So I know I told you I was only visiting England and Holland on this little jaunt over the ocean--but after this afternoon, I feel like I've seen the treasures of the world. And that is because I meandered around the British Museum.
Did you know that the British Museum has the biggest collection of Greek artifacts outside of Greece? Those nymph statues without their heads? Yep. Saw them today. And there's mummies in London---a lot of mummies. And the Rosetta Stone? Yeah. That's the stone they found that had heiroglyphics on it, as well as two other languages so that it allowed historians to translate it all, and therefore opened a way to decipher all kinds of things. Anyway, there were about a zillion people taking pictures of it, so you knew it was pretty important. There were artifacts from every major civilization on the planet.
They even had a temporary exhibit showing American drawings--I really enjoyed these. There's one that I have to find for my brother because he'll love it. Not sure where to look though. You might have to wait, Bob.
The cool thing though, is that there were almost as many cultures looking at this multitude of treasures as those treasures represented
I just wish that so many of those things preserved didn't either represent false gods--or an effort to preserve this life here on this planet...mmm. WHat should the purpose of what we leave behind be?
Gotta run--internet time is going to run out. Good night!
Monday, August 4, 2008
Library Love
So I headed out this morning to see the much talked about British Library. And for a book lover like me, I was planning on being impressed. Also, both the library and the British Museum (the other stop on my agenda) are free! yay.
When I got off the tube in--oh gee--I can't even remember (after a while all those stops blend together) I think it was King's Cross. I'm looking around and I'm thinking I should be looking for an old building, and after walking to the closest likely looking building and finding it a health and fitness club, I consult my map and head in the other direction to find this beautiful, though modern complex around a nice court yard. I'm excited now--the British library.
A working library with an amazing atmosphere--this Library of libraries has achieved what US libraries know they should do, but lack the funds to do---make the library into the new bookstore. The British Library has a restaurant and a cafe, and at least one gift shop--and then all the books are housed back in their reading rooms. Now there were two disappointments in my journey into literature history--that I couldn't go into the "Kings Library" that is shown behind glass in the center of the building, and that they wouldn't give me a reading pass just to gawk at their rare books room--seems I actually have to have a subject to research.
But oh there was this room of exhibits. Wow! They have a copy of the Guttenburg Bible and the Wycliffe Bible! They have pieces of music penned by Mozart and Handel! and a first edition copy of Shakespeare's Folios...oh, and a manuscript of Beowulf in old English (though the edges of the pages were singed in a really big fire in the 1700s) There were books that were 600 years old and older manuscripts and documents (including the Magna Carta)
Oh, but my favorite was the bound manuscript of Jane Eyre, opened to the last chapter that opens, "Reader, I married him." You can actually read the words in Charlotte Bronte's handwriting--it gave me goosebumps! (I am aware that this makes me a dork..I don't care) They also have the last few pages of Jane Austen's Persuasion opened on her very own writing desk...be still my heart.
Did these men and women know that they were penning words that would be treasured for generations to come? Or did they just have a story to tell and did their best to tell it? I wonder. If we held posterity in our minds whenever we wrote, I don't know if we'd ever start.
When I got off the tube in--oh gee--I can't even remember (after a while all those stops blend together) I think it was King's Cross. I'm looking around and I'm thinking I should be looking for an old building, and after walking to the closest likely looking building and finding it a health and fitness club, I consult my map and head in the other direction to find this beautiful, though modern complex around a nice court yard. I'm excited now--the British library.
A working library with an amazing atmosphere--this Library of libraries has achieved what US libraries know they should do, but lack the funds to do---make the library into the new bookstore. The British Library has a restaurant and a cafe, and at least one gift shop--and then all the books are housed back in their reading rooms. Now there were two disappointments in my journey into literature history--that I couldn't go into the "Kings Library" that is shown behind glass in the center of the building, and that they wouldn't give me a reading pass just to gawk at their rare books room--seems I actually have to have a subject to research.
But oh there was this room of exhibits. Wow! They have a copy of the Guttenburg Bible and the Wycliffe Bible! They have pieces of music penned by Mozart and Handel! and a first edition copy of Shakespeare's Folios...oh, and a manuscript of Beowulf in old English (though the edges of the pages were singed in a really big fire in the 1700s) There were books that were 600 years old and older manuscripts and documents (including the Magna Carta)
Oh, but my favorite was the bound manuscript of Jane Eyre, opened to the last chapter that opens, "Reader, I married him." You can actually read the words in Charlotte Bronte's handwriting--it gave me goosebumps! (I am aware that this makes me a dork..I don't care) They also have the last few pages of Jane Austen's Persuasion opened on her very own writing desk...be still my heart.
