve seen hundreds of times in books, by artists whose work I’ve seen dozens of times in the flesh (wretched, ungrateful child, I know). But the fact of the matter is, the vast majority of the “great” artists (and I include da Vinci and Michelangelo in this) were not particularly good painters. I know, I know- blasphemy. But it’s true. Michelangelo was a superb sculptor, and I kind of find it a crime that he ever wasted any time on painting that he could have spent creating more sculptures (and yes I include ceilings in that. Sorry.) Da Vinci was a beautiful draftsman, but his paintings really do not live up to their underlying cartoons. They just don’t. I will say this, tho’- it was freaking sweet to see The Ambassadors (Holbein the Younger) in the “flesh”, because we got to walk around to the side and watch the skull pop into being.

From there we went tearing back to Victoria Station to meet up with the rest of the family, and then walked down to pick up our rental vans to begin our leisurely drive up through the UK. Don drove our vehicle, which also contained Barbara, Ben, and Heather. I cannot say it was an accident that Nate and I ended up in the no-screaming-baby car…

Our first stop was Windsor Castle, which we did not pay to go in to, but did admire from the outside. The surrounding area was quite charming, and I got my first UK cat-call while strolling along, pushing Eel’s buggy. Shortly thereafter Nathan got complimented on his beard, so the two of us agree that the residents of Windsor are a highly discerning lot.

From there we went on to Oxford and met up with an old friend of the siblings named Kerstin, whom I found thoroughly agreeable. She took us down to Christ Church (of Harry Potter film fame) , which unfortunately closed just before we got there (we’d run into some serious traffic on the way into town). We were appropriately impressed by the outsides, however, and spent some time wandering about the grounds.

(Properly foreboding, as all good private schools are.)

For dinner I made an executive decision to stamp my little foot, and we ate at The Eagle and Child, former meeting place of the Inklings.

(Feel the inspiration rising!)

It was actually a pretty great pub just in and of itself, all geeky historical pertinence aside. And I had a completely scrumptious butternut squash pie, because I’d eaten more meat over the past few days that I’ve eaten over the past few months, and my body was full-on rebelling.

(Awaiting my highly delicious pie.)

The “second” van (or “B Team”, as Nathan likes to call them) went ahead and took off for the hotel in Stafford, since they had a little one to get to bed, but the rest of us (“A Team”) went with Kerstin up to her place of employment (Oxford University Press) and nerded out over our small glimpse into the glamorous world of publishing. From there we drove on to Kidderminster, the small town that Don’s maternal grandmother Broadhurst came from. We found a lovely old church with a lonely graveyard, so we wandered around it in the fading light.

(Kidderminster)

So many of the tombstones made me sad, because they said things like, “In memory of my greatly loved and much missed wife, who was born in 1814 and died in 1837, and also of our beloved daughter who died in 1838, and her brother who died in 1838.” And it just made me wonder what exactly happened. Stories, stories everywhere…

Although we enjoyed seeing the ancestral seat, we definitely paid for the privilege: by the time we got back on the road (about 2130) we discovered- much to our horror- that they had shut down a large swatch of M6. To understand what I mean by this, I want you to imagine that they’ve shut down a part of I-65 (if you’re in the SE) or I-5 (if you’re in the PNW) and that you have no access to smaller highways (such as 31) and are instead forced (as we were) to be re-routed along tiny little neighborhood streets. Yeah. It took us about an hour and a half to go five miles, all the while nose-to-tail with our fellow distressed travelers through the perhaps-charming-under-different-cirumstances city of Wolverhampton. The best part of the detour (or "diversion" as they call it here) was the part with construction on it. Yeah.

