1. I AM now friends with Steve's daughter on facebook (see Day 1).
2. Since Friday, the weather has shifted back to summer sunshine. Which is great for all of us, even though I for one do love the fall. At least until mid September, it needs to stay sunny, lest the oft-heard comment "What miserable weather, eh?" again toll as a funeral bell throughout the land.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Living Like a Local
Hello all,
The continued adventures of Emily abroad... dished up in a hopefully enjoyable way for you. Hard to believe I'm almost a week into the time here!! Only two and a half weeks left! Amazing (don't we always say it?) how time flies...
But, to continue.
Day 3 -- Thursday, August 26
Since my birthday was the day before, but none of us felt it was a great day for celebrating a birthday (even though... we did celebrate... hmm...), Thursday was the day set aside for a special birthday event. It was a complete secret from me; all I knew was to be ready by a certain time, dressed in comfortable but nice clothes. By the time we left the house, just before noon, I was pretty certain who would be joining us... just didn't know where we were going or what we'd be doing there!
A few minutes later we were at a lovely place called Blunsdon House, formerly a manor house and now a classy hotel with restaurant, golf course, swimming pool, etc. We sat in comfy armchairs waiting for the luncheon room / restaurant to open, and in walked my two sets of closest friends here in England-- Pat and Derek, practically adopted grandparents, and Helen, a combination "auntie" and chum, with her two children (they've grown so much in the last year!). These were the folks I'd guessed-- and devoutly hoped-- would be there. :)
We settled down to a three course carvery dinner. A carvery is a buffet-style meal at which a whole turkey, a whole side of ham (do they come in sides?), and sometimes other meats are present, and the waitperson will carve off as much as you want. Then, there's all the required add-ons for an English roast dinner: roast potatoes, carrots, broccoli, swede (rutabaga?), and more, plus various gravies and sauces, plus Yorkshire puddings (sort of like turnovers). For dessert, there were six glorious options, all of which came with the possibility of heavy pouring cream, chocolate sauce, rasberry sauce... you get the idea. I was "good" (by their standards) and only had one and a half desserts.
This was a "lazy" day (not that they haven't ALL been lazy). I was still nursing a bit of a cold... not bad at all, just really wanted it to be 100% gone so we could get on with our adventures... so we all felt that having a completely lazy day was a great idea. So, slept in, sat around chatting and drinking tea, and had a lovely cheese/crackers/bits/chocolates dinner (lunch). Then my grandfather and I walked into town (my grandparents live in the city of Swindon, but "town," as in downtown, with shops and such, is a good fifteen minutes walk). He walked me most of the way, then turned off to do his own errands and let me continue to the shopping centre on my own, where I spent the rest of the afternoon. This lone wandering has become a bit of a tradition during my times in Swindon; I figure it's good for us all to have a little time to ourselves (especially when I'm staying almost a month!) and good for me to get my European city feet back.
Have I ever mentioned that I love, love, love Swindon? It's not even particularly a "nice," touristy kind of city. But it's home.
I wandered around some shops and then slipped into a coffee shop to sip an iced vanilla latte and people-watch. Always a good idea in any city. When it was almost time for tea (dinner) I began the walk back, taking lots of pictures on the way.
For tea we had a lovely salmon salad. Banana splits with clotted cream and ice cream for pudding (dessert). In the evening we watched "Doc Martin," a particularly delightful medical drama set in the Cornwall, the southwesternmost county of this lovely country-- the land of amazing ice cream, farms, and pirate accents. Among other things. I won't bore you with the details of the show, but I will say it's funny to me how I can't stand watching much telly (TV) back home, but here in England, watching my grandparents' shows, I always seem to enjoy myself. :)
Day 5 -- Saturday, August 28
This was a special day. Well, they all are special, of course, but this was a special special day. :) This day, we met up with chum Helen (described in Day 3 above) and her two kids (ages 11 and a very old 13) and mum (close chum of my grandmother). We drove out to a nearby village, Bourton-on-the-Water, and enjoyed a lovely day wandering around the oldy-worldy homes, shops, and foot bridges of this town in the Cotswolds (a particularly beautiful, old, rivers-and-fields area north of my grandparents' city, filled with these quaint villages that just make your heart happy).
We also enjoyed a lovely dinner (steak pie; apple & rhubarb crumble for dessert) in the town, and then had tea with biscuits (cookies) and donuts at the end of the day.
