Hip…Hip…Hurray!
Day 1, July 3rd
A Journey is measured in friends rather than miles.” .. Tim Cahill, travel writer
31, 32, 33, 34….
“Adelle’s right over there…”
‘Uh…okay… 34, 35, 36..”
“The boys went to the restroom…”
“Good..good… Uh… 35, 36, 37…no, Mary Jo moved…counted her twice…32, 33, 34..”
“The Chipmans walked up and checked in. That must be the place.”
“The Chipmans? Uh…36, 37…”
“Do we all leave from the same gate?”
“God, I hope so…”
Stephen beats most of us to the gate.
38…39…Just 39? Wait. I’m 40. We’re 40. Let’s go!
“Two ladies are already going…to the bathroom.”
“They have toilets in Ireland…let’s go!”
Please Lord, make it an on-time flight….
And…the final traveler makes it to the gate, New York bound.
The day becomes elastic as it stretches out over two continents, one ocean, and more hours than I can keep in my head….
We’re nervous, we’re anxious, we hardly know each other and……
We’re off….
| |
Day 2, July 4th
Let your mind start a journey thru a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before. Let your soul take you where you long to be...Close your eyes let your spirit start to soar, and you'll live as you've never lived before.” ..from the Phantom of the Opera
| |
Larry Alexander…30-ish, blondish, beginning to bald, with a small trumpeter’s lip-stash dangling from his chin. He stands holding his Passports clipboard and I think is a bit taken aback by the size and variety of our group.
“Very good…let’s be on with it, shall we? The coach is just outside.”
We get our first test of such phrases as “Just outside,” “Just a short stroll,” “Just ten minutes down the street,” “Just around the corner,” and “It’s quite straight forward, actually.”
Even sleep-deprived eyes open wide as we toodle off on the wrong side the Irish highway, out of Shannon and headed for Killarney.
A stop in Adare, totally unsure of where we are and what the heck we are doing. Our Euros get their first warming up as we tentatively hold a handful of bills to the ladies behind the counters then marveling at the funny change we receive in return.
“How much is this?”
“Twenty Euros for the lot.”
“I mean how much is this in my hand?”
“Shall I count it out for you?”
“Would you please?”
“Surely, love.”
Limerick is a blur…
The International Hotel is our first European housing experience and check-in goes remarkably well, although our numbness allows us to zone-out and coast for long periods of time.
One sweet location in this delightful Irish town.
Most begin what will become a nightly ritual of exploring the town and it’s a truly lovely place to explore..chock-a-block with tourists, but I guess that means it’s popular.
And further daily explorations follow…How does this one flush? Where’s the coffee maker? Is the hair dryer in the drawer? Are you sure this is our room?
A lady from Cincinnati or Milwaukee or one of those northern places has been tagging along with us since Shannon, having missed her flight to join her granddaughter in a singing tour of Great Britain. And as fate would have it, the kids are performing right next to our hotel… Some of us started to enter then found a rather hefty charge for admission and chose instead to keep wandering the town’s meandering streets.
Day 3, July 5th
| O |
nly Irish coffee provides in a single glass all four essential food groups: alcohol, caffeine, sugar, and fat. …Alex Levine
“Would you like full breakfast?”
“Uh…sure…what is it?”
Our first experience with blood pudding. I love it, but my opinion is not widely shared.
The Irish could move more food if they’d change the names a bit.
There are things happening on this trip that not everyone’s aware of…the relationships, the people… Husbands and wives sharing the experience.. Hannah and Nick on their brother-sister adventure… Keith and Nancy with their son and daughter-in-law… Jen exploring with her mother… the Roodhouse girls… Erich and his grandmother…the Franklin girls… Mary Jo and her myriad of traveling friends…Maxine and Judy journeying together for the first time in so many years… the Vicari trio exploring the experience of a lifetime…. Adelle and Y’s special friendship… So many couplings of lifelong friends… and I get to zip off somewhere with my brother and my very favorite sister-in-law plus some of the very best people I’ve been blessed to teach…. And frankly, nothing makes us happier than enjoying the people we love as they enjoy themselves. … Again and again I look over and see Erich’s face light up at the sight of a castle or a cathedral…I watch Nick’s drop open when we round a corner and another gorgeous vista comes into view…I look at Travis and simply see him stand there and smile at this trip of a lifetime.
God is behind this trip in more ways than the airline schedules.
So I opt out on the full breakfast, thinking it’s a extra charge…Tom orders his… it’s included..mental note: eat more morning eggs.
Keith begins his continent-wide quest in search of unique urinals.
The kids have begun their 10 of Clubs club….
The Wildricks and Johnsons begin their traveling bridge game…
We all begin our daily adventure of “How does this faucet work? What do baked beans have to do with breakfast? and … Does anyone remember the number of my hotel room?”
And Stephen has become the team mascot, braving going where no man (his age) has gone before.
I had so looked forward to this day..seeing the Ring of Kerry without a driving rain, and God answered my wish… although dampened a bit here and here, He manages to stop it every time we climbed off the bus and we’re treated to a full day of breath-taking views of the Irish Sea and the Atlantic Ocean.
Bonnie is just tickling the paddiddle right out of me. The woman is hilarious. She somehow reminds me of the owner of a Wild West saloon, and it takes very little imagination to see her in a flouncing blouse and red boa, greeting “the boys” into bar, then inviting them all to her private backroom with that sly grin and drawl.
A highlight of the day as Larry asks Scottish John to pull over at a rest stop to watch a nationally known herdsman put his amazing dogs through their well-honed paces. Fascinating, and not terribly touristy… The man is every bit as charming as his subject matter and even the sheep seemed to be enjoying the event.
The only really cheesy event of the day is our stop at the Bog Village…purely tourist, sort of simple (what could be unique about a tall dog?), but our first taste of Irish Whiskey left some of us with a yearning for perhaps one more dram.
So much is packed into each day…Travis keeps talking about his inability to process everything… But he’s struggling, like the rest of us.
