Thursday, October 14, 2010
"Hello, marra!"
(Your humble narrator at Loch Ness)
The whole idea of traveling to the UK for three weeks started innocently enough, right around Christmas. My Mom was talking about if she'd ever get to England and glumly conceded, "Oh, I'll probably never make it there." Right then, I said, "Wait a minute. I have a good chunk of money saved up. We can make this happen." Nine months later, the two of us and my aunt were off to Merry Ole, to see loads of sights and, most importantly, visit Cumbria, a region where that side of my family has very deep roots and where many relatives still live. It was a remarkable 21 days, every day loaded with great stories, everything going without a hitch, and aside from trying to navigate the insane maze of old streets of York in search of that Barclays bank that I had seen JUST THE PREVIOUS NIGHT but never managed to find, not a single thing went wrong. It was a perfect holiday, and to go into great detail would be far too exhausting a project, so for this recap I've divided it into my own personal top ten favourite moments. So here we go…
(Clockwise from top left: Whitehaven Harbour, the family homestead on Coach Road, the Candlestick at Wellington Pit)
1. Whitehaven, Cumbria
An easy top choice. I didn't really know what to expect when we made the four hour train ride from London Euston Station to the northern city of Carlisle to meet everyone. After all, although we'd always known everyone and kept in cordial Christmascardy contact over the decades, there was a question of just how awkward would it be. The answer: not at all. We were treated like royalty by our cousins and got on splendidly. The town of Whitehaven was a place I'd always heard stories about from my grandmother, and I'd always seen pictures and books about the place and the region, so finally seeing it, along with the house my great-grandparents owned nearly 100 years ago was a huge thrill. And what a lovely, humble little town it is, built on the hills of a natural harbour. And when it's sunny there, it's spectacular, you can stand on the seaside cliffs and see the Solway Firth of Scotland, and then turn 45 degrees and see the mountains of the Isle of Man across the water. For such a tourist-oriented country, Whitehaven is perhaps a little too low-key (Jonathan Swift's hillside house should be a trust/heritage site for instance), but they're slowly getting there. Of note is the very fun The Rum Story, a cool exhibit about the surprisingly fascinating history of the rum importing trade in the city. And of course the coal mining history is massive in this part of the country, and it was nice to see the new memorial to the 1910 Wellington Pit Disaster, where an explosion killed 136 men and boys, including my great-great uncle, deep under the sea bed. We had just a fantastic time exploring the family history and getting to know everyone. And to cap it all off, the inn where we stayed was without a doubt one of the absolute best hotels I have ever stayed in. It was a perfect six days.
2. Westminster Abbey, London
Being from such a young part of North America, where the oldest building is a little over 100 years old, I'm a bit obsessive when it comes to seeing sights abroad. I want to see Old Stuff. Nothing but Old Stuff. And out of all the Old Stuff I saw in the UK, Westminster Abbey took the cake. Architecturally it's a marvel of course, and its religious significance is a big deal to some, but what got me was just how crammed the place is with history, not to mention famous dead people. I knew all about that going in, but the impact when you're actually there is staggering. "You might want to know you're standing on Sir Isaac Newton." The place is so overwhelming, and the smartest thing we did was to pay the extra few quid to get a guided tour with a verger. Not only did he take us all over and explain the historical significance of all the major parts of the Abbey, but we got to go to the places the regular punters couldn't, including the Quire and the shrine of Edward the Confessor, where at the latter of which you're walking over the bumpy stone floor severely worn out by all the pilgrims centuries and centuries ago. All the kings and queens buried there, wow. Seeing Elizabeth I's tomb and effigy, with her face and hands cast after her death is dumbfounding (and what long delicate fingers she had). And the tomb of Mary Queen of Scots is something to behold, arguably the nicest thing in the entire Abbey. We saw the Coronation Chair, but only on its side in an enclosed workshop because it's being restored. And the thrill of seeing Poets' Corner for the first time is indescribable. You wind up seeing so much stuff there that you forget a lot of it weeks later, so overwhelming it all is. I wanted history, and wow, did I ever get it there.