Don't know if you're getting the idea or not, but we don't really stop eating and drinking (tea & coffee) EVER over here... :) We also watch a lot on the telly. This evening we watched X-Factor. I can't really stand the American versions of the talent shows, but I do enjoy them here... maybe it's the accents of the performers? :) Remember to ask me someday for my impersonation of the Michael Jackson impersonator...
Day 6 -- Sunday, August 29
Sundays for us in Swindon mean Army. By which I mean Salvation Army. By which I mean not the charity / thrift shops, but rather the church (which owns and runs the charity / thrift shops). My grandparents are second- and third-generation Sally Army goers. They've both been faithful band members, "Songster" (choir) members, etc. over the years, until retirement. Now my grandmother is a faithful cake baker and event coordinator, and my grandfather faithfully gives people rides, does grocery shopping for some, etc. (Sorry to brag a bit... but not really sorry. :))
Since I've been coming to visit my grandparents every couple years for so long, their friends at Army have become my friends... so Army days are always happy for me, because I get to catch up with these folks I haven't seen for too many months. We usually go to two services (morning & evening) and stay long after each one chatting.
Of course, since it was a day mostly involving people and church, I didn't take a lot of pics. Sorry! Nor did I take pics of the Sunday roast (with all necessary vegetables and Yorkshire pudding), blackberry & apple crisp (with clotted cream), or evening sandwiches (with "that nice cheese").
Needless to say, we watched the telly again this evening. "Heartbeat"-- a nice police drama, notably calmer than the majority of our police dramas-- and "Secret Britain"-- the kind of travel show that makes you want to get up out of your chair and go on a hike. Any of you want to plan a trip with me??
Day 7 -- Monday, August 29
This was another "special special" day, on which we got back together with Pat & Derek (see Day 3) and went on a "mystery walk"... mystery because I wasn't told where we would be heading. Derek is well known around here for the great walks he arranges. Around this part of England, there aren't as many hiking spots as we have in Oregon (at, say, Silver Falls or Multnomah Falls), but there are any number of fabulous foot paths for easy, but beautiful, walks. And the great thing (for someone like me) is that you can walk as long or short as you want-- for an hour to the next village, or for a couple days to the opposite end of the country-- the footpaths are that good!
The walk Derek had selected took us through pretty fields along a canal, upon which we watched the canal boats sluggishly sail up and down. We paused in the gorgeous little town of Hungerford for an ice cream before our return trip.
After a nice long walk, we set up for a picnic tea on Hungerford Common. There was a brief moment of concern as to whether the cows would let us stay or not...
But they did. And we had a jolly good time.
After tea, we got back in the car and wound around to another walking spot, this time high up above the valley in which our little Swindon lies. By now it was approaching evening, and some of you know how much I love the sunlight as it begins to settle upon the hills toward dusk...
We got home around 7:15, and (of course) settled in to eat more and watch some telly. Last night I was very, very English and watched "Coronation Street," the longest-running British soap opera. (In answer to that question mark in your heads-- no, I don't watch soaps at home). This one makes me laugh because every single person I know here, above a certain age, seems to watch this show avidly... even though every single time it comes up, someone (or everyone) says "It's silly, really. Don't know why we watch it." I don't, either, but there it is.
We'll stop there for now... more day reports to come in time. A couple extra thoughts before I close:
1. Fashions in England? Highly interesting. There's a definite generational difference in attire; the young mums and up, ages 25ish-50ish, wear very classy, mod kinds of outfits-- stylish jeans, sweaters, etc.-- the kinds of outfits you see in classy clothing catalogues. The 50+ crowd wear very traditional English attire, like my grandparents have been wearing for decades-- skirts and blouses for women, nice trousers, collared shirts, and sweaters for men. Very nice. The younger crowd, my age and younger-- good heavens. It's super-skinny jeans for both genders, almost everyone you see (in fact it's getting a bit difficult telling the genders apart, no thanks to the haircut styles), UNLESS it's a really really short mini skirt and similarly "skimpy" top. Now I'm not judging that set of attire... but I do rather wonder what the 50+ set, in their traditional (modest) long skirts and classy sweaters, think of these young people. As I said, it's an interesting generational shift, much more pronounced than what we tend to see in the U.S.