Events pile up on top rest stops atop hotel rooms resting on the crest of hotels crowded with tours of cathedrals peppered with Larry’s encyclopedic commentary mixed with scones, pastries, narrow streets and glorious scenery…a burgoo of sense experiences…and no, Travis, unfortunately we won’t be able to process, sort, and catalog it all into our memories, but this group is going to give it a shot.
Tonight we land at the Commons Inn in Cork. A nice, scenic restaurant where I found a piano long enough to do Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-rah and God Bless America (a remarkably stupid choice, now that I think of it). Doug and Jen trek up the hill tonight in search of..uh…rain?.. I’m not sure, but they trekked back down in time to sleep.
Claudia and Joyce were surprised by little visitors in the form of termites swarming around their shower. Joyce asked what they should do and I suggested drowning the little rascals. Appealing to a higher authority they were moved to a room with even more swarming. The transportation seems modern but the atmosphere is buggy.
“Would you like full breakfast?”
“Sure…I know what it is now…and make sure to lay on the beans and blood sausage.. I’m becoming Irisher and Irisher.
Day 4, July 6th, Sunday
When Erin first rose from the dark-swelling flood, God blessed the green island, he saw it was good. The Emerald of Europe, it sparkled and shone In the ring of this world, the most precious stone.”
… Dr. William Drennan
| I |
think if he were a European tourist attraction, he’d be called “St. Stephen’s Smile.” Each morning at breakfast I’m greeted with Mr. Vicari’s joyous “Hello! Nice morning!” and if I hesitate for even a moment, Stephen will delight me with tales of his last night’s adventure or his hopes for the morning.
And listening to him and Mary Ann playfully chide each other is a morning’s delight.
A day of travel, stop… travel, stop… travel, stop.
Larry continues to astound us with his ability to lecture on and on without a single note. Some in our group tire a bit of his lengthy directions and repetitions, but we enjoy the guy’s irreplaceable assets and his desire to do nothing but serve us and make our trip a joy and an educational experience.
As Tammy puts it, “He doesn’t just guide us, he teaches us.”
Our punctuality has allowed us to beat the main thrust of the tour groups and this morning God has given us a Blarney Castle practically to ourselves.
We look up…we look at the steps…we wonder who’ll be able to make it…and we begin to climb…
I kept thinking, “Thank God Stephen didn’t try to make the climb, and I hope that June and Virgene opt for a ground view…but I’d no sooner reached the summit than I saw all three of them up there. Virgene said that her feet barely fit on the narrow steps, and Stephen insisted that he be lowered over the edge as does with June for a smack on the famous rock. (I saw Stephen’s picture down below in the gift shop. Along with the handler’s hands holding him aloft, I spied an extra pair of gripping fists on his feet as daughter Sandy jumped on just to make sure we didn’t lose the smiling saint over the parapets. The castle didn’t need an Italian gargoyle added to the stonework.) In short, our favorite leprechaun made it up, down and over.
{Laugh of the day…in the shop, June and Virgene were looking at a corkscrew with a leprechaun at it’s head and the screw itself placed in a prominent position on the little man’s body. June: “I already have one of those.”
Virgene: “But June, there’s always time for a good screw.”
I have no idea what I’m going to do with these ladies.}
The Blarney Woollen Mills beckons us today and we seem eager to help out the Irish economy with our Euro-laden palms. Actually, the stuff is of amazingly good quality and with so much good “goods” to offer, the place is remarkably short on ketch.
Nick fell madly in love with the Irish lass selling ice cream…he was to do so with yet another gal before the day was over. Trav kept encouraging him to go up and ask for something other than a double dip of vanilla, but Nick’s Midwestern sensibilities allowed him to remain Methodist.
I was a scavenger at lunch today, nibbling first off Keith’s plate, then Nancy’s, then stopping for dessert at Bob and Jan’s table after a brief nibble of the Johnson’s lunch in the large, Colorado-looking restaurant.
The duo’s of Bob & Jan, and Doug & Jen seem to be leading the way in exploring the esoteric, out-of-the-way adventures…the organ concert tucked away in a tiny church, the interesting hill to climb, the off-the-beaten-tourist-track adventure of the day. I look forward each evening to quiz them as to their exploits.
So many nice people on this trip…Okay, I’ll admit that being nice isn’t always enough. I’ve known many nice people who don’t travel with a toot…but these folks do both..the nice-ing and the traveling. Unlike most groups where I’ve known everyone well ahead of time, this group remained an unknown in many cases and it’s been a great relief to see everyone get along so splendidly..more than that, actually, becoming a loosely-knit family. Group travel needs tolerance…group travel needs a willingness to share space, to give space, to go halfway with others… After all, within a few days we go from a group who hardly know each others’ names, to one who now know what we look like while we’re sleeping on a bus.
So many nice people…(and I am so terribly proud of the youngsters…I didn’t cause their great attitude, but I’ll certainly enjoy it.)
One of the reasons we chose this tour was the stop at the Waterford Crystal Factory. Nancy had a bit of input on this one, and I agreed, thinking it’ll be a nice event for the ladies. Instead, it turned out to be a wonderful experience for everyone. In spite of it being a Sunday, the place was in full tour mode and our delightful tour guides caused Nick to fall in love once again, this time with fair Jillian, the oh-so-Irish lass. The highlight of my stop: watching Travis smile with joy as he held the golfing trophy.
The Jury’s Inn, Parnell Street in Dublin.
My memories of Dublin were of rain, a poorly-located hotel, and a good deal of walking to achieve even the simplest daily goals. But this trip was different…..Jury’s Inn is located just a block or two from the main drag of Dublin and we find a delightful place to set down our bags for a two day stay, our first home for more than a single night. Sweet, sweet, sweet.
Keith, Nancy and the Wildrick’s take off for a late night look at the High Street and others soon follow. I stood in the middle of the intersection at midnight, mesmerized by the glowing tower.
A wonderful conversation with the Ryder’s aboard the bus today. In fact, the day is a series of delightful conversations. Unlike most groups who stake out their Methodist/Presbyterian pew for two weeks and stay there, this group is extremely promiscuous in their coach seating, flitting from one spot to another, even in the course of single day… sweet.
