It was pretty much a lovely flight. I was assigned an aisle seat and there were no window options when I checked in. However, when the doors closed there was no one in the seat, so I felt free to move over. This all went fine as I watched Judy Dench in the Marigold movie and then Chris Rock in the French girlfriend in NYC movie. However, by the start of the Jennifer Aniston goes to the commune movie the screen went wonky, so I had to switch back to the aisle seat in order to watch the Trout Fishing in the Yemen movie and bits of Julia Roberts in the Snow White movie. There was a time about halfway through the flight when I got quite short of breath as well. This is always distressing when one is halfway across the Atlantic Ocean and has only two puffs of ventolin and a bottle of water to work with. I did keep calm and carried on with a bottle of water and eventually it subsided. Interestingly, Marcia said the same thing happened to her on her flight, so maybe it has more to do with O2 levels falling than with asthma. I do wish flight attendants would lay off the purfume though.
So, by the time we were approaching Florida's east coast I was breathing easy and had finished my movies so I could devote full attention to watching the state from east to west coast, from the space center to Tampa Bay. Pretty amazing.
Customs welcomed me home and my luggage came fairly quickly. Agrigulture wasn't interested in me and neither was customs. I was soon on the shuttle to the terminal where Marcia was a welcome sight. We celebrated my return with a big greasy Red Robin burger and fries (as opposed to chips). Truthfully it was the non fizzy lemonaide that I most looked forward to. Like the Scottish woman who just wanted a proper tea with milk, I wanted my lemonaide like I like it.
Most of the ride home was easy, but I had seen a big black cloud when on the shuttle at the airport. By the time we were on the Veteran's Expressway it had gotten quite big, and as we pulled into Beverly Hills at about 8:30 (which my body thought was 1:30am) it began to rain and more impressively lightening. I would not be surprised to hear that it had made tornadoes around Brooksville, but we made it home OK.
Nobody greets you like Stella. She has been reminding me of her routines and checking in from time to time to see that I really am still here. Also, Vicky has been running the vacuum, so being at my feet under the desk seems prudent to her.
I slept well till about 7am EDST, which would be noon GMT. I had my usual breakfast and a 9:30 am EDST lunch. Marcia has made little noshes for me while I transition. I'll take it easy through the long weekend and try to get all the photos edited and posted and the laundry done and the computers back in order, etc... Soon I'll start looking for a Fernandina Beach residence for October. Stay tuned for our next adventure.
KG
Friday, August 31, 2012
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Dover-Dover Castle
Dover is a tiny little town actually. Once you get onto the High Street there are ATM's on every corner. This was important to me as I only had 20 pounds on me. I'm sure this is very important to many people who cross the channel and need British currency. P&O has paper signs up that say they will only accept euro aboard ship.
So, after getting money and buying kinesio tapes at Boots, I quickly found a taxi and headed to the castle. On the way to the castle I saw the ruins of a building, so I asked the driver about it. It was a church that the Germans bombed (they never say the Nazi's). The church was rebuilt on another site during the war and it too was bombed. I tried to imagine how a church would have been rebuilt during the war-what a colossal undertaking. It was simply foreshadowing for what I was about to experience.
I had left my great big Great Britain guidebook in Reading so I had not briefed the night before as I usually do. But, a castle is a castle is a castle-right? Yes and No. This castle was a Roman lighthouse, a Saxon Church, A medieval castle (the Henrys II and III), a castle with tunnel system built for the Napoleonic wars, and most spectacularly the tunnels which housed the British Naval Command in WWII. The displays in the WWII tunnels are fairly recently opened-within the last 10 years. Many people queueing with me had been to the castle as children and these were not open at the time. Just as well. Most of the children along could not really appreciate the story and it was dark and scary at times.
There is always a queue at this site, so I decided to do it first thing reckoning that there would only be longer queues as the day progressed. I was right. I probably waited half an hour in the short queue. By mid afternoon the queue was more like 1.5-2 hours wait.
Once in a guide takes you down a series of tunnels and rooms. Each room you are taken to has a multi-media show taking you from 1930 through the evacuation of Dunkirk in May-June 1940. For me it was three dimensional history. As I have said before, reading about historical dates and Kings and Generals leaves me yawning, but down in the tunnels I could see and feel the fear and anxiety that Hitler's invasions produced in the people of Britain. He was literally closing in on them and they were playing catch up. I could understand the meaning of "Keep Calm and Carry On". It is now a bit of a cliche, but it remains in the character of the people. There really is calm when crowds of people wait for trains or have to share small space. People will squeeze into lifts and assure you that there is room for one more, and strangers offer help with big bags and particularly carrying push chairs on stairs when the lifts are out of order. It is not seen as extraordinary. It is the way of things.
The tunnels experience takes about 45 min. Next to it is a tour of the hospital in the tunnels. The queue is shorter here and it only takes about 20 min, but it is in some ways more terrifying. Surgery was not the same thing then as it is today, and surgery without lighting is pretty scary. Though there were back up generators and batteries, lights flickered and went out until the back up was engaged. An attempt was made to incorporate smells of antiseptic in our experience, which was noxious enough. I suspect there would have been plenty of other bodily smells that would be more off putting in reality. At the end was a 73 step climb that left me and the very pregnant woman quite breathless. We kept calm and eventually carried on.
I got some lunch-chicken baked with a tomato curry sauce and boiled potatoes and steamed broccoli and sliced carrots and a piece of ww soda bread with a pat of butter. There was gravy, but I passed on it which was a mistake as the broccoli tasted to me like Pat Miller veggie. The carrots are naturally sweet and were a bit better. Loved the soda bread, and the chicken was saved by the Indians.
There is a land train to take you around the rather large complex, so I took it to the next site of interest to me, the castle tower. I was allowed to take photos there -not so in the tunnels. The castle has guides stationed in various rooms so that you can ask them questions. I only had one question and the guide was unable to answer it. She was new. European children have such a treasure growing up with these real castles. They lend themselves to just the sort of imaginative play children need and love as well as providing real hands on experience of history. The rooms were set up with replicas of period furnishings and equipment so that we could see and touch things as they would have been. Probably fortunate that the smells were not replicated. I'll show you (on the photo blog) a boy of about 11 who was handling iron mail. He was getting a real feel for the weight and texture of a knight's outfit. Likewise the sword swishing lad making his way through the keep.
My experience of the castle involved several hundred stair steps. I did make it to the top and got magnificent views of the channel and surrounding area. France is very close. I also found the marks left by big gun installations. They were only on the channel side of the castle roof.
It was about 2 pm when I figured I had best save what energy I had left for making the trip back to Reading. The rest of the tale is a series of waits for transportation and go on transportation. It goes: wait for the land train, wait for the taxi from the castle, wait for the taxi from the hotel to the train station, wait for the train, change trains at Ashford and wait for the high speed train to St Pancras. Then there was not waiting. I got a taxi just outside of St Pancras and across town at remarkable speed to Paddington. I must say that London looks a bit like Rome these days at rush hour, as some people mount their crotch rockets and zoom between lanes of traffic at the speed of greased lightening. My taxi managed to get to Paddington without killing anyone. The train to Reading was waiting for me to get aboard and I was soon off to Reading. First class in Britain means a trolley comes to provide you with some free refreshments. I got a small bottle of water, a glass of apple juice and a bag of crisps to fuel the remainder of my journey. Tony picked me up at the station, brought my heavy bag into the house and fed me lovely pumpkin soup for dinner. It really does feel like home here at Tony and Francoise's house. I was in bed by 9 and got a nice long sleep.
The house is mine today. Tony and Mark are off at work and Francoise is in France with her Mum. I have the dishwasher to mind, a shower, and packing ahead of me, and then perhaps I'll get to some photo posting and editing. Tomorrow is the flight.
KG
So, after getting money and buying kinesio tapes at Boots, I quickly found a taxi and headed to the castle. On the way to the castle I saw the ruins of a building, so I asked the driver about it. It was a church that the Germans bombed (they never say the Nazi's). The church was rebuilt on another site during the war and it too was bombed. I tried to imagine how a church would have been rebuilt during the war-what a colossal undertaking. It was simply foreshadowing for what I was about to experience.
I had left my great big Great Britain guidebook in Reading so I had not briefed the night before as I usually do. But, a castle is a castle is a castle-right? Yes and No. This castle was a Roman lighthouse, a Saxon Church, A medieval castle (the Henrys II and III), a castle with tunnel system built for the Napoleonic wars, and most spectacularly the tunnels which housed the British Naval Command in WWII. The displays in the WWII tunnels are fairly recently opened-within the last 10 years. Many people queueing with me had been to the castle as children and these were not open at the time. Just as well. Most of the children along could not really appreciate the story and it was dark and scary at times.
There is always a queue at this site, so I decided to do it first thing reckoning that there would only be longer queues as the day progressed. I was right. I probably waited half an hour in the short queue. By mid afternoon the queue was more like 1.5-2 hours wait.
Once in a guide takes you down a series of tunnels and rooms. Each room you are taken to has a multi-media show taking you from 1930 through the evacuation of Dunkirk in May-June 1940. For me it was three dimensional history. As I have said before, reading about historical dates and Kings and Generals leaves me yawning, but down in the tunnels I could see and feel the fear and anxiety that Hitler's invasions produced in the people of Britain. He was literally closing in on them and they were playing catch up. I could understand the meaning of "Keep Calm and Carry On". It is now a bit of a cliche, but it remains in the character of the people. There really is calm when crowds of people wait for trains or have to share small space. People will squeeze into lifts and assure you that there is room for one more, and strangers offer help with big bags and particularly carrying push chairs on stairs when the lifts are out of order. It is not seen as extraordinary. It is the way of things.
The tunnels experience takes about 45 min. Next to it is a tour of the hospital in the tunnels. The queue is shorter here and it only takes about 20 min, but it is in some ways more terrifying. Surgery was not the same thing then as it is today, and surgery without lighting is pretty scary. Though there were back up generators and batteries, lights flickered and went out until the back up was engaged. An attempt was made to incorporate smells of antiseptic in our experience, which was noxious enough. I suspect there would have been plenty of other bodily smells that would be more off putting in reality. At the end was a 73 step climb that left me and the very pregnant woman quite breathless. We kept calm and eventually carried on.
I got some lunch-chicken baked with a tomato curry sauce and boiled potatoes and steamed broccoli and sliced carrots and a piece of ww soda bread with a pat of butter. There was gravy, but I passed on it which was a mistake as the broccoli tasted to me like Pat Miller veggie. The carrots are naturally sweet and were a bit better. Loved the soda bread, and the chicken was saved by the Indians.
There is a land train to take you around the rather large complex, so I took it to the next site of interest to me, the castle tower. I was allowed to take photos there -not so in the tunnels. The castle has guides stationed in various rooms so that you can ask them questions. I only had one question and the guide was unable to answer it. She was new. European children have such a treasure growing up with these real castles. They lend themselves to just the sort of imaginative play children need and love as well as providing real hands on experience of history. The rooms were set up with replicas of period furnishings and equipment so that we could see and touch things as they would have been. Probably fortunate that the smells were not replicated. I'll show you (on the photo blog) a boy of about 11 who was handling iron mail. He was getting a real feel for the weight and texture of a knight's outfit. Likewise the sword swishing lad making his way through the keep.
My experience of the castle involved several hundred stair steps. I did make it to the top and got magnificent views of the channel and surrounding area. France is very close. I also found the marks left by big gun installations. They were only on the channel side of the castle roof.
It was about 2 pm when I figured I had best save what energy I had left for making the trip back to Reading. The rest of the tale is a series of waits for transportation and go on transportation. It goes: wait for the land train, wait for the taxi from the castle, wait for the taxi from the hotel to the train station, wait for the train, change trains at Ashford and wait for the high speed train to St Pancras. Then there was not waiting. I got a taxi just outside of St Pancras and across town at remarkable speed to Paddington. I must say that London looks a bit like Rome these days at rush hour, as some people mount their crotch rockets and zoom between lanes of traffic at the speed of greased lightening. My taxi managed to get to Paddington without killing anyone. The train to Reading was waiting for me to get aboard and I was soon off to Reading. First class in Britain means a trolley comes to provide you with some free refreshments. I got a small bottle of water, a glass of apple juice and a bag of crisps to fuel the remainder of my journey. Tony picked me up at the station, brought my heavy bag into the house and fed me lovely pumpkin soup for dinner. It really does feel like home here at Tony and Francoise's house. I was in bed by 9 and got a nice long sleep.
The house is mine today. Tony and Mark are off at work and Francoise is in France with her Mum. I have the dishwasher to mind, a shower, and packing ahead of me, and then perhaps I'll get to some photo posting and editing. Tomorrow is the flight.