2. The folks I get to spend time with here have something I don't see much in Oregon. It's this incredible enjoyment of tiny, everyday things. For instance, Helen's 80ish-yr-old mum rode in our car to Bourton-on-the-Water on Saturday. As we were driving along this beautiful, quiet road, the morning sunlight shone gloriously through the trees to make a sort of fawn-spotted effect on the road. This is the kind of thing we do see all the time in Oregon, and I do love it. But I've never thought to particularly comment on it (at least-- not since I was a small child). So as we drove along, it first amused me to hear Helen's mum comment, "That's lovely, isn't it? I've always loved the sun through the trees like that. My mum always loved it, too." Now, there's nothing too surprising in such a speech, but my amusement forced itself with the thought that this 80-year-old has probably seen this same kind of sunlight affect... how many millions of times in her life? And still revels in it. And every other person in the "gang" here makes the same kind of comments, on every day things or scenery or events that they have seen or experienced any number of times in their lives. And after pondering this for a bit, my amusement turned to deep respect as I realized they've got something I really ought to have. How many little, glorious things do we take for granted or miss completely, just because they're "every day"? How do we know they really are "every day"? What if that was the last time I'll ever see that fawn-effect on a tree-shadowed road? If I knew it would be the last, would I appreciate it more? I think there's something for us to learn from here.... Hmm. I'll probably be writing a blog post about it soon.
3. In case you haven't already noticed, I will just say that it's a remarkable and highly humorous change of lifestyles for me-- coming from the packed, stressful, much-fun, many-friends, sixty-things-to-do-each-day life I've been living... to this. With my grandparents. Eating lots and watching lots on the telly and taking nice long scenic walks. Calling 11:00-7:00 a full day. Rather jolly, actually. And I'm NOT gaining weight, in case you were wondering.
And... on that note, I end this segment. Cheers.
The continued adventures of Emily abroad... dished up in a hopefully enjoyable way for you. Hard to believe I'm almost a week into the time here!! Only two and a half weeks left! Amazing (don't we always say it?) how time flies...
But, to continue.
Day 3 -- Thursday, August 26
Since my birthday was the day before, but none of us felt it was a great day for celebrating a birthday (even though... we did celebrate... hmm...), Thursday was the day set aside for a special birthday event. It was a complete secret from me; all I knew was to be ready by a certain time, dressed in comfortable but nice clothes. By the time we left the house, just before noon, I was pretty certain who would be joining us... just didn't know where we were going or what we'd be doing there!
A few minutes later we were at a lovely place called Blunsdon House, formerly a manor house and now a classy hotel with restaurant, golf course, swimming pool, etc. We sat in comfy armchairs waiting for the luncheon room / restaurant to open, and in walked my two sets of closest friends here in England-- Pat and Derek, practically adopted grandparents, and Helen, a combination "auntie" and chum, with her two children (they've grown so much in the last year!). These were the folks I'd guessed-- and devoutly hoped-- would be there. :)
When we felt we'd been at the table long enough (and eaten enough), we moved to some sofas and armchairs near a window and proceeded to chat and drink tea for probably three more hours (we were at Blunsdon a total of five hours... it's an amazing lifestyle, this).
When we all finally went to our own homes, it was, of course, time for more food.. Did I mention it's an amazing lifestyle?
Day 4 -- Friday, August 27
This was a "lazy" day (not that they haven't ALL been lazy). I was still nursing a bit of a cold... not bad at all, just really wanted it to be 100% gone so we could get on with our adventures... so we all felt that having a completely lazy day was a great idea. So, slept in, sat around chatting and drinking tea, and had a lovely cheese/crackers/bits/chocolates dinner (lunch). Then my grandfather and I walked into town (my grandparents live in the city of Swindon, but "town," as in downtown, with shops and such, is a good fifteen minutes walk). He walked me most of the way, then turned off to do his own errands and let me continue to the shopping centre on my own, where I spent the rest of the afternoon. This lone wandering has become a bit of a tradition during my times in Swindon; I figure it's good for us all to have a little time to ourselves (especially when I'm staying almost a month!) and good for me to get my European city feet back.
Have I ever mentioned that I love, love, love Swindon? It's not even particularly a "nice," touristy kind of city. But it's home.
I wandered around some shops and then slipped into a coffee shop to sip an iced vanilla latte and people-watch. Always a good idea in any city. When it was almost time for tea (dinner) I began the walk back, taking lots of pictures on the way.
