Love UK
Jun 29, 2012
A lovely drive in the countryside
It is one a.m. and I’m wide awake and ready to start the day so I thought I’d send off my first email and let everyone know I survived the most terrifying part of my journey intact, so it should be smooth sailing from here on in!
“Well, you’re very brave,” is how the innkeeper Jane greeted me when I arrived yesterday morning in the rain. I knew the driving part would be scary but I’d thought my hotel was 5-10 minutes from the airport. Turns out I was a little off. Before I’d even gotten the car out of the lot I was already a little upset cause I couldn’t start the thing or figure out the GPS. It was raining, it was humid, I’d just schlepped 5 tons of luggage across the Atlantic and the humongous parking lot, and I was just super exhausted. Having no idea what time of day my body was supposed to think it was and knowing only that sleep hadn’t occurred in a while, I was ready for a hot shower and a bed and believed it was so close I could feel it, like five miles away. I cautiously exited the airport just thinking “Left left left! Don’t die on your vacation!” and was immediately navigating narrow stone walled streets with 18 wheelers and giant John Deere tractor trailers headed straight at me. I grazed bushes and hit curbs several times (luckily they’re low), and probably closed my eyes more than I should have, all the while leaning into the middle of the car like a freak. My God, it was so scary! After about ten minutes of this I saw a nice white haired bloke walking his bulldog on the side of the road and figured I’d check whether I was on the right path. I was… just 35 more miles away. After a few wrong turns, one involving a parking lot, a bit of crying and a sympathetic old lady, another a Ford dealership with a nice young man helping a bedraggled damsel in distress figure out a GPS, I made it in one piece.
Despite the stress, it really was a pretty drive. Bristol and Bath are the perfect picturesque villages set amongst the rolling hills of the English countryside. After a short nap I headed out to explore the town of Warminster and pick up a converter. I was feeling a bit more confident in my driving ability as I headed out for my second go, but I was reminded not to be, as I saw a big sign on the side of the road warning that someone had, in fact, died June 15th making the turn I was headed out to make. Great!
I arrived safely in town and met lots of friendly Brits, picked up a few items and realized I was starving. It was 4 pm and somehow I had missed lunch and high tea, and was too early for dinner so headed back to the hotel.
The inn is set on the banks of the river in Upton Lovell and surrounded by grazing cows all around. Just across the way there’s a beautiful old church and cemetery that have been there since the 1300’s. The hotel bar is actually a pretty happening spot as all the men in the area come by after work to talk politics and flirt with Jane. (Apparently, I’d missed Prince Harry’s visit by two weeks.) After two pints with the locals, the kitchen finally opened and the weather had cleared up nicely, so I enjoyed a lovely lite supper out on the patio watching swans cross the river and headed to bed at 7:30. Hence, the reason I am now wide awake!
Besides the scary commute, I am safe and happy and looking forward to more adventures tomorrow!
XOXO
Jul 1, 2012
Love UK
After a full English breakfast of fresh eggs, bacon from a little piggy that recently lived down the street, and one bite – just to try it – of black pudding I decided I’d venture back to Bath on Friday. I couldn’t bear the thought of driving all that way though, so was happy to hear I could take the train from Warminster. Chef John directed me out of Upton Lovell the non-lethal (much longer) way and directions went something like this- “Ya gonna head out straightaway and take the first right, then look for a handwritten sign on the right and go over the bridge, make a left after the train tracks, and head on for 2 kilometers or so to the end of the road, make the second left at the roundabout, then you will come across a farm stand…they sell…farm stuff, after that you’ll head back over the train tracks which takes you back out to the A36.”
They’re all just lovely here at the Prince Leopold Inn, everyone seems to really care about my happiness and safety, particularly making sure I avoid the left turn of death, but thank goodness I figured out the GPS! (Of course, the GPS only works when you put the correct address in, as I learned yesterday when I showed up to practice yoga at the hippie commune where the studio owners live, about 5 miles off from the actual studio, but back to yoga later.)
Bath is truly a remarkable site. In fact, UNESCO ranks the entire city as world heritage worthy. It’s named for exactly what it is, the place you’d go to “take a bath,” and that’s exactly what the conquering Romans did some 2,000 years BC when they built the grounds that can still be seen from the city center. After a long period of decline Queen Mary, fighting infertility, headed to Bath seeking the healing powers of the thermal hot springs in the late 1600’s. Lo and behold some nine months later she gave birth to a son (never you mind that King James wasn’t actually with her while she was here). This event revitalized the city and it became a major hub for royalty, and all the good and the great of England to see and be seen. The Palladian style architecture from the boom period of the 1700’s is still evident in 90 percent of the buildings now housing Apple and Burberry stores.