KG
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Dover, Kent, UK
I've made the trip that the ancestors did in crossing the channel. I wonder if they had as many chan&ges and waits. I am glad I did it this way. It's amazing to see the white cliffs on both sides of the channel and know that at one time they were joined before the sea rushed in.
I had mixed feelings about leaving Brussels. It has been a good home away from home, but it is really time for me to head to my home home. I hopped the metro early this morning (about 8:30) and was at Brussels Midi over an hour before my train was scheduled to leave. My whole day was a series of short rides and waiting for short rides. I had to change trains at Lille Europe and then again from one station in Calais to another Calais station where I got out near the clock tower and ran around with other tourists trying to find the bus stop for the bus that takes us to the P&O ferry terminal. The bus finally arrived and we were off. I was able to buy a discounted ticket because of my rail pass, and I was told I would have to take the 4 o'clock ferry. That was fine by me because I had no idea when I would get to the terminal and hadn't reserved, so pot luck would have been my fare at any cost. Next we were sent through the detection machines which ment disrobbing so I could take off my money wallet-just like at the airport. Next was the French border police who was cute and smiled and just said, "Florida!". The UK customs guy was not so cute and rather stern and grumpy. He had several questions. I always let them know that I have a plan to leave, and this plan was comming up soon. He saw that I had eneterd the UK in July, and I informed him that I had also entered 2 June. He wasnted to know where all I had been, so I started in with Barcelona and Stockholm and by the time I got back to Plymouth he had heard enough and stopped me. He wanted to know what my profession was, so I told him I was retired and then he wanted to know what I had done before I retired, so I told him I was a social worker and he just seemed to feel that the story got stranger and stranger but that he had no reason to not believe me so he let me go. Default was fine with me.
So I sat in the waiting area with all the others and they called the 3:20 people and when they were all loaded on the bus they decided that we could join them. The bus was sardine packed, but it only had a short way to go to the boat. I kept my suitcase the whole way up about 6 long ramps to the boat not knowing I could check it. When I got onboard and saw another stairway, I gave it a good thought and opted for the lift. Me and the other old people and the prams or push chairs (strollers). The boat was packed, so I found a seat in the bar by the casino and just caught my breath. Once we were off and I felt that the people around me were trustworthy enough I left my stuff and went to the deck for a few photos. Having gotten the white cliffs of France and having some time before the white cliffs of Dover I headed for the restaurant and got myself a big glass of wine and and order of oak smoked salmon. Nice way to pass the time in calm seas.
I was back on deck for the white cliffs of Dover and had two lovely chats. One was an Australian woman who lives in Vancouver, BC and the other a 29 year old Frenchman (of African descent) who is coming to the UK to work and get really good with English with a plan of going to Australia after that. He was lovely in spirit and the world is just waiting for him to explore.
So, I retrieved my belongings and took the lift down, and when the bus was packed again I opted to wait for the next bus. By the time it had come I had had chats with the older Australian couple and the Norwegian woman headed for Edinburgh. The Scottish couple with the little girl had gone to France on holigay in their car and it had not made it through the trip. Therefore, they had quite a few bags of stuff and were very weary and had a cranky kid. Luckily she was not a screamer. By the time they got on the bus the parents were longing for adult beverages and the father didn't believe they would get there ever.
The terminal was virtually empty, but we finally came upon three officals who we used as tourist information. They told me that my hotel was about 15 min walk. This is often said by a 20 something person, so I always double the time for me. In truth I truly enjoyed the walk though I looked a bit bedraggled when I reported in at hotel reception and my legs still ache the next morning. It's not every day one gets to stroll between the channel and the white cliffs. People were having a day at the beach and swim groups were crossing the marina. There was an old Cunard ship in port and the P&O ferries continued to come and go.
I wouldn't stay at this Best Western again, but it is OK for the night. The bathroom smells like mould and mildew, which I am certain is growing under the rennovated surfaces. It is warm, but I have a fan. The best thing about this hotel besides the view in the afternoon (at present the morning sun makes it impossible to open the curtains as it is blinding) is the 4 pm checkout offered me by booking.com. The receptionist almost didn't give it to me, but double checked and had to. Ya-hoo! I'm taking my tired legs to Dover Castle and have a room to come back to.
Better get on my way. Back to Reading tonight via London. A day of rest and packing tomorrow with perhaps a trip to Boots Pharmacy for a few more of these knee tapes that work wonders. They are the duct tape of the human body. Thursday Tony will take me to Gatwick for a day that never seems to end, and Thursday night, when it finally does come, will find me in my own bed with my own sweetheart and the always lovely Stella nearby.
KG
I had mixed feelings about leaving Brussels. It has been a good home away from home, but it is really time for me to head to my home home. I hopped the metro early this morning (about 8:30) and was at Brussels Midi over an hour before my train was scheduled to leave. My whole day was a series of short rides and waiting for short rides. I had to change trains at Lille Europe and then again from one station in Calais to another Calais station where I got out near the clock tower and ran around with other tourists trying to find the bus stop for the bus that takes us to the P&O ferry terminal. The bus finally arrived and we were off. I was able to buy a discounted ticket because of my rail pass, and I was told I would have to take the 4 o'clock ferry. That was fine by me because I had no idea when I would get to the terminal and hadn't reserved, so pot luck would have been my fare at any cost. Next we were sent through the detection machines which ment disrobbing so I could take off my money wallet-just like at the airport. Next was the French border police who was cute and smiled and just said, "Florida!". The UK customs guy was not so cute and rather stern and grumpy. He had several questions. I always let them know that I have a plan to leave, and this plan was comming up soon. He saw that I had eneterd the UK in July, and I informed him that I had also entered 2 June. He wasnted to know where all I had been, so I started in with Barcelona and Stockholm and by the time I got back to Plymouth he had heard enough and stopped me. He wanted to know what my profession was, so I told him I was retired and then he wanted to know what I had done before I retired, so I told him I was a social worker and he just seemed to feel that the story got stranger and stranger but that he had no reason to not believe me so he let me go. Default was fine with me.
So I sat in the waiting area with all the others and they called the 3:20 people and when they were all loaded on the bus they decided that we could join them. The bus was sardine packed, but it only had a short way to go to the boat. I kept my suitcase the whole way up about 6 long ramps to the boat not knowing I could check it. When I got onboard and saw another stairway, I gave it a good thought and opted for the lift. Me and the other old people and the prams or push chairs (strollers). The boat was packed, so I found a seat in the bar by the casino and just caught my breath. Once we were off and I felt that the people around me were trustworthy enough I left my stuff and went to the deck for a few photos. Having gotten the white cliffs of France and having some time before the white cliffs of Dover I headed for the restaurant and got myself a big glass of wine and and order of oak smoked salmon. Nice way to pass the time in calm seas.
I was back on deck for the white cliffs of Dover and had two lovely chats. One was an Australian woman who lives in Vancouver, BC and the other a 29 year old Frenchman (of African descent) who is coming to the UK to work and get really good with English with a plan of going to Australia after that. He was lovely in spirit and the world is just waiting for him to explore.
So, I retrieved my belongings and took the lift down, and when the bus was packed again I opted to wait for the next bus. By the time it had come I had had chats with the older Australian couple and the Norwegian woman headed for Edinburgh. The Scottish couple with the little girl had gone to France on holigay in their car and it had not made it through the trip. Therefore, they had quite a few bags of stuff and were very weary and had a cranky kid. Luckily she was not a screamer. By the time they got on the bus the parents were longing for adult beverages and the father didn't believe they would get there ever.
The terminal was virtually empty, but we finally came upon three officals who we used as tourist information. They told me that my hotel was about 15 min walk. This is often said by a 20 something person, so I always double the time for me. In truth I truly enjoyed the walk though I looked a bit bedraggled when I reported in at hotel reception and my legs still ache the next morning. It's not every day one gets to stroll between the channel and the white cliffs. People were having a day at the beach and swim groups were crossing the marina. There was an old Cunard ship in port and the P&O ferries continued to come and go.
I wouldn't stay at this Best Western again, but it is OK for the night. The bathroom smells like mould and mildew, which I am certain is growing under the rennovated surfaces. It is warm, but I have a fan. The best thing about this hotel besides the view in the afternoon (at present the morning sun makes it impossible to open the curtains as it is blinding) is the 4 pm checkout offered me by booking.com. The receptionist almost didn't give it to me, but double checked and had to. Ya-hoo! I'm taking my tired legs to Dover Castle and have a room to come back to.
Better get on my way. Back to Reading tonight via London. A day of rest and packing tomorrow with perhaps a trip to Boots Pharmacy for a few more of these knee tapes that work wonders. They are the duct tape of the human body. Thursday Tony will take me to Gatwick for a day that never seems to end, and Thursday night, when it finally does come, will find me in my own bed with my own sweetheart and the always lovely Stella nearby.
KG
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Antwerp-Zurenborg 5
This is my lunch cafe. I ate outside-very pleasant.
This is the railroad bridge.
KG
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Ghent Again
Looks like showers to light rain for me tomorrow, so just as well I ventured out today. Of course it cannot compare to the trouble Isaac is threatening. My plan is to fly back on Thursday, so knock wood for the folks at home and then one more for me.
Ghent was lovely. The tourist map is a piece of rubbish. If you are headed this way go ahead and buy a better map. I spent alot of time trying to orient with a map that didn't include the little streets and there are indeed quite a few of them. I eventually found all the places I wanted generally by asking for assistance, and narrowing it down, but it took too much time and effort.
That being said, the tram was easy, but the ticket for the tram was not. No tourist info in the train station and I could find nowhere to buy a tram ticket. When I got to the main square the tourist office there was closed. I am not exactly what you would call an early arriver, so I assume it is closed on Saturday. After all, who needs a tourist office on the weekends, right! It does happen that the transit authority office is just around the corner, so after getting an illegal ride to the center city, I bought a day pass for 5 euro to cover my sins and get me back to the station.
It threatened to rain all day and indeed sprinkled from time to time. Occasionally the sun broke through. I was headed to the design museum, but stopped for a waffle and tea (the here). There were no more waffles, so I had to opt for a pain chocolat-will of the Goddess I guess. Luckily Jasmine the was available. On the way to the design museum was a canal boat ride, so, thinking it could pour at any minute I opted for the boat ride. Photos to follow. It was a good plan, but not because of rain. I got into the design museum thanks to a detour and the help of the boat ticket seller.
The design museum was quite fun and my art noveau heart beat double time several times. Not just from climbing the stairs either. You'll see the photos. By the time I was done with the museum I was proper hungry. I used my Lonely Planet to pick out a restaurant treat and spent the next 30 minutes finding the restaurant. Along the way I met a bloke who left his car running by the big map near St Michael's bridge while he tried to read the map. He was at more of a loss than I was. He had to navigate one way cobblestones streets.
To those of you who have suffered from my lack of map reading skills I will inform you that I did find the restaurant and it was well worth the effort. It had also begun to rain enough to take out the umbrella-never an enhancement to map reading. The restaurant was Pakhuis. I've been to their website and you should just wait for my photos. It is a large high glass ceiling steel and glass building that is fabulous. The kitchen was closed so I had choices from a limited menu-probably all I needed anyway. I cannot rave about the food, but the little shrimp croquettes I had were fine and accompanied by a peppery tasting greens and the wine was good. I'm sure with a proper map one could find the restaurant in time to get a good meal.
Speaking of a good meal (and digressing a bit), I have grown quite fond of a BBC program aired daily around 6 pm called Hairy Bikers. These two guy chefs bike around GB ferreting out the local ingredients of each area and cooking with a local chef. It's the dark haired guy that's the charmer. I believe he is from Newcastle area and has that Georgie accent and turn of phrase that is almost irristable if you can understand it. The featured food makes me ravenous. They even make haggis look good. Today, as I type, they are looking at Hampshire pork. See if you can find these guys on the internet. I'm too busy eating my own dinner.
Tonight's dinner is a salad of rocket, ugly tomatoes, a farmer's cheese consistency sheep cheese and a dressing of oil, vinegar and herbs (it's bottled but good enough to sop up with the bread). The main course is cassoulet canard confit which I got from my new favorite store, the Champigros, rue Sainte-Catherine 36 or Sint-Kateijinestraat 36, SVP. My bread is from the Charli bakery next door. So, even though I had to "make do" with architecture for lunch, I'm having a fine dinner.
I called it a day in Ghent after lunch and caught the train about 4pm. I was back in Brusels in time to get my culinary dessert habit before the store closed. It is a little tub of Total Face strained Greek yogurt (the kind with no % marks on the label) with a generous helping of Cerises Griottes Confites drizzled over it. Ohhhhh-la-la. It whups ice cream's butt anyday. I have just enough for tonight and tomorrow.
