British Isles: We Become THOSE People 😳
This was one of those days full of the unexpected. Our plan was to have breakfast and grab an early cruise shuttle to Greenwich. AdventureMan has done his homework; we like to have a little wine and cheese of our own choice in our cabin, and we want to try some more English cheeses, so he has found a specialty shop, and we know how to get there.
We go out at 9:00, as the schedule says, to catch the shuttle boat, and no one seems to know anything about it. We look around, but all we find is a bridge to the pier with a gate across it, locked and impenetrable. As we start back, a Viking tour person is running towards us and tells us that the boat will arrive at 10, so we wait, and others who want to take advantage of the shuttle arrive and wait with us.
We had an odd experience – before the others arrived, we met a British man who looked healthy and happy and we started talking. He told us he was in rehab, and recovering from years of alcoholism. We learned a lot about his former life – he was successful, and somehow managed his alcoholism, but it was ruining his marriage and his health, and his doctor told him that rehab was his only choice for living a full life. It took a while for him to make that decision, but he is so full of joy telling his story. A deeply cynical part of me was thinking he was going to hit us up for some money, but as it turned out, he was immensely wealthy, and now he was becoming healthy and had clarity for the first time in years. He was a new man. It way an inspirational conversation, waiting for that shuttle to arrive.
The shuttle arrived, we said goodbye to our new friend, a uniformed security person unlocked the gate and we boarded the chartered Uber boat. And then we sat there; something had happened to the groups going to Greenwich for their walking tours and we had to wait for them. It was nearly an hour before they arrived, and we were wondering if we could do this and still make our 2:00 tour to the Tower of London. We decided it would be tight, but we could do it.
Below; the Cutty Sark
Arriving in Greenwich, we rushed off the boat, and walked as fast as we could to the Cheeseboard, where AdventureMan had a great conversation with the young man who did their website (how we learned about this shop) and was very helpful, providing us with four cheeses and descriptions printed on the label so we would know what we were eating. He also provided two very good bottles of wine from Bleye, one red, one white, and we were on our way to catch the shuttle back. We were able to get on, and thought we were home free, but the ship slowed several times, maybe fighting the tide, and stopped one time to pick up supplies for their on-board snack shop, so we began to accept we would not get back in time for our tour.
We docked at two oh two. Just two minutes too late. But our tickets for the tour were in our stateroom, and we were supposed to meet at 1:45 so we were just too late, and figured we would console ourselves in the spa.
A Viking tours person was at the gate as we came it. “Have the tour buses for the Tower of London left?” we asked, and she said yes, the last just left. We headed to the boat, but were interrupted by another Viking tour person, standing by a bus who asked if we were the people supposed to be on the London Tower Tour, and we said yes, we were – and asked if this was the bus? She said yes, we told her we didn’t have our tickets and she said it was all right, Viking would manage it. A miracle! We were last on the bus and sat in the way back, happy just to be on board.
Oh wait. Not so fast. The guide tells us we are too late, we are not going on this bus. Like the bus is already late, WE are the problem, and we are standing there. I said meekly “I think we are on this bus. You need to talk to the Viking rep who just directed us here.” And he made us exit the bus while he and the Viking rep had a spirited discussion. We get it. We don’t even have our tickets with us! We are the problem, and we hate to miss the tour but we get it.
The Viking rep convinces him to take us, so we straggle onto the bus, again, and make our way to the rear, not looking anyone in the eye. We have become THOSE people, people so inconsiderate that their lateness has made the whole bus wait. Oh the agony!
We are so glad it worked out this way. During the ride back into London, the skies suddenly cleared, we had blue skies, the crowds at the Tower were less than two days ago when we had lunch there, and we had a superb Blue Badge tour guide who really knew his history, and even better, knew how to make it interesting. We had time on our own – most went to see the jewels. I’d seen them other trips, I wanted to see the White Tower, which I climbed all the way to the top. I loved the interior spaces. Built in 1070 by William the Conqueror, it had an unexpected graciousness even though its purpose was defensive. AdventureMan spent his equally happy time in the Fusiliers Museum, and we met up with happy hearts for a time well spent in areas we love. It was a very long day. We got back late, and happy. As it turned out, people were not so angry with us, we all got along, and we made friends with the guide, who really was terrific.