For tea we had a lovely salmon salad. Banana splits with clotted cream and ice cream for pudding (dessert). In the evening we watched "Doc Martin," a particularly delightful medical drama set in the Cornwall, the southwesternmost county of this lovely country-- the land of amazing ice cream, farms, and pirate accents. Among other things. I won't bore you with the details of the show, but I will say it's funny to me how I can't stand watching much telly (TV) back home, but here in England, watching my grandparents' shows, I always seem to enjoy myself. :)
Day 5 -- Saturday, August 28
This was a special day. Well, they all are special, of course, but this was a special special day. :) This day, we met up with chum Helen (described in Day 3 above) and her two kids (ages 11 and a very old 13) and mum (close chum of my grandmother). We drove out to a nearby village, Bourton-on-the-Water, and enjoyed a lovely day wandering around the oldy-worldy homes, shops, and foot bridges of this town in the Cotswolds (a particularly beautiful, old, rivers-and-fields area north of my grandparents' city, filled with these quaint villages that just make your heart happy).
We also enjoyed a lovely dinner (steak pie; apple & rhubarb crumble for dessert) in the town, and then had tea with biscuits (cookies) and donuts at the end of the day.
Don't know if you're getting the idea or not, but we don't really stop eating and drinking (tea & coffee) EVER over here... :) We also watch a lot on the telly. This evening we watched X-Factor. I can't really stand the American versions of the talent shows, but I do enjoy them here... maybe it's the accents of the performers? :) Remember to ask me someday for my impersonation of the Michael Jackson impersonator...
Day 6 -- Sunday, August 29
Sundays for us in Swindon mean Army. By which I mean Salvation Army. By which I mean not the charity / thrift shops, but rather the church (which owns and runs the charity / thrift shops). My grandparents are second- and third-generation Sally Army goers. They've both been faithful band members, "Songster" (choir) members, etc. over the years, until retirement. Now my grandmother is a faithful cake baker and event coordinator, and my grandfather faithfully gives people rides, does grocery shopping for some, etc. (Sorry to brag a bit... but not really sorry. :))
Since I've been coming to visit my grandparents every couple years for so long, their friends at Army have become my friends... so Army days are always happy for me, because I get to catch up with these folks I haven't seen for too many months. We usually go to two services (morning & evening) and stay long after each one chatting.
Of course, since it was a day mostly involving people and church, I didn't take a lot of pics. Sorry! Nor did I take pics of the Sunday roast (with all necessary vegetables and Yorkshire pudding), blackberry & apple crisp (with clotted cream), or evening sandwiches (with "that nice cheese").
Needless to say, we watched the telly again this evening. "Heartbeat"-- a nice police drama, notably calmer than the majority of our police dramas-- and "Secret Britain"-- the kind of travel show that makes you want to get up out of your chair and go on a hike. Any of you want to plan a trip with me??
Day 7 -- Monday, August 29
This was another "special special" day, on which we got back together with Pat & Derek (see Day 3) and went on a "mystery walk"... mystery because I wasn't told where we would be heading. Derek is well known around here for the great walks he arranges. Around this part of England, there aren't as many hiking spots as we have in Oregon (at, say, Silver Falls or Multnomah Falls), but there are any number of fabulous foot paths for easy, but beautiful, walks. And the great thing (for someone like me) is that you can walk as long or short as you want-- for an hour to the next village, or for a couple days to the opposite end of the country-- the footpaths are that good!
The walk Derek had selected took us through pretty fields along a canal, upon which we watched the canal boats sluggishly sail up and down. We paused in the gorgeous little town of Hungerford for an ice cream before our return trip.
After a nice long walk, we set up for a picnic tea on Hungerford Common. There was a brief moment of concern as to whether the cows would let us stay or not...
But they did. And we had a jolly good time.
After tea, we got back in the car and wound around to another walking spot, this time high up above the valley in which our little Swindon lies. By now it was approaching evening, and some of you know how much I love the sunlight as it begins to settle upon the hills toward dusk...
We got home around 7:15, and (of course) settled in to eat more and watch some telly. Last night I was very, very English and watched "Coronation Street," the longest-running British soap opera. (In answer to that question mark in your heads-- no, I don't watch soaps at home). This one makes me laugh because every single person I know here, above a certain age, seems to watch this show avidly... even though every single time it comes up, someone (or everyone) says "It's silly, really. Don't know why we watch it." I don't, either, but there it is.
