UK TRAVELS CHAPTER 14

Another typical day on the bus. Death defying as we inch past a truck coming from the opposite direction and holding our breath. I really think that giant inhale helped. Though by now the "sportier" of our crowd would place bets on how close we would actually come to the opposing force. Inches is an accurate description of the distance between. The design of the bus places the rear view mirrors tucked into the front of the "coach" or collisions would be an ongoing event. Though nothing protects from the wild and free hedgerows and tree branches that kiss the windows as we traverse the narrow roads.

Today we will be visiting Blarney Castle. Again I quote the tour guide "home of the famous stone of eloquence, once kissed, never forgotten!" Bleeahhh. Where's the Simple Green between, ahem, kisses.  Anyway, Blarney Castle, Blarney Stone not what you think and scarier than what I thought.  A long walk through the city of Blarney, past the souvenir shops, up some hills, across acres of gardens and then....your amorous date with the cold, cold stone. But first one warms up with a 1,000 (well maybe 100) step twisting turning, claustrophobic producing climb up the fateful tower. Again, this is not Disneyland, no elevators, escalators or timid, out-of-shape visitors accommodated. As we slowwwllllyyy climbed it struck me that the original owners were not only shorter than we are, but obviously had much smaller feet.  Though I definitely see the defensive advantage. Try climbing these nasty twisting and ever skinnier steps in a full suit of armor brandishing a sword.  In very short order, your brandishing becomes a crutch that is constantly getting caught and defenders are taking pokes at you as you reach each unexpected wide spot.

It was the occasional wider spots on the climb that kept my claustrophobia at bay. I felt I could take a big breath or even step out if I needed a break. However once you start up these stairs, there is no turning back as the mass of humanity behind you effectively covers any hope of escape. One very narrow staircase that becomes narrower the higher you climb. Yay, daylight in sight. A short walk along the parapet and there it is, cue music.  A line of people whose upper body briefly disappears as they hang over the 100 foot drop to buss a rock! Very much an assembly line operation. One guy holds you, another guy stands by I guess to count the bodies that drop or clean the rock, not sure which; and a third snaps a picture. Very efficient. However I brought my own photographer as no way in Hades was he going to drop and hang for a silly rock.  He got some nice pictures of the countryside as well as there was much more time after the "event" to snap some shots. Your time on your back is short and sweet, well relatively speaking.

Anyway, the stone is flat and laid right into the wall with the rest of its fellow rocks. Somehow I thought the sucker would be rounded and easy to embrace. Wrong. I gripped the metal bars conveniently available until my knuckles were white, bent as far back as I could go and gave it a shot. Did I actually contact that nasty rock with my lips? Well you'll never know. Here's the thing though. How do I know that's the "real" rock brought back from the Crusades in Jerusalem? On the word of the guy who was my last hope of survival gripping my midsection and saying that's the one. Oh well. Also being of the shorter perspective, My body was pretty much halfway out over that drop. (see picture) Taller people definitely have the advantage.

Somehow the trip back down the tower was quicker than the climb up; always quicker coming back once you know the way. First stop - restroom, for obvious reasons. Side note:  the restrooms over there were very clean and they use the air dryers so no nasty used paper all over the place and no graffiti.  We could learn a little from our friends across the pond about neatness. Karen, the Australian lady who accompanied us up the tower and subsequent embrace, and I congratulated each other and felt that giddiness one experiences after doing something that was incredibly scary, yet incredibly silly. I was actually light-headed going back down the stairs!

After lunch and the proverbial stop at the Blarney Castle gift shop we headed to Waterford. The home of the most beautiful crystal. However, they no longer make it there but keep a small production area for the tourists and a shop filled with their classic glass. As we perused the display area after the tour I realized that no one from our tour group was there. We hurried out to the bus to experience that "everyone staring at us in silence routine "as we were the last to return-Drat!  But why the heck do we visit such a beautiful crystal outlet and not get to shop? Our hotel was literally a couple of miles away and we had a two hour break before dinner. Bad planning. However Burt had come down with a head cold, so we scurried out after check-in to find a "Chemist". It is still mind-boggling to us when they give directions like, "take a right by the Norman tower by the river".  Well it is literally hard to miss. Don't know what they gave him for a decongestant but it was cheap and literally worked in "hours".  No more head cold. Hmmm. Also their aspirin has to be dissolved in water but it has a delightful lemony taste.

As we leave Ireland tomorrow, one last giggle.

An Irishman was heading to Spain for vacation. His friends suggested he speak very slowly when trying to communicate to be understood. After a hot dusty trip into town, he visited a pub for some much-needed Sangria. He very slowly asked, "Could...I...have....some...Sangria?" and hoped for the best. The bartender said "Do....you....want....a....large.....glass?" The Irishman slapped his head and said "you're Irish too?" "Aye" was the reply. "Then why are we speaking Spanish?"   (Think about it)

Final days on the trip in the next and last chapter.   To Be Continued

UK TRAVELS CHAPTER 13

"A crew of old Irish lads were riding the train. All of a sudden one goes running into the next car yelling "Is there a Priest in the car?" One gentleman responds saying "I'm a Rabbi, can I help? " No, no" and he heads back to his car. 10 minutes later he calls out again, "oh Lord, is there a Priest in the car." A second gentleman rises to the occasion and says "I'm a Protestant Vicar, can I be of assistance?" Again the man shakes his head in sad denial. 10 minutes later the cry comes again. "Please, is there a Catholic Priest aboard for the love of the Saints?" Another collared man responds, "I'm a Baptist Minister, can I not be of some help?"  "No, no" says the crestfallen man "we be needing a corkscrew!"  Yeah, well.

The travel guide called it a delightful trip around the "Ring of Kerry".  I called it a suicide mission with a terrified busload of tourists and a driver who claimed "he just shuts his eyes on the scary parts".  Hmmm.  You start out climbing some hills slowly almost imperceptibly so no one panics and pass through some small villages on the water that are quite picturesque. One has a special affinity for Charlie Chaplin to the point of erecting a statue to him along the waterfront. I believe their affection arose from he and his family vacationing there frequently and not expecting a big fuss made over him when he hit the local grocery or pub.

We then became encapsulated in some fog that got progressively worse the farther up the hills we traveled. Again a nice way of hiding the distance to the valleys below and the narrowness of the roads. Though the downside is wondering if you can't see the lines in the road what is the driver using, radar? sonar? Nice stop at a statue of Our Lady enclosed with a metal fence so you can't get too close. Only reason I mention this is, I had my first opportunity to venture to the side of the road to see the sheer drop-off peeking through the fog, which actually obscured the statue until you were right on top of it.  We "valley-dwelling" peoples are not used to how the weather can be so different as you literally climb into the clouds on your journeys.

Up and down the curving mountain (ok they call them hills) and hairpin curves and I no longer scoffed at fastening my seat belt. It was kind of like hitting air pockets on a plane. The rough roads and constant tight turns bounced you around in your seat like bacon grease hopping around in a hot skillet. As the average age of people on this trip was about 65, it would have been difficult to say the least, to try to drag one off the narrow floor and back into their seat. But like the laughably short flimsy fences along the side of the sheer drops, both seat belt and fence are useful only for keeping your lifeless body near the buss and to mark where your vehicle plunged over the side to make it easier for recovery.

After safely completing our jolly ride around the Ring we passed through a tunnel that required all lovers, couples and whoever was sitting beside you on the bus to lock lips promising forever love or something like that. Well it was dark in there, who knows. There was a beautiful overlook of the three lakes below that was named for Queen Victoria's ladies rather than herself as she was not enamored with the view or the primitive setting or ride over, I can't remember which.  Again this is not your "make it as people friendly as you can to avoid lawsuits" America. Over here you take your life in your paws if you're foolish enough to want to get a better picture.  No fences...