The first yoga workshop has been great so far. Nancy Gilgoff reminds me of a super hippiefied version of Cher. She and David Williams (who I also did a workshop with in LA last year) were literally Western students number 1 & 2 under the guru Pattabhi Jois in Mysore, India back in 1973, before he even spoke a lick of English. She had some wonderful stories to tell but mostly I was impressed with how yoga healed her body from illness and injury over the years. The best part about the workshop besides the location- a barn behind a beautiful countryside palace, was the fact that I was hardly the worst student in the class! (So the ego is definitely not removed by practicing yoga, in fact, after the sun salutations where everyone seems to be on equal footing- it’s like on!)
My cousin, Nicole, arrived yesterday afternoon. Though she hadn’t driven herself, it was an equally intense commute by plane, train, bus and automobile. Nevertheless, she rallied for a trip over to Stonehenge. It was spectacular even from behind the fenced off side of the road (we’d missed entry by about five minutes) and I was starving for dinner so it was a ten minute affair only.
I’m really glad I made it out to the countryside, it’s quite picturesque- divine really! I love all the men and women dressed up, but wearing their Wellies, trimming their rose bushes; everyone cheerful and welcoming. But tonight we’re headed to London and I’m super psyched to see it and also happy to drop off this car! Though I feel I’ve progressed nicely since I got here I’m still petrified of right hand turns, and so far I haven’t gotten into the proper side of the car yet, but it’s always a nice way to drop off my purse 🙂
XOXO
Jul 4, 2012
London Fog
We arrived in London Sunday evening after a wonderfully uneventful drive from Wiltshire, and checked into our hotel in Southwark with the goal of quickly dropping off our bags and returning the car, but after lugging our luggage up four flights of stairs because the lift was out (til at least Tuesday) and entering our tiny, stifling room which smelled sort of like formaldehyde, we decided to try and upgrade our accommodations. Unfortunately, Priceline is nonnegotiable and they’d already charged me, so Nicole hatched a brilliant plan to call and convince them she was disabled and had a prostethic leg, so the broken lift would be a problem. After thirty minutes on the phone Priceline wasn’t having it, despite my harsh threats of a lawsuit and references to a little something called the American Disabilities Act. After a few limps down the stairs with her prosthesis clearly visible in a dress and heels, we gave up on the relocation jig and just rearranged the beds so we’d have room for more activities (such as opening our luggage).
While the drive into London wasn’t overly chaotic, the final leg of the rental car was as stressful as the first. We were diverted in bumper to bumper traffic around Buckingham Palace and took 40 minutes to drop the car off, two miles from the hotel. Nicole sat patiently waiting for me to overcome my aggravated, hysteria spell. It’s amazing how a city can bring out crazy NY driving in a girl afraid to leave a parking lot three days earlier!
After a quick aperitif at Claridge’s, (where proper ladies like us should really lodge) we met up with my fabulous Italian friend, Lina from Stockholm, and dined on five star fare at Gwyneth Paltrow’s favorite restaurant in town, La Petit Maison. It did not disappoint! Best scallop carpaccio and lamb chops I’ve eaten! In the ladies loo I weighed in on the Tom and Katie Holmes scandal and everyone agreed that I probably knew best since I was closer to it all. After copious amounts of wine we headed to our unswanky hotel and straight into a massive riot in the streets of London. (Turns out it was just the Italians mourning their World Cup loss, and Spain reveling in their superior football skills.)
After meeting Lina for breakfast and panoramic views atop the National Portait Gallery in Trafalgar Square, we spent the next two days having some some good old touristic London fun despite the gentle, incessant, rainy mist. We hit up Big Ben, the London Eye, the National Gallery, the Tate Modern and the best museum I’ve ever been to- the Victoria and Albert. I daresay I found it even better than the Louvre! It is room after room of world class art, sculpture, costume, and jaw dropping architecture, and the best part of all, it wasn’t even crowded.
Points of interest on our self-guided walking tour of the city were the shopping at Oxford Circus, perusing the sale at Harrods, tasting both good and bad fish and chips, taking high tea at the Wolseley, hearing the Royal Army Band bust out Earth, Wind and Fire during the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace, and a brilliant show at the West End called Posh. The most memorable line from the dark comedy about the real life silver spoon Oxford club that Prime Minister David Cameron counts himself a member of, sums up the plot nicely, “I’m sick to fechen death of poor peeople!”
Tomorrow I shall make my second attempt to practice at the Astanga Yoga School of London. After waking up at 5:30 am for Mysore and commuting twenty minutes to Euston Street, then ten minutes in the rain, I was quite dismayed to find the door to the Shala locked, and nobody home on Tuesday. The man who answered my 6:30 am call said, “We’re closed miss.” “Whaaaat?” “Well, it’s a moon day now, isn’t it?” Bloody Astanga Moon day!!