Inside The White Tower – military equipment and beautiful spaces!
(detail on a painting in White Tower: “Detail of the earliest known image of the White Tower showing the building’s exterior. The view includes a cutaway to reveal people in an invented interior. From a late 15th century collection of poems by Charles, Duke of Orleans, British Library) Royal MS 16F11:173” (?)
Just look at this glorious day!
I love the juxtaposition of it all, sometimes.
You just never know how a day is going to turn out. Sometimes the things you have the greatest excitement about go bust – something just isn’t right. And some days which seem designed from the beginning to disappoint turn out just the opposite – and this was one of those. Yes, we were late; we were those horrible late people. And despite it, we had a great time in Greenwich, met a great young man who loves his wares and knows how to make a sale, and we had a bonus – we got to take the Tower of London tour with a great guide on a gorgeous sunny afternoon. Yeh. We suffered some embarrassment. It was humbling. We survived.
When we got back we had a message from our friends that they were at dinner in the place where we meet up, and we exchanged news of our day – they were at the Churchill War Room and War Museum, deeply meaningful day for them. Dinner was all the better for great conversation, and we split up early for sail-away, knowing we had early departures for our tour reaching Dover.
British Isles: We Transfer to the Viking Jupiter
Morning came too early, the bag handlers must have started with our room! Promptly at six, the bell rang and AdventureMan had to struggle out of bed to let them in. Fortunately we were able to get back to sleep, and slept until our alarm went off. We headed down to breakfast – no room for us! We had to wait for a table, about twenty minutes, and we had not factored that in. By the time we finished, we barely had time to rush back to our room, gather our carry-ons, and head down to the hotel lobby where we were just in time. As AdventureMan checked out, our group was called. I was one of the first to board the bus and headed to a seat halfway back where we like to sit for the unimpeded view. Just behind me another couple, who as they sat behind us said a little sourly “you got our favorite seat.” Oooh kay. AdventureMan found me, and we had an hour long ride to Tilbury, not Greenwich, where the fun began.
First, we have great admiration for and understanding of the logistics involved in last minute changes, so the awkwardness of the explanations and arrangements were not surprising, but the London Cruise Port was not ready to board a few hundred people. Our buses were stacked up, and after the one hour drive, we sat another hour on the bus. Some of the passengers got testy and argumentative, and finally they let a lucky few off to find the toilets, with the understanding that they must come right back.
Our group was called, not to line up but to sit in the terminal. Maybe fifteen minutes later (we learned there was another couple from Pensacola on board) our area was called to process in – or embark, as they call it. That process was quick, with one surprise, we had to surrender our passports, which we never do, for British immigration and customs.
And then we boarded another bus which took us to a dismal part of the port, surrounded by piles of stones and dirt and cranes and bulldozers and roll on roll off containers and thousands of Hyundai cars awaiting delivery to dealerships.
We were disappointed. We had made plans for Greenwich. We unpacked, put everything away – it’s easy on Viking, we ask for the same stateroom every trip and we know where everything goes already, so unpacking is quick. We decided to go to the pool grill, where a better me would have ordered the seared ahi tuna, but the spoiled baby disappointed me ordered comfort food, the Viking hamburger. With fries!
To further soothe ourselves, when we got back to our room we went down to the gorgeous Viking spa, the only people there, and let the hot bubbling wave pool soothe our disappointment, then we napped.
We have old friends on board! We met up for dinner; these are the kind of friends that, even though we haven’t seen one another for three years, the conversation picks right up where we left off and just keeps going. We ate in the World Cafe, picking and choosing from a fabulous welcome buffet, lots of seafood, crab and shrimp and mussels! There was also a sweet potato soup with ginger that was out of this world, and of course, a choice of ten different ice creams. It’s one of the most popular places on the ship, casual with a luxury of choices.