Day 5, July 7th
When I die I want to decompose in a barrel of porter and have it served in all the pubs in Dublin.” J.P. Donleavy
| D |
ublin calls our name with a delightful Irish brogue.. ..St. Patrick’s Cathedral and Trinity College with many in our group secretly asking, “What exactly IS the Book of Kells?” then the afternoon is free for us to explore.
I hear a rumor that Wendy and Hannah are politely tired of being chaperoned by the boys (my order) and they come to me to ask if they can find the delights of Dublin on their own. It seems like a good plan…I trust them completely and my only hesitancy is the thought of mamas Sheila and Sally….their desire for freedom wins out over my fear of two ladies in Arenzville and the gals take off. I run into them later in one of the wide pedestrian malls. By the looks on their faces, I’d say they now own the town.
European travel..in fact, all foreign travel, is probably the hardest for teenage girls. Few teen girls realize how much they love their home until they get far away from it and it’s not so much homesickness as the sudden realization that you couldn’t get home tonight if you wanted to. Sometimes a bit of Freedom is just the cure.
Tonight takes us for a long trek on the outskirts of town to the Abbey Tavern and our evening of Irish entertainment. These places sometimes irritate me….one big sales job, corny entertainment, rushed waitresses, crowded in like haddock in a barrel…but tonight’s Irish feast was delightful. Okay, I would have liked a waitress who actually made eye contact as she slapped down the grub, but the show was wonderful…beginning with a high-energy dance trio and a Michael Flatley clone who was a show in his own right…Then came the singers..a seasoned group featuring a gorgeous blonde who looked exceptional in her simple black dress ..I mean the girl was gorgeous…(I had a profile view and later faked going to the loo just so I could see her left side). Tonight we had our first taste of the rowdiness of other nationalities, but we more than survived, we enjoyed. They’d misread their announcement of our being a “Passports” group, but I think we forgave them.
I get so tickled at Bonnie and Tammy at stops like this…they look for all the world like the Queen and her loyal attendant, and they’re among the best laughers in our group of Midwesterners.. of course, no one can out laugh our traveling masseuse, Lady Kay. Each night the light of backs to be rubbed gets longer and I fear from Kay having enough sleep time once the group’s muscles are put to sleep.
This email from Erich:
hey how are you, im fine. i am a four foot leprauchan. i like to eat nasty dry flaky oats for breakfast. and i boil blood into a pattie and feed it to tourists telling them that it is great. i also lure them into my shops with the promise of half price souveniers only for them to find out that its half price postcards and everything else is double! There is no gold at the end of my rainbow, i spent it all on time shares in the bahamas...big mistake. have you ever seen a four foot tall red-head try to tan, i cant get any peace while i'm there. and by the time i find a spot alone, i've already burnt to a crisp.
...odd, but thats where my mind was wandering...
-erich
As his former English teacher I wince at his usage, spelling, and capitalization, but I know he lives in a text-message world where proper grammar has gone to hell in a hat basket..and he was paying by the minute, so I’ll simply appreciate the giddy sentiment.
Other people use Palm Pilots… I have Bill….a Personal Palm Device could never answer questions like “What’s the number of our room?” “Which button flushes the toilet?” and “Have I been here before?”
To bed in our final night in Ireland….a sad leaving… and it’s no wonder Irish writers are so enthusiastic and poetic in their description of this isle they call “a thousand shades of green.” Our coach gets us back to the Jury Inn late but many linger in the bar or take again to the streets, not wanting to let go of this enchanting place.
Larry continues to be a wonder of British engineering. After our day is done, he begins another. Night after weary night the adults have stumbled off to bed then Nick or Travis will say, “Hey Larry! Wanna go out some place!” And the answer is always, “Right! Let me go change my shirt a bit and I’ll meet you in the lobby.” How does the man do it?
Day 6, July 8th
“Scotland…That knuckle-end of England--that land of Calvin, oat-cakes, and sulphur.” Sydney Smith
| L |
arry says that the good news is that arriving in Scotland early will give us a full day in the land of the kilts. Of course the downside is that Dublin is still asleep when we head toward Ryan Aire.
Weeks of worrying about the 33 pound bag limit dissolve into a surreal haze as we hustle through the check-in with nary a soul stopped for overage.
Today is one of those long, long days that seem to have started two weeks ago. We awake in the land of James Joyce and Guinness and go to sleep in the bosom of Bobby Burns and haggis.
For the life of me I don't remember landing in Glasgow. I mean, I know we did. The plane came down and I’m quite certain I was on it, but I have absolutely no memory of the touchdown.
Numb feet and bottoms alight on Holyroodhouse…our first experience at a castle interior, our bekilted guide a pure delight and doing his best to keep our eyes open.
Then off to the castle…
Edinburg Castle never disappoints… No Hollywood set could paint such a moody and imposing figure against the Firth of Forth. The gothic beast is indeed a dragon crouching atop the hill.
I stood in the middle of the stadium seating at the castle’s entryway, wishing so badly to be there during the great tattoo. Perhaps in another life.
Reaching the top we simply gaze…open-mouthed gaping out across Edinburgh’s brown skyline, the Firth in the distance, the boats in the harbor…. A day with much gaping.
I’ve been watching over Adelle and Y too closely..They don't need much help, simply a point in the right direction. …but we meet for ice cream at the bottom of the castle. Claudia is there looking for Doug and Jen…in fact, this has become one of Claudia’s pastimes. They’re a tough couple to corner.
It would be interesting to know the total number of pictures taken on this trip.
The Chancellor’s Court Hotel gives us something new tonight…a buffet…complete with haggis twice a day. I chow down on the delicious stuff. ..even for breakfast. Even for lunch. Again at supper. (Lunch was haggis spring rolls…Oriental Scottish?)
Nick makes plans to meet with our friend Canaan for a late-night rendezvous.. Interesting, he’s been here a year and still hasn’t visited the castle or Holyroodhouse.
A bit fearful that our Edinburg digs might be a disappointment, being a dorm/hotel, but the group really seems to be enjoying it…the Johnson’s being at first put out on the north forty then moved closer. For many of us a return to our late teenage years and the location is wonderful with Arthur’s Seat looming up behind us.
Doug and Jen planning to make the trek up the slope… Nick and Trav wanting to do the same but again and again we’re faced with too many opportunities and too little time.