Funny side note. Stopping in a "tourist" village for lunch (my usual Guinness & sandwich) I wasn't paying particular attention to the conversation. All of a sudden I looked up and the biggest freaking goat I have ever seen was prancing past the window. Not sure the protocol, I basically pointed and yelled "Goat!"  Now no one would have believed me except they were just talking about this guy who brings his goat into town all the time and it follows him like a dog. But all I saw was a huge unfettered goat prancing through town.  Geez, I need to get out more...or listen more...

Our tour guide recommended Murphy's in Killarney as the best ice cream ever.  He went on and on about it for two days. Maybe, but for 6 pounds apiece for two teeny-tiny scoops, that's dinner. We would have been smarter to stick to the free samples they were handing out. I just feel it only civilized to buy something after you have been plied with so many tasty bribes. Wrong.

Dinner tonight was cheese and crackers and a restful evening. As we keep waking up at dawn, 4:30 or 5 am we tend to get sleepy earlier. That coupled with the sheer terror of the "Kerry" ride and a lot of walking today. I believe we bought the cheese and crackers in a tiny little shop as I could not quite understand the sweet lady who kept slicing off different cheeses for us to try. All the cheese was made by local farmers and the variety was intriguing and tasty. I bet they don't even know how their cheese is going to turn out, but considering the amount of sheep everywhere it's probably somewhat consistent.

Another interesting fact. Burt has an ear for the accents and figures out what they're saying way before I do. Though he said it was a challenge translating four different ones before breakfast most days. That includes our bus group.

So after an elaborate Italian dinner last night, we were content with ice cream, cheese, crackers and trail mix tonight. Definitely have not been hungry on this trip. Huge breakfasts, which after two days I switched to yogurt and cereal; tea and scone (with clotted cream & jam, yumm) breaks, lunch, snacks in the afternoon, dinner; there is no time for hunger pangs.

The ruined churches and abandoned, crumbling houses speak volumes about the cruel treatment of Catholics and the angst of the potato famine. Among much beauty, there is much history that has been left intact to educate future generations. The difference between the have and have nots is on display and many, in the places we visited, rely on tourism to survive. To Be Continued....

UK TRAVEL TALES CHAPTER 12

"A wealthy farmer put great stock by his wonderful dog.  When the old mastiff died, the farmer was naturally heartbroken. This had been a member of the family! He approached his local priest and requested a full funeral mass for his beloved lost companion. The priest looked at him sympathetically and said "we don't do funerals for  dogs Paddy, you should know that". As he was looking so sad, he added, "though boyo there is a church about 15 miles out of the village that follows no religion I would understand and it's possible they might perform a service for your dog. The farmer with tears in his eyes, says "so you're thinking if I offer them the 60,000 pounds to do the fun------"  "Wait, wait" the priest quickly interrupted him. "You didn't tell me the blessed dog was Catholic!"

On with the trip.  We traveled some more narrow two-laners along the water and were proudly told this road is new. OK. But then the guide pointed out the old road several yards away which basically consisted of a couple of goat tracks with some asphalt still clinging precariously to the surface, and though I don't know how it was possible, appeared narrower than the one we were traversing. It was a typical "soft" Irish day, meaning overcast with an occasional little showers which left everything a little damp and a glistening verdant green.

Beautiful country with tumble-down stone houses apparently abandoned during the potato famine and slowly going back to nature. Again I do not know how they grew potatoes or anything considering how rocky and hilly the land is. We passed the ruins of the Daniel O'Connell (the Liberator) house, not restored in any way but just slowly slipping into the Irish countryside at its own pace of deterioration. This is their way of preserving history.  Mr. O'Connell was an Irish political leader in the first half of the 19th century who campaigned for Catholic emancipation including the right for Catholics to sit for London Parliament and was one of the first to do so for his local County in Dublin.  He believed that equality with the English was possible through peaceful means and was the most successful champion for democracy in Europe as well as playing a significant role in ending slavery.

"The boys were enjoying an evening down at the pub - drinking, cussing, carousing. The local priest stopped in and gazed about in obvious disapproval. He asked each of the drinkers if they were wanting to make it into heaven. One by one he had the ones who wanted to be saved line up against the wall. When he came to Casey, he just kept drinking.  The old priest says, "Casey, me lad, don't you want to go to heaven?" "Course I do Father, Just not right now!"

We actually started our day with a visit to the Irish National Stud farm. These beautiful stallions are bred with hopeful mares at an astounding price "per ride" so to speak. They win a few significant races and spend the rest of their lives in comfy stalls and graze on the most tasty green grass Ireland has to offer. Their only responsibility is to successfully "cover" the ladies brought to them.  They retire at a ripe old age cared for by attentive grooms who come here from all over the world for the opportunity to learn how to run a successful stud operation.  The young lady who was our guide would name a famous (to her) race horse and say "You've heard of so and so right?" Empty stares all around. About the 3rd of 4th time she was pretty frustrated with us. So school being cancelled due to stupidity, we all just enjoyed wandering the farm and enjoying the beautiful horses and foals living there.

We did feel kind of sorry for the sweet old pony who is used to determine if the ladies are, ahem, ready to be serviced. If they are in heat, the pony is quickly jerked away and the real "star" is brought in to perform his duty. Nice retirement plan.  I like to think that maybe that pony was smarter than the grooms and got his goods in when they weren't looking.  Though I suppose the proof would be in the offspring. Oh yeah, they had some Japanese Gardens that are quite famous there, but we opted for tea and scones in the snack shop instead.

We traveled on to Killarney via Tipperary (yep, those songs long long way to etc, etc). We saw the famous Rock of Cashel which is rumored to be a stopping place for St. Patrick and his tussles with the devil. All I know is I didn't see "no stinkin snakes 'round there." Much more exciting was the town that honors it's goat Puck. He is declared King Puck of Killorglin and paraded up the inevitable hill, after which the town celebrates his three day reign with three solid days of drinking as the pubs do not close throughout the festival. Many party goers spend the night on the riverside as going back up those hills is not an option after three days of partying. After leaving Killorglin which is quite a nice little village when not in the throes of its 3-day debauch we viewed more gorgeous Irish countryside and met "the richest man in Ireland" according to our travel guide. He spends all day with his donkey and his dog making Brigid's crosses and having tourists take his picture for which he is generously tipped.

The tour guide said he doesn't know if it's the same dog, but he is always sitting on the donkey and the three of them happily spend their days delighting the tourists. Interesting fact about the crosses. As the Catholics were not allowed to practice their religion, these reed crosses were placed unobtrusively in spots to signal a priest would appear and hold a forbidden Mass for the underground faithful. It is easy to hide in this wild and beautiful country.

"An Irish pilot was in touch with the control tower on what was supposed to be a routine flight. He says loudly "Christmas", no response, "Halloween", again nothing, "New Year's Eve". He was getting frustrated and said "I know it's a holiday". Finally a voice from the tower speaks "I believe the word you are looking for is MAYDAY!"

To Be Continued......                                                           

UK TRAVEL TALES CHAPTER 11

This Irish chapters will be sprinkled with jokes heard from the Irish cabaret we attended Sunday night. Jokes like "me Grandmother was so short her feet showed in her passport photo".