Did these men and women know that they were penning words that would be treasured for generations to come? Or did they just have a story to tell and did their best to tell it? I wonder. If we held posterity in our minds whenever we wrote, I don't know if we'd ever start.
Sore Feet and other minor catastrophes
Greetings from a very noisy hostel lobby. It's about 930pm here and the music is full blast, and there's rather lively game of pool being played by the staff. All in all though--it's a nice place. Very clean...and the key code locks are so secure that even I have a hard time getting in. There's a luggage storage room that I haven't used. Before you start shaking your head--I'm also on the third floor and storage is on the ground floor with no lift...I used my luggage lock and shoved everything way back under the bed. That should do.
Ok. So minor catastrophe number one--maybe you all can pray. I've lost my camera. I was in tears over it yesterday--it's brand new, pretty--and has all my pictures so far on it. I've checked all my luggage and the hotel I stayed in Saturday night. The only place I think I may have left it is on the tube--I've filed a lost property report. Just pray that it's turned in. A long shot, I know--but God delights in impossibilities, doesn't he?
And if it doesn't turn up--pray that I let it go. The only other explanation is someone stole it, and that's just not a cool thing to dwell on when you're in a very big city by yourself. It's made me suspicious and paranoid, not to mention really bummed. I did pick up one of those one use disposable cameras--but it has cut down on my picture taking considerably. If anyone knows of where to get a cheap camera in London, I'll take any suggestions--it seems pretty pointless to be here and not be able to take pictures.
All that said, God knew I would lose it...He's looking out for me, even here in a city that is so crammed full of people I feel very very small.
The only other catastrophe really is that I only have one pair of feet. This is a big city, and there's so much to see. I must have walked miles and miles today--oh but I haven't told you where I've been.. just you wait--
Ok. So minor catastrophe number one--maybe you all can pray. I've lost my camera. I was in tears over it yesterday--it's brand new, pretty--and has all my pictures so far on it. I've checked all my luggage and the hotel I stayed in Saturday night. The only place I think I may have left it is on the tube--I've filed a lost property report. Just pray that it's turned in. A long shot, I know--but God delights in impossibilities, doesn't he?
And if it doesn't turn up--pray that I let it go. The only other explanation is someone stole it, and that's just not a cool thing to dwell on when you're in a very big city by yourself. It's made me suspicious and paranoid, not to mention really bummed. I did pick up one of those one use disposable cameras--but it has cut down on my picture taking considerably. If anyone knows of where to get a cheap camera in London, I'll take any suggestions--it seems pretty pointless to be here and not be able to take pictures.
All that said, God knew I would lose it...He's looking out for me, even here in a city that is so crammed full of people I feel very very small.
The only other catastrophe really is that I only have one pair of feet. This is a big city, and there's so much to see. I must have walked miles and miles today--oh but I haven't told you where I've been.. just you wait--
Sunday, August 3, 2008
On to London Town
I'm in London--wow. That seems a bit surreal. But I'm here! I left Mandy and Adrian at the Nottingham station yesterday (no tears, because they'll be at the conference next week, and I won't mention what happened as we were leaving their house and I tried to walk down the stairs with all my luggage and socks on my feet. It was graceful, of course.) and headed off to London, meeting my coworker Jeremy on the way.
Due to scheduling and booking problems, I wasn't able to find a place to stay for last night.. so I took to the floor of my coworkers hotel room, and which hotel charged a really big fee to add my little self to this room. The smallest hotel room in the world!! Seriously..about three feet around the bed in the whole room.. then they had a tv, a closet and a desk all crammed into the space. After we laughed a little (because otherwise, we might have cried..)We dropped our stuff, and went off in search of food. (because that makes everything better)
Which we found in a pub called the Swan. Since we both got a taste for Carvery when we were visiting our people to the north--we went in search of it again--it was pricey, but very good (and you had that lovely pub atmosphere). Then we went off to shop.
