Now some people will wonder why of all the places in the world I could have gone on vacation—Madrid to see Cesar, Basque to see Maricruz, Norway to visit a former student, Italy that I fell in love with last November—why then would I choose Orkney, islands off the north coast of Scotland? And why would I drag along my non-world-traveling mom?
She is the reason, or at least part of it. It’s also for Granddaddy Tulloch (her father) and his brother Ralph. Uncle Ralph was one of those family members who works feverishly to trace the family genealogy, record the stories, save the family’s history. I’m convinced that every immigrant family has one, someone who wants to share his enthusiasm for the past with others. Uncle Ralph was that guy for our family, and he loved the role and the responsibility that accompanies it.
At various family reunions when I was a kid, I remembered Uncle Ralph telling Mom that he found a new date or a ship’s manifest or a headstone in a cemetery or a possible relative in another state who was willing to share research. She would say, “That’s great. Now whose father was he? How does that fit with other information you have?” I could tell she was interested but just didn’t have the time to follow it as closely as she wanted. With this kind of research, it’s important to stay close to it, keep it fresh in your mind. If not, you get lost in the generations.
Occasionally, Mom would ask my brother and me to go with her to some random cemetery to do some very specific headstone rubbings. In fact, she turned the rubbings into a Brownie/Girl Scout troop activity to earn a history badge of some kind. At the time, I viewed these things as time that could better be spent with friends, at the movies, or really… anywhere other than walking through row upon row of headstones looking for last names and birth/death dates when neither was visible due to the wear of weather and time.
I don’t recall exactly when it was, but sometime late in high school, I remember a family gathering of some kind (planned family reunions were eventually replaced by impromptu gatherings for funerals) where we ran into Uncle Ralph again. He lived just outside Orlando, so we didn’t see him often. And again, he had a new piece of information to share with Mom. Later at home, I asked her to explain what he was talking about. She recounted again how part of our family came to America (just before it became the United States) from Scotland. I say “part of the family” because the primary purpose began with tracing the Tulloch name.
The lineage looks something like this: my mom (a Tulloch before she and Dad married), then my grandfather James, his father George Walter, his father ____, his father ____, his father James Miller, and his father Magnus, my great-great-great-great-great grandfather who came to America in 1775 around age 8 with his parents (or maybe his aunt and uncle). They entered at Savannah, eventually moving to South Carolina, married Nancy Logan, had a few kids and moved to Blount County, Tennessee, where he later died and was buried. And almost 200 years after that line of the family arrived in America, I was born (1973).
So back to me in high school at that funeral... I remember Uncle Ralph saying something to the effect of: “Well, I think we’ve found everything we can find without going to Orkney, Scotland, and seeing the documents ourselves. I don’t know that I’ll ever get there. Kay [my mom], why don’t you put that on your list?” My mom laughed her that’s-a-ridiculous-idea laugh, which sounded like half a sigh and half a gasp. Having had a lot of ridiculous ideas over my 17 or so years, I was quite familiar with that laugh. She followed up with, “I would love to go to Orkney, but I don’t see that happening.” I knew then how cool it would be if I could one day take (or go with) Uncle Ralph and Mom to Orkney.
Uncle Ralph died the summer I left Florida for North Carolina. I visited him earlier that year. He took me to his favorite place for dinner, where every cute waitress in the room knew him by name and seemed to have more in common with him than I did. Afterwards, he went back to his house, and he seemed determined to share two things with me: 1) the role his Marine unit played in the South Pacific during World War II (their story was published a month or so after my visit); and 2) what he did and didn’t know about Tulloch history and how it was up to the family (my mom, his daughter Gail, maybe me) to carry on the research and pass along the history for generations to come. He never saw Orkney, but now I feel like we have seen it for him.
I’ll hold onto the rest of the details of the day—what we found, what we didn’t, what we must accept that we may never know. I will say that I feel that pull of wanting to know where you come from. And I understand that wanting to discover the past isn’t living in the past. It’s giving yourself new perspective, so you can write your own story in the present and in the future. For me, this trip was more about appreciating the relationship I have with my mom (and in fact, my entire family), and not so much about trying to find out whether John Tulloch and Janet Seaton had 4 kids or 5. But I have to admit that playing historical detective was fun, too. Mr. Heck (7th and 8th grade history) would be proud. Or maybe he would just say, “I told you so.” I’m OK with that.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Day 8: To Orkney!
The students woke up on time this morning, and they are now off to Headington Campus for a tour and rounds of Oxford City with Peter. My parting comment to them was: "Have fun... and make good decisions." We'll see how long that stays with them.