3. West Ham United vs. Chelsea
One thing I've always wanted to do is see a top-flight football match in England, to not only see top top-flight sports but to experience the whole atmosphere of it all. I specifically planned an extra day in London to see a Premier League match, and waited eagerly for the fixtures to be announced in June. On September 11th, I was given three options: Arsenal vs. Bolton, Fulham vs. Wolverhampton, and West Ham vs. Chelsea. Arsenal could have been possible, but a) I think the new Emirates Stadium looks sterile, and b) the match-up had blowout written all over it, which it was. Fulham was a short tube ride away from our South Kensington hotel, but again, not exactly a tantalizing looking game (it ended in a draw). Who could pass up a London derby, though? If atmosphere was what I wanted, then West Ham-Chelsea would most certainly deliver. So I got my ticket the minute they went on sale in July, an amazing lower level seat in the big west stands at the Boleyn Ground. Trouble was, West Ham is a long way away from South Kensington, and to make matters worse the District Line was closed for maintenance that weekend, so I had to figure out just how to get there.
It turned out the best solution was to take a series of lines to Canning Town out in the dingy Docklands and walk the two miles up Barking Road to Upton Park, a 25 minute walk I could do in my sleep. So I did that and had a delightful walk toward the neighbourhood, which was bustling with West Ham fans and street vendors galore. I went totally native, having some classic East End pie, mash, and liquor outside on Green Street before making my way into the stadium more than an hour before kickoff. One thing I totally dug about West Ham was the fans. They're passionate, extremely loyal, and incredibly friendly. I loved staying in South Kensington, but there's an undeniable attitude there, whereas West Ham is totally salt-of-the-earth, the whole community feeling surrounding the match and the long, rich club history reminding me a lot of the Roughriders here in Saskatchewan. And man, do they hate Chelsea ("You ain't got not history…Where were you when you were shit!" were popular refrains) So while we were staying deep in the heart of Chelsea country, and Chelsea is easily one of the best teams in the world right now (it was awesome to see the likes of Drogba, Essien, Anelka, Terry, Cech, and Cole), it was the Irons and their fans that won me over to their side. They lost of course, giving up two early goals, but they fought gamely over the course of the last 60 minutes to keep things exciting, the game ending at 3-1. At least I got goals from both sides!
If that wasn't enough, in the second half, while I was starting to feel the jolly effects of having to down a pint of Carlsberg in two minutes at halftime (no beer in the stands allowed), they announced that Canning Town tube station was closed because of "an incident". This on the only day I didn't bring my trusty A to Z pocket street atlas. So I had to figure out how to get home. One option I knew was to walk northwest to Stratford, but that would be 45 minutes and I didn't know exact directions. So I asked a policeman on Barking Road after the game, and he suggested I actually heat to Canning Town and see what happens. So I did, and because most people were avoiding the closed station, I was able to quickly get on a hastily-planned route replacement bus, which took us through the seediest part of London, through Stratford and the impressive new Olympic Stadium (where West Ham wants to play after 2012), Bow (home of grime and smack in the middle of Cockney London), the very depressing looking Whitechapel, to Aldgate East station. I didn't get back to the hotel until three hours after the match ended, but despite the runaround, it all went smoothly. And I returned home a converted West Ham fan. Complete with a claret & blue jersey and knowing all the words to "I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles".
(Clockwise from top left: somewhere along the River Eske, Grasmere, Wast Water, Hardknott Pass)
4. The Lake District
I could have lumped this in with the Whitehaven experience, but it really deserves another separate entry. Again I fully knew going in what to expect: fells, sheep, and loads and loads of scenery, but yikes, when you're actually there the beauty of the region is overwhelming. Canada has some of the most spectacular mountains in the world, but although they're a fraction of the size the fells in the Lake District have a real charm of their own. Travelling all over the island it was amazing to see how the geography changed every 15 minutes or so, but when you make that rail trip from Preston north towards Kendal, the scenery instantly turnes spectacular, and you're just on the edge of the region. We took a few drives from Whitehaven into the middle of the National Park, and it was gorgeous. The bracken on the fells was turning red, lending the fells a wonderful rusty colour. Grasmere is your typical postcard town, and it won me over instantly. It's quaint and surprisingly quiet and laid-back for such a touristy area, the adjacent Dove Cottage was fascinating and full of plenty of Wordsworthy info, and the town officially has the greatest gingerbread in the world. Ambleside and Keswick were more hustlybustly but alongside pretty lakes Windermere and Derwent Water respectively.