I'm not sure if I can describe the feeling I got when I went into Primark which Jeremy assured me had great prices and I was in need of some socks (the ones I brought being too thin for miles of walking). Think the busiest store you know, the Saturday before Christmas--and that might give you a sense of the crowds---but they were interesting because they were from all over the world. It was unreal. You could barely move without running into someone..and there was a ninety percent chance you wouldn't have a clue whet they were saying. I found some socks, met Jeremy at our designated area (because it would be easy to get lost) and then went to stand in the queue (pronounced "Q", meaning "line") to pay.
While waiting for the young black guy behind the counter to run my card through his machine, I noticed his name on his tag--his last name was the same as mine. So I took my ID out and showed him my name--he thought I was just showing him my ID--but I said "No.. look at my name! See?" and then he saw--and he smiled so big! It was great.. "oh really? You too? Do your family come from Ireland?" It was a great moment. He said his relatives with our name live in North Carolina and he had visited them the previous month. So we just assured each other that we're everywhere and may take over the world very soon..I wished him a very good day and made my way through the melee to the front door.
So we shopped some more and it was just exhausting because even the sidewalks outside were packed wall to wall with people--so we ended up splitting up--Jeremy went to shop, and I went out on the underground (or the tube) to Notting Hill Gate to check out the Portebello Market. So cool. Little stands all set up. Unfortunately, most were packing up--but some were still there--it was such a great atmosphere. Antiques mixed with produce and your average flea market stuff, and again, people from all over the world. I was bummed to only see the tail end--but I found out that there are more street markets during the week as well.. yay. Oh, get this.. an Italian lady stopped me and asked me where the "Blue Door" from the film was...there actually is a little shop called 'The Blue Door" I don't know if there is any connection.. but I thought it funny.
I met up with Jeremy again and we wandered the streets in search of some food that wouldn't break the bank--and was open after seven--no small trick around here. We finally found a fish restaurant and had some more fish and chips. Tried haddock this time--I think I prefer cod--but now I know--the chips were excellent as well.
We made it back to our little box of a room.. I got an extra blanket so I had something to sleep on--that turned out to be a bit scratchy--but I made do. It wasn't the best night of sleep I ever had--what with the extremely loud going ons outside the necessarily open window and the non-air conditioned room and the scratchy blanket.. not to mention the really hard floor-- but it was only one night.. and I survived to see the morning...
And we took the tube (that's such a cool phrase) which is getting easier to figure out...to Paddington (no kidding) and parted ways with Jeremy (he was headed to the airport to meet another coworker in order to drive their way to Holland) and took the Bakerloo --and found my hostel where the nice lady at the desk stored my luggage and let me use the internet for an exorbitant fee.
I'm off in search of some breakfast and to explore the new neighborhood. I like my new digs better already--there's hanging flower baskets outside the front windows doesn't that make everything better?? Happy Sunday to all of you.
Due to scheduling and booking problems, I wasn't able to find a place to stay for last night.. so I took to the floor of my coworkers hotel room, and which hotel charged a really big fee to add my little self to this room. The smallest hotel room in the world!! Seriously..about three feet around the bed in the whole room.. then they had a tv, a closet and a desk all crammed into the space. After we laughed a little (because otherwise, we might have cried..)We dropped our stuff, and went off in search of food. (because that makes everything better)
Which we found in a pub called the Swan. Since we both got a taste for Carvery when we were visiting our people to the north--we went in search of it again--it was pricey, but very good (and you had that lovely pub atmosphere). Then we went off to shop.
I'm not sure if I can describe the feeling I got when I went into Primark which Jeremy assured me had great prices and I was in need of some socks (the ones I brought being too thin for miles of walking). Think the busiest store you know, the Saturday before Christmas--and that might give you a sense of the crowds---but they were interesting because they were from all over the world. It was unreal. You could barely move without running into someone..and there was a ninety percent chance you wouldn't have a clue whet they were saying. I found some socks, met Jeremy at our designated area (because it would be easy to get lost) and then went to stand in the queue (pronounced "Q", meaning "line") to pay.
While waiting for the young black guy behind the counter to run my card through his machine, I noticed his name on his tag--his last name was the same as mine. So I took my ID out and showed him my name--he thought I was just showing him my ID--but I said "No.. look at my name! See?" and then he saw--and he smiled so big! It was great.. "oh really? You too? Do your family come from Ireland?" It was a great moment. He said his relatives with our name live in North Carolina and he had visited them the previous month. So we just assured each other that we're everywhere and may take over the world very soon..I wished him a very good day and made my way through the melee to the front door.