Mom and I got off the bus at Castle Hill to catch the airline shuttle to Heathrow, my 4th ride this week. We stopped in Harvey's at the station for a morning snack or a sandwich, and instead found what might be the most delicious meal yet! Called a breakfast bap, it was 2 strips of bacon (more like American country ham), a fried egg, tomato (grilled or fresh, I chose fresh), all on a dense wheat roll. Very good! And just a little bit messy, but I didn't mind at all.
Now we're sitting in Heathrow waiting to check our bags, so we can make ourselves comfortable on the other side of security until our flight leaves at 3:10pm. I am officially on vacation! That being said, I need to check my HPU email.
An update to the post above...
And that was the last time the blog was updated on the trip. Some people know that I'm now back at home in NC. Got here last night, dinner at Chili's, picked up the pup, and fell into bed.
Internet access in Orkney was nearly non-existent, except for the Orkney Library, which is only open until 5pm. And the time I did have at the computer was spent checking HPU emails and resolving work-related issues. That's ok though. I had did some fun stuff in Oxford, so it's only fair that I do some work stuff on vacation. I digress.
We arrived in Orkney on time, and I felt like I was flying into someone's backyard. On approach, I noticed that the entire Mainland could be seen from the airplane window. All farmland and stone walls, like a handmade patchwork quilt of greens and browns.
The bus system had stopped running, so we loaded our bags into a taxi bound for the Peedie Hostel. Peedie means small in... uh, Norse? Orkney slang?
It's important to note here that the people of Orkney, Orcadians, don't call themselves Scottish or from Scotland. In fact, there are very view obvious signs that Orkney is a part of Scotland. For centuries they have functioned independent of outside influences, yet heavily dependent on one another, and it seems that they pride themselves on that interdependent independence. Kilts are not the typical garb for Orcardians, and the various tartons are not an Orcadian thing.
We arrived on the Orkney mainland to near-solid gray skies. Not storm clouds or imminent rain, just gray skies. I wondered if it looked like that a lot.
Mom and I got off the bus at Castle Hill to catch the airline shuttle to Heathrow, my 4th ride this week. We stopped in Harvey's at the station for a morning snack or a sandwich, and instead found what might be the most delicious meal yet! Called a breakfast bap, it was 2 strips of bacon (more like American country ham), a fried egg, tomato (grilled or fresh, I chose fresh), all on a dense wheat roll. Very good! And just a little bit messy, but I didn't mind at all.
Now we're sitting in Heathrow waiting to check our bags, so we can make ourselves comfortable on the other side of security until our flight leaves at 3:10pm. I am officially on vacation! That being said, I need to check my HPU email.
An update to the post above...
And that was the last time the blog was updated on the trip. Some people know that I'm now back at home in NC. Got here last night, dinner at Chili's, picked up the pup, and fell into bed.
Internet access in Orkney was nearly non-existent, except for the Orkney Library, which is only open until 5pm. And the time I did have at the computer was spent checking HPU emails and resolving work-related issues. That's ok though. I had did some fun stuff in Oxford, so it's only fair that I do some work stuff on vacation. I digress.
We arrived in Orkney on time, and I felt like I was flying into someone's backyard. On approach, I noticed that the entire Mainland could be seen from the airplane window. All farmland and stone walls, like a handmade patchwork quilt of greens and browns.
The bus system had stopped running, so we loaded our bags into a taxi bound for the Peedie Hostel. Peedie means small in... uh, Norse? Orkney slang?
It's important to note here that the people of Orkney, Orcadians, don't call themselves Scottish or from Scotland. In fact, there are very view obvious signs that Orkney is a part of Scotland. For centuries they have functioned independent of outside influences, yet heavily dependent on one another, and it seems that they pride themselves on that interdependent independence. Kilts are not the typical garb for Orcardians, and the various tartons are not an Orcadian thing.
We arrived on the Orkney mainland to near-solid gray skies. Not storm clouds or imminent rain, just gray skies. I wondered if it looked like that a lot.
Monday, September 14, 2009
The weather in Oxford
When we first arrived in London and Oxford, the weather was quite warm. Now (at 9:30pm) it's a chilly 13 C, about 50 F. A big change from the warm afternoons of last week. It's about 50 F in Orkney during the day. I have a feeling I'm going to be buying a couple of those wooly sweaters Orkney is known for.
Day 7: Students are here!