We also took a trip on the cute Ravenglass & Eskdale Railway, a miniature steam train known locally as "the Ratty" goes from the seaside up into the mountains. We got off at the last stop (the charmingly titles Dalegarth For Boot station) and took a long hike up the road. This was what I was looking forward to, a quiet stroll deep into fell country. We weren't prepared to make any significant off-road hikes (the terrain is wet and you have to be ready to get even wetter), but I could very easily get into Lake District walks. It's a very big thing there, and very well organized, with lots of guides and maps and walks of varying skill levels. It's more my speed, easygoing rather than all the über-macho rock and mountain climbing idiocy that Canada has. Give me a walking stick, some boots, a map, a pocketful of Kendal Mint Cake, and a Cumbria footpath instead.
Interestingly, the best scenery of the entire trip was at ironically the least touristy part of the Lakes. At Gosforth, a tiny little road, barely wider than the park paths in my neighbourhood, winds eastward into the hills and mountains, free range sheep around each corner blocking roads, and ends up at Wast Water, the deepest lake in the region. You get out of the car, go stand on the rocky bank, and just drink in the view. Talk about your typical postcard scene, this is it. And with only a smattering of people, generally locals, there. Perfect. I'm really, really hoping I can return to the Lake District again in my lifetime, I felt like I fit there.
5. The Casbah Club, Liverpool
When we were planning the trip, Mom insisted that if we had a chance, she wanted to visit Liverpool to see as much Beatles-related stuff as possible. The rest of us were totally on board (in my case the apple didn't fall far from the tree), so I went looking for ideas on how to spend the day. There were the usual bus tours, but one outfit called Liverpool Beatles Tours caught my eye. They operate a series of tours varying in length, but also a private all-day tour that take you to some special places the regular tours don't go to. For what turned out to be a very reasonable price our guide Ian not only took us to all the major sights and neighbourhoods (including a line-by-line breakdown of "Penny Lane" at the Penny Lane bus roundabout), but arranged tours of the Lennon and McCartney homes, which are operated by the National Trust and have to be booked well in advance, as well as the Casbah Club. We all knew of the historical importance of the Casbah, but we had no idea how cool it would be.
After the tours at Mendips and Forthlin Road, we were picked up by Ian and whisked off to West Derby, where the Casbah still stands. Created by Beatles drummer Pete Best's mother as a coffee house for local kids, it was the first place the Beatles played regularly (far predating the much-ballyhooed Cavern), all in the basement of the big Best house. The three of us and an Italian couple got our own private tour with Pete's brother Rory, who was there to see all that history unfold, and he had some incredible stories to tell as he led us through the cozy, charmingly decorated club that was often packed with a thousand people in the early-'60s. And the thing is, nothing there has changed a lick. The walls and ceilings all the Beatles helped paint are still untouched, the "star" ceiling of one lounge worth literally millions. John Lennon's graffiti is still there. The tiny nook where the Quarrymen, who had yet to hire a drummer, played. We were just dumbfounded by everything. "There's the spot where the band convinced Stu Sutcliffe to buy a Hofner bass." For a Beatles fan, this is all just too incredible. Anyway, Rory's the nicest fella and we had an absolute blast. Late in the afternoon we decided to walk into the much-hyped, merchandise-heavy recreated Cavern Club on Matthew Street, and while it was neat to at least see what the interior of the original club looked like, it was purely pre-fab nostalgia. We were done with the place after two minutes. The buses take the tourists to the Cavern, but the real treasure for the true Beatles fan is the Casbah.