So we shopped some more and it was just exhausting because even the sidewalks outside were packed wall to wall with people--so we ended up splitting up--Jeremy went to shop, and I went out on the underground (or the tube) to Notting Hill Gate to check out the Portebello Market. So cool. Little stands all set up. Unfortunately, most were packing up--but some were still there--it was such a great atmosphere. Antiques mixed with produce and your average flea market stuff, and again, people from all over the world. I was bummed to only see the tail end--but I found out that there are more street markets during the week as well.. yay. Oh, get this.. an Italian lady stopped me and asked me where the "Blue Door" from the film was...there actually is a little shop called 'The Blue Door" I don't know if there is any connection.. but I thought it funny.
I met up with Jeremy again and we wandered the streets in search of some food that wouldn't break the bank--and was open after seven--no small trick around here. We finally found a fish restaurant and had some more fish and chips. Tried haddock this time--I think I prefer cod--but now I know--the chips were excellent as well.
We made it back to our little box of a room.. I got an extra blanket so I had something to sleep on--that turned out to be a bit scratchy--but I made do. It wasn't the best night of sleep I ever had--what with the extremely loud going ons outside the necessarily open window and the non-air conditioned room and the scratchy blanket.. not to mention the really hard floor-- but it was only one night.. and I survived to see the morning...
And we took the tube (that's such a cool phrase) which is getting easier to figure out...to Paddington (no kidding) and parted ways with Jeremy (he was headed to the airport to meet another coworker in order to drive their way to Holland) and took the Bakerloo --and found my hostel where the nice lady at the desk stored my luggage and let me use the internet for an exorbitant fee.
I'm off in search of some breakfast and to explore the new neighborhood. I like my new digs better already--there's hanging flower baskets outside the front windows doesn't that make everything better?? Happy Sunday to all of you.
Brief pilgrim note
So, I've been thinking of pilgriming.. and I read in this book I'm reading that a pilgrim is someone who goes in search of God--or goes to learn about Him in a new way. And though I love seeing the lovely places of the world--I always seem to find God in people. I saw Him more when I was invited to join Mandy pray with some students, when I'm shown amazing amounts of hospitality and generosity, in learning more about people who work for this organization I work for and are excited about the work we do. God is here on the road--but I've yet to see him in a building...
Though I could be surprised, There are an amazing amounts of old buildings in London.
Though I could be surprised, There are an amazing amounts of old buildings in London.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Caving and chipping continued..
So on Thursday--I was supposed to spend the morning in Nottingham, and in the afternoon, Mandy had a place out in the countryside for me to see. So I took the bus into the city center (after buying some postcard stamps you'll be happy to know) and looked around. I discovered BOOTS.. a HUGE drug and cosmetic store in the mall. And I wandered around the shops outside as well, until it started raining, and it wasn't just that persistant British drizzle--it was gully washing downpour. So I hid under cover for a little while--then donned my rainhat and raincoat and headed out again. I didn't get to the castle (though, I am informed it is more like a large house) and I was a bit concerned about missing the bus after the fiasco of the day before. So I stayed close to the bus stops. I did see a sandwich shop called "Peckish" which just cracks me up.
So shortly after noon, after having a sandwich and a biscuit for lunch (i need a separate post to expound on the differences between biscuits and cookies) we got in the car and took off for Derbyshire (prounounce it Dar-bi-sher). I did doze in the car--but when I woke up, the rolling green hills were lovely. Apparently, Mandy had dozed off too, and we ended up lost. Her and Adrian worked it out, and we found where we were going. We stopped first at Hartington--a little village of stone cottages and walls with beautiful gardens and a duck pond (but no ducks). Turns out Mandy's family went there on holiday when there were ducks. We stepped into one or two gift shops and poked a round a bit, and then headed back the car to our next destination.
On the way, Mandy points out to our left to a cave on the side of a mountain (or else a really big hill, I'm not sure which) and tells me that's Thor's Cave and we're going to go up there. All righty then. We park the car and set out.. down a country road. It leads us to the woods, where it winds up into a stone staircase. Keep in mind it has stayed drizzly for the day and these stones are wet--and muddy. But we gamely make our way through the wilderness--following Mandy's intrepid lead, with very optimistic encouragements of "we're nearly there!". By now, my breath is becoming short (Mandy assured me this is NOT because I'm out of shape but merely because the air is thinner up there, nice girl that she is) and I'm really hoping there's a well at the top of the mountain so I can take a nice long drink and a nap.