My morning began very early, waking at 5am to catch a taxi to the Glouchester Green Bus Station and a 6:40am shuttle into Heathrow. I arrived right at 8am, just when I told the students I would be there. I walked around and didn't see them. Perhaps immigration took longer than the hour I had allotted them. An hour later, nothing. I rode the moving sidewalk over to Terminal 2, thinking maybe Michael would be exiting immigration. No one. Then I made my way back to the Central Bus Station. An hour passed, nothing. And finally, I saw Chelsea pulling her luggage out of the lift and into the station. She looked tired. And it's no wonder, since her flight from Nashville had her leaving at noonish (central time) on Sunday, going through Houston, and landing in London at 7:30am the next morning. Ugh.
I wondered where the others were. They were all flying into the same terminal, and I suspected they were together. I was right. I found them pushing their luggage (and a lot of it) into Terminal 2. It seems the airline list I consulted in London had Virgin Atlantic coming into Terminal 2, same as the bus station. They landed at Terminal 3 instead.
After a cup of coffee and a moment to rest and purchase tickets, we were on our way to Oxford. We switched buses at the High Street stop, right in the middle of the hustle and bustle. A questionable decision on my part since their luggage blocked half of the sidewalk. It only makes sense though, since Margaux had packed everything from pots and pans to food to clothes to you name it! She was well-prepared for the 3.5 months abroad.
Then came the challenge of keeping the students awake until a reasonable evening hour. Peter met with them in the house's dining room, going over some expectations and reassurances. And then I led them into town to familiarize them with the bus system and stall until at least 7pm.
We rejoined the students at 7pm and made our way to the 7:50pm bus at High Street. I stopped at an ATM only to find that Wachovia had once again blocked my ATM card for overseas use. I called for the 5th time in 7 days and nearly $40 in international calls (mostly spent on hold) to try to straighten out the ordeal. I can't understand why their idea of customer service is no better than the crap service I've been getting from them.
Maybe after working at HPU, I have a heightened expectation of what customer service is supposed to be like. Dare I say that HPU has spoiled me for service, and I am now often disappointed by the lack of results from other companies. Indeed, results do rule! And if Wachovia's poor service for overseas travelers continues, the result will be closing my accounts and stuffing my money in my mattress... or maybe a cookie jar. I wonder, which is the least predictable of the two options for potential thieves?
Hmm... something to ponder as I sit in McDonalds at 9:30pm, waiting for the bus to return. I was still on hold (see above) when the bus came to take me and the students back to campus. They headed to bed, and I returned to Scott House, only to discover that I didn't have the 100 pounds required to square my accommodation tab with Harcourt Hill. So I hopped the next bus back to town; the ATM did work (this time). Now I have just short of an hour to kill before catching the return bus at 10:05pm. A McDonalds milkshake is slowly smoothing out my frustrations. And the fact that their free wifi is actually working today is a definite perk.
It's been a long day, but a good one. The students are settled in and on their way to getting their internal clocks recalibrated/reset. We will all see each other one more time tomorrow morning at the bus stop, as they leave with Peter bound for the Headington campus, and Mom and I make our way to Orkney for the rest of the week. With a few days of rest and relaxation ahead of me on an island that is only 15 miles wide, I'm really looking forward to locating that beaten path and being absolutely sure that I stay off of it. Goodbye, city! Nature, here I come!
Oh, and Chris... garlic or very hot? How about both?
I wondered where the others were. They were all flying into the same terminal, and I suspected they were together. I was right. I found them pushing their luggage (and a lot of it) into Terminal 2. It seems the airline list I consulted in London had Virgin Atlantic coming into Terminal 2, same as the bus station. They landed at Terminal 3 instead.
After a cup of coffee and a moment to rest and purchase tickets, we were on our way to Oxford. We switched buses at the High Street stop, right in the middle of the hustle and bustle. A questionable decision on my part since their luggage blocked half of the sidewalk. It only makes sense though, since Margaux had packed everything from pots and pans to food to clothes to you name it! She was well-prepared for the 3.5 months abroad.
On the bus, we met Robert, the Harcourt Hill chaplain, who was kind enough to help us carry and pull bags to the students' residence hall (House 3 on the Harcourt Hill campus). Robert lives in House 1. That makes me feel better about their supervision. Peter also met us at the stop and carried and pulled various bags to House 3. Keys were distributed, ID cards were made, Marshall obtained long-awaited internet access in the 24-hour lab. The day was a success.
Then came the challenge of keeping the students awake until a reasonable evening hour. Peter met with them in the house's dining room, going over some expectations and reassurances. And then I led them into town to familiarize them with the bus system and stall until at least 7pm.We took the Queen Lane stop and made our way back towards the hub of the area. The students walked up Cornmarket Street with planned stops at Starbucks (coffee), Boots (pharmacy), and Sainbury Local (grocery).