We'll stop there for now... more day reports to come in time. A couple extra thoughts before I close:
1. Fashions in England? Highly interesting. There's a definite generational difference in attire; the young mums and up, ages 25ish-50ish, wear very classy, mod kinds of outfits-- stylish jeans, sweaters, etc.-- the kinds of outfits you see in classy clothing catalogues. The 50+ crowd wear very traditional English attire, like my grandparents have been wearing for decades-- skirts and blouses for women, nice trousers, collared shirts, and sweaters for men. Very nice. The younger crowd, my age and younger-- good heavens. It's super-skinny jeans for both genders, almost everyone you see (in fact it's getting a bit difficult telling the genders apart, no thanks to the haircut styles), UNLESS it's a really really short mini skirt and similarly "skimpy" top. Now I'm not judging that set of attire... but I do rather wonder what the 50+ set, in their traditional (modest) long skirts and classy sweaters, think of these young people. As I said, it's an interesting generational shift, much more pronounced than what we tend to see in the U.S.
2. The folks I get to spend time with here have something I don't see much in Oregon. It's this incredible enjoyment of tiny, everyday things. For instance, Helen's 80ish-yr-old mum rode in our car to Bourton-on-the-Water on Saturday. As we were driving along this beautiful, quiet road, the morning sunlight shone gloriously through the trees to make a sort of fawn-spotted effect on the road. This is the kind of thing we do see all the time in Oregon, and I do love it. But I've never thought to particularly comment on it (at least-- not since I was a small child). So as we drove along, it first amused me to hear Helen's mum comment, "That's lovely, isn't it? I've always loved the sun through the trees like that. My mum always loved it, too." Now, there's nothing too surprising in such a speech, but my amusement forced itself with the thought that this 80-year-old has probably seen this same kind of sunlight affect... how many millions of times in her life? And still revels in it. And every other person in the "gang" here makes the same kind of comments, on every day things or scenery or events that they have seen or experienced any number of times in their lives. And after pondering this for a bit, my amusement turned to deep respect as I realized they've got something I really ought to have. How many little, glorious things do we take for granted or miss completely, just because they're "every day"? How do we know they really are "every day"? What if that was the last time I'll ever see that fawn-effect on a tree-shadowed road? If I knew it would be the last, would I appreciate it more? I think there's something for us to learn from here.... Hmm. I'll probably be writing a blog post about it soon.
3. In case you haven't already noticed, I will just say that it's a remarkable and highly humorous change of lifestyles for me-- coming from the packed, stressful, much-fun, many-friends, sixty-things-to-do-each-day life I've been living... to this. With my grandparents. Eating lots and watching lots on the telly and taking nice long scenic walks. Calling 11:00-7:00 a full day. Rather jolly, actually. And I'm NOT gaining weight, in case you were wondering.
And... on that note, I end this segment. Cheers.
Friday, August 27, 2010
And now it’s time for… an update from Emily, full of all those little details she loves to share… which hopefully won’t drive you crazy.
First of all… how are you all? I do think of you often.
Well, not exactly knowing how to gracefully start this off, I’m just going to jump in.
Day 1 – Tuesday, Aug. 24
After a good breakfast and a goodbye hug with my mom, my dad and I drove up to Portland International Airport. We checked in, had coffee together, and then (I) headed through security. Pretty sure that was the fastest ever—including the most tedious part of the whole affair, which is putting everything back together you have to take apart to go through (i.e. shoes back on, laptop back in bag, etc.).
My gate was close and there were plenty of seats, so I chillaxed for about 45 minutes and got some music on my new iPod Shuffle (thanks, Mom & Dad—brilliant bday gift!!). Ten minutes later I was in my seat on the plane ready to go. Gentleman (about my dad’s age) sat next to me… we ended up chatting more than I would have expected before we’d even left the gate.
First flight, to Chicago, was very smooth. As is my MO, I fell asleep shortly after take-off (and after discussing with Steve, the gentleman next to me, the perfection of Oregon—he’s a convert). Probably slept on and off the first hour, and then pulled out a book (Chesterton) and iPod. I must say there’s something incredibly, INCREDIBLY soothing to having one’s OWN music playing as one travels. It’s like a little piece of heaven. (Although… don’t think too hard about that and invert Emily’s Heaven to one of complete selfishness.)