We finally emerge from the woods to behold Thor's cave. It's this humungous--like at least thirty feet, but probably closer to fifty feet (and my size estimates are probably way off--really big) cavern that you have to slip..I mean, climb your way up into (my long legs served me well here) and by gripping the walls for dear life and sliding in, we finally found a bit of a perch to sit and survey the world from high above. It truly is a spectacluar view. You can see the tiny sheep on the hills far below.
When we caught our breath, Mandy and I went exploring Thor's cave. She used to come to this place with her father and brother and they had named all the areas after areas of a house. She took me to the "window" (which has an immense drop just past the window sill, and is itself a huge gash in the side of the cave) and then back to the far corner, where there was a flat area that she told me would serve as a bed, so that was the bedroom. The other areas of the "house" were far back along the dark hallways, and we hadn't brought a flashlight, so we ended our tour there. There were children exploring it while we were up there, sliding round in the mud (though they had rubber "wellies" that would have been very handy)and yelling to hear their voices echo and I could just picture my brothers and I having a ball doing the same.
We returned to the opening (where Adrian was nicely holding our things) and after a brief rest, made our way out again.. hopping down the rock (being careful not to get too close to the ledge) and we climbed our way to the back side of the mountain where Mandy assured us that the way back down was a nice easy road. When we got to the juncture of said road (which resembled a mud pathway) she pointed up and said that the top of the mountain was just up there and it really was worth seeing. Okay. There was a path with stones for steps--how hard could it be?? Well, let's just say I was hanging on to the grass for dear life, praying that the next rock wasn't quite as muddy and slick as the last, and Adrian decided he was quite high enough and stayed at the bottom. Mandy was ahead of me, sending assurances that the top was just up here, yet there was always another little rise. Finally, and just about out of breath.. we reach the top. Wow. Talk about a great view. You could see for miles.
There were so many hills, I told Mandy that it reminded me of that part in the Bible where God owns the cattle on a thousand hills--because we could see a couple dozen or so--and a lot of them even had cattle on them. It just gave me real sense of God's power and his view point. He really can see everything--even me, a small little sheep in a flock on one little hill. It was very reassuring as well as humbling.
We then headed back down, wishing the whole time we had a taboggon.. to just sled down. I slipped on the wet grass--before it got either muddy or steep, and thought it was going to be a very long descent..but we made it. We also made for a very funny sight for the other family of explorers, picking our way down the hill, trying not to just land in the mud. We finally reached the bottom and with much rejoicing headed down the muddy path (which was also a little slick) to the country road. We had to climb over a stone wall to do this (so there was what's called a stile? a few little steps on each side of the wall so you can easily step up and then down the other side..) and it was quite a pleasant walk down the mountain, albeit our knees were sore and there wasn't much of us that wasn't covered in mud.
We also meet some very solemn cows on our journey and after we tried talking to them for a while they all came over to the gate to pose for a picture for us...I'm sure they thought were were silly tourists for finding a bunch of cows so interesting, but they posed for us just as well.
We finally and gratefully made it back to the car and then we headed back to the main road, with a clear purpose of both getting home and getting some real English fish and chips on the way home. Chips being french fries (or more like potato wedges actually) and the fish being fried cod, golden and delicious and all of it doused in salt and vinegar...and we ate it standing up in the parking lot.. with some fruity Fanta to wash it down with.. it was fantastic.
So shortly after noon, after having a sandwich and a biscuit for lunch (i need a separate post to expound on the differences between biscuits and cookies) we got in the car and took off for Derbyshire (prounounce it Dar-bi-sher). I did doze in the car--but when I woke up, the rolling green hills were lovely. Apparently, Mandy had dozed off too, and we ended up lost. Her and Adrian worked it out, and we found where we were going. We stopped first at Hartington--a little village of stone cottages and walls with beautiful gardens and a duck pond (but no ducks). Turns out Mandy's family went there on holiday when there were ducks. We stepped into one or two gift shops and poked a round a bit, and then headed back the car to our next destination.
On the way, Mandy points out to our left to a cave on the side of a mountain (or else a really big hill, I'm not sure which) and tells me that's Thor's Cave and we're going to go up there. All righty then. We park the car and set out.. down a country road. It leads us to the woods, where it winds up into a stone staircase. Keep in mind it has stayed drizzly for the day and these stones are wet--and muddy. But we gamely make our way through the wilderness--following Mandy's intrepid lead, with very optimistic encouragements of "we're nearly there!". By now, my breath is becoming short (Mandy assured me this is NOT because I'm out of shape but merely because the air is thinner up there, nice girl that she is) and I'm really hoping there's a well at the top of the mountain so I can take a nice long drink and a nap.