Mom and I walked up Cornmarket to the Waterstone bookstore and then to the left towards Nando's. I have to give a big shout-out to Scott for the Nando's info. He had not yet steered me wrong with restaurant and cafe recommendations, and Nando's was just as good as he said! I had the Prego Steak Wrap with herb & lemon sauce. Mom had a 1/4 Chicken with the mango & lime sauce. She had a side of mashed sweet potato (delish!). My side was garlic bread (also to die for). And we added an extra--grilled halloumi cheese. Incredible! Like fresh buffalo mozz melted and grilled in a salty butter brushing. Yum!
We rejoined the students at 7pm and made our way to the 7:50pm bus at High Street. I stopped at an ATM only to find that Wachovia had once again blocked my ATM card for overseas use. I called for the 5th time in 7 days and nearly $40 in international calls (mostly spent on hold) to try to straighten out the ordeal. I can't understand why their idea of customer service is no better than the crap service I've been getting from them.
Maybe after working at HPU, I have a heightened expectation of what customer service is supposed to be like. Dare I say that HPU has spoiled me for service, and I am now often disappointed by the lack of results from other companies. Indeed, results do rule! And if Wachovia's poor service for overseas travelers continues, the result will be closing my accounts and stuffing my money in my mattress... or maybe a cookie jar. I wonder, which is the least predictable of the two options for potential thieves?
Hmm... something to ponder as I sit in McDonalds at 9:30pm, waiting for the bus to return. I was still on hold (see above) when the bus came to take me and the students back to campus. They headed to bed, and I returned to Scott House, only to discover that I didn't have the 100 pounds required to square my accommodation tab with Harcourt Hill. So I hopped the next bus back to town; the ATM did work (this time). Now I have just short of an hour to kill before catching the return bus at 10:05pm. A McDonalds milkshake is slowly smoothing out my frustrations. And the fact that their free wifi is actually working today is a definite perk.
It's been a long day, but a good one. The students are settled in and on their way to getting their internal clocks recalibrated/reset. We will all see each other one more time tomorrow morning at the bus stop, as they leave with Peter bound for the Headington campus, and Mom and I make our way to Orkney for the rest of the week. With a few days of rest and relaxation ahead of me on an island that is only 15 miles wide, I'm really looking forward to locating that beaten path and being absolutely sure that I stay off of it. Goodbye, city! Nature, here I come!
Oh, and Chris... garlic or very hot? How about both?
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Day 6: Preparing for the students...
Sunday was a catch-up-on-sleep day and a finish-up day, seeing everything that I hadn’t gotten to see and do in Oxford before leaving. The students will arrive tomorrow, and I will be busy just trying to keep them awake until a decent time at night. I doubt they will sleep much (or well) on their flights.
They are all scheduled to arrive 7:00-7:30am. That means, in order to meet them, I have to be up to catch a taxi at 6:20am to take me to the Gloucester Green bus station in town so I can catch the 6:40am X70 bus to London. I'll meet the students, help them buy tickets, switch buses with them, and accompany them back to campus where they will settle into their residence hall and explore the city.
Having dinner at Peter's tonight. Peter is our students' host (and mine) during their time in Oxford. He has been incredibly accommodating and a wealth of information about all things Oxford!
An update to the previous post...
Peter was kind enough to enough me (and my mom) to his house for dinner. “To see a typical British household in action,” he said. And I’m so glad that we went.
I wondered if I was dressed well enough, but when I saw his manpris and Nike t-shirt, I breathed a sigh of relief. He and his wife Janet had cooked an incredible meal, along with help from their daughter Sarah (the middle child and younger of 2 daughters). Sarah finished her undergraduate program last spring and is preparing for graduate studies. When we arrived, their son (whose name I would remember if I had typed this a week ago) was playing acoustic guitar like nobody’s business. He was amazing! And of course I was green with envy when he told me he’d only been playing 2 years.
We had a great chat about the differences between standardized testing in the U.S. and in the UK and how the university application process is not centralized in the U.S., thus students have to complete numerous applications to as many different institutions and pay just as many application fees. They thought that was a ridiculous waste of time. And you know, I agree. Flashback to fall semester of 1990, when I couldn’t bear to complete another application (sorry, Tusculum College and Coach Botta) despite the promise of a full academic/athletic scholarship that waited at the other end. I just couldn’t make myself write the answers to those three essay questions.
They asked about our upcoming trip to Orkney and told about the wooly hats that a cousin (or friend) had brought them after a visit to Orkney last year. I was surprised that such incredible places are just a short distance away, yet many people within the UK don’t do much exploring within other parts of the UK. I suppose the same can be said for people who live in our little corner of the world and never visit some of its most beautiful/historic/significant locales.