Sunday morning in Dublin, Ireland the land of 90% Catholics, and we were honored to attend the Church of Guinness at 10:00 am.  Fascinating and apparently the Number 1 tourist attraction in Europe. History and beer - how can one go wrong? I shall remember it as the my first proper taste of the "black & white". After worship, I have definitely become a "believer". Guinness at 10:00 am, well it is Ireland after all. I followed that up with a whole pint at lunch, followed up by a nap... Actually I found myself "worshipping" every day the remainder of the trip.

At any rate Arthur Guinness was a canny lad. As he was being pooed pooed for his brewery plans, in 1759 he managed to rent the facility for IRL45 (45 Irish pounds) a year for 9,000 years. However, the lease is no longer in effect because the property has been bought when it expanded beyond the original four-acre site.

"Airline personnel - Has your suitcase been out of your sight? Well it's been in me attic for 15 years"

By the time we reached the "Gravity Bar" at the very top of the brewery, we were pretty much ready for more light refreshment as we enjoyed a 360 degree view of downtown Dublin.  The old brewery building is technically a 7 story museum showing both the brewing process and advertising animals created by John Gilroy working off the tag line "Guinness is good for you".

I also had the pleasure of enjoying my first beef and Guinness pie.  All things Guinness the rest of the trip. At the time I said if it doesn't taste like this in the States, I will be disappointed. (It doesn't).

"A friend talks another friend into trying Viagra. You'll feel like you're 20 again laddie. After a few weeks they met again and the friend asked him - did your try that Viagra. Well said his friend I did me boyo. Were there any side effects asked his friend? After a brief ponder the second man said, well only one-the Missus' headaches are back..."

Some other facts about Guinness is that it has to be chilled to 60 degrees to be perfect and it takes two minutes to settle in two stages; each time waiting for the bubbles to stop. I did perform homage by sporting the foam mustache proudly when I quaffed a pint.

Although I would never attend something like this normally, we did sign up for the Irish cabaret. Wall-to-wall tables and chairs loaded with a couple hundred people and only one exit that I could see. Tight quarters for attendees and performers whose stage is so small they actually dance on the tables! Lol.  I think the wait staff was in on the idea as certain areas were surreptitiously cleared just ahead of the dancing feet.  The Irish music, dancing and comedian were awesome. I am repeating some of the cleaner jokes, but you had to be there. We were laughing so hard we were crying.  Plus I regaled some of the rest of the gang with the jokes in the days following. Still made us laugh.

"I was such an ugly baby the nurse slapped everyone in the delivery room. She yelled out 8 pounds and me Mater yelled back he's yours and I'll throw in the baby carriage. How ugly was I? Well for the longest time me parents thought I had bad breath and a cleft palate until they realized they'd been holding me upside down".

After our Guinness tour our Dublin guide James narrated our riding tour. Unfortunately his voice was lyrical and low and he lost a few of us after our "pint" at the end of the tour. However he did relate the circumstances around the rebellion of 1916 which led to the Irish Republic being formed. As history is yesterday there, 1916 is the same a 2017. He told of the brave men who were executed by the British and showed us their resting place-a monument honored by all. Their sacrifice triggered the rest of the country to take up arms and eventually win their freedom as a free and independent nation. Queen Elizabeth eventually visited, greeting the populace in their native Gaelic, thus burying the hatchet for centuries of persecution, for good.

James also showed us where the American counsel lives near a park with a gigantic cross erected for the visit by the Pope. 5,000 people thronged this area to see the Pope but I especially remember the fantastic ice cream vendor truck stationed nearby that provided us our late morning snack. Guinness and ice cream on a Sunday morning Tra la.

"So many of the travelers are honeymooners and me and the Missus are sitting to breakfast listening to all the billing and cooing.  Pass the sugar, sugar; pass the honey, honey; care for a bun, bunny. Me wife looks at me and hollers pass the bacon you fat pig!"
To be continued....

UK TRAVEL TALES CHAPTER 10

Enjoying a walking tour of Chester because it's a walking tour not a bus tour although one had to take a bus to get here. A timed walking tour because if we miss our rondez-vous, we miss the boat to Ireland - not acceptable.  Of course I don't know how important that is to the rest of the group.  (At any rate, we all made it.)  This is the second walled city from Norman times we visited. Even explored a recently unearthed Roman structure located many feet below the streets of Chester which was next to an ancient Roman-inspired garden located above the city streets. They also had a few tombstones moved from outside the city that depicted Roman burial practices.  Quite pleasant  and beautiful actually. And if I recall correctly the town also contained the first protestant church commissioned by jolly old Henry VIII. But after a while I got my castles and churches mixed up.

We walked to the town center and then along the top of the Norman wall all the way down to the River Die. And what did we see on the River Die in the British city of Chester in the western part of England?  See below:

Yes I am as puzzled as you.

As usual it started to rain pretty good, but it got us back to the bus early where we passed the time chatting with other bedraggled members of our group. In the U.K. you wear waterproof or carry umbrellas and soldier on. It's an island folks: misty mornings, sunny daytime, cool evenings.

As we entered Wales we stopped in a little town whose name is longer than the main street. Apparently the thinking was, if they made the name long and unpronounceable people would bypass it as we always want to say we traveled to------------------------------. I think it's 52 letters or something.

Loosely translated:  The Church of Mary in the Hollow of the....." well you get the gist. Of course there is a tourist stop - canteen and souvenir shop and look a "James Pringle Weavers" outlet! Also free samples of variously flavored whiskey. Amazing the amount of alcohol available regardless of the hour though the pubs close early so maybe that makes sense. I did not know the Welsh flag features a rather ferocious looking dragon, but I told Joe it's a dinosaur on the shirt I bought him. However, he probably knew the difference.

The ferry boat to Dublin which the bus just drives right up into, has eleven decks. We tried going outside but the wind even on a calm day blows you right off your feet. Inside there are chairs, couches, food and the inevitable gift shop. But all I kept thinking was "a 3-hour tour".

After an uneventful trip across the Irish sea during which I saw a porpoise dive, we arrived at the docks of Dublin. We made slow progress to our hotel due to traffic and a special concert that was being held that night. Ariana Grande was performing and we saw all the teenagers in their best outfits standing in a huge line to get into the concert venue, in the rain.  The view of all those excited young people was especially poignant  and sadly memorable when two days later a coward bombed the same concert in Manchester, England.

Arriving at the hotel most appropriately named the Trinity Hotel as it is located across from the famous Trinity College. This hotel certainly personified the point at which opulence just become gauche and apparently their favorite color is royal purple. I'll just leave it at that.

Big rainstorm prompted our deciding to sample the hotel cuisine rather than going out. At least the affinity for purple was more subdued in the dining area. Burt finally got his lamb.  We had been seeing tons of sheep and lambs but it was never on the menus. Then actually the next day at our Irish Cabaret night they offered lamb stew.  I stuck with steak and chicken until I learned to partner it with my new favorite brew which I discovered a day later.

I don't know what they use, but I can't get used to their salad greens. They just taste bitter and dressing is either non-existent or a form of vinegar and mayonnaise. They do love their mayo, but not my favorite. Tomorrow, Sunday, we will enjoy a different kind of religious experience followed by an extremely hilarious night at the Irish Cabaret.  To be continued......

UK TRAVEL TALES CHAPTER 9

Leisurely day. Bags out at 8:30 rather than the crack of dawn, which is about 4:30 am actually. At least that's when we seem to wake up with the sun. Short nights here. A couple of rides south and opportunities to explore a town on the banks of Lake Windermere of which I cannot remember the name and also some time in Liverpool before heading to the English town of Chester for the night.  Looking forward to our ferry across the Irish Sea to Eire in a day or two.