Tonight we take off to explore Edinburgh and in search of our friend from Chandlerville. We find him standing on a street corner with his friend who happens to be the son of one of the Scottish tenors who we’re to see tomorrow…
Canaan has picked up the strange European custom of lying about distances as his “just down the street” to find the proper pub becomes a lengthy trek, finally alighting in an outdoor beer garden of some sort… some fun conversation, catching up with the boy (who we’d actually just seen the week before at camp) and his Scottish friend. Our conversation quickly turns to his Scottish friend who’s spent the last year teaching on the Gaza Strip. Fascinating..gutsy. I can see a growing awareness in the eyes of my boys… “You know…I can do these things, too.” The rain finally drives us in from the outdoor garden and alternate plans are made.
Hannah, Wendy and I are too beat to continue and endeavor to find our way back as the boys continue on down the street. Wendy’s nose for direction is remarkable. The only problem is that she’s too polite to tell me, “You’re going the wrong direction, you idiot!”… but we make it home.
We walk in late through our university complex and see what looks like Gandolph from Lord of the Rings, head-down, dashing through the misty night…I see it’s Maxine, hurrying to the front desk for a hair dryer.
I shout, “Maxine!”
She turns, a bit embarrassed that someone from home would catch her in her pajamas and Judy’s robe. She needn’t have worried. I looked like a wet Bilbo Baggins with my two female hobbits.
We are, as the saying goes, creatures of habit, and it seems that the less habitual we are, the easier it is for us to adapt to travel. I’ve always been an advocate of planning and order, but it’s interesting to watch the less-planned, the less-ordered travelers adapt more quickly to the catch as catch can world of traveling.
We’re used to our day starting at about the same time, having our coffee in about the same cup, finding our socks and underwear in the same drawer, and catching the morning news on the same station. Travel forces our orderly world to be turned on its head with strange customs and new routines…but those who live a less-ordered life survive with less sweat…interesting. For once, it seems, they have an advantage on the rest of us.
Day 7, July 9th
“O Caledonia! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, Land of the mountain and the flood, Land of my sires! What mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band, That knits me to thy rugged strand!” ….Sir Walter Scott
| T |
oday is our second in Scotland…isn’t it? Does it count if the sun never quite goes down?
A long day on the bus as we head out toward Loch Lomand. I don't know.
Of all the excursions, this is perhaps the one that although fairly priced, might not have pleased the group as much. Most of the day was actually spent touring rather than floating. Perhaps the info was just misleading…and it was a cold, misty boat ride.
Much gorgeous scenery today including a stop at a delightful pub for lunch.
Hannah having a rough go of it today… often happens and about this point in a trip… We sat together on the bus to just talk…In a few hours she began to come out of it. I’m proud of her…she and Wendy are doing so well and being a teenage girl is the toughest bracket for travel…especially girls with such loving parents…. Girls who don't love their homes don't get homesick.
Tonight we travel to …uh…somewhere…for our Scottish Dinner and Show. Bigger than the Irish night and ritzier, with only a hint of cheesiness due to the high production values.
I’ve got to admit, I sat there thinking, “Okay, that’s tourist-corny” then daydreamed about how to stage such a thing in our neck of the woods. Hypocrite.
If you’re a bald fat guy at Branson, do not sit on the front row of the Dolly Parton show. It’s a sure thing that you’ll be a part of the action. I should have known better. When the Scottish lass grabbed my hand to dance, I thought, “I wish Hannah were sitting here!” but I survived the Scottish version of the Virginia Reel. Nancy did much better…and Keith did little damage to the family name.
(When Nancy got up to dance I heard one of the older gals in our group murmer, “Boy, what a babe!”)
The whisky was a bit overpriced, but the haggis was fine, Laddy!
Two great joys of the trip…the fabulous team of June and Virgene. They didn’t know each other before the trip began and the hand of Fate threw them together in the same room. Both are different, but both are tough, resilient, and simply hilarious. I can imagine some of their late-night conversations before the lights to out. Erich began the trip fearful for his Grandma’s well-being, but he had nothing to fear. June’s a tough cookie and is taking care of herself, thank you very much. Virgene is taking the islands by storm… Hip! Hip! Hooray!
Somewhere in this Scottish journey June celebrated her 79th birthday and Erich hopped off the couch to buy her a bouquet of Caledonia blossoms. It was a sweet moment when he presented them with Larry’s announcement. And June wasn’t about to discard them, carrying them from hotel to hotel for the rest of the trip then finally to her home in Arenzville. A birthday she’ll always remember…as will we. The only downside to the experience was listening to Larry’s rendition of Happy Birthday. I’ve never heard anyone sing in the key of R.
It seems like every time I use a restroom Tom Ryder is in there talking to someone. His rich baritone sounds a good deal like God…I think..at least the Presbyterian version of God… and it takes all my concentration to do my business and get on down the road.
Day 8, July 10th
“England and America are two countries separated by a common language.”
George Bernard Shaw (1856 - 1950)
| F |
or once, a civilized hour of arising and we wave ta-ta to Scotland in search of the Cheviot Hills accompanied by Larry’s astute travelogue.
Travis’s comment about being overloaded with sights and sounds becomes even more true today as we’re treated to vista after vista as Scotland gradually becomes Northern England.
We said a sad farewell to our Irish driver John and have picked up Stewart who’s taking a few days to get acclimated to our rowdy group of Midwesterners…I think he’s a bit bashful…and man, this Scottish burr is delightfully thick…almost unintelligible… I truly love it. (And I do get tickled when some in our group grouse about Stewart’s ability to speak English when his dialect preceded ours by about a thousand years.)
York is a cool place and our group settles in naturally to yet another British village of twists and turns.
York Minster is one imposing old gothic monster, resting on its haunches in the center of town. We tour the place but the real highlight of the day comes when many of return for evensong services, lead by an Anglican priest and a boys’ choir..such little little Yorkian rascals, looking so much like their Yankee brethren, twitching a bit during the songs, stifling their tiny yawns, but man…singing like the angels…or rather the angel-kins.