6. London
Okay, this is a bit obvious, and London is a massive, massive city with so many things to see, but overall I just dug the city in a big way. I'm not used to hustle and bustle, that doesn't exist in Western Canada, and I found it great fun to be swept up in it all. Thanks to our Underground Travelcards we went all over the place, spending 14 hour days, leaving early in the morning and returning utterly exhausted. There was the Tower, which was great fun (the Beefeater tour guides are tremendous and we oohed and aahed at the Crown Jewels), the grueling 500+ step climb to the very top of St. Paul's Cathedral, strolling through the National Gallery (this was my fave), taking a short trip out to Surrey to visit the fancy Hampton Court Palace, seeing some Jackson Pollocks at the Tate Modern, walking down the insanely busy Oxford Street, being awestruck by the British Museum (aka the Museum of Stolen British Swag) and finding all the justifications on the audio tour hilarious (the Greek marble was taken to "preserve them properly" and the Easter Island natives "helped" load one of their head statues on to the boat…sure), doing the touristy thing at Piccadilly Circus at night. Loads of tacky gift shops, but the ones at the British Museum and the Tate Modern are fabulous. The most underrated spot? Easily the British Library. It's a horribly drab modern building, but housed in a modest wing is the most astounding collection of printed works you will ever see. Original manuscripts by Hardy, Bronte, Lewis Carroll, Wordsworth, Woolf, Austen. Handwritten scores by Handel, Beethoven, and Mozart. The flippin' Gutenburg Bible. The Diamond Sutra. Da Vinci's notes. The Beowulf manuscript. The MAGNA CARTA! Handwritten Beatles lyrics, for crying out loud! (including "A Hard Day's Night" written by Lennon on his birthday card for Julian) Absolutely nuts. London's an exciting city, no question. We felt safe, people were very nice, often exceptionally so, and we were sad to leave.
7. York
York was near the tail end of our trip, so on the day we went there, I was all, okay, York next, but the second we pulled into the beautiful old curved train station, I was totally charmed by the place. It's a very pretty little city, and the walk to our hotel in the old part of town was fun. Through a Medieval gate to the massive Minster, turn right onto a cute narrow street, and 50 yards later we were there. The place was overrun with tourists of course, and we did the obligatory stroll through the Shambles area close by, but the best part of the stay was doing the wall walk. Armed with an audio guide that was extremely well done, we walked the whole 2+ mile circuit, the whole thing taking about four hours, along the top of the Medieval walls looking at the Viking and Roman embankments, exploring the old Abbey ruins (one of many ruined Abbeys we visited on the trip), crossing the rivers Ouse and Foss, seeing Dick Turpin's grave, basically having a good quiet afternoon absorbing it all. The Minster was just as fascinating, it's the most massive church I've ever been in, we had a terrific volunteer guide, the stained glass is stunning, and the climb up the tower, though a couple hundred steps shorter than St. Paul's, was twice as difficult. Great view up there, though. And the National Railway Museum turned out to be interesting too, with loads of engines and cars to gawk at and peer into. We got to York on a Tuesday, and that was the night of the Minster bell ringers' practice, and man did those bells blare, for a good hour and a half. I left the hotel, walked to the beautifully lit Minster, and just stood there listening to those loud (and do I mean loud) bells tolling away a euphoric, borderline crazed melody nonstop.
8. The Royal Mile, Edinburgh
First of all, Edinburgh is by far the most brazenly tacky city I have ever visited, as far as shops go. It's like a souvenir shop exploded all over the city. You can't walk for a minute without coming across another place selling cashmere, cut-rate tartans, and ginger wigs. And I heard a CD of a bagpipe version of Coldplay's "Clocks" everywhere I went, including Edinburgh Castle! They're proud of their Scottish culture, but wow, do they ever cram it down your throat. That said, it's a very cool city overall, so one of a kind. We did Princes Street, climbed up the Scott Monument (I was really into those tower climbs), went through Old Town and New Town, and dug all the dark, sooty buildings. But the best part was visiting three vastly differing locations on the famous Royal Mile.
Of course there's Edinburgh Castle. How can you miss it? The castliest castle I have ever seen, it looms over the entire city. And what a fortress. You stroll through gate after gate, up and up the mountain, the views getting better the higher you go. Of course the highlight is the Scottish Crown Jewels and the Stone of Scone. And although it was very busy early in the day, it was very enjoyable. Just at the foot of the castle is Camera Obscura, and what a wonderful respite from all the history lessons that place was! I've always been a bit of a nerd when it comes to optical illusions, and I had so much fun there, especially the dizzying Vortex Tunnel, which I had to do twice. A bacon roll and Irn Bru later (I love that Irn Bru, I tell you), it was down the big hill to the Palace at Holyroodhouse. I had ZERO expectations with that place, and left completely blown away. It's incredible inside, each room getting fancier and fancier, the carpets rolled up to let us riffraff tromp through. In fact the Queen had just met the Pope there a few days earlier! And then there's the part devoted to Mary Queen of Scots, including her residence and the room where her companion David Rizzio was murdered. Enthralling stuff! And what scenery down by the Palace, right at the foot of Arthur's Seat. I would have liked to make the climb up there, but the weather was just a little too unstable to make a two or three hour walk do-able without getting drenched. Either way, our time in Edinburgh (including our wonderful little hotel) was a real pleasure.
