A Pilgrimage

Last Friday, I went to Canterbury and Dover. FINALLY. I’ve been dying to go for ages.

Lucky for me, the National Express bus to Dover via Canterbury goes right through New Cross, so I was able to sleep a little longer than if I had to go all the way to the Victoria coach station. I hopped on the bus just after 9am at New Cross Gate, and it was about an hour and a half to Canterbury.

Canterbury is really lovely. It just has that old English charm. The city centre is enclosed within a wall dating from the Roman and Saxon periods, the streets are narrow and cobbled, and it’s mostly pedestrians-only. It almost felt like I’d stepped back in time…but then I opened my eyes to see Marks & Spencer and Pret à Manger. Oh well.

Canterbury High Street.

I got to Canterbury Cathedral just after it opened, which was nice because I had a little time in there while it was relatively quiet—before it was overrun with French schoolchildren. The cathedral was really cool, in my opinion. But then, I have a thing for cathedrals. I don’t know what it is—I just find them very peaceful and inspiring. There wasn’t much to do besides wander around and take it all in because Canterbury’s more famous for its size and its role as the seat of Anglicanism than for its architecture or famous relics. Well, except for that whole Thomas à Becket thing. You know.

Canterbury Cathedral.

I walked through the nave, which is HUGE; passed through the cloisters, where the choir from the elite prep school on the cathedral grounds was practicing (sigh); passed through the dark, underground crypt; saw the shrine to St. Thomas, who was murdered and martyred in the cathedral; admired the comparatively lavish quire; and saw the tomb of Edward, the Black Prince.

Nave.

Cloisters.

Shrine to St. Thomas.

Quire.

Tomb of Edward, the Black Prince.

It had started raining after I went into the cathedral—good timing!—and as it’d stopped, I went outside to walk around the grounds. There were some really cool ruins, and my guidebook mentioned something about a Norman staircase which I went in search of but don’t think I found.

Ruins.

If this is the staircase (the only one near where it should have been on the map), then it was terribly disappointing. Fortunately, the rest of Canterbury Cathedral was not!

Norman Staircase?

I left the cathedral and grabbed some lunch on the go, heading out of the city walls to St. Augustine’s Abbey. Well, the ruins of what was St. Augustine’s Abbey. There’s not much to tell about this sight-seeing expedition. It was really just a bunch of piles of stones on the ground, for the most part. But it was still cool. It’s all that remains of the abbey that St. Augustine built when he came over to England to covert the Kentish Saxon kings and their subjects. It was added to and built upon over the years (especially by the invading Normans, who came along about 400 years later), but eventually it was closed, neglected, and fell into disrepair. As you can see, “disrepair” is a bit of an understatement.

St. Augustine's Abbey.

After the abbey, I only had about half an hour before I had to catch the bus to Dover. So I took a walk along the outer wall and then wandered the streets of the inner city, trying to avoid the throngs of French schoolchildren as much as possible. Believe me, it wasn’t as easy as it sounds.

Canterbury city walls.

Dover was only a 40-minute drive away and soon the big port and the magnificent white cliffs were in view. I got off in the center of town and was…unimpressed, to say the least. The guidebook was right when it said, “Dreary Dover is the kind of ugly port town that you either visit to pile on and off its cross-channel ferries to France or else to make a dash for its premier attractions and move quickly on…the town itself has an embattled aura, with run-down post-war architecture and often palpable tensions between asylum-seekers and long-term residents.”

So, I took their advice and made a beeline for Dover Castle. It was a bit of a hike up steep, steep roads, but I made it in one piece. Then I found out that entry is £8! As the castle’s huge, I thought it was probably worth the price. Well, it wasn’t really.

It was pretty boring, the keep was closed, and it was totally deserted. There was a tour of the “Secret Wartime Tunnels” (obviously not a secret anymore), which were built for use during WWII, a half hour after I arrived, but I didn’t go because the tour lasted an hour and I wouldn’t have had time to see the rest of the castle before I had to leave for the cliffs. In hindsight, I think the Wartime Tunnels had to have been the most interesting part of the castle. Oh well.