Bernie, who, with Augustina, below, took good care of us and were a joy to know on the Viking Jupiter.
After dinner, the ship repositions to the main terminal, grand entertainment as we turned in tight quarters, then slid through a tiny canal to the locks leading to the River Thames. It took a couple of hours to complete the process. Out on our balconies, we met our neighbors on both sides, Will and Kate on one side. We dock with our cabin facing the terminal, an old-timey building with a clock tower on top.
Look how close the ship is to the canal edge!
Here is the truth. We were disappointed. We had been told we would be docked in Greenwich; Tillbury is a ways down the road from Greenwich, and more distant from London. We were prepared for Greenwich. We were both a little disgruntled, and aware of how very spoiled we are. Another truth is, until I re-read the journal I kept, and saw the photos, I had forgotten about this altogether, it was such a small disappointment in proportion to the great adventures we had in London and the greater adventures to come. We forgot about it!
British Isles: Day Two in London
We slept. We slept and slept. We didn’t want to get up. My body ached. It got to be eight and we knew we needed to get up and get going, but our bodies said it was still the middle of the night. Coffee. Coffee would help.
We went down to breakfast, and it was lovely, very lovely, hot and cold things but no oatmeal, and I am diabetic. I keep it controlled, but I need my oatmeal. So I treated myself to smoked salmon, and to oat cereal with fruits, and hoped for the best.
After breakfast, we took the Metro to Kensington, another new experience, where we didn’t buy tickets, just used our credit cards like everyone else was doing, remembering to tap in and be sure to tap out so we wouldn’t be charged for a whole day. We walked to the Museum of Natural History, where AdventureMan spent a lot of time with dinosaurs, and I focused on the beginnings of the earth, and found a fabulous display of earth minerals, sparkling minerals. It must be my Scandinavian blood, I love gemstones, and I found an exhibit that captivated me – there are gems I didn’t know about!
This museum quickly became packed with families and groups. By noon, once again my feet were tired. Texted AdventureMan who was also ready to leave. We love these museums but their floors are hard, harder than the pavement and sidewalks in London.
We walked to Herrod’s, getting there late in the game – we had to fight the crowds going in. Every designer of luxury goods has displays on the ground floor, so lovely, so tempting, but we have a mission – we head straight for the food halls, where we find something for dinner and some cheeses to take with us for when we board the ship; we like to have a small stock for wine and cheese as we sail away, or for before dinner celebrations. Just sitting on our balcony as the sun sets is a celebration. Any excuse will do, and having cheese and wine makes it even more special.
We found a wonderful man who knew a lot about cheese, who helped us find two we wanted to try, a Leicester Red and a Black Bomb. I found a smoked salmon salad for dinner, and AdventureMan found a wedge of quiche, and we picked up forks and knives as we headed out. The only souvenir I have bought here that was not edible was a Herrod’s canvas bag for foodstuffs with a leather strap. I love it and I will use it with a smile.
We saved so much money on little stuff that as we left Herrod’s and were trying to figure out whether we wanted to walk back or take the metro. We were right by the long line of taxis lined up to ferry Herrod customers where they needed to go, so I said, “Let’s grab a taxi!” and AdventureMan and his feet agreed heartily.
Our taxi driver was Dominique, from Nigeria, and we had a lively conversation on the way back to the hotel. I had never met a Nigerian Catholic before. I know many Anglican Nigerians, we went to church with them in Doha and Kuwait, but he was Ibo from near the coast. He told us Nigerians do not gather as Nigerians in London, but as communities along tribal lines, so he gathers with large numbers of Ibo in London.
We reorganized and rested briefly, then headed to take a river cruise, which was part of our Big Bus Hop On Hop Off package. We’ve been on these before, like in Paris, the Bateau Mouches, and they can be very crowded and uncomfortable, but it was still early, not crowded and we got good seats. I could get up and down as I needed, and a lot of the things I had seen and photo’d yesterday, so this was all very relaxed. We went from the Westminster Pier to the Tower Pier, got off, grabbed sandwiches at Pret a Manger, then found the HoHo to take us back to our hotel, where we need to pack up to move to our ship tomorrow morning.