We finally emerge from the woods to behold Thor's cave. It's this humungous--like at least thirty feet, but probably closer to fifty feet (and my size estimates are probably way off--really big) cavern that you have to slip..I mean, climb your way up into (my long legs served me well here) and by gripping the walls for dear life and sliding in, we finally found a bit of a perch to sit and survey the world from high above. It truly is a spectacluar view. You can see the tiny sheep on the hills far below.
When we caught our breath, Mandy and I went exploring Thor's cave. She used to come to this place with her father and brother and they had named all the areas after areas of a house. She took me to the "window" (which has an immense drop just past the window sill, and is itself a huge gash in the side of the cave) and then back to the far corner, where there was a flat area that she told me would serve as a bed, so that was the bedroom. The other areas of the "house" were far back along the dark hallways, and we hadn't brought a flashlight, so we ended our tour there. There were children exploring it while we were up there, sliding round in the mud (though they had rubber "wellies" that would have been very handy)and yelling to hear their voices echo and I could just picture my brothers and I having a ball doing the same.
We returned to the opening (where Adrian was nicely holding our things) and after a brief rest, made our way out again.. hopping down the rock (being careful not to get too close to the ledge) and we climbed our way to the back side of the mountain where Mandy assured us that the way back down was a nice easy road. When we got to the juncture of said road (which resembled a mud pathway) she pointed up and said that the top of the mountain was just up there and it really was worth seeing. Okay. There was a path with stones for steps--how hard could it be?? Well, let's just say I was hanging on to the grass for dear life, praying that the next rock wasn't quite as muddy and slick as the last, and Adrian decided he was quite high enough and stayed at the bottom. Mandy was ahead of me, sending assurances that the top was just up here, yet there was always another little rise. Finally, and just about out of breath.. we reach the top. Wow. Talk about a great view. You could see for miles.
There were so many hills, I told Mandy that it reminded me of that part in the Bible where God owns the cattle on a thousand hills--because we could see a couple dozen or so--and a lot of them even had cattle on them. It just gave me real sense of God's power and his view point. He really can see everything--even me, a small little sheep in a flock on one little hill. It was very reassuring as well as humbling.
We then headed back down, wishing the whole time we had a taboggon.. to just sled down. I slipped on the wet grass--before it got either muddy or steep, and thought it was going to be a very long descent..but we made it. We also made for a very funny sight for the other family of explorers, picking our way down the hill, trying not to just land in the mud. We finally reached the bottom and with much rejoicing headed down the muddy path (which was also a little slick) to the country road. We had to climb over a stone wall to do this (so there was what's called a stile? a few little steps on each side of the wall so you can easily step up and then down the other side..) and it was quite a pleasant walk down the mountain, albeit our knees were sore and there wasn't much of us that wasn't covered in mud.
We also meet some very solemn cows on our journey and after we tried talking to them for a while they all came over to the gate to pose for a picture for us...I'm sure they thought were were silly tourists for finding a bunch of cows so interesting, but they posed for us just as well.
We finally and gratefully made it back to the car and then we headed back to the main road, with a clear purpose of both getting home and getting some real English fish and chips on the way home. Chips being french fries (or more like potato wedges actually) and the fish being fried cod, golden and delicious and all of it doused in salt and vinegar...and we ate it standing up in the parking lot.. with some fruity Fanta to wash it down with.. it was fantastic.
Yorking, Caving, and Chipping, oh my
Greetings from our UK office! Which I must say, is smaller, but lots brighter than our office at home--many more windows, which I won't expound about how much I envy.
Since last I posted, I did get myself to York. Of course, I missed the first train (they only stop for a minute) but I went through Derby (say it DAR-by)on a train bound for Scotland-- and got there a mere hour later that I was supposed to.
I had a picnic lunch in the very crowded market square, and watched all kinds of people. I'm amazed how many tourists there were. Every set that walked by had a different accent, a few with an entirely different language. It's amazing how international a place that is so English can get.
In the process of finding a nice tree to eat under, I lost the map that I had purchased at the station. So I was a bit lost...so I found the tourist infomation office, admitted that I was a lost tourist, and she gave me a free map, and told me where to go to get the best view from the walls.