Tomorrow looks like a day of rest for me. That generally includes some photo editing, so check the photo blog.
Bon Soir
KG
Ghent was lovely. The tourist map is a piece of rubbish. If you are headed this way go ahead and buy a better map. I spent alot of time trying to orient with a map that didn't include the little streets and there are indeed quite a few of them. I eventually found all the places I wanted generally by asking for assistance, and narrowing it down, but it took too much time and effort.
That being said, the tram was easy, but the ticket for the tram was not. No tourist info in the train station and I could find nowhere to buy a tram ticket. When I got to the main square the tourist office there was closed. I am not exactly what you would call an early arriver, so I assume it is closed on Saturday. After all, who needs a tourist office on the weekends, right! It does happen that the transit authority office is just around the corner, so after getting an illegal ride to the center city, I bought a day pass for 5 euro to cover my sins and get me back to the station.
It threatened to rain all day and indeed sprinkled from time to time. Occasionally the sun broke through. I was headed to the design museum, but stopped for a waffle and tea (the here). There were no more waffles, so I had to opt for a pain chocolat-will of the Goddess I guess. Luckily Jasmine the was available. On the way to the design museum was a canal boat ride, so, thinking it could pour at any minute I opted for the boat ride. Photos to follow. It was a good plan, but not because of rain. I got into the design museum thanks to a detour and the help of the boat ticket seller.
The design museum was quite fun and my art noveau heart beat double time several times. Not just from climbing the stairs either. You'll see the photos. By the time I was done with the museum I was proper hungry. I used my Lonely Planet to pick out a restaurant treat and spent the next 30 minutes finding the restaurant. Along the way I met a bloke who left his car running by the big map near St Michael's bridge while he tried to read the map. He was at more of a loss than I was. He had to navigate one way cobblestones streets.
To those of you who have suffered from my lack of map reading skills I will inform you that I did find the restaurant and it was well worth the effort. It had also begun to rain enough to take out the umbrella-never an enhancement to map reading. The restaurant was Pakhuis. I've been to their website and you should just wait for my photos. It is a large high glass ceiling steel and glass building that is fabulous. The kitchen was closed so I had choices from a limited menu-probably all I needed anyway. I cannot rave about the food, but the little shrimp croquettes I had were fine and accompanied by a peppery tasting greens and the wine was good. I'm sure with a proper map one could find the restaurant in time to get a good meal.
Speaking of a good meal (and digressing a bit), I have grown quite fond of a BBC program aired daily around 6 pm called Hairy Bikers. These two guy chefs bike around GB ferreting out the local ingredients of each area and cooking with a local chef. It's the dark haired guy that's the charmer. I believe he is from Newcastle area and has that Georgie accent and turn of phrase that is almost irristable if you can understand it. The featured food makes me ravenous. They even make haggis look good. Today, as I type, they are looking at Hampshire pork. See if you can find these guys on the internet. I'm too busy eating my own dinner.
Tonight's dinner is a salad of rocket, ugly tomatoes, a farmer's cheese consistency sheep cheese and a dressing of oil, vinegar and herbs (it's bottled but good enough to sop up with the bread). The main course is cassoulet canard confit which I got from my new favorite store, the Champigros, rue Sainte-Catherine 36 or Sint-Kateijinestraat 36, SVP. My bread is from the Charli bakery next door. So, even though I had to "make do" with architecture for lunch, I'm having a fine dinner.
I called it a day in Ghent after lunch and caught the train about 4pm. I was back in Brusels in time to get my culinary dessert habit before the store closed. It is a little tub of Total Face strained Greek yogurt (the kind with no % marks on the label) with a generous helping of Cerises Griottes Confites drizzled over it. Ohhhhh-la-la. It whups ice cream's butt anyday. I have just enough for tonight and tomorrow.
Tomorrow looks like a day of rest for me. That generally includes some photo editing, so check the photo blog.
Bon Soir
KG
Friday, August 24, 2012
Antwerp
Antwerp and Ghent are the closest of the cities I have targeted this trip, so I was able to take my time to get there today. Getting out at the station was the first ahhh experience. Wait till you see the photos. I made a stop by the information office and the queue was well worth it as I got a great map and a day ticket for transport. So, as soon as tram 11 came by, I was on it and headed for the Zurenborg neighborhood to oogle the Art Noveau houses. I wasn't disappointed. I oogled for quite some time and I was glad I went here first when my legs were fresh. I even found a synagog that was pretty special and, since the train to Brussels passes by this neighborhood and since it is Friday night, I got to see the lights on inside on my way home.
Besides fantastic houses there are many lovely cafe's, so after a good walk around I stopped for a delicious lunch. My next goal was the fine arts museum. I got great photos of the outside, but the inside is closed for the next 5 years. The collections have been dispersed. I was iterested in the Magrittes but apparently I had already seen them last year at the Magritte Museum in Brussels. The other museum of interest to me was M HKA, the contemporary art museum and it was a stones throw away, so I was off. I find that when there is something really interesting to see the legs will follow. Jimmie Durham provided. He made me smile and sometimes laugh out loud. I have quite a file of photos to edit.
I must remember to tell the story of the lovely lady who helped me find my way. I asked her at a tram station if this was the #8 toward town. I was headed to the fine arts museum. She tried to tell me that part of the way was under construction, but we had no common language. As I was sitting on the #8 headed towards Museum, another woman approached me to explain in English that I needed to get off at National Bank and change trams as there is construction along the route of the #8. She had been sent by the first lady. The kindness of strangers-such a gift.
I had hoped to have a walk down the main canal after the contemporary art museum, but there wasn't much to see from the street and I was way too tired to investigate much. I did find the Grotte Market and the metro to the train station.
I'm thinking I'll go back to Ghent tomorrow. I still have the center city to see and a design museum. I'd love to get back to Antwerp as well, but we shall see if energy allows.
KG
Besides fantastic houses there are many lovely cafe's, so after a good walk around I stopped for a delicious lunch. My next goal was the fine arts museum. I got great photos of the outside, but the inside is closed for the next 5 years. The collections have been dispersed. I was iterested in the Magrittes but apparently I had already seen them last year at the Magritte Museum in Brussels. The other museum of interest to me was M HKA, the contemporary art museum and it was a stones throw away, so I was off. I find that when there is something really interesting to see the legs will follow. Jimmie Durham provided. He made me smile and sometimes laugh out loud. I have quite a file of photos to edit.
I must remember to tell the story of the lovely lady who helped me find my way. I asked her at a tram station if this was the #8 toward town. I was headed to the fine arts museum. She tried to tell me that part of the way was under construction, but we had no common language. As I was sitting on the #8 headed towards Museum, another woman approached me to explain in English that I needed to get off at National Bank and change trams as there is construction along the route of the #8. She had been sent by the first lady. The kindness of strangers-such a gift.
I had hoped to have a walk down the main canal after the contemporary art museum, but there wasn't much to see from the street and I was way too tired to investigate much. I did find the Grotte Market and the metro to the train station.
I'm thinking I'll go back to Ghent tomorrow. I still have the center city to see and a design museum. I'd love to get back to Antwerp as well, but we shall see if energy allows.
KG
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Brussels With Friends
Brussels is good, but Brussels with friends is best. Suzanne came in the Twingo today with Amber and Hans. Bart had to work. Hans is Suzanne's ex and Amber and Bart are their children. I'm afraid Bart will be very sad he missed a good day outing with us. Though Brussels is only 3 hours away and fairly easy to get to by train, none of them has ever explored the city. So I planned the route and we made adjustments here and there. The weather was warm, but not hot. So, we began with a walk up towards Central Station, where I now know 4 exits. We went through St Hubert's Arcade and turned left for a walk uphill towards the Old English. We stopped for traditional Belgium waffles along the way, and they were quite good. Once at the Old English we decided to have a coffee at the restaurant at the top, so we got the views and a little rest and a bit of get up and go all at once. Not to mention a nice visit and sharing stories. Next we did a quick tour of the Horta Art Noveau features of the Gresham. You can find photos of all these things on last summer's photo blog. Pretty stunning. Then down the street for the Sablon park and further down for the Palis du Justice where we enjoyed the views and took the lift down. This was a little different route to Pierre Marcolini's chocolate shops and along the way we spotted a kitchen ware shop. So, out of politeness I entered. We all had a great time and came out with a good bag or two each. Heading down the street I decided to stop for a look at the map, and when I looked up we were stanting under the awning of Pierre's shop. So, upstairs we went. Marcia had requested another of Pierre's sampler boxes, so I had to comply. Along the way were were offered a taste of some samples. I picked the pepper chocolate and it was nothing less than fabulous. On to Pierre's other shop which is something like a chocolate deli. We just looked. It was now about 2:45 and our waffles and cup of go was long gone. We headed across town to the St Catherine district to my newest favorite restaurant, the Breton gallette restaurant. For 11.50 we got gallette complete (big buckwheat crepe with ham, emmentale cheese, a bit of butter and a raw egg is cracked on top of it all just before it is removed from the crepe maker so that it cooks the whites but leaves the yellow runny to be soaked up by the crepe) small salad of greens and a couple of tomatoe wedges, a bottle of cider, and for dessert a sugar butter crepe made with white flour. It was all very filling, and the company was fun. Our little walk through St Catherines was equally interesting even though our energy was a bit lower than earlier in the day. I decided to walk all the way to the end of the street instead of taking the shortcut through an alley, and just as well. Amber spotted an Oxfam retro shop where she found a fantastic blue lacy dress that fits her to a T. 13 euro. Excellent find! We went around the street and were back by the big fountain. Turns out that the little kitchen shop that was closed last week as the owners were off on holiday was now open. I had to stiffle myself several times including one dinnerware set that made me want to scream with delight. Suzanne reminded me to breathe deeply. We were two blocks away from the car park, so our friends were able to stow their purchases away and we were able to have a bathroom and rehydrate break in my hotel room. Since we had one more sight to see, the Janaken Pis, we took a little walk in the tourist area. Very different from any area we had walked in today except of course when we took a little detour to the Manikin Pis. So, all in all a fantastic day. Suzanne reminds me to give her best to Marcia and the 6 pack.
Time for me to put my feet up and drink lots of water.
The BBC Proms will feature Wallace and Grommit on Monday night. Hope I get to see it.
KG
Time for me to put my feet up and drink lots of water.
The BBC Proms will feature Wallace and Grommit on Monday night. Hope I get to see it.
KG
Monday, August 20, 2012
Brussels Bruges Beaches
I'm just back from my favorite Thai restaurant in the world. I just glanced back over the blogs from last year and I cannot believe I didn't go on an on about the food in this restaurant. My first visit with Marcia last year I had the moussaka. Moussaka at a Thai restaurant, you might be saying. But it is what was on the menu. Imagine a small eggplant split in two and ground chicken which has been cooked with thai basil and various spices. In amongst these spices are not just whole peppercorns, but whole baby peppercorns still attached to their stems. Just nibble off as much hot as you want/can stand. This is topped with a skewer of three grilled shrimp. There is a mound of sticky rice to the side. It is my favorite dish at my favorite Thai restaurant in the world.
My favorite owner manager wasn't there tonight, but it is Monday night and he might just have the day off. I was greeted by a woman, of all things. She was lovely, but no gadar going off. The other senior waiter was clearly a gay guy and ditto for the chef. I confess that besides food I had hoped to see my fave waiter from last year. He always sports a stylish hairdo and I was hoping to get a referral to his hairdresser. Maybe I'll just stop by the stylish salon around the corner from the restaurant tomorrow. I'm getting helmet head again.
I'll catch you up. Wednesday I rested after a vigorus explore of Ghent with Suzanne last Tuesday. Thursday I met her in Rotterdam where she grew up. We did a museum tour, photos to follow, and a boat trip in the Spiedo (which is cosiderably bigger than a swimsuit) of the Rotterdam port.
Friday I stayed in Brussels and tended to business which involved changing my tickets on the train from France to Calais direct from Brussels. I decided to stay here another week as there is plenty to do and see in the towns I set out to see, Bruges, Antwerp, and Ghent. I'm also getting tired and need some down time, so simplifying my agenda seems prudent.
Saturday I made a trip to Bruges. When I got off the train I went immediately to the tourist office for a map and some information. The 20 something tourist informant busily ignored me while she restocked the shelves with brouchers. When she did get to me she informed me that the way to see Bruges was to just walk across the street as it is all interesting. So, I took a long breath and asked about buses and after a series of questions I got the information I needed. As I suspected, town center is a bit of a walk, and taking the bus ment that I was fresh for the museum which was the main interest for me. I got to see the bell tower and identify the boat tour I wanted to take after lunch.