It was going on 9:00pm before I remembered my 5:30am alarm. Peter drove us back to campus, and we snuggled into our rooms for a good rest (of course, Mom got to sleep longer than me).
They are all scheduled to arrive 7:00-7:30am. That means, in order to meet them, I have to be up to catch a taxi at 6:20am to take me to the Gloucester Green bus station in town so I can catch the 6:40am X70 bus to London. I'll meet the students, help them buy tickets, switch buses with them, and accompany them back to campus where they will settle into their residence hall and explore the city.
Having dinner at Peter's tonight. Peter is our students' host (and mine) during their time in Oxford. He has been incredibly accommodating and a wealth of information about all things Oxford!
An update to the previous post...
Peter was kind enough to enough me (and my mom) to his house for dinner. “To see a typical British household in action,” he said. And I’m so glad that we went.
I wondered if I was dressed well enough, but when I saw his manpris and Nike t-shirt, I breathed a sigh of relief. He and his wife Janet had cooked an incredible meal, along with help from their daughter Sarah (the middle child and younger of 2 daughters). Sarah finished her undergraduate program last spring and is preparing for graduate studies. When we arrived, their son (whose name I would remember if I had typed this a week ago) was playing acoustic guitar like nobody’s business. He was amazing! And of course I was green with envy when he told me he’d only been playing 2 years.
We had a great chat about the differences between standardized testing in the U.S. and in the UK and how the university application process is not centralized in the U.S., thus students have to complete numerous applications to as many different institutions and pay just as many application fees. They thought that was a ridiculous waste of time. And you know, I agree. Flashback to fall semester of 1990, when I couldn’t bear to complete another application (sorry, Tusculum College and Coach Botta) despite the promise of a full academic/athletic scholarship that waited at the other end. I just couldn’t make myself write the answers to those three essay questions.
They asked about our upcoming trip to Orkney and told about the wooly hats that a cousin (or friend) had brought them after a visit to Orkney last year. I was surprised that such incredible places are just a short distance away, yet many people within the UK don’t do much exploring within other parts of the UK. I suppose the same can be said for people who live in our little corner of the world and never visit some of its most beautiful/historic/significant locales.
It was going on 9:00pm before I remembered my 5:30am alarm. Peter drove us back to campus, and we snuggled into our rooms for a good rest (of course, Mom got to sleep longer than me).
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Day 5: Dover: Planes, Trains, and Automobiles
Well, it wasn't easy, but we did it. And I'm so glad we did!
To get to Dover from Oxford, we woke up early and caught the first Brookes bus into town. We got off at the stop just across from the train station. We booked a return train (meaning round-trip) from Oxford to Dover. That meant 1 hour on the train into London, the tube from Paddington Station to Charing Cross, the 1.5-hour train from Charing Cross to Dover. And then back. Whew!
Instead of going directly to the Western Docks, we walked away from the water about 1 block to the tourist information office, and by complete accident found the hub of the town. A 10-block pedestrian walk from the tourist office (near the ruins of St. Edmund's), past the Bronze Age boat and the Roman House ruins, all the way to the 20' x 40' jumbo-tron in the middle of the square where the day's football (soccer) matches were showing. Talk about a blending of time and space!
We cut our window-shopping short and headed for the Western Docks just in time to catch the next boat tour going out into the harbor. The harbor is housed behind a lock system to prevent the boats from running aground during low tide.
We were fortunate in that our fellow passengers consisted of a talkative British couple with their grandson Kye, who drove the boat. My nephew would have jumped at the chance, but Kye was very unsure of himself when given the opportunity. With a little prodding and encouragement, he slowly crept into the wheelhouse and took the reins.
To get to Dover from Oxford, we woke up early and caught the first Brookes bus into town. We got off at the stop just across from the train station. We booked a return train (meaning round-trip) from Oxford to Dover. That meant 1 hour on the train into London, the tube from Paddington Station to Charing Cross, the 1.5-hour train from Charing Cross to Dover. And then back. Whew!
Prince Albert isn't in a can... he's in Dover! At a pub, of course!
We could have hired a car, but I was a little nervous about driving in town. Highways, I have down, but since there are more than 2 roads in England, even highway driving would be much more complicated than driving on the North Island of New Zealand.