Last night I met up with the loveliest couple- Paul from Maine, and Anita from Budapest, and over dinner they helped me review some British slang like dodgy for sketchy and savage for awesome which I shall try to pepper in with my new Brit speak wherever possible. A few more days and I’ll be as British as Madonna circa 2002.
Will wrap up the tour of London later this week. More jolly good fun to come!
XOXO
Jul 8, 2012
Five Day Forecast: Rain
On Wednesday, I showed up to practice yoga in the hot, steamy Shala and found myself, once again, the worst student in Mysore! Despite the fact that I’ve already nearly completed Intermediate, the strict instructor Hamish, kindly stopped me at Kurmasana, because I still cannot bind my arms under my legs, behind my back, when my feet are out in front of me; that’s about mid-way through the Primary series but I was not offended, as we had a busy morning of sightseeing laid out. “Try it for ten years, and if you don’t like it, do something else,” that’s the Ashtanga mantra, so I guess in 8 1/2 years I’ll be as good as my peers, or have another go at tennis! Speaking of which, we hiked all the way out to Wimbledon on Friday, and caught some of the energy and liveliness of the event, but after wandering around freezing in the rain and failing to procure sold out Center Court seats we ended up getting our 33 quid back and taking our very own double decker bus back to Central London. There we watched the first Brit since 1933 (or something) clinch up the semifinals from a packed bar near our hotel. (Unfortunately, his success was short lived.)
In our defeated journey from Wimbledon our bus driver had remarked, “There is no wrong weather, only wrong attire.” Unbeknownst to me, proper attire for mid-July is corduroy, cable knit sweaters and opaque black tights. A scarf and umbrella are absolute requirements and I may need to break down a buy some rain boots as the wet weather is apparently continuing in Edinburgh.
The place sure is nice and green though! I am on the train to Scotland now, having said goodbye to Nicole and London this morning. All I’ve seen for the last three hours is green, rolling pastures, sheep, and tiny farmhouses made of cobblestones. Adorable Dexter and Dixie in the seats in front of me keep saying “smully ahmpits” over and over and laughing hysterically as their Dad keeps scolding, “Stop it!” I’m pretty sure they’re upwind of the comic book reading techie next to me. He’s a bit pungent, very sweet though, jumped right up to help me with my bags that weigh 12 stone more than me and said, “Staying a while, are ye?” He also seems to appreciate that I’m reading Game of Thrones, and therefore a bit of a geek.
Besides my Scottish train mate I did not catch but a single body odor in England, everyone is nice and clean, in addition to prim and proper. Even on the tube only once did I notice B.O. and all the surrounding girls myself included were gagging. Although, surprisingly it seems perfectly acceptable to pick noses here.
Both Nicole and I remarked on how much tube time we had managed to rack up in such a short period. It’s quite an efficient way to travel around London though I did experience quite a bit of delays one day, and cannot even imagine how miserable it will be here in a month when millions of travelers descend on the city for the Olympics. On that particularly busy morning, I got to witness a queue jumper getting absolutely called out. They do not take kindly to queue jumping, even if it’s a very young, pretty lass. She sassed him right back with, “Well, you don’t ave to be rude and nahstee about it!” She was clearly embarrassed though.
We spent our last days in London completing well…everything else. I rode the last of four Fat Tire Bike Tours – Paris, Barcelona, Berlin and London. While I did enjoy the bike riding quite a bit (and especially loved being able to answer the pop quiz Guy Fawkes day question), this one really was light on information and the best part for me really was just getting the free t-shirt for my quadfecta. After the tour, Nicole and I met up with an old friend from our days at the Port Jefferson Country Club. We had a lovely dinner at Ceccone’s followed by drinks at the Soho House where we regaled one another with tales from circa 1996.
The following day at the Tower of London, I got the sense there aren’t many natural born Brits that dream of the day they can move to America as the Beefeater joked to all the Americans in the group, “the crown jewels could all be yours had you only paid your taxes.” Later that day I happily ate pistachio baklava while Nicole kept a careful eye out for rats in the Borough Market. We then wandered through the crypt at Westminster Abbey, and pictured Wills and the plain, yet gorgeous Waity Katie walking down the aisle just over a year ago, battled the rain and mobs of tourists packing the streets of beautiful Caribbean style homes on Portobello Road in Notting Hill, dined outdoors with umbrellas up at Covent Gardens in the rain, roamed the Churchill War Rooms and read letters from King Charles VI to olde Winston begging him to stay underground during D-Day and enjoyed overhearing lots of random high brow vocabularly from Brits who use words like flummoxed, melancholy and temerity in everyday conversation.
After all the tubes and steps and walking and carrying the two ton pack I like to think I lost some pounds whilst spending them on pints and pistachio gelato. Despite the rain, I think we had a rather good time in London and I will miss having my cousin around, but am looking forward to my next adventure in great Scotland!
XOXO