I usually complain about these European tours where you’re offered fish and chips every night, but on this tour the repeated course seems to be fresh salmon, along with other delicious choices… If you’ve gotta have tedium, that’s the way to go.
Some really delightful waitresses in this hotel. Again and again we are not treated as a tour group, but as welcome guests.
I forget my room number…then forget it again….but Bill reminds me.
Seems like our entire group keeps getting lost in this hotel.
Bob Chipman holds a “Shakespeare Club” in a nearby pup after dinner as Erich and Andrew take off with a York boy who happens to attend Lincoln Land…That’s by-golly astounding, I think.
Day 9, July 11th
“The remarkable thing about Shakespeare is that he is really very good - in spite of all the people who say he is very good.”
Robert Graves Quote (1895 - 1985)
| A |
short drive this morning…(another civilized hour of departure)… puts us firmly into the famous playwright’s territory, beginning with a tour of Anne Hathaway’s home. The place was barely big enough for her small family, but 40 of us plus two other busloads managed to worm our way through the maze of rooms, uneven stairs and low ceilings, dumping us out into the sculpture garden and the “woodland path” where Nancy, Keith, Doug, and Jen began hiking with little idea of how long it would take. I was a couple hundred yards ahead of them and considered hiding in a tree and ambushing my family, then found the trees too wet for a good grip.
I did write “Hi Nancy” in a bit of mud on the path, but she was wisely looking up for flora and fauna instead of down for 17th-century emails in the muck.
Mark Twain once wondered how Shakespeare ever made it through the town in a hurry with all the gift shops blocking his path.
On to Stratford for our only really wet day of the adventure.
Shakespeare’s home is one of the few icons of literature that’s not been reconstructed…thanks to Bill actually being famous during his lifetime… some very sweet guides inside the house..they must have been volunteers…reminded me of the New Salem group.
A lady complimented me on being “very astute” when I asked if a window had been moved since 15 years ago. I was shocked I’d remembered.
On our own today for lunch and exploring… Keith and Nancy, Claudia, Trav & Nick joined me for lunch at what claimed to be the town’s oldest pub… interesting food, none of which I can now remember…ah, but the bitters..that I remember.
A tough day for our friend Billie..not feeling chipper…spent the day on the coach in the coach park with Stewart. I wonder if this was a plan? I do know that Kay ran her feet off today playing nurse and tourist and comforter. Were I not way too old I’d marry that massage lady.
A comedy of errors as we wended our way through the streets ..again and again..to find our hotel outside Stratford. Larry was on a political tirade of sorts today anyway and later apologized for getting quite so political…Heck, I loved it. And the game of “Who can find the hotel?” was joined in by all. Larry seems a bit astounded at a group who actually enjoy a few quirks in the schedule. He’s never weathered a Midwest windstorm. This is easy stuff.
Day 10, July 12th
“Very nice place, Oxford, I should think, for people that like that sort of place. “ George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950)
| W |
e land in Oxford on the very day the university is hosting Anglicans from all over the world.
Okay, I’ll be honest…I’m not sure they wanted tourists today… a bit snippy around the edges, but perhaps it was the fact that we were treated so warmly everywhere else. And let’s face it, Anglicans have beautiful services but they aren’t known for their warm coffee and cookies fellowship hour.
Gimme IC or Lincoln Land any day….but the place was great for reenacting our favorite scenes from Harry Potter.
And then on to….London!
I’d been worried about today’s timing since we had a few theatre tickets for tonight, but Larry was correct in his scheduling. Even with London traffic we pulled in to the Radisson Marlborough Hotel in good time…
Beautifully located on the same long block as the Tottenham Court Tube. Perfect….and with a possible walking distance of Covent Garden and the theatre district.
The hotel is under reconstruction, but heck, the entire continent is under reconstruction.
Scheduled dinner at a Thai restaurant, but we Les Miz folks thought that the time would be pinched too tightly and opted for dinner in the theatre district.. Sounds so romantic and daring! “Dinner in the Theatre District!” Okay, it was a McDonnald’s..but it was in the theatre district and it was dinner. Meanwhile another group “Thai-ed” it on, then took off for Billy Elliot.
Frankly, our three days in London were a glorious blur…so many of us going in so many directions, I soon lost track..and delightfully so…that’s the way travel should be.
Bonnie and the Vicari cartel have been getting a great education on the vulgarities of London taxi cabs. I look forward to their arrival at each destination just to hear Bonnie’s take on the driver. I still wish she’d open up a Wild West saloon.
Did a bit of musical-rooms at the Radisson. Bill and I were in three different rooms, Nick and Trav in two, Erich and Andrew in two, the Johnsons in two, and probably others as well..Doug and Jen I think. Keith and Nancy toughed it out in one of the claustrophobic hothouses on the inside the building…and the good news is that we spent so little time in them.
I gave up on the heat immediately and spent a night sleeping in Nick and Travis’s large bed. None of us moved the entire evening, dead to the world. I woke up staring at Nick’s sleeping face and wondered, “What’s happened to Bill?” Coming to my senses I looked again and it hit me…this young man who’s toted luggage, ran ahead of the group, become a cheerleader for young and old, and set the pace…he’s just a kid. “Just a kid.” Yeah…sure. And what a kid.
We loved Les Miz, this time presented in a smaller venue…Wendy and Hannah, myself, Nick and Erich who was seeing the show for the first time. I regret that I didn’t ask Erich his impression of this, my favorite musical.
The reviews of Billy Elliot went both ways…Rhonda and Janet raved…Keith thought it pretty good…a couple other ladies were a bit non-plussed..Ah well, you pays your money and you takes your chances…Who cares? We’re in London!
Arrived back at the hotel to find our nightly bridge group ..this time with pints instead of hearts and clubs.
Day 11, July 13th
“I’m leaving London because the weather is too good. I hate London when it’s not raining.” …Groucho Marx
| T |
oday finds us with the most remarkable blue badge guide to London..whose name I’ve now forgotten…Mike?......this guy was a winner. Larry said that he was one of the upper-crust guides, usually given to small parties of dignitaries…and when he saw Hannah’s Les Miz shirt he mentioned that’d he’d been in the show some 20 years ago. Wowswers!