Having (almost) completely figured out the Tube system, it was a piece of cake! We arrived just after noon in Dover. On the way out of the train station, we passed a food stand and stopped for lunch. Since toast was all we chose to eat before we left, it was a welcome sight, even if the fish and chips were frozen and out of a bag.Instead of going directly to the Western Docks, we walked away from the water about 1 block to the tourist information office, and by complete accident found the hub of the town. A 10-block pedestrian walk from the tourist office (near the ruins of St. Edmund's), past the Bronze Age boat and the Roman House ruins, all the way to the 20' x 40' jumbo-tron in the middle of the square where the day's football (soccer) matches were showing. Talk about a blending of time and space!
We were fortunate in that our fellow passengers consisted of a talkative British couple with their grandson Kye, who drove the boat. My nephew would have jumped at the chance, but Kye was very unsure of himself when given the opportunity. With a little prodding and encouragement, he slowly crept into the wheelhouse and took the reins.
After the boat returned to the docks, our captain drove us in a shuttlebus to the top of the hill where Dover Castle stood.
I know I can't repeat the history accurately in the blod, without many references and some audiovisuals, so instead, I'll say that I don't know of any other structure that has withstood the damage of time and neglect (built in the 1170s and 1180s) and served so many uses over such a long period of time. These uses include its original purpose as home of Henry II, ___, ___, hiding townspeople in the underground tunnels during the first and last bombings during World War II, evacuating Allied soldiers following the German invasion into Dunkirk, and serving as a back-up government for all of England, should London be blown away by a nuclear blast. Most recently, St. Mary the Virgin Church inside the Castle's grounds served as the location for a wedding. We watched from the rooftop of the Castle.
The view of France from the Dover cliffs:
The trip back took much longer than the trip to there, with more than a dozen stops instead of the 2 or 3 on the way to Dover. We got back just after midnight, and finally settled down just in time to catch my nephew, bro, and sis-in-law at home and hear that UT lost to UCLA.
We saw some ugly Americans while we were in Dover. No wonder they don't like us as a people in general. This pair, the woman in particular, were so obnoxious that even Mom and I were trying to distance ourselves from them. No need in someone thinking that we were traveling together. And then of course, they showed up in the train station, but thank goodness were traveling through another location in London.
And, we met an ugly Brit. A drunken ugly Brit at that. He couldn't decide which he hated more--the damn Yanks or the damn Paki's. An interesting perspective on world peace. My biggest laugh came when he asked Mom a question, and she answered in the most country-fried American accent I've ever heard. He didn't catch on.
Day 4: Oxford Brookes University!
I'm going to save this one for later. Time and computer battery are running low.
Ok, the easiest way to talk about Oxford is in photos, so here ya go:
Ok, the easiest way to talk about Oxford is in photos, so here ya go:
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Day 3: Oxford is beautiful and very old!
Where do I even begin! So much has happened since then!
We took the bus from the hotel to Heathrow's Terminal 2 where the Central Bus Station is located, bought our tickets for Oxford, and immediately boarded the bus that was getting ready to leave. About 80 minutes later, we were in Oxford, wondering how to get to Harcourt Hill. I remembered that we needed to switch to the local bus system to get there, but I had no idea where it was on a map.
We exited the bus at Headington Hill campus of Oxford Brookes, which is their main campus out of three. The third is Wheatley on the west end of town. The bus took us through downtown, turning on St. Agdate Street to Castle Road to New Road to Queen Street and turning left up the hill to Harcourt. If I didn't say it, only Chris and Elizabeth Ann would know that we got off the bus one stop too soon, and that the next driver who picked us up had to choke back a laugh. However, I must uphold the integrity of the blog, telling the bad with the good. (FYI: Today/Day 6 was really good!)
After arriving at Harcourt, I couldn't help but notice how secluded it was, far removed from the hustle and bustle of town, but yet not that far away. We picked up our keys to Scott House, met Peter (my host for the weekend), and got settled in. Peter set me up on his email account, but that was short-lasted since I wasn't able to return later to respond to emails for hours like I usually do on these trips. Plus we were starving! We would later learn that the best food in Oxford was at the bus station. We ate lunch in the Harcourt Hill refrectory.
We made our way downtown on the Brookes Bus, walked around the streets of downtown, saw the churches, schools of Oxford, etc., for at least 4 hours. I stayed on the phone with Wachovia for more than 45 minutes while they argued with each other about why I couldn't use my ATM card abroad. It wouldn't be until 20 minutes on the phone the following day that it would finally be resolved. And then again 2 days later when it stopped working.
We got back to campus just after dark and immediately fell asleep. And that was our easy day to recover from London the day before!