The museum was quite good and small enough to see in a short visit. Photos to follow. I got a very relaxing and cool lunch on a very hot day in a town full of lots of tired hot tourists like myself. I'm slowing my pace these days which includes a museum, upscale lunch in cool relaxing atmosphere, and a sit down activity. Of course it goes without saying, though I will, that there is a train ride of at least 45 min on either end of this activity and a walk home from the train station. The temps this weekend were in the low 90'sF.
I would love to spend more time in Bruges, but I don't see it happening this visit. On Sunday I went back to Ghent to see the fine arts museum. Because I got there a bit later than time for museum and lunch, I had lunch then museum. It was truly hot and the museum was not air conditioned, but cooler than ourside. It was a pretty fantastic museum. Photos to follow. This fine arts museum is right across the street from SMAK where Suzanne and I went on Tuesday so I had a good idea of how to get to it. I took a little different route through Citadel Park and saw enough things to keep oriented and enough new things to remain entertained. I took a different route on the way back to the train station and got to see many lovely turn of the last century houses. You guessed it-photos to follow.
Today, being Monday, the museums were closed. Due to the heat, it seemed a good idea to head for the beach. The guidebook says that it is worth the trip, so I was off. It has cooled down a few degrees here, and when I stepped out of the train station it was remarkably cooler. That North Sea has it's effect. It was also overcast, but still a good day to go to the beach, and there were plenty of people enjoying themselves. I was inspired by open air fish stalls on the way to the beach, but decided to take my hunger to a proper sit down restaurant. It was lovely and not too filling to enjoy a walk afterward. I had three raw oysters that were North Sea briny. This was followed by a little salad and two little sole that had been sauteed in butter. This followed by little slivers of cake with a strawberry, blueberries, kiwi, and red currants with a sprig of fresh mint. All washed down with a half liter of a Bordeaux Savignon.
The beach didn't particularly call to me. I like my beaches less populated. I did enjoy a walk along the promonade. Some things are the same all over. Flip flops and childrens beach toy shops being one of them. I decided to follow the crowds down a busy shopping street, and to my surprise I found a shop with things I was actually interested in and in my size. Wa-hoo! So, that was enough and I headed for the train.
Between the train and the Thai restaurant there developed a steady drip in the hallway of my room. The maintenance man soon arrived and informed me that it was the AC which I had been using rather enthusiasticaly. He shut it off and opened the window which is actually fine today. He will be back to retrieve the plastic bucket tomorrow. I am rather fond of this hotel and before today my only complaint was the 5 euro washing machine.
Cathy reminds me that it has been a year since we Segwayed around Berlin. I was inspired to find the Brussels Segway and will investigate it more at the tourist office tomorrow. Suzanne and Amber visit Wednesday. I wonder if they have even done a Segway????
So, I have blogged until my bedtime which comes remarkably early these days. Tomorrow I have my sights on Antwerp.
KG
My favorite owner manager wasn't there tonight, but it is Monday night and he might just have the day off. I was greeted by a woman, of all things. She was lovely, but no gadar going off. The other senior waiter was clearly a gay guy and ditto for the chef. I confess that besides food I had hoped to see my fave waiter from last year. He always sports a stylish hairdo and I was hoping to get a referral to his hairdresser. Maybe I'll just stop by the stylish salon around the corner from the restaurant tomorrow. I'm getting helmet head again.
I'll catch you up. Wednesday I rested after a vigorus explore of Ghent with Suzanne last Tuesday. Thursday I met her in Rotterdam where she grew up. We did a museum tour, photos to follow, and a boat trip in the Spiedo (which is cosiderably bigger than a swimsuit) of the Rotterdam port.
Friday I stayed in Brussels and tended to business which involved changing my tickets on the train from France to Calais direct from Brussels. I decided to stay here another week as there is plenty to do and see in the towns I set out to see, Bruges, Antwerp, and Ghent. I'm also getting tired and need some down time, so simplifying my agenda seems prudent.
Saturday I made a trip to Bruges. When I got off the train I went immediately to the tourist office for a map and some information. The 20 something tourist informant busily ignored me while she restocked the shelves with brouchers. When she did get to me she informed me that the way to see Bruges was to just walk across the street as it is all interesting. So, I took a long breath and asked about buses and after a series of questions I got the information I needed. As I suspected, town center is a bit of a walk, and taking the bus ment that I was fresh for the museum which was the main interest for me. I got to see the bell tower and identify the boat tour I wanted to take after lunch.
The museum was quite good and small enough to see in a short visit. Photos to follow. I got a very relaxing and cool lunch on a very hot day in a town full of lots of tired hot tourists like myself. I'm slowing my pace these days which includes a museum, upscale lunch in cool relaxing atmosphere, and a sit down activity. Of course it goes without saying, though I will, that there is a train ride of at least 45 min on either end of this activity and a walk home from the train station. The temps this weekend were in the low 90'sF.
I would love to spend more time in Bruges, but I don't see it happening this visit. On Sunday I went back to Ghent to see the fine arts museum. Because I got there a bit later than time for museum and lunch, I had lunch then museum. It was truly hot and the museum was not air conditioned, but cooler than ourside. It was a pretty fantastic museum. Photos to follow. This fine arts museum is right across the street from SMAK where Suzanne and I went on Tuesday so I had a good idea of how to get to it. I took a little different route through Citadel Park and saw enough things to keep oriented and enough new things to remain entertained. I took a different route on the way back to the train station and got to see many lovely turn of the last century houses. You guessed it-photos to follow.
Today, being Monday, the museums were closed. Due to the heat, it seemed a good idea to head for the beach. The guidebook says that it is worth the trip, so I was off. It has cooled down a few degrees here, and when I stepped out of the train station it was remarkably cooler. That North Sea has it's effect. It was also overcast, but still a good day to go to the beach, and there were plenty of people enjoying themselves. I was inspired by open air fish stalls on the way to the beach, but decided to take my hunger to a proper sit down restaurant. It was lovely and not too filling to enjoy a walk afterward. I had three raw oysters that were North Sea briny. This was followed by a little salad and two little sole that had been sauteed in butter. This followed by little slivers of cake with a strawberry, blueberries, kiwi, and red currants with a sprig of fresh mint. All washed down with a half liter of a Bordeaux Savignon.
The beach didn't particularly call to me. I like my beaches less populated. I did enjoy a walk along the promonade. Some things are the same all over. Flip flops and childrens beach toy shops being one of them. I decided to follow the crowds down a busy shopping street, and to my surprise I found a shop with things I was actually interested in and in my size. Wa-hoo! So, that was enough and I headed for the train.
Between the train and the Thai restaurant there developed a steady drip in the hallway of my room. The maintenance man soon arrived and informed me that it was the AC which I had been using rather enthusiasticaly. He shut it off and opened the window which is actually fine today. He will be back to retrieve the plastic bucket tomorrow. I am rather fond of this hotel and before today my only complaint was the 5 euro washing machine.
Cathy reminds me that it has been a year since we Segwayed around Berlin. I was inspired to find the Brussels Segway and will investigate it more at the tourist office tomorrow. Suzanne and Amber visit Wednesday. I wonder if they have even done a Segway????
So, I have blogged until my bedtime which comes remarkably early these days. Tomorrow I have my sights on Antwerp.
KG
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Back in Brussels
I'll try to capture it, though I am tired. Yesterday I got on the Eurostar in London and two hours later was getting out at Brussels Midi. Though the journey was two hours, we lost an hour, so I left at 3 and got in at 6. I happened to be on the train that the Olympic athletes from Belgium were taking home. So, there were people with "Media" passes around their necks and big cameras with fuzzy microphones coming through the train. I was in coach, which was quite comfortable particularly since there was nobody sitting in the seat next to me and the cafe car was just behind us. Also, Francoise had gone to Waitrose and had picked up a little tray of sushi and a package of fruit for me, so I just got a little bottle of SB and one of water from the cafe and had a right nice celebration of my journey under the channel.
It was only 20 min of the 2 hours that we were actually underground. I have been longer in the metro. Before you knew it we were up again in Calais and on our way to Belgium. Once at Midi, and once I was sure I had gotten off at the right station (there is that double language thing here that makes Brussels Midi the same as Brussels Zuid, so I had to check it out with the train man). Once pointed in the right direction there was a red carpet and lots of tv cameras and crowds of people and police and when I rounded the corner there was a Dixieland Jazz Band. I have never been so welcomed to a city. Pretty good for my first chunnel crossing.
I followed the signs to the metro and was able to buy a 10 journey pass. Finding my way to the right number train involved some study of the map, but I remembered that De Broukner was the stop. Finding the right side of the track to be on took a bit more effort, but I did it. All in good time and not on the first try. Next was negotiating the metro to find the right exit. This I accomplished with the help of the train men. Once I saw it I knew it. Easy checkin at our favorite aparthotel in Brussels. I was given a choice and opted for a room on the arcade side-the one with the nice lights that change color. I'm looking at them now.
I made a quick stop in the room to drop off stuff and headed for the grocery down the street. It was rush hour in the grocery so I had to dodge the people and stand in a long queue, but ultimately I got my stuff and headed home to my wonderful room for dinner and snooze.
I slept late this morning depsite the opening of the arcade stores with those charming metal security doors that make quite a racket. The dowside of an arcade view. I went back to sleep and got up in enough time to make my breakfast and have a nice shower before time for Suzanne to arrive.
We had a lovely day. Since I had seen much of Brussels we opted to go to Ghent. The Gh sound in Flemish is like clearing one's throat. Central Station Brussels is just a few blocks away from the aparthotel. I have to remember that it is different from Midi. We got a train to Ghent, but it was a chugger and stopped at every burg along the way, but since we wanted to chat and catch up on our various travels, it worked just fine. We opted to go to SMACK, a contemporary art museum. I got a few photos of things that caught my eye, but nothing was really spectacular. We had a nice snack at the museum across from the SMACK. The waitpeople were not very interested in serving us nor were they interested in cashing us out, but we managed.
Then, with the good sense of a person surrounded with tonnes of fabulous art museums, Suzanne suggested a walk to the train station and back to Brussels for dinner. I often am tempted to overdo it which surprises you all I am sure.
You'll see the station at Ghent on the photo blog. Once back in Brussels we were able to walk a bit-I got my chocolate for mocha and my ground coffee at the shops in my neighborhood. We tried to eat at the Thai restaurant, but they were closed. Suzanne says I should try them later in the week as it didn't seem to her that they would be closed for holiday, only for opening for dinner later than 5:30. Since Suzanne had a train to catch we could not wait till 7 when many restaurants open. I'll check with them later in the week. We did enjoy the neighborhood though. We ultimately had dinner at a little Brussels bistro called the little Brussels pig. I pigged on moules and frits and Suzanne has the lasagna. We washed it down with a liter of water and a bottle of Sancern.
On Thursday we will meet in Rotterdam. So, the end of a very fine day and promise of more to come.
KG
It was only 20 min of the 2 hours that we were actually underground. I have been longer in the metro. Before you knew it we were up again in Calais and on our way to Belgium. Once at Midi, and once I was sure I had gotten off at the right station (there is that double language thing here that makes Brussels Midi the same as Brussels Zuid, so I had to check it out with the train man). Once pointed in the right direction there was a red carpet and lots of tv cameras and crowds of people and police and when I rounded the corner there was a Dixieland Jazz Band. I have never been so welcomed to a city. Pretty good for my first chunnel crossing.
I followed the signs to the metro and was able to buy a 10 journey pass. Finding my way to the right number train involved some study of the map, but I remembered that De Broukner was the stop. Finding the right side of the track to be on took a bit more effort, but I did it. All in good time and not on the first try. Next was negotiating the metro to find the right exit. This I accomplished with the help of the train men. Once I saw it I knew it. Easy checkin at our favorite aparthotel in Brussels. I was given a choice and opted for a room on the arcade side-the one with the nice lights that change color. I'm looking at them now.
I made a quick stop in the room to drop off stuff and headed for the grocery down the street. It was rush hour in the grocery so I had to dodge the people and stand in a long queue, but ultimately I got my stuff and headed home to my wonderful room for dinner and snooze.
I slept late this morning depsite the opening of the arcade stores with those charming metal security doors that make quite a racket. The dowside of an arcade view. I went back to sleep and got up in enough time to make my breakfast and have a nice shower before time for Suzanne to arrive.