We did, however, manage to make it here to the hotel (although we were all a bit punch-happy by the time we rolled up) and now I’m going to collapse, and try not to think about the fact that we’re getting up and on the road again in about seven hours…

Last Call for London

Today was Everyone Does Their Own Thing Day, which was pretty sorely needed- at least by me. You have to keep in mind that I come from a very small family, so the largest group I’ve ever tried to do something this complicated with is like six people. This is almost double that. It was definitely a needed stress-relief for us to go our own way for a day.Nathan and I took the opportunity to sleep in (another thing which was sorely needed), then grabbed a light breakfast and caught the tube over to Waterloo. From there we took my uncle’s suggestion and hopped on a Thames Clipper (a commuter boat) for a truly delightful (and brisk) cruise down the Thames.

(Can you believe the sunshine??)

What a wonderful way to see the city!

I was laughing because we started going really fast, and the wind felt good.)

Nathan got some awesome shots of the Tower Bridge (which, to be shamefully honest, I had thought was London Bridge, which had led to me singing under my breath, alternating between Fergie and the classic nursery rhyme). It was pretty awesome to look up at that and imagine back in the day when it was basically like a gigantic market way... (again keeping in mind my London Bride delusion)

(Tower Bridge, not London.)

(Note the way it did not fall as we passed beneath it.)

We road all the way down to Greenwich (pronounced “Grennitch”, for the uninitiated) where the National Maritime Museum and Royal Observatory are both located. It was a lovely place- lots of green lawns and trees scattered about the university. We stopped in at the King’s Arms to have lunch (savory duck wraps, which were just okay) then humped it up the incredibly steep hill to the observatory. It was filled with amazing astronomical gear, and I wished we’d had more time, but we didn’t. What little time we did have we used to indulge ourselves by straddling the Prime Meridian before easing our way back down the hill and into the Maritime Museum.

(This is some sort of Super Power for sure...)

We only got to see a tiny fraction of it (specifically Nate wanted to see Nelson’s uniform: the one he died in, with the bullet hole), but part of what we saw was a gorgeous restoration of a WWI memorial stained glass dome.

(The original was destroyed in a terrorist attack in the 90's- they used what was left as a basis for rebuilding it)

We got back to London proper by riding the DLR (light rail) and the tube again (I could seriously get used to that kind of public transport. So convenient.) and then walked the few remaining blocks to the British Museum.

(Great Court of the British Museum)

Wow.

It. Was. Awesome. And we only managed to see a fraction of a fraction: the Rosetta Stone, an exhibition on money, some Greek and Roman statues, and a bunch of Egyptian mummies. While we were there we ran into Nathan’s dad, Don, who mentioned they had all agreed to meet up on the steps at closing. We were in the museum for maybe an hour before our bodies just gave out, so we headed outside to sit on the steps and wait for everyone else. Turned out Don and Barbara were already there, so we chatted about our individual days, and people-watched.

(Oh you know what this is. That's right.)

Speaking of people-watching, I have to say that I’ve never seen such a city for that activity! Especially for the sub-activity of fashion-watching. I've been taking such glee in the extremes I've seen here- from extremely attractive to extremely absurd... Really, London is such an international melting pot that anything you imagine you’ll probably see. I’ve heard as many people speaking German and French as I have English, and probably more “foreign” accents than British.

The whole of today was wonderful, but also exceptionally frustrating- I kept saying, “We just don’t have enough time here!” and it’s so true. I feel like you’d need a week just to begin addressing the British Museum alone, let alone all the other things we’d like to do. Not to mention everything we’re not even getting to glance at, since we’re leaving in the morning. ::sigh:: But Nathan promised that when we come back we can have a greater emphasis on museums…

Once everyone trickled out of the museum, we made the ill-advised decision to go as a group back to the hotel. Cue cat-herding. But we did all eventually make it (although not always on the same trains, which actually I thought was a good idea since it was rush hour, but when people got separated it wasn’t on purpose… whoops) and then headed out to find the Lebanese restaurant Nate and I had seen on one of our walks. We found it and it was delicious (pitas stuffed with chicken shawarma, hummus, garlic sauce, lettuce, and tomatoes), then walked back to the hotel- and managed to get separated again. Cats cats cats, I tell you.

Now Nate and I are going to read a little, and then head to bed early to try and squeeze in one last London adventure before we leave the city…