We took the bus from the hotel to Heathrow's Terminal 2 where the Central Bus Station is located, bought our tickets for Oxford, and immediately boarded the bus that was getting ready to leave. About 80 minutes later, we were in Oxford, wondering how to get to Harcourt Hill. I remembered that we needed to switch to the local bus system to get there, but I had no idea where it was on a map.
We exited the bus at Headington Hill campus of Oxford Brookes, which is their main campus out of three. The third is Wheatley on the west end of town. The bus took us through downtown, turning on St. Agdate Street to Castle Road to New Road to Queen Street and turning left up the hill to Harcourt. If I didn't say it, only Chris and Elizabeth Ann would know that we got off the bus one stop too soon, and that the next driver who picked us up had to choke back a laugh. However, I must uphold the integrity of the blog, telling the bad with the good. (FYI: Today/Day 6 was really good!)
After arriving at Harcourt, I couldn't help but notice how secluded it was, far removed from the hustle and bustle of town, but yet not that far away. We picked up our keys to Scott House, met Peter (my host for the weekend), and got settled in. Peter set me up on his email account, but that was short-lasted since I wasn't able to return later to respond to emails for hours like I usually do on these trips. Plus we were starving! We would later learn that the best food in Oxford was at the bus station. We ate lunch in the Harcourt Hill refrectory.
We made our way downtown on the Brookes Bus, walked around the streets of downtown, saw the churches, schools of Oxford, etc., for at least 4 hours. I stayed on the phone with Wachovia for more than 45 minutes while they argued with each other about why I couldn't use my ATM card abroad. It wouldn't be until 20 minutes on the phone the following day that it would finally be resolved. And then again 2 days later when it stopped working.
We got back to campus just after dark and immediately fell asleep. And that was our easy day to recover from London the day before!
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Day 2: A FULL day in London and... We're still alive!
Ok, so people got jokes! Here is what this post should have said...
After a much-needed sleep, we woke up and made our way by bus to the Tube station at Hatton Cross on the Piccadilly Line. Thinking it wouldn't take long to get into the city, we opted to stand, a poor choice that we wouldn't fully realize for several more hours.
Our first stop was Hyde Park, the closest stop to Buckingham Palace. After coming out of the Tube station, we immediately saw a modern art display in honor of the long-standing relationship between Great Britain and New Zealand. One post commemorated the departure of the British Colonials, who would later return as the incredibly successful New Zealand All-Blacks (rugby). I couldn't resist shedding my shoe and sock for a koru photo.
We walked a few more blocks before realizing that we hadn't eaten lunch, so we stopped at one of the MANY Pret a Manger cafes for such healthy, organic sustenance. Odd that my first meal in England was entirely Italian, complete with buffalo mozzarella and proscuitto. (I miss Florence!) We sat at the fountain at Trafalgar Square for about 30 seconds, long enough for the wind to blow and get us (me) wet, so we retreated to the steps in front of the National Gallery.
And oh, the people-watching commenced!! People climbing on top of the four lions around Nelson's Column,
something I would never do...
And the next must-see? Piccadilly Circus! We got more than we bargained for. Evidently, England had a FIFA World Cup qualifying game to play tonight, and the entire country of Croatia was in town for the soccer/football. There are no words, only images...
and singing... and video...
OK, I'LL UPLOAD LATER, BUT YOU GOTTA SEE/HEAR IT!!
From the way they were partying, we wondered if they had beaten England the night before. Then their singing included what would be the only English words: "Hey, England. We're sorry for tonight." Too bad the team wasn't able to make good on their promise with Croatia losing to England 5-1, allowing England into the finals in South Africa next summer. As Mom pointed out, they're probably too drunk to care by now.
After way too many blocks, Mom and I agreed that we should eat somewhere else (translation: she pooped out). We decided to eat at Pommeler's Pub, a J. D. Wetherspoon Free House, in the shadows of Tower Bridge. She had cod fish and chips with peas. I had Beef and Abbot Ale pie with mash and veggies.
With our feet rested and our tummies full, we walked across Tower Bridge in search of a Tube station. Thank goodness we didn't have to stand long. I don't think Mom (or I) would have made it! Then a quick hop on the bus, and we were standing in front of our hotel. Unfortunately, on the other side of a tall fence in the median from our hotel. A little strategic planning and a lot of squeezing and grunting, and we were through! Showers, electrical equipment charging, and now we're off to bed.
Just kidding. I didn't sleep in the bath tub, but I could have. It was huge! Tomorrow will be an easier day... I hope.
After a much-needed sleep, we woke up and made our way by bus to the Tube station at Hatton Cross on the Piccadilly Line. Thinking it wouldn't take long to get into the city, we opted to stand, a poor choice that we wouldn't fully realize for several more hours.