I still got some lovely views, saw a Roman lighthouse and a Saxon church, wandered into dark tunnels where I stepped in unseen puddles and got my shoes wet, walked along the ramparts, and explored the (rather short) medieval underground passageway. It was a nice walk around, but perhaps not an £8 walk around. Still, I’m glad I went because I’d have regretted it if I didn’t (hey, I didn’t know it would be lame!).

Dover.

The keep. (CLOSED.)

Saxon church and Roman lighthouse.

After the castle it was off to the cliffs. According to my map, it’s 1.2 miles from the castle to the White Cliffs Visitors Centre, so I walked and walked and walked—all up hill again! From the Visitors Centre it wasn't easy to find the trails, oddly enough, but I managed somehow and started walking (yes, more walking). At first I thought I went the wrong way. But then I started to see chalky outcrops.

Walking along the trail...

And then I rounded a corner and…BAM!

White Cliffs!

My original plan was to go on a boat tour to see the cliffs, but I misread the guidebook. I thought the trips ran every day, but apparently they only run on weekends except for July and August. Ah, so close! If only I’d gone on Saturday, or waited a week…

So I didn’t see the cliffs in their full-frontal glory, but they were still really awesome. Definitely Dover’s redeeming factor.

I didn’t stay too long up in the cliffs because I had to get back to the centre of town to catch the bus. I made it in time, hopped on, and slept most of the way back to New Cross. It was a long day, but truly a wonderful one. I think I need to take more day trips! (Cue the Beatles…)

Liv's Visit to London

At the end of May, on her way back home from a semester in Berlin, Liv stopped in London for a couple of days. Her visit was all too short, but we managed to squeeze in some sightseeing. Here’s what we did:

After a quick nap, we went for an evening walk along the Thames on my favorite walking route. We started at London Bridge Station and ended up at Westminster. Along the way, we walked through Borough, Bankside, and the Southbank, where we saw things like Southwark Cathedral, the Golden Hinde, Shakespeare’s Globe, Tate Modern, the National Theatre, the BFI, the Eye, and the Palace of Westminster (aka the Houses of Parliament). It was a nice walk and by the time we reached the grand finale—a photo op with Big Ben!—the setting sun had begun to cast a golden glow on the city. Sigh.

Liv looking over the Thames toward St. Paul's

Haha...It's Big Ben!

I had made a big pot of vegetarian chili while Liv was sleeping, so we came back to my place for dinner and crashed relatively early to rest up for a full day of adventures on Friday.

Our first stop on Friday morning was Oxford street to do some shopping. We started at the Tottenham Court Road end, and finished at Oxford Circus rather than going all the way to the other end at Hyde Park. Liv was particularly excited to go to the HUGE Topshop. Seriously, I couldn’t find her for like half an hour in there…

Shopping was followed by a trip to the Tower of London. Unfortunately, I’m a big loser, so we missed the last free guided tour of the day. But the yeoman warder (actually a woman) who was leading it wasn’t the hilarious guy who led the tour Ian and I went on, so we didn’t miss out on the jokes, at least. I took Liv on a private “guided” tour instead, and tried to pass on as much information as I could remember. The Tower has lots of little nooks and crannies to explore, so we saw as much as we could before heading to the Henry VIII exhibit: “Dressed to Kill.” Oh England…awesomely bad jokes abound!

Outside the Tower of London.

Like this one I saw on a Penguin chocolate bar wrapper:

Q. What’s black and white and black and white and black and white?

A. A penguin rolling down the hill.

(Yes, the hill.)

Or this one I saw on a packet of crisps:

Man: Doctor, I’m so stressed! I can’t tell if I’m a teepee or a wigwam.

Doctor: Relax, you’re too tense!

(Two tents, get it?!)

But I digress. We had a good time at the Tower and stayed until closing. Then we went back to New Cross to regroup and have a little something to eat before heading out again. It was dark by the time we made it into the city, so we headed for Trafalgar Square, which happens to look really cool at night.

Obligatory phone booth shot.

Then we walked to Buckingham Palace, through St. James’s Park and over the footbridge from which there is a surprisingly good view of the Palace. Nighttime was actually a good time to go because there was no one around, and you can’t go in anyway, so it doesn’t matter if you visit at a time when things would normally be closed.