Doug and Jen took off to become “standlings” at the reconstructed Globe Theatre. I know that Bob and Jan were a bit disappointed at not seeing any Shakespeare on this trip. In fact, a few expressed disappointment in my changing the night of theatre away from the Bard to the bawdy… perhaps it was a wrong move…but dern, that blasted theatre in Stratford is a cramped hothouse and we were deadly tired that night. Wish I could have found them some London Shakespeare.
Most of the group continued on to Windsor for a tour with the queen in residence..cool. Bill and Bonnie teamed up for the day, Bill providing a much-appreciated arm for our travelling queen. At the beginning of the Windsor tour, Y mentioned that she was heading for Bill. Bill told her that he’d wished he’d known Y was moving his direction..or something like that.. I forget the gory details.
Travis and I walked the entire city of London today…okay, maybe not, but even that in-shape stud got worn out…. At one point we just stopped for tea at a street-side café and watched the world go by…a cool afternoon with a good friend.
Others attacked the London Eye, the Thames Cruise with Keith and Nancy staying a bit longer and climbing the hill, Bob and Janet to Parliament and Churchill’s war rooms… Doug and Jen to the war rooms, many of us to Covent Garden (Where Y searched for an Oriental restaurant then ordered spaghetti), and many tours to Harrod’s.
I now see that I have days 11 and 12 completely mixed up and I’ll make no effort to straighten things out. ….I’m totally confused.
Mental note: when taking off your pants in a first floor London hotel room, close the draperies before the double-decker tour busses come cruising by..and stop outside your window. 2nd mental note: if you failed to catch note #1, at least wave at the folks since they’re already waving at you.
Day 12, July 14th
“Free at Last, free at last, thank God almighty we’re free at last!” ..sort of M.L. King Jr.
| I |
nteresting seeing Martin Luther King Jr. on the wall of church today. I’d never seen that.
Our first totally free day today, thanks to the Chipman’s et. al. suffering through a blocked balcony window in Alaska.
The British Museum got some heavy foot traffic from Illinois and Indiana today. Travis claimed that Nick took 500 shots in 90 minutes. One amazing place.
I keep running out of adjectives to describe London, but I think of the quote from Dr. Johnson that Larry quoted as we entered town, “When one is bored with London, one is bored with life.”
What makes the city so …well…unique..is that it is indeed many different cities. Pop into the Tube, come up in three stops and you find an entirely new experience awaiting you.
Tonight we threaded our way...perhaps all of us on foot, I’m not sure.. to fish and chips at a delightful little spot “just down the street” and in the middle of a sweet little restaurant district. Sharon and Mary Emma crowded in next to Bill and I and we dissected the delights of the Franklin Burgoo celebration while drooling over memories of Sharon’s many memorable desserts. Sharon was a bit miffed that someone beat a relative of hers in the pie contest this year, but we’re in London tonight so such mistakes can be forgiven.
Most of us wedged our way into our tiny basement room and the steaming haddock and fries were on our plates as soon as our butts hit the aged chairs… scrumptious.. my first F & C of the tour, I think. …topped off with little cones of fudgy ice cream…then off to Covent Garden for an hour’s stroll-around before the show.
Janet, Rhonda and I made a futile stab at finding the theatre museum..Frustrating..and it was the second time in two days that I’d tried to find it…always following the signs…perhaps the IRA blew it up last night.
Several of us found what looked like a rather lonely guitar player holding forth at the corner of Covent Garden….pretty good crooner and such a genuinely nice fellow. We unloaded our spare change in his direction. His concert was twice interrupted by hovering police helicopters, but he politely thanked them for their protection then went on to verse two.
Larry has the habit of counting us until the number comes out to 40, then taking off. I think this was my third visit to the Garden today…twice blessed by the silver witch with a tin-foil doughnut on the end of her wand. ..she mumbled something as she christened me, but I couldn’t catch it. I don't speak Oz-ian.
Then down the street to Avenue Q…
Reviews were mixed… some thought it too bawdy… some thought it hilarious… I personally agreed with both viewpoints…over the top in lewdness, but hilarious and filled with truth. You pays your money and takes your chances… This was perhaps my only guilty moment of the trip. I knew that the show was racy but I could never find specifics…perhaps our group should have split up tonight. Oh well…we are there to experience another way of life, not to approve of it.
But the highlight of the show for me was Virgene who’d spend the “interval” chatting with a couple of young lovers sitting beside her during Act I. When the band stuck up for Act II and the lights came down, the sweet lady from Virginia faced the stage, rode her collapsing theatre seat down and shouted “Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!” along with the music. If they play in itself didn’t remind me a burlesque house, Virgene’s intro to Act II did.
Another special joy for me…Janet Long. She and I have spent so many hectic hours together working on shows, always with a large agenda on our collective plates…and now to spend two weeks together just having fun…well…it’s sweet.
Day 13, July 15th
“There is nothing pleasant about coming home from a great vacation.” –Freida Bradbury
| T |
oday can best be summed up by June Nobis who when we pulled into her driveway at near Midnight, stayed soundly asleep in the backseat. I shouted, “Hey June! We’re at your hotel!” Her eyes shot open and she said, “We are? Where?” She wasn’t kidding. June was in the same numbed/shell-shocked/sensory overloaded state as the rest of us.
Our day began with a 4 a.m. wakeup call on another continent and it ended with gratefully sleepy travelers debarking at St. Louis…but the journey between. ..ah, there’s the rub, William.
Our arrival at Gatwick was timely and the British end of Delta was manned (and womanned) by a pleasant crew all around…even the Morgan Freeman lookalike who asked me to take of my suspenders…politely. (So I took them off…politely.)
Two hours then in the Delta holding pen as the British authorities (according to Delta) won’t let our 757 up to the gate… After a short eternity they decide to bus us out to the plane. Does anyone realize that practically everyone on this plane has connecting flights?
We were amused by an out-of-his-head Brit sitting near us in dirty clothing and sloppy hat, begging folks for food and claiming that he’d been beaten and robbed by thugs in London (they’d apparently stolen his teeth as well), but our amusement turned horrific as we realized he’d be on the plane with us.