Our first stop was Hyde Park, the closest stop to Buckingham Palace. After coming out of the Tube station, we immediately saw a modern art display in honor of the long-standing relationship between Great Britain and New Zealand. One post commemorated the departure of the British Colonials, who would later return as the incredibly successful New Zealand All-Blacks (rugby). I couldn't resist shedding my shoe and sock for a koru photo.
Then we made our way down the Princess Diana Memorial Walk to Buckingham Palace. Pictures taken, sat at the Queen Victoria Memorial fountain, saw the guards. Yeah, yeah, yeah. It wasn't really what I was looking forward to, but it's on the list of things you have to do as a first-time London visitor.
The highlight was these crazy German dudes (I'm convinced that most crazy dudes I find in other countries are German):
We walked a few more blocks before realizing that we hadn't eaten lunch, so we stopped at one of the MANY Pret a Manger cafes for such healthy, organic sustenance. Odd that my first meal in England was entirely Italian, complete with buffalo mozzarella and proscuitto. (I miss Florence!) We sat at the fountain at Trafalgar Square for about 30 seconds, long enough for the wind to blow and get us (me) wet, so we retreated to the steps in front of the National Gallery.
something I would never do...
And the next must-see? Piccadilly Circus! We got more than we bargained for. Evidently, England had a FIFA World Cup qualifying game to play tonight, and the entire country of Croatia was in town for the soccer/football. There are no words, only images...
and singing... and video...
OK, I'LL UPLOAD LATER, BUT YOU GOTTA SEE/HEAR IT!!
From the way they were partying, we wondered if they had beaten England the night before. Then their singing included what would be the only English words: "Hey, England. We're sorry for tonight." Too bad the team wasn't able to make good on their promise with Croatia losing to England 5-1, allowing England into the finals in South Africa next summer. As Mom pointed out, they're probably too drunk to care by now.
After Piccadilly Circus, we backtracked to the National Gallery and went in. I hope my friend Scott (and my high school art history teacher Carla Thomas) is proud. I'm so glad we didn't pass up the opportunity to see Rembrandt's self-portraits at age 34 and 63, Di Vinci's The Leonardo Cartoon, Van Gogh's Sunflowers, Seurat's Bathers at Asnieres, Monet's Lilypond Bridge____, and a number of pieces from Cezanne, Botticelli, Michelangelo, Raphael, Van Dyck, Rubens, and others. It's not the Uffici, but I'm so glad we stopped.
Leaving Trafalgar Square, we walked up Whitehall to Big Ben and Parliament. I couldn't help but remember the immortal words of Clark W. Griswald as he was stuck in the round-about: "Hey kids...there's Parliament, Big Ben." And hours later: "Kids...Parliament, Big Ben." We were fortunate enough NOT to see the poor bicyclist he repeatedly ran over with the rental car. I'm interpreting that as a good prophecy for our upcoming car hire.
We walked across River Thames, and I asked Mom a foreboding question: "How are you feeling? Do you want to walk some more?" After a cheerful response, we were off the 2 miles or so to Shakespeare's Globe Theatre. (Passed Nando's on the way!) Unfortunately, tonight's show was already at full house (sold out).
We sat down, checked our map, and started walking towards Tower Bridge with plans to eat at M Manze, said to be London's oldest pie shop, established in 1902, with marble-topped tables and worn wooden benches. Along the way, we passed the Clink Prison Museum, famous for its medieval torture (Look! Turkey tracks!);
the Golden Hinde, Sir Francis Drake's 16th Century galleon;
Southwark Cathedral, the oldest gothic church in London (606 A.D.);
Westchester Palace from the 12th Century;
London Bridge; a Krispy Kreme shop (smelled it before we saw it); a familiar name;
and then Tower Bridge!
After way too many blocks, Mom and I agreed that we should eat somewhere else (translation: she pooped out). We decided to eat at Pommeler's Pub, a J. D. Wetherspoon Free House, in the shadows of Tower Bridge. She had cod fish and chips with peas. I had Beef and Abbot Ale pie with mash and veggies.
With our feet rested and our tummies full, we walked across Tower Bridge in search of a Tube station. Thank goodness we didn't have to stand long. I don't think Mom (or I) would have made it! Then a quick hop on the bus, and we were standing in front of our hotel. Unfortunately, on the other side of a tall fence in the median from our hotel. A little strategic planning and a lot of squeezing and grunting, and we were through! Showers, electrical equipment charging, and now we're off to bed.
Just kidding. I didn't sleep in the bath tub, but I could have. It was huge! Tomorrow will be an easier day... I hope.
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