So York is an ancient city--so old it has walls around it. And the walls are still intact so the tourists can take a leisurely stroll around most of the city and see the spires and rooftops. It provides a beautiful view and very good exercise. It also provides plenty of stairs to trip over and vast opportunity to go the wrong way. But any way I went, it was very pretty--even when I was on the other side of the city from the train station. But more on that later.
After tripping down the stairs at the far end of the wall (gracefully, of course..)I made my way through the narrow streets in the center of town to locate the Shambles. I love that word.. Shambles--gives you the idea that you should be able to amble along quite nicely. And on a day in March or April you may be able to--but these tiny narrow streets that have a dozen tea rooms and tiny knicknack kind of shops, were quite packed with tourists--all trying to find their way--either that or standing in line to have afternoon tea. I popped into a bookshop (another English phrase that I love) and perused the shelves for a little while. Fun, but I'm still looking for a really good used bookshop to find dusty copies of literature classics--so it wasn't quite what I was looking for.
So I made my way out of the Shambles and the Market squares (not before trying on a hat or two, but alas to no avail) to go to the York Castle Museum. It was on the list of things to see that Mandy had given me, and I was hoping the line was shorter than the one for the Viking museum. It was, and into the castle I went.
Maybe if I had never read a period novel, all the displays in this museum would have been just boring--but the displays of the 18th and 19th century living rooms and gowns and! oh it was fascinating. I could completely imagine the characters from my favorite novels sitting at the pianoforte, or wearing the blue silk wedding gown...or traipsing around in the silk slippers.
The funny thing about this museum is that it already has a head start for future generations. The display on the history of kitchens goes all the way up to modern day kitchens--so museum goers a hundred years from now will see how we lived. I guess I just never think of things that occured in the past 50 years or so as being historic, and museum worthy, you know? There's a whole hallway devoted to the culture of the 1960s--things my parents lived through, I find odd being in a museum. (I guess it should make them happy I don't think of them as being that old)
After the museum, I needed to head to the train station. I had already missed the train that I was supposed to take back--and I wanted to take the next one. So I headed off in search of some more city walls--which I found and made my way onto them. Took a few pictures, thought I was making progress, until I found myself at Walmgate, which when I looked at my map was in the opposite direction of the train station.
By this time, I had wandered all around the city, on the walls, through the castle--all with my backpack. I was weary. And to find that I was probabably two miles from where I needed to be made me even wearier. So I went back up the stairs and stopped in the little coffee shop above the gate below. (what a fascinating place for a coffee shop---actually in the city walls) Had a J20 (which, thanks to Mandy, I knew was a juice drink) and a muffin and got my bearings. I also texted Mandy to let her know that I had missed the train and gone the wrong way, but I would let them know when I knew which train I was going to take. I asked directions and the guys at the coffee bar told me that to cut through the city and make a left at the minster would be my best bet. So after my refreshments, I headed off.
I'm kind of glad they sent me that way--because I got to see lots of things I missed--like the minster. No, not a minister--a minster. I know you yanks have no idea what a minster is---it's a really really really big church. I think there may be a requirement of bells or chimes or a certain number of stain glass windows--but it was massive--and beautiful. I took a few photos.. and marvelled that I had missed it in my travels, and headed on north and west toward the railway station.
The walkways heading out where so crowded (what with tourists and the business crowd getting out of work) that I just took my camera and held it out and snapped a few shots of the river and bridge and gardens (which came out pretty good) I finally arrived at the station, asked someone for which train I should take (through Derby again) and waited.
While on the train, I texted Mandy's husband to let him know which train I was on--and about a minute later, my phone rings. It's Mandy asking me where I was. I told her, she said that Adrian didn't get my text (and neither did she earlier)and was wondering when I was coming back. When I finally got in to Nottingham, I find that Adrian has been waiting for me at the station since 5, and she had been thinking I had been mugged or something. They hid their panic well. Mandy fed us dinner when we got back and we just chilled out for the rest of the evening.
I will have to save my caving and chipping stories until a wee bit later. We're due to "pop out" for lunch in a little while. Til then, Cheers.
Since last I posted, I did get myself to York. Of course, I missed the first train (they only stop for a minute) but I went through Derby (say it DAR-by)on a train bound for Scotland-- and got there a mere hour later that I was supposed to.
I had a picnic lunch in the very crowded market square, and watched all kinds of people. I'm amazed how many tourists there were. Every set that walked by had a different accent, a few with an entirely different language. It's amazing how international a place that is so English can get.