Buckingham Palace.

On Saturday morning, we went to Portobello Road Market, which is an insanely huge outdoor antiques/everything market in Notting Hill. Since it was a nice day, it was absurdly crowded, so it wasn’t as enjoyable as it could have been. We wove through the crowds for a bit and tried to elbow our way to a few tables, but after about an hour we gave up and headed back into Central London.

We were hungry at that point, so we made a beeline for Soho (which does not, incidentally, stand for “South of” anything) where there was a vegetarian restaurant we read about in my London guidebook on loan from Kacey. It was called Mildred’s and it was delicious.

Refuelled and ready for more exploring, we walked around Soho for a bit and headed down Carnaby Street, another London shopping mecca. (Side note: it sounds like we did a lot of shopping, but really, we did a lot of looking. I promise.) Hare Krishnas from a nearby temple often come singing down this street, but we didn’t see any this time.

Next stop: British Museum. Liv was excited to go, and I love the British Museum (I’ve been about 15 times. Seriously.) so this was the big adventure for the day. We admired the beauty of the great court, stood in awe of the Rosetta stone, and Liv showed me some of her favorite works from art history classes. I particularly liked the Cycladic figures from ancient Greece.

Taking pictures of the controversial Elgin Marbles.

Cycladic figures.

Self-portrait outside the British Museum.

We stuck around until closing and the docents literally had to tear us out of the North American gallery. OK, well, maybe we stayed until they told us it was time to leave. Anyway, we went to Leicester Square after that. It was rather busy, but it was Saturday evening, after all. We decided to go take in a few more sights before going back to New Cross to pack—which was no small job considering Liv had a semester’s worth of stuff with her!—and so made our way back to Trafalgar Square as our starting point. From there we walked to Westminster to see Big Ben and Westminster Abbey from the outside. Then we hopped on the tube, racing the sun to make it to St. Paul’s around sunset. We arrived just after, but it was still cool. Liv was excited to finally see a Christopher Wren original (he’s the architect).

With Big Ben.

St. Paul's at dusk.

Later that evening we packed everything up and turned in early so we could go out to breakfast before leaving for the airport. In the morning, we took a bus to Southbank (because the stupid Jubilee Line wasn’t running, as usual for the weekend) to go this restaurant called Giraffe. But, we were really bummed because we got there before it even opened! We could have stayed and waited, but we would have had a very rushed and stressful meal so we found another restaurant that was open nearby. It was called Le Pain Quotidien and it was super French. But it was also, like Mildred’s, delicious.

We had a little time before we needed to leave, so we walked across the Golden Jubilee Bridge and back. Liv modeled her new Topshop dress and we met a couple of hilarious Icelandic guys who asked us to take their picture. They gave us a few good laughs.

On the Golden Jubilee Bridge.

To get to the airport, we took a bus from New Cross to Paddington (which took an hour, eew) and then took the train to Heathrow. I was worried we might be late, but we made it in plenty of time. Typical me, rushing to the airport thinking I’m late, and I get there early or right on time. Anyway, I saw Liv off—with her fabulous new haircut, in case you didn't notice—and watched her pass through security and disappear.

Going back to New Cross I was happy to have had a wonderful weekend with Liv, but was also feeling quite sad to be all alone in London again. Having Ian and Liv out both around the same time really spoiled me! Come back, you two!

Helen’s Triumphant Return to Blogging…and a Wedding, Too

Yes, yes. I have been absent a long time. Between Ian’s and Liv’s visits, sorting through at least 1,000 pictures (seriously) from those visits, planning my dissertation film, and the trip I took this past weekend to Miami for a wedding, I haven’t had much of a chance to blog.

But I’m back! For now, I’ll update you all on my tropical mini-holiday. And then slowly, slowly, I’ll work my way through Ian’s and Liv’s visits. I’ve finished going through all the Berlin photos, so that will be the first entry. Something to look forward to!