Wandered the town after breakfast which for the first time ordering off the menu was allowed! Burt immediately opted for Eggs Benedict where I stuck to my tried and true granola and yogurt, though I do drink a pot of tea now.  This hotel was so luxurious from the room, the public areas to the food. Tea or alcohol served in a marvelous parlor where one could imagine the formally dressed guests planning out their day's activities and evening dining with golden pens and white gloved waiters at the ready. The English on vacay really know how to Par--tee!

As we traversed the streets along the Lake I now believe that all the sheep's legs are shorter on one side. You would not believe the steepness of the hills where you literally went uphill both ways. Also apparently the grass actually is greener on the other side as Burt just noticed a sheep halfway up a stone wall next to his/her field trying to get into the neighboring one. We don't think he/she made it. 

It is interesting to see all the free-standing stone walls that do not rely on mortar to stay together and erect all around the farms. When the English farmers/landowners were forced to "enclose" their lands they turned to what was plentiful - lots and lots of rocks. Apparently the tax man became wise to the practice of neighbors shifting sheep (say that 5 times fast) when he came around to assess the tax burden based on the number of animals owned. Which reminds me of another piece of farming info. We learned some of the brightly colored marks on the ewe's backs were not identifiers of who owned "ewe" but are caused by the rams, ahem, covering them. Thus the farmer can mark both "effort" and "virility" - no sheep!

A couple hour stop in Liverpool was next on the agenda. The dock area, once busy and dangerous is still busy but much more trendy these days as the younger crowd likes the eclectic flats, pubs and the giant soccer stadium that dominate the area. Deciding to forego the Beatles tour (on the bus) in favor of a pint at a nearby pub, I sampled a draft called "Yellow Submarine" (well in Rome or Beatles' country). We sat with a young nursing student as the only open seating and had quite a conversation. Though a new friend Mary asked me, "how much of what he said did you understand?" "Not much" lol. But we smiled and nodded appropriately and our tour guide who was also enjoying a pint with us, kept the conversation going. 

On to Chester ........

Arrived at the Queen's Hotel in Chester which sported lots of portraits of lady rulers and crazy roman statues. Rooms and suites were marked with Queen's names including Henrietta Marcia one of the few times I have seen my sister's name spelled out. Also another room was marked "so & so was conceived in this room". Well ok, probably many rooms owned that legend I would guess.  After a major hunt, we found the "giant chair" we were told to look for though I don't know what it signified if anything.

Also found an old style red box phone booth which had a video screen rather than a phone.  There were many of these red box phone booths still alive and kicking on London streets that actually housed phones.

A little excitement this night as there was a wedding reception going on in the courtyard of the hotel with guests literally being thrown out at midnight. As everyone at the reception was pretty "oiled" when someone starting banging on our doors yelling for help some assumed it was just some misguided guests looking for more booze. However it turned out to be one of our group who had some trouble in the bathroom - either fell or couldn't figure out how to work the faucets at midnight-not sure which story was correct from our rudely awakened fellow travelers. When you travel with a "mature" group, little mishaps like this are daily occurrences. People forgetting to return on time, people getting lost, people almost falling down staircases, people wandering where they should not wander and then feigning deafness when challenged.  Ahh the life of a tour guide.  Tomorrow we board our ferry to Ireland.....

UK TRAVEL TALES CHAPTER 8

The day started early with a drive to the infamous Loch Ness. As most know the Scottish word for Lake is Loch and they have lots and lots of lochs...The day was sunny but a bit nippy, we kept hearing about how great the weather was for our trip and generally that was true. Beautiful Highlands rising on either side of the 1,000 foot deep lake and a large tour boat complete with a Scots narrator who would burst into songs about the Jacobites and their struggles with the English at the drop of a tam.

Our tour guide kept saying we could become millionaires if we got a picture of the cagey monster of the Loch so be on the ready. I was quite excited when I mistook a channel marker for the famed beastie. Well it was green and had a long neck...from a distance... Some of us brave souls sat in the open air top deck enjoying the breeze while our less hardy group stayed inside the warm interior of the boat complete with a "tea and snack bar" of course. But then they also were face to face with the entertainer. I now know why they wear the kilt when performing or shopping for that matter. Part of its gear is a sporran which is a traditional part of male Scottish highland dress. It is used as a pocket for the pocketless, but I just call it a man purse because they collected their tips in them.

After the boat tour, we drove about 23 miles along Loch Ness which is just not possible to capture with a mere picture.  The lock system in Scotland was quite interesting as they raise boats a total of 60 feet through a series of locks which resemble sideways gates. The boats slowly and lazily make their way up a few feet at a time to the top. After a short bathroom stop at a souvenir shop, I found a great Nessie hat complete with tail for Joseph. Actually I was quite fetching when I modeled it for our group and our tour guide insisted I wear it to dinner that night. It worked on so many levels and ages.

Driving along Loch Lomand (you know "on the bonnie bonnie banks of ") people on the left side of the coach faced a sheer drop to the lake. However the real death-defying gasps were on the right as our mammoth coach was approached by vehicles coming the other way. Six inches was generous and our skillful driver laughed as he easily cleared the obstacles. As he said "I'm bigger than them". Amen. A quick stop at a Lochside park to enjoy a wee dram of single malt scotch. Well when in Rome...Not too bad actually. Especially when paired with Werther's caramels and Scottish biscuits (cookies).

Arriving rather late, 7:30ish after a long day, we walked into a room at the Old English Hotel in the Lake District of northwest England that was sheer opulence. After the previous night's room of no frills, broken locks and hardly space to swing a golf club in Inverness, I now pen this missive sitting in a cushy robe and slippers provided by the hotel in the velvet armchair of my suite. I sip fresh Earl Grey and gaze out upon the water and the bevy of sailboats straining at their leashes in the gentle morning breeze. Sucks to be me right? Must be how Beatrix Potter felt as she wrote her Peter Rabbit stories looking out upon these same lakes, hills and sheep. Oh man the sheep-they outnumber the people I am sure. And they are delicious in a stew I must say..... to be continued

UK TRAVEL TALES CHAPTER 7

Apparently getting lost in Edinburgh is more difficult because, according to our travel guide, they pretty much invented the "grid system". That is, making squares rather than circles so one actually goes around the block and ends up at the starting place or at least that's my understanding. According to our adventure of getting lost in Edinburgh that thinking goes out the window when down by the waterfront where due to the nature of the coastline one does not have perfect squares to traverse.

 It was also in Edinburgh that one of my fellow travelers noted that my phone was not on "plane mode" thus racking up $75 in extra charges from roaming.  Ah well. Travel broadens your horizons including your cell phone bill.  I now digress to note some of the differences in spelling and meanings across the pond. Tyres (tires), take-away (take-out), diversion (detour), coach (bus), crossing the Firth of Forth into Fife  (I have no idea), caravel (campers) and my personal favorite Coos (cows). But then their cows do not look like the placid Bossie we are accustomed to seeing. These coos look like mini-buffalo with a lot of hair covering their faces. No doubt all that fur keeps them warmer on the windy highlands of Scotland.

Our morning stop today was at the ancient city of St. Andrews - home to "The University of St. Andrews" and the golf course of the same name hosting the British Open-both claiming to be the first of their kind in Scotland.  The University reminds me of U of M with the town and college buildings and dorms wrapped around each other, never clearly defining where one starts and the other ends. The golf course is one of five on the premises and it borders the ocean. That song of "Chariots of Fire" starts up in every one's head.