As we made the descent into Chicago, about 40 minutes out, turbulence started—although not anything I really even paid attention to, as I’ve traveled often and often endured turbulence. However, five minutes into this, I suddenly felt a little pressure on my knee. I turned and found Steve looking intensely at me, his hand on my knee. I smiled. “Is this normal?!” he asked, slight desperation in his tones. Aww, poor guy. I spent the next 40 minutes reassuring this sweet chap who is generally fearless but hates flying. He was convinced we were about to crash—that the sound we just heard was something other than landing gear—that the other passengers’ silence meant doom—etc. When we finally landed (safely—and smoothly) he looked like he could have cried in relief. I probably should have given him a hug. Instead I’m supposed to now be friends with his daughter on facebook (we’ll see).
Safely arrived 15 minutes early in Chicago (surely a first in all of history), I said goodbye to a sheepish Steve and made my way 15 gates down to my next one. It wasn’t even registering for my flight yet (of course, if I’d wanted to fly back to San Fran. instead…) so I took off to find food. My tradition in layovers in domestic airports is to find (1) French fries and (2) a smoothie or milkshake. It’s amazing how reviving those two are in combination. Well, I didn’t really get either, but I did find a Starbucks, with jacked-up prices and less-than-friendly service, but (thankfully) decent food and drinks.
Headed back to my gate and now only had 20 minutes or so before boarding. Once again, all was easy and quick and 20 minutes later I was in my seat—by a window again—ready to go. A sweet 75-year-old lady sat down next to me, and I figured I was in for a good flight.
As it turned out, I probably chatted more with Eileen (as said lady was called) than I have with any other non-family fellow passenger ever. Granted, I usually sit next to an empty seat. But still. She was traveling with her 81-year-old buddy Melba (seated across the aisle from us) to do a 16-day cruise from London, through Scandinavia, ending up in Russia. “We’re in the church choir together, in Red Hats together, and widows together, so we just have fun.” Last year they went to Ireland, and then Alaska. Next year they’re hoping for Hawaii.
Anyway, once again I slept much of the first hour or two, with pauses for water and chatting. Then it was time to pull out the book and music. Then it was dinner (I still say ALWAYS go with the pasta). Then it was time to sleep again lest thinking about dinner cause too much nausea.
Somewhere before that, I got some great pictures from the plane….
And then it was that strange time on an overnight flight when back home it may be only 6 or 7 o’clock, but in the plane everyone pretends it’s midnight, and all window shades go down, most lights go off, and we all try to sleep. Goodnight, all. Play on, quiet Emily music, play on.
Day 2 – Wednesday, Aug. 25
Happy birthday, me! I think this goes down as the most varied and ‘unusual’ birthday ever.
We return to the faux-nighttime on the plane. This always continues long past when people like me can handle sitting in the dark (yet it seems so cruel to turn on a reading light…). So, I entertained myself by chatting with Eileen off and on and watching our chase of the sunrise. Which did eventually come.
It’s true, what that other Emily said once, that “I’ll tell you how the sun rose—a ribbon at a time.” (Emily Dickinson)
Anyway, once the sun came up things moved quickly. I read for a while, chatted for a while, and then had breakfast (always more bearable than plane dinners). Then it was “almost there” time.
First land we spotted was the coast of Ireland…
And then it didn’t take many minutes before we were “home,” flying over green fields and pretty little patchwork countryside (south-east of Liverpool, for those who care).
And now I’ll make short work of the rest of the airplane/port portion of this tale. It was the fastest waiting-to-land-while-flying-in-circles-over-London time I’ve ever experienced, and the smoothest. (Some of you know this is the bit wherein I always get nauseated. Not so this time.) Had brilliant, absolutely brilliant, views of London. Landed. Got to Immigration faster than usual. Got through Immigration faster than usual. Got my baggage reclaimed faster than ever. Got through customs to my waiting grandfather faster than usual.
Welcome home, Emily. :)
And so to the car park, where of course we stopped for the traditional flask of tea and couple of biscuits (cookies) and/or fairy cakes (cupcakes).
Ninety minutes later, we had arrived at 7 Farleigh Crescent. A happy grandmother awaited just inside the glass door.
Well, we had our traditional cup of restorative tea (another) with Welsh cakes and chocolates (this bit, not so traditional, but oh so delicious). Then I filled my grandparents in a little on all the things they’d been so keen to hear about—“What about this brother of yours who’s gotten engaged?” “Is she nice?” “Are you moving out on your own soon?” “How do your mum and dad feel about it?” “Do you work at the same place?” “It’s a good job, isn’t it?” I do love this somehow.