We had a lovely day. Since I had seen much of Brussels we opted to go to Ghent. The Gh sound in Flemish is like clearing one's throat. Central Station Brussels is just a few blocks away from the aparthotel. I have to remember that it is different from Midi. We got a train to Ghent, but it was a chugger and stopped at every burg along the way, but since we wanted to chat and catch up on our various travels, it worked just fine. We opted to go to SMACK, a contemporary art museum. I got a few photos of things that caught my eye, but nothing was really spectacular. We had a nice snack at the museum across from the SMACK. The waitpeople were not very interested in serving us nor were they interested in cashing us out, but we managed.
Then, with the good sense of a person surrounded with tonnes of fabulous art museums, Suzanne suggested a walk to the train station and back to Brussels for dinner. I often am tempted to overdo it which surprises you all I am sure.
You'll see the station at Ghent on the photo blog. Once back in Brussels we were able to walk a bit-I got my chocolate for mocha and my ground coffee at the shops in my neighborhood. We tried to eat at the Thai restaurant, but they were closed. Suzanne says I should try them later in the week as it didn't seem to her that they would be closed for holiday, only for opening for dinner later than 5:30. Since Suzanne had a train to catch we could not wait till 7 when many restaurants open. I'll check with them later in the week. We did enjoy the neighborhood though. We ultimately had dinner at a little Brussels bistro called the little Brussels pig. I pigged on moules and frits and Suzanne has the lasagna. We washed it down with a liter of water and a bottle of Sancern.
On Thursday we will meet in Rotterdam. So, the end of a very fine day and promise of more to come.
KG
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Much Ado About Nothing
The day turned out to be longer than I expected. I had checked the train schedules for Stratford-upon-Avon, so I knew that it would be cutting it close getting into town just before the performance. So, when I was up and ready to go early I talked myself into thinking that there might just be a way to get there earlier so I was off to the train station. I did get an earlier train to Banbury, but from there I had a choice of waiting 1.5 hours or taking a train to a train that goes to Burmingham and from there a train to Stratford-upon-Avon, or just waiting. I opted to wait and read my book. No ladies with rings on their fingers or bells on their toes at Banbury, but a lady who was quite cross about the train schedule.
So, I got to Stratford-upon-Avon at 12:50 and had a brisk walk through the town which is more crowded on a Saturday. After a short queue at the ticket office I had my ticket and then a short walk to the theater where I just had time to deposit my backpack, get a pee and a bottle of water and a programe.
The play was magnificent. It is an all Indian cast and crew with all Indian set and costume. In place of the masked party where the plot turns a bit there is a gender reversal scene where the men all wear their scarves over their heads and faces and the women wear military shirts and hats and sunglasses. Very well done and a highlight. I have to admit I have to really listen because it is Shakespeare and we just don't talk like that, and the accents were Indian, and the jokes are 17th century and it all goes very fast. The guy sitting next to me was laughing up a storm, so good for him. I enjoyed it anyway.
The play started at 1:30 and got out about 4:30. By the time I got another pee and retrieved my backpack it was 5. There is always a long queue in the ladies. Anyway, I was starving and a bit lightheaded having not eaten more than train mix since breakfast. I was in search of a nice restaurant or even better a nice Indian restaurant, but the nice ones don't open till 6. It made me think of France. "Madame, this is France and restaurants don't open until 7" So, I passed by all the chain restaurants thinking that someday there will probably be nothing but chain restaurants to choose from. I remembered a couple of Indian restaurants on the way to the train station, and sure enough there was one open. I was the only patron, but that was fine with me.
I got a young waiter whose English was as clear to me as mine was to him. Were it not for the older waiter behind him I would never know that he was asking me for my drink order. I pointed to the menu for my half of the conversation. Since water is not on the menu, I had to ask for it later. I decided on the British pronounciation. I'll have to use it again in France. So, nice filling Lamb Madras with garlic nan, and I was off to the station.
The station is a different place on Saturday evening. Basically there is no one around but passengers and the overhead electronic train announcemet signs announce one train at a time. Turns out that only one track is used as well. The whole thing is on automatic pilot apparently. So, no clue of when or if a train would come for Leamington Spa and points beyond. I approached a guy who was sitting on the plat that I thought our train would leave from. He assured me that there would be another train to Leamington Spa but didn't know the time. He was Lithuanian and did not have much English. When he left, I decided I needed more information. Back over the bridge (you've seen it on an earlier photo blog) and I found a local to ask. He had no idea, so I consulted the Chinese students. They had an iPad and assured me that the train would come at 19:16 on the plat over the bridge. So, back over the bridge and I chatted as well as we could with the Lithuanian. He gave me his People magazine in Lithuanian to entertain myself. We were eventually joined by two Indian women who sat for awhile before getting information that the electronic sign on the other plat announced our train. So, back over the bridge and eventually on the train. We saw the conductor pass through the train rather quickly and he never bothered with tickets. A tip for those who want to ride free-get on at a small station in the evening and ride all night. Even the turnstiles in the stations are open and unattended.
In Leamington Spa I got the chance to chat with the Chinese student with the iPod. He was an infant when I was in China. He cooks for himself, he says. We both agreed that British food is tasteless.
The Reading train was late. When trains are running late they loose their place in the whole scheme of things including priority for getting routed into the station, so late begats later and we were. Once in Reading I waited again for the bus, so I was 10 getting home. Tony and Francoise had arrived hours earlier and by then had gone to bed. So this morning I woke to a full house of Tony and Francoise and Mark and Francoise's mother, Marie Agnes. It has quieted down a bit now as Marie Agnes has gone to visit her friend in Liverpool and the family here is busy with the things that one does to get back in the swing after a long holiday.
I'll be packing my bags shortly. Tomorrow I have the bus to the train to the tubes to the train to the metro to the hotel, and I will be in Brussels. Tuesday I spend the day with Suzanne of Alkmar catching up on her adventures in Hong Kong.
KG
So, I got to Stratford-upon-Avon at 12:50 and had a brisk walk through the town which is more crowded on a Saturday. After a short queue at the ticket office I had my ticket and then a short walk to the theater where I just had time to deposit my backpack, get a pee and a bottle of water and a programe.
The play was magnificent. It is an all Indian cast and crew with all Indian set and costume. In place of the masked party where the plot turns a bit there is a gender reversal scene where the men all wear their scarves over their heads and faces and the women wear military shirts and hats and sunglasses. Very well done and a highlight. I have to admit I have to really listen because it is Shakespeare and we just don't talk like that, and the accents were Indian, and the jokes are 17th century and it all goes very fast. The guy sitting next to me was laughing up a storm, so good for him. I enjoyed it anyway.
The play started at 1:30 and got out about 4:30. By the time I got another pee and retrieved my backpack it was 5. There is always a long queue in the ladies. Anyway, I was starving and a bit lightheaded having not eaten more than train mix since breakfast. I was in search of a nice restaurant or even better a nice Indian restaurant, but the nice ones don't open till 6. It made me think of France. "Madame, this is France and restaurants don't open until 7" So, I passed by all the chain restaurants thinking that someday there will probably be nothing but chain restaurants to choose from. I remembered a couple of Indian restaurants on the way to the train station, and sure enough there was one open. I was the only patron, but that was fine with me.
I got a young waiter whose English was as clear to me as mine was to him. Were it not for the older waiter behind him I would never know that he was asking me for my drink order. I pointed to the menu for my half of the conversation. Since water is not on the menu, I had to ask for it later. I decided on the British pronounciation. I'll have to use it again in France. So, nice filling Lamb Madras with garlic nan, and I was off to the station.
The station is a different place on Saturday evening. Basically there is no one around but passengers and the overhead electronic train announcemet signs announce one train at a time. Turns out that only one track is used as well. The whole thing is on automatic pilot apparently. So, no clue of when or if a train would come for Leamington Spa and points beyond. I approached a guy who was sitting on the plat that I thought our train would leave from. He assured me that there would be another train to Leamington Spa but didn't know the time. He was Lithuanian and did not have much English. When he left, I decided I needed more information. Back over the bridge (you've seen it on an earlier photo blog) and I found a local to ask. He had no idea, so I consulted the Chinese students. They had an iPad and assured me that the train would come at 19:16 on the plat over the bridge. So, back over the bridge and I chatted as well as we could with the Lithuanian. He gave me his People magazine in Lithuanian to entertain myself. We were eventually joined by two Indian women who sat for awhile before getting information that the electronic sign on the other plat announced our train. So, back over the bridge and eventually on the train. We saw the conductor pass through the train rather quickly and he never bothered with tickets. A tip for those who want to ride free-get on at a small station in the evening and ride all night. Even the turnstiles in the stations are open and unattended.
In Leamington Spa I got the chance to chat with the Chinese student with the iPod. He was an infant when I was in China. He cooks for himself, he says. We both agreed that British food is tasteless.
The Reading train was late. When trains are running late they loose their place in the whole scheme of things including priority for getting routed into the station, so late begats later and we were. Once in Reading I waited again for the bus, so I was 10 getting home. Tony and Francoise had arrived hours earlier and by then had gone to bed. So this morning I woke to a full house of Tony and Francoise and Mark and Francoise's mother, Marie Agnes. It has quieted down a bit now as Marie Agnes has gone to visit her friend in Liverpool and the family here is busy with the things that one does to get back in the swing after a long holiday.
I'll be packing my bags shortly. Tomorrow I have the bus to the train to the tubes to the train to the metro to the hotel, and I will be in Brussels. Tuesday I spend the day with Suzanne of Alkmar catching up on her adventures in Hong Kong.
KG
Friday, August 10, 2012
London-Summer's Day
I got up late-ahhhhh. I did two loads of washing, light and dark. I tidied up as Tony and Francoise are coming home tomorrow evening, but I will be off to Stratford-upon-Avon at the Royal Shakespeare company watching Much Ado About Nothing for most of the day, so time to tidy today. At least the crumbs will be fresh crumbs when they arrive tomorrow.
I got on the bus, where there is always drama. Today's drama was a mom and young grandmom and a kid in a stoller and 4 more hanging around. There is a special place for elderly and stollers on the bus, and one of those places is just past the stairs to the upper level. The older children, maybe age 8-10, were playing on the stairs. So, the driver, who can see them in his cctv monitor, stopped the bus and warned the family that they would have to get off at the next stop if they didn't keep the kids off the stairs while the bus is in motion as they could get hurt if the driver has to slam on the brakes. He got some lip from the older woman, but they were all getting off at the next stop anyway, and the rest of the bus was clearly in support of the bus driver.
I'll digress to the drama on last week's bus. A little old man who looked like something out of the Hobbit-bald head except for thin whisps of white hair standing out all over his head, told me about how his cell phone was lying to him and the operators should be fired for lying to him because he knows that the number he calls is a legitimate number because it is in his phone but the operator insists that it is not. He quieted down for the ride, but just before I got off he was telling someone on the phone about it.
Easy ride to London Paddington today. The goal was to get reservations for trains in France. I remember from last year that this is such a good idea. So, easy underground from Paddington to Picadilly and then a walk down Picadilly Road. Getting around in the underground is so easy this year as there are helpful people all over the place volunteering for the Olympics. If you approach a map they will alight next to you and offer to help. A young woman escorted me to the correct exit and off I went. The thing I forgot was that the streets are numbered differently in London. Not so much odds on one side of the street and evens on the other as a sequence of numbers on one side of the street and quite another one on the other. So, in my search for 193 Picadilly I was walking way down the street past the Royal Arts Society and noticed that they have the Impressionists exhibit I have been seeing advertized in the underground. I decided it was a sign that I should go back after acomplishing my task for the day. I did have a wait at the Travel Center, but after a vigorous walk a nice sit down in AC is a welcome thing. Summer has definitely come to GB. ( I got my black hoodie and my black vest in the wash this morning)
So, mission accomplished at the Travel Center. Turns out I only need reservations for the day I go into Paris. In order to get from Brussels to Rouen you have to go through Paris. This involves the little trick I had to learn last year in which you land at one train station in Paris and either take the metro or a taxi to another station across town. I'm hoping my train has taxi reservations. The little tv in the Travel Center showed the distance from Paris Nord to Paris St Lazare and it is not so far. Anyway, the trip back from Rouen to Calais will require two changes, but they are on local chuggers and won't require reservations. The reservations maker tried to get me to take the Eurostar back from Paris because it was faster, but I told him that it was about the romance of the ferry crossing and he let go of the idea.
So, with tickets in tow I headed for the RA. I waltzed right in and paid my admission to this special exhibit. These paintings are from the Clark collection. Some of you familiar with upper New York and western Mass may have actually seen these paintings. The Sterling and Franncie Clark Institute in Williamston, Mass. Sterling was a Singer Sewing Machine heir and his wife, Francine was a French actress. They spent their lives collecting art. It was a fantastic show to see before going to Normandy as Monet and Manet were well represented with scenes from the Norman coast. I'm sure I'll see more of the Impressionists soon.