So this wedding business. For those of you who don’t know, I attended the wedding of my friend Chris and his fiancée (now wife) Andrea. Chris was my junior high assistant principal, then high school track coach, then, after high school, just a very good friend. Besides sharing a lot of common interests, I think we bonded because we’re cut from the same cloth—we’re both Pisces to the core: often intense and serious, but also serious dreamers. We’ve kept in touch while I’ve been away in Chicago and London, and when I’m home I always try to make it up to Newburyport, where he lives, for a visit.

He and Andrea met at St. John’s Prep, a private, Catholic boys’ high school where they both taught until recently. I remember the emails he used to send about the “new teacher, Andrea” who also loved art, who also went to Brown and played soccer there, and who also was currently a runner—all just like Chris. Match made in heaven, right? He wooed her, they dated, and eventually I got the “I need your woman’s opinion on a ring” email. I remember the day he texted me to tell me she’d said yes to his proposal. I’ll never forget it because I was in the library, in the last throes of BA writing. It was a very welcome distraction!

Andrea grew up in Miami, so that’s why they decided to have the wedding there. It was a long haul for me, especially just for a weekend (and really, only one full day), but it was entirely worthwhile. It was really important to me that I was there for them on their big day. There’s only a handful of people I for whom I would fly back home for a few days, and Chris and Andrea are definitely two of them.

So it was that I got up at 5am on Friday to make the nearly two hour trip (on public transportation) to Heathrow. I got a later start than I had planned and the whole London transport system seemed to be working against me—changed train schedules, bus traffic, tube delays, etc.—but I made it to the Virgin Atlantic check-in desk 2 hours before departure. Perfect timing.

The plane was a big one: three rows on either side, a row of seats in the middle four-wide, and an upper deck for the first class passengers. Luckily the flight out was pretty empty, so I got a whole middle row to myself.

For some strange reason, I’ve grown more afraid of flying over the last five or so years. Mostly it’s just take-off and landing that bother me, but it’s got to the point where I have to grip the armrests with white-knuckle force, close my eyes, and remind myself to breathe slowly so I don’t hyperventilate. I think I just read too many news articles about plane crashes. Note to self: stop reading those articles.

Take-off on the way out was absolutely terrifying. For some reason the whole plane was shaking and I thought it was going to start breaking apart. No one else seemed concerned, but it was all I could do not to scream and cry. I survived, of course, though perhaps my blood pressure is none the better for it.

The remainder of the flight went well. There were lots of good movies on offer, which was really nice, because I couldn’t fall asleep. I finally watched Slumdog Millionaire, and I also saw The Young Victoria and a few new Simpsons episodes.

After landing in Miami I collected my bag and went to find Ian, whose plane arrived from Boston at about the same time. Once I found him we chatted while waiting for his luggage to come around on the belt. At one point, I felt a blast of heat behind me. I thought, Who puts the heat on at this time of year?! Then I turned around and realized it was just the doors opening, and that intense, disgusting heat was what it was like outside. Awesome.

It was like that all weekend. Now, I don’t mind hot weather so much, but I detest even the slightest excess of humidity in the air. There was so much in Miami that I felt like I probably said “Ugh, it’s so gross out!” at least every five minutes while outside, beyond the reach of that glorious invention, air conditioning. Ian can vouch for that. But seriously it was very unpleasant. Needless to say, I won’t be moving to Miami any time soon, as lovely as all those palm trees and blue, blue ocean are.

When we got to the hotel, we changed and freshened up, then headed out to the rehearsal dinner at the Chart House restaurant, which was a short walk away. The views were lovely and dinner was delicious. Ian and I felt a bit out of place because we didn’t know anyone apart from the bride and groom, but we met Chris’s parents and their neighbors and I got to meet Chris’s friend, Liz, about whom I’ve heard lots since high school. The “young people” were all heading out for drinks after dinner, but by 11pm everyone was still chatting after finishing dessert and, since I was still on London time, it was 4am for me. So Ian and I thanked Chris and Andrea and Chris’s parents and went back to the hotel where I promptly crashed.

The Sonesta Bayfront Coconut Grove.

Our hotel room. Swanky!

The view from the Chart House Restaurant terrace.