We have two more days in London, and already we have had a wonderful time. We are feeling very relaxed, and happy to be here.
Back at the hotel, we got our bags packed for our six a.m. pickup, I took one last luxurious bath in the generous tub the room provided, we had a great conversation with the Polish woman who took care of our room and was married to a Pakistani, and we settled in for a good night’s sleep.
British Isles: Arrival and First Day in London
Arrival in London was both chaotic and orderly. As we arrived, early in the morning, several other large flights arrived, mostly from Africa, and we moved in a large crowd towards customs. At customs, we were separated into two lines, one countries associated with the British Empire, even the United States. All you had to do was to put your passport in the machine and it gave you the green light and you were done, so easy, so painless. It took seconds!
Pick up bags, walk out, the Viking people are waiting for us and pop us into a van with another couple to take us to our hotel.
At the hotel, it isn’t even nine a.m. but they have a room for us, and we love it. Spacious, for London, with a large bathroom with both a bathtub and separate shower room. Last time we were in London, we were in a room like a closet, climbing over each other to get to the bathroom which was like a toilet room in a boat, maybe 2.5 feet by 4 feet, and the shower got the toilet all wet. This feels so luxurious, and it is quiet.
Even better, the Big Bus, a hop on hop off line, stops just around the corner from our hotel, and we are close enough to many places to just walk. We spend some time cleaning up – having a bath after a long flight is just sheer luxury, and we are celebrating having a room, not having to leave our bags in a storage room and go out into the city in clothes we spent the night in. We’ve done it – and so we really appreciate not doing it.
Once we’ve cleaned up, we are ready to hit the town – and it’s not yet nine on a quiet August Saturday morning. We decide to take the Hop on Hop off and then change our minds and walk to the British Museum.
It isn’t our scheduled time, but the guard checks our bags, lets us in, and we go to the great court for a little coffee and cake, just to give us energy. We have museum guides and AdventureMan is eager to hit the Egyptian displays, and I have my own agenda so we separate with plans to meet in 2 hours.
I head straight for the Sutton Hoo warrior. I think early man is fascinating and smart. We think we are so smart now, with all our technology, and it concerns me how little practical knowledge we have. In all cultures, the early cultures were about survival. How to nourish our bodies, how to protect our bodies, how to heal our bodies, only slowly developing more complex behaviors like farming, cloth making, cooking, making containers to store things – so I love exhibits on early civilizations, early communications (petroglyphs and pictographs) and early war fighting. Second, the Lindisfarne chess set, and then the Rosetta Stone. At first, my quests were easy, but quickly the museum filled and getting close to the Rosetta Stone was nearly impossible.
Finally I texted AdventureMan “my feet hurt! I found a bench in the great court by the questions booth, you will find me there” and within minutes AdventureMan showed up saying “My feet hurt!” It had also become, as you can see, very crowded. Individuals, groups, entire bus-loads, families – it’s a Saturday morning and we are glad we got there early and saw what we wanted to see and now, we are glad to escape the hoards.
AdventureMan had done his homework and had found a restaurant in Chinatown with duck, and we walked there. They sent us upstairs, where we were crowded in with about a hundred Chinese families, mostly at large round tables, with a few tables for two wedged around the room. Hardly space to exit or enter. We loved it. We got the food we wanted, duck with pancakes and sliced onions and cucumber and sauce, and a bowl of spinach and garlic.
With all that good food, our feet stopped hurting and with some searching, we found the Big Bus Tour stop, had our paperwork verified and climbed on the bus for a two hour overview of London up high on the top of the bus.
It dropped us off at our hotel and we staggered in, bathed again, and tumbled into bed. In about an hour we woke up, but decided to sleep another hour, then made ourselves get up, get dressed and go out walking some more to find a place to eat.
We walked to the Thames, to Westminster Abbey and discovered the clouds were disappearing, and a rich glow was lighting up the gilding on the Parliament buildings and Churches. It was glorious, and revived us.