When I was done with art I took a stroll back down Picadilly stopping at the little flea/crafts market and then on to a little Wagamama store where they serve individual sushi pieces or packets for fairly cheap, and I had a snack. Easy trip home including sitting by a group of very proud Jamacians on the bus.
Tomorrow, the bard.
KG
I got on the bus, where there is always drama. Today's drama was a mom and young grandmom and a kid in a stoller and 4 more hanging around. There is a special place for elderly and stollers on the bus, and one of those places is just past the stairs to the upper level. The older children, maybe age 8-10, were playing on the stairs. So, the driver, who can see them in his cctv monitor, stopped the bus and warned the family that they would have to get off at the next stop if they didn't keep the kids off the stairs while the bus is in motion as they could get hurt if the driver has to slam on the brakes. He got some lip from the older woman, but they were all getting off at the next stop anyway, and the rest of the bus was clearly in support of the bus driver.
I'll digress to the drama on last week's bus. A little old man who looked like something out of the Hobbit-bald head except for thin whisps of white hair standing out all over his head, told me about how his cell phone was lying to him and the operators should be fired for lying to him because he knows that the number he calls is a legitimate number because it is in his phone but the operator insists that it is not. He quieted down for the ride, but just before I got off he was telling someone on the phone about it.
Easy ride to London Paddington today. The goal was to get reservations for trains in France. I remember from last year that this is such a good idea. So, easy underground from Paddington to Picadilly and then a walk down Picadilly Road. Getting around in the underground is so easy this year as there are helpful people all over the place volunteering for the Olympics. If you approach a map they will alight next to you and offer to help. A young woman escorted me to the correct exit and off I went. The thing I forgot was that the streets are numbered differently in London. Not so much odds on one side of the street and evens on the other as a sequence of numbers on one side of the street and quite another one on the other. So, in my search for 193 Picadilly I was walking way down the street past the Royal Arts Society and noticed that they have the Impressionists exhibit I have been seeing advertized in the underground. I decided it was a sign that I should go back after acomplishing my task for the day. I did have a wait at the Travel Center, but after a vigorous walk a nice sit down in AC is a welcome thing. Summer has definitely come to GB. ( I got my black hoodie and my black vest in the wash this morning)
So, mission accomplished at the Travel Center. Turns out I only need reservations for the day I go into Paris. In order to get from Brussels to Rouen you have to go through Paris. This involves the little trick I had to learn last year in which you land at one train station in Paris and either take the metro or a taxi to another station across town. I'm hoping my train has taxi reservations. The little tv in the Travel Center showed the distance from Paris Nord to Paris St Lazare and it is not so far. Anyway, the trip back from Rouen to Calais will require two changes, but they are on local chuggers and won't require reservations. The reservations maker tried to get me to take the Eurostar back from Paris because it was faster, but I told him that it was about the romance of the ferry crossing and he let go of the idea.
So, with tickets in tow I headed for the RA. I waltzed right in and paid my admission to this special exhibit. These paintings are from the Clark collection. Some of you familiar with upper New York and western Mass may have actually seen these paintings. The Sterling and Franncie Clark Institute in Williamston, Mass. Sterling was a Singer Sewing Machine heir and his wife, Francine was a French actress. They spent their lives collecting art. It was a fantastic show to see before going to Normandy as Monet and Manet were well represented with scenes from the Norman coast. I'm sure I'll see more of the Impressionists soon.
When I was done with art I took a stroll back down Picadilly stopping at the little flea/crafts market and then on to a little Wagamama store where they serve individual sushi pieces or packets for fairly cheap, and I had a snack. Easy trip home including sitting by a group of very proud Jamacians on the bus.
Tomorrow, the bard.
KG
Thursday, August 09, 2012
Tewkesbury
I am managing the unknown by making friends. Today I got to the bus station in Gloucester and the 71 bus to Tewkesbury was not in though it was due. I asked a man a few questions about the bus and of course it got a conversation going. The conversation continued on the bus and included the mans cousin who was out for a day trip with him. They pointed me in the right direction when we got into town. Just before the cathedral I stopped at a pub for lunch. This is the chain of pubs, Weatherspoons, that appeals to pensioners because of their low cost meals. I had just gotten my burger and pint when the two guys walked in. They asked to join me, so we had lunch together. They were good company. Both born in 1933 within a month of each other. They remembered being boys when the D-day aircraft flew all night over their houses.
After swapping stories I passed on the pud and made my way to Tewkesbury Abbey. It was pretty wonderful. I was reminded that maintenance is quite an issue for these big buildings. As I walked around the front the Vicar was meeting with the guys with the bucket lift and they were watching sides of the abbey crumble under their fingers. Just surface crumble, but... The Vicar got a ride in the lift so that he could pluck some ivy from an adjacent building.
Eventually I made my way back to the bus, and who do you think showed up? So me and my guys chatted all the way back to Gloucester. Three pensioners on a day out.
Back at home I see that my camera decided to shoot RAW, so now I have to figure out how I'm going to edit them. Could be sometime before Tewkesbury appears on the photoblog.
Tomorrow is a rest day, thought I may make it into London in the afternoon to make reservations for the train in Frace.
KG
After swapping stories I passed on the pud and made my way to Tewkesbury Abbey. It was pretty wonderful. I was reminded that maintenance is quite an issue for these big buildings. As I walked around the front the Vicar was meeting with the guys with the bucket lift and they were watching sides of the abbey crumble under their fingers. Just surface crumble, but... The Vicar got a ride in the lift so that he could pluck some ivy from an adjacent building.
Eventually I made my way back to the bus, and who do you think showed up? So me and my guys chatted all the way back to Gloucester. Three pensioners on a day out.
Back at home I see that my camera decided to shoot RAW, so now I have to figure out how I'm going to edit them. Could be sometime before Tewkesbury appears on the photoblog.
Tomorrow is a rest day, thought I may make it into London in the afternoon to make reservations for the train in Frace.
KG
Wednesday, August 08, 2012
Kenilworth
Getting to these places is always a venture into the unknown. The train is fairly straightforward and there are always plenty of very knowledgable people to help. The buses are something else. I got off the train in Leamington Spa this morning and headed into town in search of the x17 bus to Kenilworth. Kenilworth is a town and a castle.
I had to make inquiries about the bus station and was pointed in the right direction. It's really not a proper bus station, but the Stagecoach bus stops at the little glass bus waiting shelters on the High Street. The first bus I approached was indeed the x17, but it was going the wrong way and I was redirected across the street. Luckily the bus wasn't there and the post office was across the street, so I was able to get a stamp for Aunt Alva's belated birthday card, and by the time I had accomplished the queue the bus had arrived. I got a round trip ticket and boarded the bus. I began asking people around me about where I should get off to see the castle. Everyone I asked was getting off before me so they couldn't prompt me, and they gave directions that didn't include clearly identifyable landmarks. Finally an older than me couple sat behind me and not only did they tell me where to go, they took me there through a little park where the old abbey was. They take the bus (presumably with their senior free passes) every day and choose a route to walk. Very sweet, and today very handy for me.
Kenilworth Castle was worth the trouble getting there and the extensive walking and stair climbing required. I was able to get a nice roast beef sandwich on local baked bread with rocket and horseradish mayo in the old stable which also houses a brief history of the castle/castles. I was as charmed as Sir Walter Scott, and I have downloaded his book about Kenilworth to my blackberry kindle (for free). I can hardly wait to get the photos edited so I can share them with you.
By the time I had walked over all the grounds and seen everything I felt like the 4 year old who was quite clear to his Mum that it was time to go. He and Mum went to the car park and drove away. I hobbled down the lane. I decided to go the shorter way back into town and managed to do that the first try. Next was finding the bus. Since I was right in front of the public library/tourist information I was able to get directions without walking out of my way. The hitch was that x17 seems to take the middle of the day off. I say "seems" as I found the bus schedule after 13:00 impossible to read. Eventually bus 12 arrived and since it went to Leamington Spa, I got on. I should say that I got on because of a charitable bus driver. My return ticket for the x17 wouldn't work on the 12, and my pocket change was less than 1pound 90. I did have some pence over one pound, so bus driver let me ride for all my pocket change. Double bonus for me. Getting rid of all those coppers was beginning to be worrysome to me. It was a nice long ride through countryside that I hadn't seen before and it ultimately dropped me much closer to the rail station. 10 minute wait for the train and I was headed home. Once I make it to the train I can be assured that I will be offered light refreshments. So, I got a little lemonaide which seems to come carbonated here, and a small bottle of water and I allowed the train guy to talk me into a chicken and bacon sandwich which was quite good. Spoiled my appetite for dinner, but leftover rice pilaf and sauted brussels sprouts with pancetta make a good dinner nevertheless.
Plan A for tomorrow is Tewkesbury. It's another day of train to the bus and then find the abbey. I might work up the energy to go upstairs and use Tony's computer to print out a map. Luckily I already know where the bus station is in Gloucester and it is convenietly next to the train station. Train to the bus, bus to the town, and walk to the abbey.
I'm also entertainig ideas of going to the matinee of Much Ado About Nothing on Saturday. It's the Indian version. Looks pretty spectacular. Luckily there are no busses involved.
KG
I had to make inquiries about the bus station and was pointed in the right direction. It's really not a proper bus station, but the Stagecoach bus stops at the little glass bus waiting shelters on the High Street. The first bus I approached was indeed the x17, but it was going the wrong way and I was redirected across the street. Luckily the bus wasn't there and the post office was across the street, so I was able to get a stamp for Aunt Alva's belated birthday card, and by the time I had accomplished the queue the bus had arrived. I got a round trip ticket and boarded the bus. I began asking people around me about where I should get off to see the castle. Everyone I asked was getting off before me so they couldn't prompt me, and they gave directions that didn't include clearly identifyable landmarks. Finally an older than me couple sat behind me and not only did they tell me where to go, they took me there through a little park where the old abbey was. They take the bus (presumably with their senior free passes) every day and choose a route to walk. Very sweet, and today very handy for me.
Kenilworth Castle was worth the trouble getting there and the extensive walking and stair climbing required. I was able to get a nice roast beef sandwich on local baked bread with rocket and horseradish mayo in the old stable which also houses a brief history of the castle/castles. I was as charmed as Sir Walter Scott, and I have downloaded his book about Kenilworth to my blackberry kindle (for free). I can hardly wait to get the photos edited so I can share them with you.
By the time I had walked over all the grounds and seen everything I felt like the 4 year old who was quite clear to his Mum that it was time to go. He and Mum went to the car park and drove away. I hobbled down the lane. I decided to go the shorter way back into town and managed to do that the first try. Next was finding the bus. Since I was right in front of the public library/tourist information I was able to get directions without walking out of my way. The hitch was that x17 seems to take the middle of the day off. I say "seems" as I found the bus schedule after 13:00 impossible to read. Eventually bus 12 arrived and since it went to Leamington Spa, I got on. I should say that I got on because of a charitable bus driver. My return ticket for the x17 wouldn't work on the 12, and my pocket change was less than 1pound 90. I did have some pence over one pound, so bus driver let me ride for all my pocket change. Double bonus for me. Getting rid of all those coppers was beginning to be worrysome to me. It was a nice long ride through countryside that I hadn't seen before and it ultimately dropped me much closer to the rail station. 10 minute wait for the train and I was headed home. Once I make it to the train I can be assured that I will be offered light refreshments. So, I got a little lemonaide which seems to come carbonated here, and a small bottle of water and I allowed the train guy to talk me into a chicken and bacon sandwich which was quite good. Spoiled my appetite for dinner, but leftover rice pilaf and sauted brussels sprouts with pancetta make a good dinner nevertheless.
Plan A for tomorrow is Tewkesbury. It's another day of train to the bus and then find the abbey. I might work up the energy to go upstairs and use Tony's computer to print out a map. Luckily I already know where the bus station is in Gloucester and it is convenietly next to the train station. Train to the bus, bus to the town, and walk to the abbey.
I'm also entertainig ideas of going to the matinee of Much Ado About Nothing on Saturday. It's the Indian version. Looks pretty spectacular. Luckily there are no busses involved.
KG
Tuesday, August 07, 2012
Avon Calling
T'was not so much me and Dudley (who woed Elizabeth I) as t'was me and the bard. The buses don't run as often on Sundays and the trip to Kenilworth requires a bus, so I decided upon Stratford-Upon-Avon as it offers a ho ho bus.