Soon it was past time for lunch, so we had lovely ham and cheese (that nice crumbly cheese) sandwiches (on that nice “tiger bread”). And then it was time for Emily to take a long nap, which she did (for 4+ hours).
And then … welcome to perhaps the most marvelous part of the day of arrival at 7 Farleigh Crescent. Cornish pasties for dinner!! Some of you know this is my favorite meal on earth… well, how could it not be, really? Certainly a perfect birthday dinner. And we followed it up with pavlova (a favorite dessert here). Sorry I didn’t get pictures… I’m sure I’ll have others though. :)
We stayed chatting for a couple hours after this, and opened some birthday cards and presents. Eventually it was time for bed for everyone.
Two additional thoughts about the time thus far:
1. The weather here has been decidedly autumnal since I arrived, and I have decidedly liked it.
2. There have been times when I’ve flown out here, when memories of the in-transit time have brought feelings of nausea and insanity for several days afterward. This time, not so. How, you ask, did I leave the airport with my mental health so much more intact than usual? Simple. I didn’t watch a moment of the on-flight movies and averted my eyes from the airport advertisements and posters. Humanity and sanity maintained. Great good has been accomplished here today.
“Another summer day has come and gone away in Paris and Rome [Salem and Portland?], and I want to go home,” pines Michael Bublé. It’s nice to be home.
First of all… how are you all? I do think of you often.
Well, not exactly knowing how to gracefully start this off, I’m just going to jump in.
Day 1 – Tuesday, Aug. 24
After a good breakfast and a goodbye hug with my mom, my dad and I drove up to Portland International Airport. We checked in, had coffee together, and then (I) headed through security. Pretty sure that was the fastest ever—including the most tedious part of the whole affair, which is putting everything back together you have to take apart to go through (i.e. shoes back on, laptop back in bag, etc.).
My gate was close and there were plenty of seats, so I chillaxed for about 45 minutes and got some music on my new iPod Shuffle (thanks, Mom & Dad—brilliant bday gift!!). Ten minutes later I was in my seat on the plane ready to go. Gentleman (about my dad’s age) sat next to me… we ended up chatting more than I would have expected before we’d even left the gate.
First flight, to Chicago, was very smooth. As is my MO, I fell asleep shortly after take-off (and after discussing with Steve, the gentleman next to me, the perfection of Oregon—he’s a convert). Probably slept on and off the first hour, and then pulled out a book (Chesterton) and iPod. I must say there’s something incredibly, INCREDIBLY soothing to having one’s OWN music playing as one travels. It’s like a little piece of heaven. (Although… don’t think too hard about that and invert Emily’s Heaven to one of complete selfishness.)
As we made the descent into Chicago, about 40 minutes out, turbulence started—although not anything I really even paid attention to, as I’ve traveled often and often endured turbulence. However, five minutes into this, I suddenly felt a little pressure on my knee. I turned and found Steve looking intensely at me, his hand on my knee. I smiled. “Is this normal?!” he asked, slight desperation in his tones. Aww, poor guy. I spent the next 40 minutes reassuring this sweet chap who is generally fearless but hates flying. He was convinced we were about to crash—that the sound we just heard was something other than landing gear—that the other passengers’ silence meant doom—etc. When we finally landed (safely—and smoothly) he looked like he could have cried in relief. I probably should have given him a hug. Instead I’m supposed to now be friends with his daughter on facebook (we’ll see).
Safely arrived 15 minutes early in Chicago (surely a first in all of history), I said goodbye to a sheepish Steve and made my way 15 gates down to my next one. It wasn’t even registering for my flight yet (of course, if I’d wanted to fly back to San Fran. instead…) so I took off to find food. My tradition in layovers in domestic airports is to find (1) French fries and (2) a smoothie or milkshake. It’s amazing how reviving those two are in combination. Well, I didn’t really get either, but I did find a Starbucks, with jacked-up prices and less-than-friendly service, but (thankfully) decent food and drinks.
Headed back to my gate and now only had 20 minutes or so before boarding. Once again, all was easy and quick and 20 minutes later I was in my seat—by a window again—ready to go. A sweet 75-year-old lady sat down next to me, and I figured I was in for a good flight.