As it got late, we needed to eat to get our bodies on local time, but couldn’t find anything right. Then we came across the Blue Boar pub, liked the look of the menu and went in, only to figure out that we were in our own hotel again, just a part we hadn’t found before. I had a beetroot salad and mussels, and AdventureMan had a goat cheese quiche (we split the mussels) and we stumbled up to our room and fell into bed. We had walked almost 18K steps.
It was a great day. We had intended to take it easy, but all the exercise and staying up really helped us to get on local time. The nap helped; even so we decided to ditch our already-paid-for sunset whirl on the London Eye. Once we saw it, saw all the people enclosed in a tiny capsule that goes very very slowly around, it didn’t interest us. So much to do, so little time!
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society
I don’t know why I didn’t read this book sooner! First, I saw people like me reading it in airports, and it certainly has a memorable title. The people reading looked totally engrossed. I’m not one to strike up conversations in airports, but on occasion, when I see people reading a book I don’t know about and it is the size of the books that book groups usually read, I will ask, and write it down, and bother the person no further.
I had ordered it on amazon.com when my son’s wife’s father’s wife (and you thought Gulf relationships were complicated!) mentioned to me in an e-mail that she was reading it and that she could barely tear herself away. She and I often pass really good books and/or recommendations back and forth, so that bumped it up a few notches in priority. When it got here, I had just finished Rutherfurd’s London (oops, I thought I had reviewed it, and I haven’t, so I will,) and I thought it was a southern book, like The Ya-Ya Sisterhood or Sweet Potato Queens, no, you are right, I hadn’t read anything about it, just trusted from all the people I saw reading it that it was good, but because of the name, I thought it would be light.
Wrong!
It isn’t depressingly heavy, like The Little Prisoner was heavy, and it had some totally wonderful laugh-out-loud moments, but the subject matter was the German occupation of the island of Guernsey, in the English Channel, and an author in search of a book topic in post-war London, and a little girl born outside of marriage and cared for by a village of caring people. It is spiced up by a dashing romance, and the process of relationship building that happens in the novel, unlikely relationships, aren’t those the very best kind for spice? 😉
The entire story is told in letters. The primary voice, that of Juliet, a thirty-something author, ties all the letters together, but not all letters are to her or from her. It is a great technique for allowing many different voices and many different perspectives. From the first page, you are captivated. Right now, Guernsey is more real to me than the boxes I need to unpack, and there is a part of me that yearns to flee to Guernsey and find a house near a cliff where I can watch the sun set in the west and the clouds turn colors . . .
Here is one sample of the kind of letters you will find when you read The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. Don’t wait! This is an unforgettable book!
1st May 1946
Dear Mark,
I didn’t refuse, you know. I said I wanted to think about it. You were so busy ranting about Sidney and Guernsey that perhaps you didn’t notice – I only said I wanted time. I’ve known you two months. It’s not long enough for me to be certain that we should spend the rest of our lives together, even if you are. I once made a terrible mistake and almost married a man I hardly knew (perhaps you read about it in the papers) – and at least in that case, the war was an extenuating circumstance. I won’t be such a fool again.
Think of it: I’ve never seen you home – I don’t even know where it is, really. New York, but which street? What does it look like? What color are your walls? Your sofa? Do you arrange books alphabetically? (I hope not.) Are your drawers tidy or messy? Do you ever hum, and if so, what? Do you prefer cats or dogs? Or fish? What on earth do you eat for breakfast – or do you have a cook?
You see? I don’t know you well enough to marry you.
I have one other piece of news that may interest you: Sidney is not your rival. I am not now nor have I ever been in love with Sidney, nor he with me. Nor will I ever marry him. Is that decisive enough for you?
Are you absolutely certain you wouldn’t rather be married to someone more tractable than I?
Juliet
Written by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows, the book will challenge your ideas, will inform you of an obscure episode in World War II, will make your heart sorrow at the inhumanity of which we human beings are capable towards one another, and make your heart sing at the goodness in the human soul. That’s pretty amazing for one book.
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