Dateline: Atlanta.. We arrive together, but that’s hardly how we leave.
A mad dash through the terminal and the door shuts in our face…One Deaver, one Stephens, two Nobis’s, 3 Vicari’s, one Burnham, and three Bradburys left planeless. I learn later than some impassioned pleas were made from our friends aboard to reopen the door, all to no avail.
All setting the stage for the performance of the day…
Nancy Bradbury….Crouching Tiger, (not so) Hidden Dragon!
“M’am, we don’t hold the plane for anyone.”
“Our people are on that plane!”
“We’ll get you on another flight.”
“You have how many people?”
“The plane is sitting right there. It’s not moving.”
“We’ve closed boarding.”
“Well you can open it up, can’t you? The plane hasn’t gone anywhere!”
“We can get you on other flights.”
(Keith) “I’ve paid for bus transportation at St. Louis and we’re two hours away from our homes.”
“We can get you on other flights.”
“Our bus can’t wait.”
“We’ll put you on stand by for the next flight.”
“Ten people?”
“You have ten people?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“We have other flights tonight.”
“Time out! Just time out!” (That was my favorite of Nancy’s for today.. “Time out! Just time out!”)
Bottom line….Nancy gets the Vicari’s on a flight together after much wrangling and “Time out! Just time out!” Virgene gets on…two Nobis passengers make a flight…leaving 3 Bradbury, a Deaver and a Stephens boy (who is now ready to hire Nancy as his own personal lawyer) adrift in the Atlanta terminal, awaiting our chances. They call my name..I board the plane…they find out they have no room..I get off the plane.. Stephen offers me his seat and I tell him to stay seated and guard the cushion with his life.
Then a miracle occurs…after putting a harried Delta worker through emotional gymnastics, Nancy returns to the counter to thank him for his trouble (ploy number 17). The man smiles at her and says, “I’ve been trying to find you! I’m going to put the rest of your group on the 9 p.m. plane…priority standby.”
This is supposed to be reserved for the privileged members of the Delta flying club, but he wrangled the numbers and Nancy had pushed all the right buttons. Keith smiles in knowing admiration…I’m in awe of my sister-in-law.. Travis and Nick are ready to vote for her as our next president.
We mosey down to the TGIF for a relaxing dinner of American fatty good, knowing that at least we have tickets…and we do…Dear Lord, we do.
Day 14, July 16th
“When it’s 3 o’clock in New York, it’s still 1938 in London.” … Bette Midler
| M |
y email inbox is constipated with messages, even after a spam laxative. At least a dozen say in so many words, “Now that you’re back and rested, I need you to….”
Back? Yes. Rested? Gimme a break, folks. We didn’t go to Branson.
Six a.m. prayer group with my friends this morning. Mike Crawford anxious for news about his Mom and sister Judy…a couple others wanting news of the trip…My friend Tom asking, “You guys go somewhere?” I have trouble hearing all the sharing of joys and prayer requests this morning, my ears still plugged courtesy of Delta Airlines.
Many sweet emails today, but Mary Jo sent one with an especially apt benediction to the adventure:
On the plane to St. Louis, I sat next to a young man who was on his way home from Iraq. He had been there for 18 months, was going to be home for 2 and a half weeks, and then back to Iraq. The temperature in Iraq hovers at 120 degrees. It took him 3 days to get home to St. Louis. And he didn't complain about anything. When I thought of all he had been through (and with a precious smile on his face), it put our homecoming into perspective. Tammy, Bonnie and I told him that we would pray for him. His name is Derek McKeen in case you'd like to storm the heavens with prayer for him. He was so grateful. He even gave Tammy his address and email when she said she'd have her Sunday school class pray for him. The joy in his face as he took pictures as we landed made me realize how much we all take for granted. We are all blessed!! Yes, Travis, you are one of the many who make lemonade out of lemons!!
So one night…what?...18 months ago or so… I drove in to Keith and Nancy’s house to spread the possibilities out on their kitchen bar… Nancy had asked if I’d gather some material on Ireland. .. We viewed the offerings… Go Ahead Tours, NETC, ALSG, and Passport… narrowed things down to Go Head and Passports…then Passports… and decided upon the Great Britain tour…thinking that perhaps four or five other folks might be interested in going.
And from such tiny plans, great dreams are made…and fulfilled…and remembered.. some, forever.
Brit-Bound-Blog
Issue #27…
This Sunday’s Meeting
3 p.m., this Sunday, First Presbyterian on College Avenue. Enter through the north doors and we’ll be in the fellowship room up the stairs and to your right.
I’m sure I’ll have your plane tickets by this time along with the names and addresses of the hotels where we’ll be staying. I guess all that leaves is packing your toothbrush and jumping onto the plane.
I’d encourage you to skim through the blog entries this week if you’ve not done so lately. I was a bit taken aback this week when one of our young travelers asked me, “What’s a carry-on bag?”
Changes..Changes…Changes…
As I’ve mentioned ad nauseum, “change” is not only the motto of both political candidates, but it’s the by-word of travel. We’ve had some changes. Since certain events simply don't happen on Sunday in many parts of the world, and because our schedule is tight, the following edits have taken place in our tour:
1) the schedule doesn’t allow enough time for the “Mystery Tour” option, so those of you who signed up will be refunded the money for that one. They’ll send one check to me.
2) River Dance does not play on Sunday night and on Monday most are scheduled for the Abbey Tavern so you’ll be refunded the River Dance bucks. Yeah, I know..I wanted to see that rascal, too. But hey, it’s all good and we’ll have a great time wherever we go.
3) Some of us opted out of the Loch Tour option in order to spend the day with Jackie Shores, a friend. There’s now a possibility that Jackie will be stateside due to her father’s illness. So…I’m checking with our tour consultant about us signing up for the Loch Tour instead.
More Money Matters…
This from Kathy Bernard, our tour consultant:
Based on the tipping guidelines (which can be adjusted at your own discretion based on service received) the amount to your courier would be $48 per person. The amount to your driver in Ireland would be $15 per person (given to him on Day 6 when he drops you off at Dublin airport), and the
amount to your driver in Scotland and London would be $18 per person, given the day before you leave to come home.