As it turned out, I probably chatted more with Eileen (as said lady was called) than I have with any other non-family fellow passenger ever. Granted, I usually sit next to an empty seat. But still. She was traveling with her 81-year-old buddy Melba (seated across the aisle from us) to do a 16-day cruise from London, through Scandinavia, ending up in Russia. “We’re in the church choir together, in Red Hats together, and widows together, so we just have fun.” Last year they went to Ireland, and then Alaska. Next year they’re hoping for Hawaii.
Anyway, once again I slept much of the first hour or two, with pauses for water and chatting. Then it was time to pull out the book and music. Then it was dinner (I still say ALWAYS go with the pasta). Then it was time to sleep again lest thinking about dinner cause too much nausea.
Somewhere before that, I got some great pictures from the plane….
And then it was that strange time on an overnight flight when back home it may be only 6 or 7 o’clock, but in the plane everyone pretends it’s midnight, and all window shades go down, most lights go off, and we all try to sleep. Goodnight, all. Play on, quiet Emily music, play on.
Day 2 – Wednesday, Aug. 25
Happy birthday, me! I think this goes down as the most varied and ‘unusual’ birthday ever.
We return to the faux-nighttime on the plane. This always continues long past when people like me can handle sitting in the dark (yet it seems so cruel to turn on a reading light…). So, I entertained myself by chatting with Eileen off and on and watching our chase of the sunrise. Which did eventually come.
This flight went faster than most of our Atlantic flights have over the years, partially I think because my perspective had changed. It was 7 ½ hours from Chicago to London. That’s the same time it takes me to drive from Salem to my friend’s house north of Spokane… a drive I’ve happily done twice this summer and would happily do any weekend I was free. So, suddenly, the long plane flight didn’t seem so long.
Anyway, once the sun came up things moved quickly. I read for a while, chatted for a while, and then had breakfast (always more bearable than plane dinners). Then it was “almost there” time.
First land we spotted was the coast of Ireland…
And then it didn’t take many minutes before we were “home,” flying over green fields and pretty little patchwork countryside (south-east of Liverpool, for those who care).
And now I’ll make short work of the rest of the airplane/port portion of this tale. It was the fastest waiting-to-land-while-flying-in-circles-over-London time I’ve ever experienced, and the smoothest. (Some of you know this is the bit wherein I always get nauseated. Not so this time.) Had brilliant, absolutely brilliant, views of London. Landed. Got to Immigration faster than usual. Got through Immigration faster than usual. Got my baggage reclaimed faster than ever. Got through customs to my waiting grandfather faster than usual.
Welcome home, Emily. :)
And so to the car park, where of course we stopped for the traditional flask of tea and couple of biscuits (cookies) and/or fairy cakes (cupcakes).
Ninety minutes later, we had arrived at 7 Farleigh Crescent. A happy grandmother awaited just inside the glass door.
Well, we had our traditional cup of restorative tea (another) with Welsh cakes and chocolates (this bit, not so traditional, but oh so delicious). Then I filled my grandparents in a little on all the things they’d been so keen to hear about—“What about this brother of yours who’s gotten engaged?” “Is she nice?” “Are you moving out on your own soon?” “How do your mum and dad feel about it?” “Do you work at the same place?” “It’s a good job, isn’t it?” I do love this somehow.
Soon it was past time for lunch, so we had lovely ham and cheese (that nice crumbly cheese) sandwiches (on that nice “tiger bread”). And then it was time for Emily to take a long nap, which she did (for 4+ hours).
And then … welcome to perhaps the most marvelous part of the day of arrival at 7 Farleigh Crescent. Cornish pasties for dinner!! Some of you know this is my favorite meal on earth… well, how could it not be, really? Certainly a perfect birthday dinner. And we followed it up with pavlova (a favorite dessert here). Sorry I didn’t get pictures… I’m sure I’ll have others though. :)
We stayed chatting for a couple hours after this, and opened some birthday cards and presents. Eventually it was time for bed for everyone.
Two additional thoughts about the time thus far:
1. The weather here has been decidedly autumnal since I arrived, and I have decidedly liked it.
2. There have been times when I’ve flown out here, when memories of the in-transit time have brought feelings of nausea and insanity for several days afterward. This time, not so. How, you ask, did I leave the airport with my mental health so much more intact than usual? Simple. I didn’t watch a moment of the on-flight movies and averted my eyes from the airport advertisements and posters. Humanity and sanity maintained. Great good has been accomplished here today.
“Another summer day has come and gone away in Paris and Rome [Salem and Portland?], and I want to go home,” pines Michael Bublé. It’s nice to be home.
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