It also happened to be a rainy day, so t'was just as well I was riding the tourist bus and touring indoor things rather than a castle with a 15 min walk to and from. Since it was raining, I decided to take the bus one entire circuit and then get off at one of the stops. Turns out that the stops in the town are pretty close together. There is also the matter of admission to the stops, and the one house I was going to visit did not have a single admission-you have to buy a three house ticket. I had arrived at 2 and by now it was 4 and the last bus runs at 5:30, so best to punt. I decided to do the church which was basically low price and Anne Hathaway's cottage which could be done on a single admission of 9 pounds. Both were good choices, and I ended up getting the penultimate bus and the last bus which dropped me at the rail station.
The recorded guide on the ho ho bus and the guides in Anne Hathaway's house were quite good. They specialize in etimology which I always find quite fun. It was particularly effective in the house as the scene was set for explaining the literal meaning of some words and phrases that have outlived their obvious meanings. I'll share a few with you.
Threshold. We were standing in the kitchen of Anne Hathaway's house. It has a stone floor. Back in the day that floor would have been covered with threshes which would have absorbed spills and cushioned a bit. The threshes would have been tossed out from time to time, though I cannot imagine that people who bathed once a year would have bothered much with cleaning out their kitchen floor threshes, but eventually they got around to it-perhaps when the smell of the floor overpowered their own smells. Anyway, The door would have been hung over a thresh hold, a raised part that kept the thrushes in. There are actually still thresholds in the houses we have stayed in here so that we have to be conscious to step up when going out of doors or even in the garage.
Board. It's the table top, but it can be removed as it sits on a 4 legged stand. Generally speaking it is the table to dine upon, but if company comes it can be placed on the floor-over the thrushes for the guest to sleep upon- in front of the fire in the kitchen which was probably the warmest room of the house. Hence the guest was offered room and board. Often there would be games drawn upon it-board games. In order to discourage cheating players were required to keep their hands above board. Since there was usually only one chair and benches for the rest of the family, the head of the family or important guests were offered the chair. Hence, chairman, and chairman of the board.
Bread. Bread was baked in hand shaped round loaves. It was sliced laterally as opposed to top down as we do today. The head of the house or important guest was given the "upper crust". They were "a slice above" or "a cut above". The bottom would have been quite hard, and of course it went to the servants. It was also the first plate before wooden plates or trenchers-the French word for this loaf of bread. One might hope for some soupy porriage or gravy to soften it up. I cannot imagine people had very strong and healthy teeth for chewing up tough bread.
Speaking of porriage, it would slow cook in an iron pot suspended over or near the fire. It consisted of grain and vegetables and if available, meat. Once started it was simply added to with whatever was available that day and went on day after day. If one was lucky they got what was cooked but fairly fresh. Pot luck.
Salt was a valuable commodity, and people were paid all or part of their wages in salt. Hence the word-from the Latin-salary. If you were known for good work you were "worth your salt".
Beds were quite expensive. They were the status item of their day and as such they were housed in the parlor. No one in the family slept on them. Only honored guests. The wooden bed frame was laced with rope which held the straw or feather mattress. The quality of sleep depended upon a tight rope-hence, "sleep tight".
The parents and children under about 5 or 6 slept on mattresses on the floor in one room. Girls often slept on a raised loft covered with such mattresses until they were married. Hence an unmarried girl or woman would be "left on the shelf".
So, I had so much fun with word play at Stratford-Upon-Avon that I decided to go back on Monday. I got up fairly early and what with knowing the lay of the land I paid my admission and visited the 3 houses-Shakespeare's birthplace, Shakespeare's death house, and the house of Shakespeare's daughter and successful son in law the doctor. The other son in law was a wastrell. I had already seen Anne Hathaway's cottage. Anne was Will's wife and the mother of his three children. My ancestor, Emelia Bassano was one of Shakespeare's mistresses. She wasn't mentioned in any of the tours. I did find a book about her on amazon.com. Mr. Shakespeare's Whore. Cannot wait to read it. (but I digress yet again). The house that I passed on seeing was Will's mother's house. Mary Arden's house has a lovely barnyard full of animals and seems just right for taking children. This adult had little interest in going to see farm animals on a rainy day or the day after.
I also took a boat ride on Avon and several walks by the river admiring the swans. I hoped to catch a matinee at the Royal Shakespeare Company, but not a chance on Monday. I certainly saw people who had just come out of a matinee on Sunday. I do have a schedule in case I get inspired.
So, all's well that ends well.
KG
It also happened to be a rainy day, so t'was just as well I was riding the tourist bus and touring indoor things rather than a castle with a 15 min walk to and from. Since it was raining, I decided to take the bus one entire circuit and then get off at one of the stops. Turns out that the stops in the town are pretty close together. There is also the matter of admission to the stops, and the one house I was going to visit did not have a single admission-you have to buy a three house ticket. I had arrived at 2 and by now it was 4 and the last bus runs at 5:30, so best to punt. I decided to do the church which was basically low price and Anne Hathaway's cottage which could be done on a single admission of 9 pounds. Both were good choices, and I ended up getting the penultimate bus and the last bus which dropped me at the rail station.
The recorded guide on the ho ho bus and the guides in Anne Hathaway's house were quite good. They specialize in etimology which I always find quite fun. It was particularly effective in the house as the scene was set for explaining the literal meaning of some words and phrases that have outlived their obvious meanings. I'll share a few with you.
Threshold. We were standing in the kitchen of Anne Hathaway's house. It has a stone floor. Back in the day that floor would have been covered with threshes which would have absorbed spills and cushioned a bit. The threshes would have been tossed out from time to time, though I cannot imagine that people who bathed once a year would have bothered much with cleaning out their kitchen floor threshes, but eventually they got around to it-perhaps when the smell of the floor overpowered their own smells. Anyway, The door would have been hung over a thresh hold, a raised part that kept the thrushes in. There are actually still thresholds in the houses we have stayed in here so that we have to be conscious to step up when going out of doors or even in the garage.
Board. It's the table top, but it can be removed as it sits on a 4 legged stand. Generally speaking it is the table to dine upon, but if company comes it can be placed on the floor-over the thrushes for the guest to sleep upon- in front of the fire in the kitchen which was probably the warmest room of the house. Hence the guest was offered room and board. Often there would be games drawn upon it-board games. In order to discourage cheating players were required to keep their hands above board. Since there was usually only one chair and benches for the rest of the family, the head of the family or important guests were offered the chair. Hence, chairman, and chairman of the board.
Bread. Bread was baked in hand shaped round loaves. It was sliced laterally as opposed to top down as we do today. The head of the house or important guest was given the "upper crust". They were "a slice above" or "a cut above". The bottom would have been quite hard, and of course it went to the servants. It was also the first plate before wooden plates or trenchers-the French word for this loaf of bread. One might hope for some soupy porriage or gravy to soften it up. I cannot imagine people had very strong and healthy teeth for chewing up tough bread.
Speaking of porriage, it would slow cook in an iron pot suspended over or near the fire. It consisted of grain and vegetables and if available, meat. Once started it was simply added to with whatever was available that day and went on day after day. If one was lucky they got what was cooked but fairly fresh. Pot luck.
Salt was a valuable commodity, and people were paid all or part of their wages in salt. Hence the word-from the Latin-salary. If you were known for good work you were "worth your salt".
Beds were quite expensive. They were the status item of their day and as such they were housed in the parlor. No one in the family slept on them. Only honored guests. The wooden bed frame was laced with rope which held the straw or feather mattress. The quality of sleep depended upon a tight rope-hence, "sleep tight".
The parents and children under about 5 or 6 slept on mattresses on the floor in one room. Girls often slept on a raised loft covered with such mattresses until they were married. Hence an unmarried girl or woman would be "left on the shelf".
So, I had so much fun with word play at Stratford-Upon-Avon that I decided to go back on Monday. I got up fairly early and what with knowing the lay of the land I paid my admission and visited the 3 houses-Shakespeare's birthplace, Shakespeare's death house, and the house of Shakespeare's daughter and successful son in law the doctor. The other son in law was a wastrell. I had already seen Anne Hathaway's cottage. Anne was Will's wife and the mother of his three children. My ancestor, Emelia Bassano was one of Shakespeare's mistresses. She wasn't mentioned in any of the tours. I did find a book about her on amazon.com. Mr. Shakespeare's Whore. Cannot wait to read it. (but I digress yet again). The house that I passed on seeing was Will's mother's house. Mary Arden's house has a lovely barnyard full of animals and seems just right for taking children. This adult had little interest in going to see farm animals on a rainy day or the day after.
I also took a boat ride on Avon and several walks by the river admiring the swans. I hoped to catch a matinee at the Royal Shakespeare Company, but not a chance on Monday. I certainly saw people who had just come out of a matinee on Sunday. I do have a schedule in case I get inspired.
So, all's well that ends well.
KG
Saturday, August 04, 2012
Finishing the Week
I took the day off today. I needed a day to rest and to plan. This morning I worked on plans for a week in Normandy. If you had asked me if I would consider going to Normandy before last week I would have expressed doubts. I associate Normandy with military cemeteries and war history. However, when I looked at my guide book I saw Impressionistic Art and very old cathedrals, abbeys and castles. So, since it is just south of Belgium and easy to get to, I started planninng. I made reservations for a week in a hotel in Rouen, a good base for making train trips. Details to follow-as they happen.
I've spent the afternoon editing photos, and it still looks like I'll not get the all done or posted. I will try to get some up before bedtime, but bedtime is falling fast.
I had a great day in Coventry this past week. I had seen the sketches of the altar tapestry at Basildon shortly after we arrived in Reading. Francoise said that the Coventry Cathedral was pretty fantastic, so I vowed to go. I wasn't disappointed. The photos will give you some idea.
The other thing to see in Coventry is the Transport Museum. I didn't realize that Coventry was something of a Detroit. They are quite proud of their museum. Since it is so big I decided to limit my focus, or rather, my camera's focus. I did mostly cycles and Jaguars.
I went back to Gloucester for the archives. It's not easy to read baptismal records from the early 17th century. I worked for two hours just trying to figure some things out. At lunch I got a few hints from the other researchers and went back to it with better reading skills but not much in the way of results. I would love to have lots of time there. Skill begats skill and I would like to develop more. Ancestry.com has been fun and easy. Tackling these old documents is more chalenging.
Yesterday I went to London. I had to get my ticket for the Eurostar from the offic at St Pancras in order to get my discount for rail pass. I decided to make it a day and go to the Tate for the Munch and Damien Hirst exhibits. I got a nice walk over the Millenium Bridge and spent happy time in the Tate learning quite a bit about Munch and Damien Hirst. After the museum I strolled down the waterfront towards Blackfriars bridge and stopped at a pub on the Thames. They had my wine and a lamb kofta special with cous cous and mango salsa. Just the sit down by the Thames would be worth it, but the food and wine was good. London and I have beem missing each other. Getting the underground was a sardine squeeze, but the train to Reading was waiting for me and the bus home in Reading was waiting for me.
Tomorrow looks like a castle for me. I'm thinking it will be Kenilworth Castle. I'll have to figure out the details though.
KG
I've spent the afternoon editing photos, and it still looks like I'll not get the all done or posted. I will try to get some up before bedtime, but bedtime is falling fast.
I had a great day in Coventry this past week. I had seen the sketches of the altar tapestry at Basildon shortly after we arrived in Reading. Francoise said that the Coventry Cathedral was pretty fantastic, so I vowed to go. I wasn't disappointed. The photos will give you some idea.
The other thing to see in Coventry is the Transport Museum. I didn't realize that Coventry was something of a Detroit. They are quite proud of their museum. Since it is so big I decided to limit my focus, or rather, my camera's focus. I did mostly cycles and Jaguars.
I went back to Gloucester for the archives. It's not easy to read baptismal records from the early 17th century. I worked for two hours just trying to figure some things out. At lunch I got a few hints from the other researchers and went back to it with better reading skills but not much in the way of results. I would love to have lots of time there. Skill begats skill and I would like to develop more. Ancestry.com has been fun and easy. Tackling these old documents is more chalenging.
Yesterday I went to London. I had to get my ticket for the Eurostar from the offic at St Pancras in order to get my discount for rail pass. I decided to make it a day and go to the Tate for the Munch and Damien Hirst exhibits. I got a nice walk over the Millenium Bridge and spent happy time in the Tate learning quite a bit about Munch and Damien Hirst. After the museum I strolled down the waterfront towards Blackfriars bridge and stopped at a pub on the Thames. They had my wine and a lamb kofta special with cous cous and mango salsa. Just the sit down by the Thames would be worth it, but the food and wine was good. London and I have beem missing each other. Getting the underground was a sardine squeeze, but the train to Reading was waiting for me and the bus home in Reading was waiting for me.