9. The Food
Every myth we heard about British food was totally debunked. Yes, the British can cook; we ate splendidly on a daily basis. And no, it's not expensive at all, especially if you're smart. You can eat a good sandwich lunch to go for less than £5 (£2 at Tesco!), the Brits have perfected the frozen entrée, and for good sit-down meals we averaged around £12 per person. But basically I took to everything so easily, I surprised even myself. I wanted nothing but British food. No burgers. In London we were close to loads of stores: Tesco, Waitrose, Sainsburys, M&S, Whole Foods, which was fantastic. I was wowed by the full English breakfast, which we had daily for the last two weeks. I tried haggis and black pudding, and thoroughly enjoyed both. And Scotch eggs, why don't we have those here? The sausages and mash I had was to die for, whether Gloucester sausage or Cumberland sausage (why don't we have those here? All we have is garlic), the best being at the ancient Black Swan in York, loaded with gravy and served in a gigantic Yorkshire pudding (of course). Egg & cress sandwiches on the train bought at M&S with rhubarb & custard for dessert. Cheese and pickle sarnies. Balti pasties. Bacon rolls with brown sauce (English bacon is better than bacon here). Pie & mash smothered in green parsley liquor at Duncan's on Green Street (I'll pass on the jellied eel, thanks). Great pub food, whether at the Black Swan, the Hereford Arms in London, or the Reverie in Edinburgh. When we did stray from Brit food we did Italian, of which there's no shortage of good places, especially in London (they use capers that don't taste gross, what a revelation). Mom's a Jamie Oliver nerd, and we stumbled across a Jamie Oliver's Italian in Covent Garden and had one of the best meals on the trip, and we also went to his fancier Fifteen for a send-off supper on the last night, and again it was superb. Booze is a fair bit cheaper than in Canada, and I had a lot more beer than I ever expected to have. And Strongbow, my biggest weakness, is plentiful and cheap, and when there's none there's always Magners. Then there's all the Irn Bru during Edinburgh walks, and the licoricey root beer taste of Fentimans Dandelion & Burdock pop in the Lake District. And the Lake District also has the freshest water I've had since Oslo. Yeah, British cuisine is for me. I was a very happy gastronome there.
(Clockwise from top left: just some of the train tickets I accumulated, Carlisle Citadel Station, the Pendolino, Liverpool Lime Street Station)
10. The Trains
I was so looking forward to the rail travel over there. It's practically nonexistent on the prairies, so I'd always romanticized it a bit, all those old stations and whatnot. And we took loads and loads of trains. I'd booked all our trips a couple months in advance, and as a result we saved literally hundreds of dollars in fares because of it. Granted, hauling our luggage on the cramped Virgin Pendolino over and over was a gigantic pain, the Carlisle to Edinburgh trip was a bit of a joke space-wise, but our Pendolino trip from Liverpool to London was a delight, an express run that took two and a half hours, the train going fast enough (and quiet, wow) for you to take notice of the famous way the cars lean on curves. East Coast Rail was great, too, riding on the Flying Scotsman line from Edinburgh (and free wi-fi!). TransPennine was too no-frills, while Northern is basically a bus on rails. The Ratty in the Lake District was loads of fun. And the tube, can't forget the tube. We wore our travelcards out going all over the place, as far west as Surrey and as far east as Newham. We got to know all the quirks of the lines, whether the cursed Circle line (always breaking down), the brutally hot Central, the fast Piccadilly, the snazzy Jubilee (aka Jubbly). And we were quite fond of Gloucester Road Station, our home base, where we started and ended each day.
So there you go, more than 4,000 words and I've barely scratched the surface. But in the end there's nothing really more to say other than it was the best trip ever, and I truly hope that I'll return. I fit there, plain and simple.