 Burt took over this particular tour immediately heading for the Starter's Shed. He was in search of a playbook for the old course that showed the traps, distances and best way to play each hole. He was willing to put down cash for this. Instead the "boys" in the shed were more than accommodating and gave him the book for free. We then proceeded to the shops. If there was not time to play a round, we could at least look like we could have. Hats, towels, tees, markers, shirts, etc., duly marked with the St. Andrews logo became resident in our carry-on. The grin on his face was wide as we motored away. This was the whole trip for you wasn't it I stated.  Yep.

Blair Castle was the next stop and we opted for tea (no milk please) and scones instead in the inevitable snack bar rather than wandering another castle or the "spectacular garden". Yeah well.  Enjoyed a pleasant half hour with our tour guide and then perused the gift shop. Where we found another Joseph treasure "A SLIDE WHISTLE"!  After making ourselves crazy playing with it, we presented it to our little buddy upon our return (among numerous other items) so that he could drive his parents crazy with it as well. Funny I haven't heard anything about that since we got back. I wonder if Kristen is hiding a whole treasure chest of banned and noisy items from my grandson in the name of peace.

Our day ended in an 1800s hotel in Inverness and it looked like it. Very "castley" and the room was about big enough for the bed. We got quite proficient at utilizing and stowing giant suitcases in little or no space on the trip. And heck you only use the room to sleep in for the five hours of darkness anyway. We walked downtown, well we were downtown, to do some shopping. One little problem was our normal arrival time in a town was pretty much just before or just after the stores closed. Our guide would gaily point out, you've got some time to explore the town - which actually meant explore the pubs as that was pretty much all that was open.  We did find a little shop full of touristy souvenirs, but as we were tourists searching souvenirs, that worked just fine. Finally found a Scottish crest for Pringle, my Grandmother's surname which I showed in the previous chapter.

Dinner at the hotel started with the usual mystery greens. I like salad, but I never did get what greens they were serving us and never got used to the bitter taste. Maybe the inevitable brown sauce would have worked on them. Followed by some kind of pork, I think and tatties of course. Thank goodness the places are generous with the brown sauce. I will never put down  or turn my nose up at gravy again. It literally saved my life. That seems to be where the flavor resides. Finished up with a mango filled cheesecake. Odd combination but it worked. Side note:  I weighed exactly the same at the end of the trip as when I started, so overeating was never an issue or option for that matter on this trip.

No telly in the room, no door lock that worked, no wash cloths (what is it about no wash cloths unless you ask?), not enough TP, but we slept like the dead as we were back on the road before 8 meaning luggage is out the door by 7. As it stays daylight until after 10 PM in these northern reaches, catching the 40 winks usually occurred on the coach (bus).  To be continued...

UK TRAVEL TALES CHAPTER 6

The trip into another part of the United Kingdom began today. Although it is a part of the UK it has a violent history and an eternal wish to be independent and that desire is no different today. After wars and assassinations and extremely violent English responses to Scottish rebellion it all ended with a marriage of cousins that ended the conflict and brought the Scots under the English fold. However they do have their own parliament (housed in a building in Edinburgh that the Scots believe is hideous) and they value their own banks and coin.  They will however accept the English pound/money is money after all.  Although that is not the case in Ireland who only accept the Euro.

After passing through Durham and its inevitable castle/cathedral and viewing a bit of Hadrian's wall we headed into the hills, literally, to Scotland. After climbing, climbing, climbing we pulled off into this little parking area and jumped off the bus.  Oh side note, can't remember which side of the rock it was on, but we viewed a portion of an abbey that had been destroyed twice-once by the English and secondly by the protestants.  After the second destruction, the populous of this small town basically said "screw it" in Gaelic of course and left the eerie yet beautiful lacework stone structure that carried the friars to their daily prayers intact leading to essentially nowhere. Being practical they built a snack bar and restrooms at a wonderful vantage point to the ruins.

As we stepped off the bus we were struck by a 40 mile an hour gale and spitting rain. Over the distractions of the weather, however, we heard the mournful cry of the pipes. Overcoming the weather with his bare-legged kilt attire and massive "octopus" we were greeted by what the tour guide described as probably the worst bagpipe player in Scotland. We were of course appreciative of the effort and tipped him handsomely, partially for his skill in keeping his dignity when his kilted skirts blew about him as he piped merrily into the face of the wind.  We knew we were in Scotland alright.

We continued into Edinburgh with softening weather and sunshine. Our hotel was an old Georgian manor house and we discovered later we were on the servants floor, but were still thrilled at the large room, wonderful view out the window and the ability to unpack and stay put for two days, a rare treat.  The town is dominated by its ancient castle on the water which acts as a formidable deterrent to naval attacks with its sheer rock wall going up a couple hundred feet.  Also, pretty much wherever you look in the old town it is shadowed by an ancient volcano (if you can believe that) locally named "Arthur's Seat". 

We had our first "optional" experience by attending the Scottish Night (dinner & cabaret) at a local nightclub.  Hilarious "Salute to the Haggis" was the opening act. As all were well lubricated by the bottles of wine on the table and open bar before the festivities began, no one really minded that the Robert Burns poem was presented strictly in Gaelic.  The elaborate gestures, the tray of haggis ceremoniously carried in by kilted attendants and the swordplay made the meaning very clear and very funny. In the midst of this "formal" presentation, we were served our own slice of Haggis on top of the inevitable "tatties" (potatoes) and gravy. For those who don't know, haggis is sheep entrails and other extraneous organ meats cooked in a sheep's belly. We decided it wasn't too bad tasting like an extremely greasy pate.  Or so I told myself. More wine, more beer. The evening ended back at the hotel about 10:30 and we crashed. Tomorrow late start with a local tour and open afternoon.

Our tour through town was expertly and humorously guided by a local Scot, Keith, who basically said most of what he told us was a bald-faced lie, but we would never know what was what. He ended the tour at Edinburgh castle and then led us on an extremely energetic climb to the top of the castle explaining each of the seven gates a marauder would have to fight through to reach the defenders. He described in great detail how the defenses worked and one understands the importance of armor back in the day. The final gate would lead to the chapel which makes sense that if the attackers have breached your defenses, your last act would probably be prayer anyway. Amazing how well our older guide could climb, but then kilts/skirts do not really hinder one. He showed us the cannon that they fire off at l:00 pm which apparently was a wedding gift for one of the Queens which would be the first time a wedding couple was "canonized".  I don't make 'em up, I just report it. Oh and the reason they fire off the cannon at 1:00 rather than noon is "being Scottish we don't want to waste the gunpowder....."  Keith was amazingly agile for an older man wearing skirts err kilt though you do have great range of motion.  He too was liberally tipped. We passed on viewing the Scottish crown jewels kept at the castle as the line was too long and we were afraid of missing our bus going back to the hotel.

With the afternoon free we decided to track down a woolen shop. An optional side trip was touring the Royal Yacht Britannia at the Leith harbor. Side note: as it provided honeymoon space for the royal family certain British heirs were no doubt conceived upon its royal self. That was not enticement enough to essentially tour a cruise ship. Instead we opted to pursue family connections by trying to locate the "James Pringle Weavers" shop as my Grandmother's maiden name was Pringle. James Pringle Weavers turned out to be a chain store of sorts located in different areas of Scotland that carries a lot of tartan items. I did finally locate the Pringle clan (family) crest. It depicts a seashell on a buckle with the words "Amicitia Reddit Honores" (Friendship Gives Honors). The woolen connection may be associated to a time in the 1500's when Pringles held responsibility for overseeing the shearing, storage and transportation of the King's sheep.  The seashell is anyone's guess. The Pringles were also close allies of the Earls of Douglas and served as their squires. 