Remind travelers that they'll also want some cash on them for baggage fees. They should try very hard to not exceed one medium sized suitcase of 44 lbs or less.
If they check two bags, Delta will charge $25 for the second bag. Ryan air charges for any checked bag exceeding 33 lbs, so many will probably have to pay a fee at the Dublin airport. Packing light has always been an art form, but these days, not having that talent really costs the traveler, on the spot.
Please don't look upon this tipping as a “hidden charge.” Believe me, it’s standard practice in the tourism industry, although one that sometimes we Midwesterners have trouble understanding.
The Truth about London Taxis
From Bill Curry, re: an article in Budge Traveler magazine: London
Always take the city’s old-fashioned black cabs, which are licensed by the city, rather than the so-called minicabs that sometimes wait outside theaters, restaurants, and bars at night, says Scotland Yard spokesman Alan Crockford. In 2006, an average of 10 women a month were assaulted by the drivers of minicabs, according to the most recent data available from the London Metropolitan Police. Minicabs belonging to a car service are licensed, but even those cars are only legally permitted to pick up passengers who have called to make a reservation-they can not stop for people in the street. Contact the Transport for London office (011-44/20-7222-1234, tfl.gov.uk) if you want a list of licensed minicab company numbers, Crockford says.
A Tip on Ryan Air from Anne
Anne Wildrick passed along this bit of info regarding the airline hopping us to Scotland: Ryanair.com's worst fees are for luggage. Its free weight allowance on checked bags is about 33 pounds collectively. Whether you check one, two, or three bags, if their collective weight exceeds 33 pounds, you'll pay about $10.40 for each pound over the limit!) (about €15 per kilo, or the local currency equivalent; full fees listed here.)
And don't try to pool or share luggage within the same traveling party. That's a no-no. But you can try this Budget Travel tip, instead: Stick an empty duffel bag in your suitcase; if Ryanair tries to charge you extra, shift some of the weight to the duffel and use it as your carry-on bag (which Ryanair allows, given that it's a reasonable size carry-on).
Brit-Bound-Blog
Issue #26…
We’re Getting Closer!
In our classified ads department.. Fellow traveler Bill Curry ended up with one too many around-your-neck travel pouches and he’d like to sell his $25 L.L. Bean dark green neck pouch measuring 8 inches by 5 ¾ for 12 bucks. Contact him at gwcurry3@verizon.net if you’d like to purchase it. He can bring it with him to the meeting on June 29th.
The Yarn Lady…
Although Janet Long has been accused of spinning many a good yard, this time it’s for real. She’ll be bring little tassels of yarn of the same color for you to put on your luggage and your carry-on. This way the big, healthy guys in our group can stand at the baggage carousel and grab the properly-yarned luggage without all forty of us trying to find a place at the trough. (And I know…we’ll undoubtedly run smack into a group with the same idea and the same color of yarn.)
At Our Final Meeting …
I’ll be sharing more materials with you.. specifically a Travel Handbook with lots of good information, plus a fact sheet on each of the cities we’ll be visiting. I’ve read them all and it’s good stuff. And since these “last minute reminders” will truly be in your hands at the last minute, I’ll pass a few salient points along to you now. I know, I know, much of this has been covered in previous mailings, but just to make sure…
--What to Pack in your carry-on: a change of clothing, toiletry items, contact lens kit, medicines, camera, all travel documents, books. And remember: carry your money on your person, not in your luggage.
---Look both ways before crossing a street! These folks don't drive on the correct side of the road and believe me, I never get used to this!
--Be sure to read the “tipping” information carefully. Let’s don't stiff our courier or our drivers.
---Remember than any liquids, gels or aerosols in your carry-on must be in containers that are 3 oz. or smaller. All such items are to be place in ONE 1-quart plastic bag zip-top bag. All lighters and matches are prohibited as carry-on items.
--Things to carry on your person: flight tickets, passport, cash, credit cards, foreign currency
--Be sure that your medicines are in their original containers.
--When you go through Irish Customs, they’ll likely ask you where you’re staying. Know the name of the hotel. (Yes, many travelers can’t remember, but it’ll speed things up and you might get an Irish smile if you know.)
---Please make lots of copies of your passport. Give one to your roommate, put one in your luggage, give one to anyone else on the tour, put one in your carry on. If you have to get a new one overseas, this will be invaluable.
---Unless you’ve had better luck than me with wake-up calls, I’d advise a travel alarm.
---Most travel info says “take three times the film you think you’ll need.”
---If you’re taking a wallet, please clean it out and leave all the unnecessary stuff at home. Do you really need your Sears card in a Sears-less Dublin?
---It’s a good idea to take a copy of your medical and eyeglass prescriptions.
---Carry your shoulder bag in front of you! If you think it looks dorky for group photos, then hide it behind your back during the snapping.
---And again, I urge you to tape a copy of your home address to the inside of your suitcase..and while you’re at it, why not place a copy of our group’s itinerary (the names of the hotels once we get them.) In case your tag gets ripped off, someone can open the luggage and find you.
Congrats to Nancy Bradbury on her 35th year of putting up with Keith. They say they’re going to Ireland, Scotland, and England to celebrate.
A Secure Offer…
From Keith: “If anyone wants to bring a copy of their passports to the meeting on the 29th, I will keep a file of them at the bank as a backup. If we run into problems on the road, I can call the bank and have a copy faxed.”
Just an offer of added piece of mind.”
A Tip On Tipping
I’d reminded you in a previous newsletter that it’s customary to tip certain folks who help make our journey more pleasant. For those of you attending our final meeting, I’ll give you a sheet explaining this in more detail, but here’s the recommendations that are pretty standard throughout the tourism industry:
For our courier (guide): $4 per person per day. For our long-distance bus driver, $3 per person per day. You may of course tip in local currencies…any currency. For example, in the “euro zone” it amounts to 3 euros per day for the courier and 2 euros for the driver. In the England that translates to 2 and 1 pounds respectively. Restaurant gratuities are included in our trip price as are short-term gratuities to city bus drivers and local guides. (However if the local guide is really good, I usually slip them something extra…some are really worth it.)