In the process of finding a nice tree to eat under, I lost the map that I had purchased at the station. So I was a bit lost...so I found the tourist infomation office, admitted that I was a lost tourist, and she gave me a free map, and told me where to go to get the best view from the walls.
So York is an ancient city--so old it has walls around it. And the walls are still intact so the tourists can take a leisurely stroll around most of the city and see the spires and rooftops. It provides a beautiful view and very good exercise. It also provides plenty of stairs to trip over and vast opportunity to go the wrong way. But any way I went, it was very pretty--even when I was on the other side of the city from the train station. But more on that later.
After tripping down the stairs at the far end of the wall (gracefully, of course..)I made my way through the narrow streets in the center of town to locate the Shambles. I love that word.. Shambles--gives you the idea that you should be able to amble along quite nicely. And on a day in March or April you may be able to--but these tiny narrow streets that have a dozen tea rooms and tiny knicknack kind of shops, were quite packed with tourists--all trying to find their way--either that or standing in line to have afternoon tea. I popped into a bookshop (another English phrase that I love) and perused the shelves for a little while. Fun, but I'm still looking for a really good used bookshop to find dusty copies of literature classics--so it wasn't quite what I was looking for.
So I made my way out of the Shambles and the Market squares (not before trying on a hat or two, but alas to no avail) to go to the York Castle Museum. It was on the list of things to see that Mandy had given me, and I was hoping the line was shorter than the one for the Viking museum. It was, and into the castle I went.
Maybe if I had never read a period novel, all the displays in this museum would have been just boring--but the displays of the 18th and 19th century living rooms and gowns and! oh it was fascinating. I could completely imagine the characters from my favorite novels sitting at the pianoforte, or wearing the blue silk wedding gown...or traipsing around in the silk slippers.
The funny thing about this museum is that it already has a head start for future generations. The display on the history of kitchens goes all the way up to modern day kitchens--so museum goers a hundred years from now will see how we lived. I guess I just never think of things that occured in the past 50 years or so as being historic, and museum worthy, you know? There's a whole hallway devoted to the culture of the 1960s--things my parents lived through, I find odd being in a museum. (I guess it should make them happy I don't think of them as being that old)
After the museum, I needed to head to the train station. I had already missed the train that I was supposed to take back--and I wanted to take the next one. So I headed off in search of some more city walls--which I found and made my way onto them. Took a few pictures, thought I was making progress, until I found myself at Walmgate, which when I looked at my map was in the opposite direction of the train station.
By this time, I had wandered all around the city, on the walls, through the castle--all with my backpack. I was weary. And to find that I was probabably two miles from where I needed to be made me even wearier. So I went back up the stairs and stopped in the little coffee shop above the gate below. (what a fascinating place for a coffee shop---actually in the city walls) Had a J20 (which, thanks to Mandy, I knew was a juice drink) and a muffin and got my bearings. I also texted Mandy to let her know that I had missed the train and gone the wrong way, but I would let them know when I knew which train I was going to take. I asked directions and the guys at the coffee bar told me that to cut through the city and make a left at the minster would be my best bet. So after my refreshments, I headed off.
I'm kind of glad they sent me that way--because I got to see lots of things I missed--like the minster. No, not a minister--a minster. I know you yanks have no idea what a minster is---it's a really really really big church. I think there may be a requirement of bells or chimes or a certain number of stain glass windows--but it was massive--and beautiful. I took a few photos.. and marvelled that I had missed it in my travels, and headed on north and west toward the railway station.
The walkways heading out where so crowded (what with tourists and the business crowd getting out of work) that I just took my camera and held it out and snapped a few shots of the river and bridge and gardens (which came out pretty good) I finally arrived at the station, asked someone for which train I should take (through Derby again) and waited.
While on the train, I texted Mandy's husband to let him know which train I was on--and about a minute later, my phone rings. It's Mandy asking me where I was. I told her, she said that Adrian didn't get my text (and neither did she earlier)and was wondering when I was coming back. When I finally got in to Nottingham, I find that Adrian has been waiting for me at the station since 5, and she had been thinking I had been mugged or something. They hid their panic well. Mandy fed us dinner when we got back and we just chilled out for the rest of the evening.
I will have to save my caving and chipping stories until a wee bit later. We're due to "pop out" for lunch in a little while. Til then, Cheers.
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