However, the fun part of the trip which started out in sunshine and nice temperatures, was getting lost in Leith (western side of Edinburgh) and the day turning into cold and wind which is more typical Scottish weather. We told our tour guide to go without us if we weren't back by 2:30 and set off to find the Pringle factory. It was farther than advertised. I really should learn to read a map better. After our visit at James Pringle we were well past our 2:30 rendezvous. I said "can't be far, look there's that church tower that's at the end of the street our hotel is on". Wrong.  After circling the same five block area around the harbor for the third time now in chilly rain I was ready to wreck havoc on something or somebody. Turning around we saw one of those picturesque black cabs that the UK is famous for as you see them in every movie.  Hand out and he stopped "glory be".  I heard they were expensive but one does not quibble when lost and cold. They are an experience with the sideways doors and huge passenger area. You could roll a bowling ball up to the driver's compartment, well not really. Very cool and a definite haven against the storm. Though slight tightening of the cheeks when he says is that hotel on such and such a street?  Well you're  the cabbie wouldn't you know? Trust is a big issue when you travel.  Sure sure that's it and we did arrive safely.

Tomorrow it's off to St. Andrews and Inverness.  To be continued....

UK TRAVEL TALES CHAPTER 5

Sorry for the break in reporting. Been working on dining room remodel and busy sorting, disposing and relocating a myriad of objects and several hours and days cleaning wallpaper glue off four walls! Now repainted awaiting the new floor installation. Fingers crossed things stay on schedule.

Ok on with the trip.  I have definitely been in big cities in the US before and even 10 days in France, however I will say to fellow travelers knowing the transportation system and options and understanding the money goes a long way.  I often had to, pardon me Blanch of "Glass Menagerie", "rely on the kindness of strangers" to get me what I needed. Although we had beautiful weather, the norm kicked in with some gloom and rain.  However it never lasted that long and when on a tour, one just throws a water-proof jacket on and keeps the agenda.  I did finally understand that "we are on an island" buffeted by the North Atlantic and the Gulf Stream - two extremes.  So the usual weather was gloomy morning, sunny daytime and cool and sometimes rainy nights.  No big deal and as I hate extreme heat, I was physically quite happy.  Though when it hit the high 70's the last couple of days, the Brits literally melt from the extreme heat.  And as stated before they don't really believe in air-conditioning, it led to some sticky nights.

Our stops this day included Durham to see the castle and Romanesque cathedral. Remember the ABCs (another bloody church/castle). A rainy day but a fun walk about town. Uphill both ways oddly enough.  There was this interesting street that was so narrow it was a literal shock when a van managed to drive up the road as pedestrians/tourists covered the entire street. Common occurrence; people give way; no rush and everyone's cool. We also had another experience with the banks there as again we were denied entrance to the inner sanctum although the lobby was staffed by professional looking people in uniform who helpfully guided me through the ATM procedure at an extreme cost to me for foreign exchange rate (expected) and foreign transaction fee (surprise). As I was promised no transaction fees if  I used the sister bank Barclay's there was a bit of sticker shock but I had no choice if I wanted my cash.  Did get those fees refunded when I got back to the States though.

As it was raining...enjoyed an indoor flea market/garage sale/mall that covered a few blocks. They are big on indoor flea market/garage sale/malls there all of which have been "in existence in that spot  for 800 years.  Anyway, I got a set of marking pens for a pound and a delicious looking lemon bar for about three.  Unfortunately the lemon bar was mostly "scone-like" with very little lemon.  They do love their flour and water concoctions over there, and they do fill you up.

We stopped at a little pub in Newcastle for lunch I believe which was called

We are in England after all.  This is where I enjoyed my "Newkie" brew in a pint size.  Really need to mind your "Ps & Qs" when drinking in the U.K. lol. Fortunately I'm not driving. Before lunch we stopped to see a bit of Hadrian's Wall which at one point girdled the narrowest part of England from the Channel to the Atlantic. As with most walls, they become ineffective as you can go over, under or around eventually (hint hint) unless they are staffed every mile or so with heavily armed soldiers. There's very little left  at least in this area as the local people needed materials for fences and pens etc.  Upon looking around they noted these finely hewed stones just sitting there for the asking, or the taking probably. So Hadrian's Wall actually shows up as the outdoor decor around most of the local farms and houses.

We continued our trip north to Scotland passing golden fields of canola flowers as far as the eye could see.  Next chapter will begin with our entry into beautiful Scotland. However as we left northern England we passed a pub that said "Last Pub in England". And of course when we turned around and looked back it proclaimed "First Pub in England" . Take your claim to fame where you can.  Love the British sense of humor.   To be continued...

TALES FROM THE U.K. CHAPTER 4

Day 4 - Leaving London

Arriving in the lobby of the hotel after another gargantuan English breakfast we observed the controlled chaos that ensues each morning of the trip. Frantically scanning the immense pile of luggage to assure your bags got picked up by the proper group and are loaded on the proper tour bus was of immediate concern. After a few days, one gets used to suitcase roulette and just assumes things get loaded and unloaded properly. (Also after a couple of days of "gargantuan" English breakfasts, I opted for yogurt and granola in the morning-there were always enough snacks during the day to cover any deficit).

Driving through London on an early Sunday morning was probably the first time to enjoy how "green" the city is. Parks and open spaces everywhere which are not that easy to see during regular working hours. The bus was new to both passengers and driver and was pristine. One could literally "eat off the floor"; a condition that the driver returned it to magically each morning. Apparently they get graded on cleanliness and such attention to detail is appreciated when you realize you are spending up to six hours a day on board moving from seat to seat.  As we are all generous souls and non-competitive types the tour guide laid out the suggested (read mandatory) "seat shift" custom. Every day you shifted back two rows. That way all of us get the "good seats" at least once or twice. Well I tend to get to things early and I like the front seat.  Fortunately the bus was large and comfortable and car sickness was not an issue. By the last day we had rotated back to the seat we set out on the first day. Cool how that works.

Hard to get used to the left side driving even after two weeks. I continued to look the wrong way at every instance. Fortunately I was not driving. Specific rules for drivers that I wish we had here in the States. No bus or truck driver can exceed 62 mph and governors are set on the vehicle to assure that. Also they are strictly limited to how long they can drive on any one day and they are required to take one day completely off in every seven. That resulted in two relief drivers, one of whom piloted the hair-raising ride around the "Ring of Kerry" in Ireland; a road encompassing many hills, death-defying curves and plunges of several 100 feet inches from our wheels. Drivers are armed with computer chip cards that are inserted before they can even start the vehicle that can be examined by police which record their complete driving history for the past two months. These rules were put into place to address the number of truck/bus/car accidents that were occurring and, big surprise, it has had a very positive impact in reducing incidents.  Contrast that with the U.S. where giant Walmart is lobbying Congress to let their transporters drive even longer hours. In the U.K. drivers are protected from fatigue-induced accidents and possible job loss by simpl following the rules.

Fun Fact. There are not "Smokey & the Bandit" situations with cops hiding behind signs and wasting a lot of time controlling speed. Drivers can actually go 80-90 as long as traffic is moving and they are not causing any issues.  Yes, it's over the speed limit, but common sense and a lot more training to get your license is the rule.  How refreshing.

Our itinerary included a stop in Stratford (Shakespeare's hometown) and the City of York. After specific instructions to be back at the time given, repeated several times, we were down one passenger after the first stop. Nothing against any one country, but it was a Canadian. Until you remember names, nationality seems to work as an identifier. Although the gentleman's wife was on board he was nowhere to be found. When asked where he was she just said something like "I don't know, he wanders".  Oh goodie. Tour guide and wife (to identify the body) set off to search.  He came wandering back about ten minutes later apparently unaware of the consternation in the chicken coops he had created.