Tomorrow looks like a castle for me. I'm thinking it will be Kenilworth Castle. I'll have to figure out the details though.
KG
Wednesday, August 01, 2012
Cheltenham/Gloucester
Of the two, I prefer Gloucester. I went to Cheltenham mostly to see the Art Museum that Lonely Planet said was worth doing. It is two hours to Cheltenham, but I never mind riding the train. The train station is about a 30 min walk from town, so it seemed prudent to catch the bus. Town is not hard to navigate even for me, so I found the museum and it was under construction. The desk clerk in the library next door was very helpful, but the museum was closed. So, I decided to enjoy a stroll around the downtown admiring the Georgian buildings. Cheltenham is something like Bath only the salt springs were discovered long after the Romans left. Still it flourished because of the baths during Georgian times and the architecture shows it. Only today you have to keep looking up as the lower floors are all commercial. Cheltenham is a shopping town. Soon boring. Also lunch time so I walked around till I found a suitable tapas restaurant which is a tapas chain-the same one Carol and I ate at in Newcastle. Nevertheless, a fritatta with salad and tomato bread and a small glass of wine is a lovely lunch. Thanks to Marcia, I had a tiny bottle of traveling Tobasco which fixed the fritatta and its so called sauce right up. The other benefit of a Tapas restaurant is a bathroom and plenty of time to sit and rest.
There is one other sight in Cheltenham that Lonely Planet says is worth seeing, so I headed to the Holst Birthplace Museum. You may remember Gustav Holst as the composer of The Planets. He was born in Cheltenham and lived there the first 7 years of his life, but his family home has made a lovely tourist stop. You'll see the photos. Very nice piano and otherwise interesting look at how families lived around the turn of the 20th century.
On the way to the Holst Museum I had seen the bus stop for the bus that takes me back to the RR station. Because of my pitiful since of direction and the fact that vehicles drive on the left, it was impossible for me to figure out whether this bus stop was the right one or getting to the train station. I also couldn't deduce anything from the bus schedule as it didn't include the street I was on. When the bus approached I flagged it down. The bus driver was a bit flustered and said that he didn't pick up passengers at this stop but in explaining to me the whys and wheres he just said to get on. He then conntinued to advise and educate me on where to catch this particular bus and I said I would never do it again. He did make sure I got off at the train station and directed me to cross the street in front of the bus. I did make it safely to the train.
I decided that if the next train stopped at Gloucester I would try to make it to the Folk Museum that was closed on Sunday. The next train was to Cardiff, but the one after that stopped next at Gloucester, so I was off. I took a taxi to the museum because it was already 4pm and I wasn't sure when the museum closed. I had just enough time to see the museum. It really wasn't much, but I got some photos of things of interest to me including the building itself-Tutor. On the way out I decided to peruse the selection of books for something about the 17th century when my Hagood ancestors last lived here. I came upon a little book about the civil war and happened to open to a paragraph about tobacco growing in Gloucester. Since my family immigrated to Virginia and ultimately to Gadsden County Florida to grow tobacco, I was thrilled. The book cost a total of one pound. So, I have been happily reading about the Roudheads and the Royalists duking it out in Gloucester, and putting together the pieces of the puzzle that most likely inspired the Hagoods/Hawkwoods/Hagwoods to hop on a boat and high tail it to the colonies. There is a lovely map of Gloucester 1610-10 years before the birth of my immigrating ancestor. Some of the buildings are still there and can be seen in the photo blog. I also have my tourist map of Gloucester so I can compare and get a sense of where things were happening during the civil war. I will probably make another trip to Gloucester and perhaps Tewkesbury to see what else I can find. There is another museum in Glocester and I'm sure there is a library. The one in Cheltenham had a family history collection, so knock wood-Hagwood perhaps.
Today I am taking it easy. Once I have completed some tasks I may catch a train somewhere closer to here and have a little adventure. Mark and his friend are off to see women's beach volleyball at the olympics today. I'm not sure why, but Mark is in costume-he's a pirate complete with spyglass. Look for him if you happen to see the beach volleyball. He's the one with the inflatable parrot on his shoulder.
KG
There is one other sight in Cheltenham that Lonely Planet says is worth seeing, so I headed to the Holst Birthplace Museum. You may remember Gustav Holst as the composer of The Planets. He was born in Cheltenham and lived there the first 7 years of his life, but his family home has made a lovely tourist stop. You'll see the photos. Very nice piano and otherwise interesting look at how families lived around the turn of the 20th century.
On the way to the Holst Museum I had seen the bus stop for the bus that takes me back to the RR station. Because of my pitiful since of direction and the fact that vehicles drive on the left, it was impossible for me to figure out whether this bus stop was the right one or getting to the train station. I also couldn't deduce anything from the bus schedule as it didn't include the street I was on. When the bus approached I flagged it down. The bus driver was a bit flustered and said that he didn't pick up passengers at this stop but in explaining to me the whys and wheres he just said to get on. He then conntinued to advise and educate me on where to catch this particular bus and I said I would never do it again. He did make sure I got off at the train station and directed me to cross the street in front of the bus. I did make it safely to the train.
I decided that if the next train stopped at Gloucester I would try to make it to the Folk Museum that was closed on Sunday. The next train was to Cardiff, but the one after that stopped next at Gloucester, so I was off. I took a taxi to the museum because it was already 4pm and I wasn't sure when the museum closed. I had just enough time to see the museum. It really wasn't much, but I got some photos of things of interest to me including the building itself-Tutor. On the way out I decided to peruse the selection of books for something about the 17th century when my Hagood ancestors last lived here. I came upon a little book about the civil war and happened to open to a paragraph about tobacco growing in Gloucester. Since my family immigrated to Virginia and ultimately to Gadsden County Florida to grow tobacco, I was thrilled. The book cost a total of one pound. So, I have been happily reading about the Roudheads and the Royalists duking it out in Gloucester, and putting together the pieces of the puzzle that most likely inspired the Hagoods/Hawkwoods/Hagwoods to hop on a boat and high tail it to the colonies. There is a lovely map of Gloucester 1610-10 years before the birth of my immigrating ancestor. Some of the buildings are still there and can be seen in the photo blog. I also have my tourist map of Gloucester so I can compare and get a sense of where things were happening during the civil war. I will probably make another trip to Gloucester and perhaps Tewkesbury to see what else I can find. There is another museum in Glocester and I'm sure there is a library. The one in Cheltenham had a family history collection, so knock wood-Hagwood perhaps.
Today I am taking it easy. Once I have completed some tasks I may catch a train somewhere closer to here and have a little adventure. Mark and his friend are off to see women's beach volleyball at the olympics today. I'm not sure why, but Mark is in costume-he's a pirate complete with spyglass. Look for him if you happen to see the beach volleyball. He's the one with the inflatable parrot on his shoulder.
KG
Monday, July 30, 2012
Gloucester
Yesterday was Gloucester-mostly for the cathedral, but the town held some interest as well. It takes about 1.5 hrs to get there via train, and there are some direct trains. I caught one of those in the morning. There was a lovely tourist map for one pound in the train station, so I soon set off for town. The clouds were big and black, so I found my Marmot.
The cathedral is not hard to find. A restaurant other than fast food was not readily apparent, and I didn't want much for lunch, so the cathedral cafe provided a nice egg salad sandwich and juice. Then I was on with my tour. No luck finding any ancestors, but lots of other interesting things. Gloucester was put on the map when King Edward II was murdered and buried in the cathedral. The cathedral became a shrine for pilgrims and the funds generated by these pilgrims financed the building of this magnificent structure.
Also interred here is is the founder of the original Saxon Abbey and a Knight Prince or two here and there. Like many modern European cathedrals, there are plenty of contemporary art pieces scattered around. I particularly liked a small stained glass window that you will see in the photo blog.
My next stop was to be the Folk Museum as the ancestors last lived here in the 16th century, and it would have been nice to see how they lived. However, going to a town on Sunday or Monday pretty much assures that there will be no museum visits. So, I wandered around town and caught a few more of the city sites. The Blackfriars, the harbour, the Greyfriars and St Mary's Cemetery where I was delighted with a whimsical bench of Green Men and their sidekicks. I managed to hobble back to the rail station and watch the police at work cuffing a young suspect. I had to change trains in Swindon, but got home via the Indian Restaurant in Reading and had a lovely Lamb Madrass dinner.
I was sorry to miss the syncronized diving on tv, but caught up on some of the olympics before going to bed.
Today has been a rest day for me. The legs are almost back. I had a little outing to Sainsbury's for provisions, and Mark has called to say that he is bringing home fish and chips for dinner. Stay tuned for photos and more adventures tomorrow. I'm looking at Cheltenham.
KG
The cathedral is not hard to find. A restaurant other than fast food was not readily apparent, and I didn't want much for lunch, so the cathedral cafe provided a nice egg salad sandwich and juice. Then I was on with my tour. No luck finding any ancestors, but lots of other interesting things. Gloucester was put on the map when King Edward II was murdered and buried in the cathedral. The cathedral became a shrine for pilgrims and the funds generated by these pilgrims financed the building of this magnificent structure.
Also interred here is is the founder of the original Saxon Abbey and a Knight Prince or two here and there. Like many modern European cathedrals, there are plenty of contemporary art pieces scattered around. I particularly liked a small stained glass window that you will see in the photo blog.
My next stop was to be the Folk Museum as the ancestors last lived here in the 16th century, and it would have been nice to see how they lived. However, going to a town on Sunday or Monday pretty much assures that there will be no museum visits. So, I wandered around town and caught a few more of the city sites. The Blackfriars, the harbour, the Greyfriars and St Mary's Cemetery where I was delighted with a whimsical bench of Green Men and their sidekicks. I managed to hobble back to the rail station and watch the police at work cuffing a young suspect. I had to change trains in Swindon, but got home via the Indian Restaurant in Reading and had a lovely Lamb Madrass dinner.
I was sorry to miss the syncronized diving on tv, but caught up on some of the olympics before going to bed.
Today has been a rest day for me. The legs are almost back. I had a little outing to Sainsbury's for provisions, and Mark has called to say that he is bringing home fish and chips for dinner. Stay tuned for photos and more adventures tomorrow. I'm looking at Cheltenham.
KG
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Windsor-the Castle
I missed the Chapel of St George last visit, so my goal was a short day trip to see it. I am always amazed at how well the bus and train and Costa's Coffee work. The train I wanted was at 10:26. The bus pulled into the station at about 10:20 and I was on the train with my mocha with a few minutes to spare. There were quite a few people getting on the train and only 3 carriages, so I took the seat just in front of me rather than try to find 1st class. I sat next to a young woman all dressed in Olympic clothes.
All was well until we had been going for some time and was pretty sure we had passed my stop at Slough. I didn't miss my stop. The train didn't stop. We pulled into Paddington and I was able to find the train that would return to Slough as well as a conductor who told me that there had been a last minute change. Oh well. Slow train to Slough. Then on the train to Windsor.
St George's chapel was not that spectacular. The Queen doesn't even worship there-she has a private chapel in the residence. There were some nice tombs including George and Elizabeth, the Queen's parents. Of course, Prince Albert, Victoria's royal consort, has a whole mini-chapel to himself.
I managed a little Persian lunch in town before touring the State Apartments. I most enjoyed the art this visit. I was particularly interested in a painting by Jacopo Bassino as there are Bassino's in my tree. Turns out Jacopo probably isn't. Oh well. Kept my interest.
The 60 photos of ERII and family were good. There were a couple of the dorgi's as well.
Slow trains home, but they stopped where I wanted. Marcia had a fabulous dinner for her last night before leaving for home. I'll miss her.
KG
All was well until we had been going for some time and was pretty sure we had passed my stop at Slough. I didn't miss my stop. The train didn't stop. We pulled into Paddington and I was able to find the train that would return to Slough as well as a conductor who told me that there had been a last minute change. Oh well. Slow train to Slough. Then on the train to Windsor.
St George's chapel was not that spectacular. The Queen doesn't even worship there-she has a private chapel in the residence. There were some nice tombs including George and Elizabeth, the Queen's parents. Of course, Prince Albert, Victoria's royal consort, has a whole mini-chapel to himself.
I managed a little Persian lunch in town before touring the State Apartments. I most enjoyed the art this visit. I was particularly interested in a painting by Jacopo Bassino as there are Bassino's in my tree. Turns out Jacopo probably isn't. Oh well. Kept my interest.
The 60 photos of ERII and family were good. There were a couple of the dorgi's as well.
Slow trains home, but they stopped where I wanted. Marcia had a fabulous dinner for her last night before leaving for home. I'll miss her.
KG
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