At any rate we explored the town (and returned within the time limit) after the mandatory stop at the "toilets". First item of business after we boarded the bus, we were instructed on "relief" issues.  Yes, there is a toilet on the bus which one would have to be a contortionist to use. It's actually smaller than an airliner bathroom if you can imagine.  At any rate, we were seriously cautioned to not use it for other than an immediate emergency and only for number one. Seriously disgusting story about that I may divulge later. Also the gentlemen on board were cautioned to only apply themselves sitting down or suffer the consequences of an unexpected turn, sudden stop or turbulence. As it is the driver's job to clean the bus every night, we understood. Toilets became a very important issue as they do on any trip and our guide was extremely helpful by stopping about every two hours and explaining where the "clean" and "free" toilets were at each stop. Another thing about the U.K.-they do keep things very clean with litter, messy wastebaskets and graffiti unusual. Or the Brits themselves are very neat.

In Stratford we did get to see Shakespeare's actual childhood home. Costumed actors performed snippets of his plays at different venues as no one can actually stand and watch an entire play lol. Several statues throughout the main street suddenly and comically revealed their true nature when they started speaking or gesturing.  Each was accompanied by a receptacle to accept any appreciative tokens donated by the passer-by. We actually purchased an ice cream cone (delicious custard-like ice cream there) and a British themed Christmas ornament. As the places we visited are used to tourists, actually their economies are dependent upon them, we fumbled with our money and then just laid it out on the counter where the proprietor picked out what he needed. Oddly enough our change equaled exactly 8.99 pounds the cost of the item.

On to the city of York, an ancient walled city originally settled by the Vikings. Parts of the wall and towers are still standing. Did I say earlier that anything 1700AD or later is modern to these folks? We walked uphill (both ways) Shambles Street which is narrow, cobble stoned and packed with storefronts that still sport the old meat hooks butchers used to hang their wares for the perusal of folks passing by. Also we were regaled with stories of how "toilet" issues were handled and it was not hard to imagine the condition of the streets before indoor plumbing and sewers. Our walk ended at York Minister which claims to be England's largest medieval cathedral. It was at least a block or two long. We were told we could visit upon payment of a "donation". Donations are frequent as repairs are ongoing as evidenced by the proliferation of scaffolds we found on buildings everywhere. These are pretty old ladies they are trying to maintain obviously. We also found out the meaning of the phrase ABC used by long-suffering tourists. It translates to "Another Bleeding Church". Hmmm

Our room was small, even smaller than our first hotel, but as long as it had at least a queen-size bed and plumbing, we were good. Quite a variety of hotels on the trip and as many were built in the 1800's, one's expectations change and it's just  place to crash. As I proclaim to love history I can't really complain. We had a "getting to know you" dinner this night provided by the tour company and we sat with a couple that continued to provide a challenge to the rest of the group due to some physical issues. We also got a dose of TMI (too much info) on some situations with the couple, but hey that's part of traveling and meeting people right?

Couple of other highlights of the day. Most of the houses are made of stone and stucco and they have no parking and tend to be stacked on each other. Did not really see houses that resembled home until Ireland. The dinner offered fish soup which I declined and duck pate that I enjoyed. Our lunch stop was an expressway oasis like we have here complete with McDonalds.  Oh my gosh - saw McDonalds and KFC just everywhere! Opted for the New York Deli sandwich at another café and was surprised to find a typical salami on rye.....sprinkled with pickle slices!  Not too bad actually. Though they do seem to have a major love affair with mayo on all sandwiches which is not my first choice.  I tended to say "when in Rome" a lot which led to sampling haggis, single-malt scotch, meat pies, Guinness and mead.    To be Cont.

TRAVELS FROM THE U.K CHAPTER 3

Day 3 (or reasonable timeframe)                                                             

Another tour this morning. More of a "driving" tour of the highlights of downtown London.  Little did we know, this was the precursor to what was to become our routine for the next two weeks.  Lots of bus riding. Yes, the tour bus was not like a typical "school bus" sporti semi-comfortable individualized seats and pretty decent leg room. But the seat belts on our regular bus were so tight we probably didn't use them as much as we should until we took the hair-raising tour of the "Ring of Kerry". Irish roads leave a bit to be desired, but our tour guide just dubbed them "Tour Bus Calisthenics" and had us practice. But that is for another day.

Our regular tour bus starting on day four was brand, spanking new fresh off the assembly line. New to us and new to the driver who had a couple of hair-raising experiences with the hydraulic system not functioning as expected. In one instance, we were perched precariously on a hill, in mud, trying to mount a hill that led directly to a busy 2-lane highway. We were discussing whether we needed to get off, unload the baggage and push, but our intrepid driver got us safely up the hill and onto the road without a minimum of death and mayhem.  But I digress.

We got to know our driver and tour guide pretty well during our journeys. There was some disagreement on whether the driver was "cockney" or Scottish-they seem to sound the same. All I know is he turned me on to a beer named a Newcastle or Newkie as they are affectionately called and it was quite good.  I tended to drink quite a bit of beer on the trip. Wine was consumed (as it was free) at the optional "nights out". Though I did feel kind of silly ordering it as a newkie, the locals knew it well.  And another fun fact. You get a "pint" if you do not ask for a smaller portion.  I of course soldiered on and accepted whatever was offered in whatever quantity.  Assisted me in getting some good naps in on the bus.

At any rate, our tour guide was a bit pretentious spouting his opinion on politics and expressing his disdain of "public schools". He of course was Christ College and Cambridge educated. As he put it, "it's not what you know, it's who you know". Then he would regale us with a history lesson and at the high point of the story, he would say, "guess you will just have to buy my book to hear the end". I am not kidding. And amazingly, some people did!  If he is such an upper-crust, well-connected author, then why is he working for someone else as a tour guide? He was probably the sole "ugly Englishman" that we encountered.

He did take us to Buckingham Palace in time to witness the changing of the guard. In the U.K. soldiers in whatever conveyance (car, truck, tank, Horse) have the right of way on British streets. Cool. And yes that is a picture of me taking a video of the of the action.

Cut loose, as they call it, in the afternoon we decided to take a long walk in the other direction looking for Trafalgar Square which is surrounded by the pricier neighborhoods and stores. We walked through Eton Square - the home of both Sean Connery and Richard Moore (Moore just passed away a couple of weeks ago).  As usual, I could not pinpoint the spot I was actually looking for so we headed back towards the hotel looking for someplace to eat. Catching sight of an interesting little café/restaurant we thought we would give it a try. Little did we know we would be rejected and sent on our way!

Just a hole in the wall with very little décor and few tables. Though the smokers tend to stay outside at their own tables. Another digression - it was so odd to see so many smokers! But they stay outside so all is good and they are catered to in their areas. Did not realize how much we have demonized smoking in the "States".  Anyway, they said do you have a reservation? Huh? No décor, hole in the wall, few tables mostly empty. They graciously seated us despite no pre-arrangements. As we got our 4 pound "bottle" of water we scanned our menu.  Uh-oh - all seafood choices. Apparently this was a Sicilian themed restaurant with no other entrees available.  We asked if we could just have a drink as they had a pretty interesting wine list. HORRORS! No you must leave! Ah well, I am sure I have been thrown out of better places.

Ended up hitting a pub close to the hotel and noted the menu looked awfully familiar. Another little quirk. One often has to go up to the bar to order both food and drink. They bring it to you, usually, but wait staff is not there to take an order apparently. Well at least in the pubs. Upon scanning the familiar menu, I realized this was the same offering we had the first night at the "Bag 'O Nails" pub.  But at least they let us sit in the pub/bar area and did not condemn us to a Ladie's Parlor. Another interesting note. I don't know if gambling is legal in the UK, but I saw a lot of slot machines that seemed to accept money and pay out money. Odd, though. I never saw anyone playing them. Another story there no doubt. ToBeContinued

TRAVEL TALES FROM THE UK, CHAPTER 2

I can try to keep this in order, but sometimes days or experiences run together in a total ethnic blur, so I will try to post in the approximate order of the trip. However I will take poetic license if something occurs to me and it's a different day. I believe it's the challenges and general screw-ups that stick in your mind after an adventure which is more interesting than trying to attain any kind of continuity. That will be my disclaimer for the moment anyway.

Couple of interesting things in UK hotel rooms-no clocks, teeny-tiny wastebaskets and the electrical challenge I mentioned earlier. Also the pub we enjoyed the first evening had an old-timey portrait of a previous owner???  With the surname of Pringle. So maybe our ancestors were in the pub business.  Makes sense as their crest features a sea shell so maybe they sold seashells or seafood by the seashore? Also when our tour director asked for our surname, I had to think what the heck that meant.  Yes, I know it's your family's hereditary last name, but not exactly how we ask your name here in the States as we think we are all brand-new creatures with no past or history.  History over there is anything that's at least 500 years old.  The 1700's are merely yesterday and the buildings are still there to prove it!
View of Victoria Station from Hotel Room

Day 2 - after we discovered we were located on the back of Victoria Station, a main hub for trains and buses, we realized the disembodied voices we had been hearing through the wall were actually announcements from the station.  After the Manchester bombing, we also realized we were attached to a possible target for terrorism. Then after the latest event on London Bridge and the Borough Market another chill went down my spine as I realized that was one of the stops we made on Day 2.

Knowing through the first day experience that we were the proverbial "babes in the woods" around the big City we were grateful that our travel rep appeared early the next day to walk us to our day tour pick-up location. She was right. We would have been waving good-by to that big double decker red bus if we had attempted the journey on our own.  Oddly enough, the tour dropped us at Westminster Abbey at the end of the day rather than taking us back to the starting point and said good luck.  Had to ask a bobby how to get back...We were going to tip that guide but decided not to after the "dump and run".

As the scheduled 15 day trip did not include a Tower of London or Westminster tour and the one thing I wanted to experience, a "formal" high tea, this optional tour supplied all the missing parts. The Tower of London was incredible with ancient buildings, the crown jewels, stern-faced British soldiers (separated by a fence so couldn't get close to try and make them smile-pooh) and the inevitable shopping arcade.  No matter where you go, and I assume by plan, there is always the inevitable shopping opportunities.  I did ask when in Ireland and observing the vast distances between villages, what people did for a living.  Essentially the answer was, "cater to the tourists". Well at least the landscape is not peppered with giant smokestacks and ugly warehouses. But spoiler alert; I was not that impressed with the crown jewels. Could be the masses of people blocking any good views, but I just thought there would be more.

Another odd compulsion of the tourists milling around the grounds of the Tower is their blood-thirsty desire to know exactly "where" the unfortunate Ann Boleyn "lost her head" (pardon the pun).  They fenced in an area and say vaguely "over there" somewhere. The lady who could not deliver a male heir and actually embraced Protestantism (more so than Henry 8) was instead accused of treason to justify her execution. Oh yes, life is so much better for women now, hmmmm.

Interesting story.  As long as the Ravens remain at the Tower of London it will never be destroyed. Well to assure that, they feed them well and make sure they do not fly too far away. A local celebrity is the lady below with the pink ribbon on her foot. A true drama queen she is known to collapse as if dead to the consternation of the onlookers. Then she pops up with a crow-equivalent "ta da" .  Tres Amuse!

Cannot get close enough to harass the "Beefeater" but note that is no pea shooter he is sporting...

I was more interested in the explanation of the castle garderobes. Essentially "privies".  As castle dwellers wore a lot of furs and heavy materials, and due to the absence of really good self-serve laundromats, folks believed if they hung the dirty garments in the castle toilet whatever nasties living (or decomposing) there would miraculously clean the garments. Something like if it smells that bad, then it has to be good for something?  One can only pity the lads who's job it was to shovel out these spaces occasionally.

At lunchtime, we made a stop at Borough Market and were cut loose for an hour. Clearly marking where the bus was we ventured into what is a mixture of the biggest flea market/garage sale and food court one has ever seen. One form or another of the Borough market has been in existence at this site for 1,000 years. Now even the Brits admit that's a long time.  It's where the "regular" folk got together to barter and exchanges services away from the castle folk. We promptly got lost. However in making our first purchase, we were told our 5 pound notes were out-of-date as of last Friday and we needed to go to a bank to exchange them. Apparently this happens frequently that they change notes or coins so tourists beware. Aside: we found the easiest way to make a purchase was lay all our coins out and let the vendor pick out what they needed. Seemed to work and I think everyone was honest. Remember they cater to tourists.  Anyway, we managed to find a bank. Another interesting adventure. You don't actually get to go into the bank proper. There are ATMs everywhere on the street, but being from the States, we go inside. You are met by uniformed people who ask you your business. Then they take care of it for you or allow you to talk to a bank clerk in a tiny little window peeking out of a very imposing wall. Very interesting. Not sure how you access the inner sanctum and conduct business but apparently very few do considering the number of people accessing the outside ATMs.  At any rate we got some wonderful cheese to go with my "free" Chardonnay from the plane and dinner was set. The market was interesting, masses of people and noise, free samples of cheese, pate, fruit, drinks. And we found our way back to the bus unscathed and on time. Whew.

Westminster was beautiful in its variety of architectures. Each ruler or dynasty added their own pieces to the cathedral based upon the style of the era. Yet the intricate Gothic lacework of stone and soaring towers framing its "Rose" window dominates. The interior, only glimpsed at Royal weddings was magnificent and pictures could not do justice. Amusing fact. After a lifetime of fighting each other rivals Queen Elizabeth and Mary, Queen of Scots are entombed side-by-side for all eternity. There is a knights section and a poets and writers section and significantly on the very threshold marks a most impressive tomb. If you have ever seen someone enter Westminster, you will note that they step to one side and go around something. That something, framed in brilliant red poppies is the tomb of the British unknown soldier. Perfect.

High tea was held in a café (and gift shop) housed in one of the adjacent out-buildings at Westminster which also includes a boy's school in the complex.  I now understand why Brits don't eat dinner until late in the day. Several trays were brought along with the teapots that were mounded with sandwiches, scones and every type of sweet confection one could possibly want and/or need. Sampling each, I not only did not require much dinner, but suffered for imbibing that many sweets. One item was basically fudge on fudgey cake covered in fudge. I blame the tea though. One of the people on the tour anointed herself queen of the tea and tried to divvy up which tray or teapot belonged to which group of people at the table. We all basically ignored her, as one, who died and left her in charge, and second, there was so much we couldn't possibly finish it all so we gorged like little piglets.  Burt, being a sport, tried tea. First he tried it straight - no. Next sugar-nope. Finally sugar and cream-definitely not. I however, did not have that problem the first time I tried Guinness. A tale for another day.

Dinner consisted of the previous mentioned cheese, crackers and wine. Plus I was nursing a tummy ache from the sugar explosion at tea.  ToBeContinued