Since the wedding wasn’t until 3pm on Saturday Ian and I got to sleep in a little bit. We went for a little walk around Coconut Grove, the part of Miami we were in, and grabbed some lunch. We wanted something quick and cheap, so we headed for Johnny Rockets (which we discovered is not, in fact, cheap) because Ian said they had veggie burgers. I hadn’t been to Johnny Rockets in ages, but I wasn’t terribly impressed. And indeed, I felt quite sick to my stomach afterward. However I think that had more to do with the dairy-ness of the shake I had, which, in the terrible humidity, did not agree with me.

At any rate, we got a little something to eat to last us through the ceremony and until dinner at the reception later that evening. And as an added bonus, Ian spotted Mr. Mitchell, my former AP U.S. History teacher, outside the restaurant while we were eating. I jumped up and ran outside to say hi and finally got to meet his elusive wife, Deb! They had just arrived and were out for coffee and a short walk in a nearby state park before the ceremony. I had thought Mr. Mitchell would be coming and I was glad to see him because it had not only been a while since I’d seen him last (I played soccer with him one summer after high school and occasionally go to Flatbread in Amesbury with him and Chris when I’m home) but also because it was nice to see another familiar face!

Back at the hotel, Ian and I got ready for the ceremony, ironing and primping (for me) and getting dressed. Poor Ian had to wear a suit. And, unlike the groom and groomsmen, his wasn’t made of linen. It wasn’t so bad in the air-conditioned hotel room, but when we left…whew! I felt for you, Ian.

At 1:45pm we went downstairs to catch the mini-bus Chris’s parents had rented to transport guests to the church, about 20 minutes away. On the ride, we were entertained (if you could call it that) by a TV up front that was playing some sort of Cher highlights program. Awesome.

We arrived at the church and went directly inside, since it was air-conditioned. After a minute or two, Ian said, “Aren’t we supposed to be sitting over there with Chris’s family and friends?” Duh, Helen. Thank goodness he pointed that out or I never would have noticed. We switched sides and Mr. Mitchell and his wife came and sat behind us shortly after.

The church "complex."

The church.

After about 15 or 20 minutes, the ceremony started. The groomsmen came up the aisle, looking ready for the beach, then the bridesmaids followed in their blue strapless dresses, and then, well, the bride! Her dress was beautiful. Ivory with a lace overlay and a taupe sash. Elegant, but simple.

The ceremony was interesting to say the least. For one thing, Catholic masses always confuse me—I never know when to sit, stand, or kneel or what to say in response to the priest’s directives. Ian and I followed along the best we could, but mostly opted out and stood, sat, or kneeled in polite confusion. The other interesting part was the priest. He was apparently substituted at the last minute, and he seemed to be speaking almost completely off the top of his head. At times he was very colloquial, talking about “giving 110%” to the marriage. At other times, he’d tell bizarre stories involving his ordainment or Chris wanting to see “the new Vin Diesel movie” (and if you know Chris, you’d know this is the LAST thing he would want to see!). But mostly, he’d go halfway to making a joke, and then pull back, saying that this was a joyous, but also “very serious” occasion. Right.

Still, the ceremony was lovely. Chris and Andrea kept looking at each other and smiling, whispering things back and forth every now and then. It was wonderful to see them so happy.

They were introduced to us as husband and wife, marched down the aisle and out of the church for pictures, and Ian and I filed out with everyone else. People were milling around by the door so we went around the corner to find a place to sit. Finally Sophia came out (she’d come in after us so we didn’t see her) and found us. Now I haven’t seen Sophia in a couple of years, so it was really exciting to be reunited with my good high school friend. She’d brought her boyfriend, Nick, with her too, and I finally got to meet him. (He’s definitely a keeper!) They were staying with one of her college friends in Ft. Lauderdale, about an hour north of Miami, so they had a car and offered to take us back to the hotel rather than taking the bus. We hopped in the car with them and caught up on our way to Coconut Grove.

Andrea and Chris exchanging rings.

Ian keeping cool after the ceremony.

The reception site was literally right around the corner from the hotel. (How convenient!) It was held at the Woman’s Club of Coconut Grove, and it was, like Andrea’s dress, elegant but simple. Ian, Sophia, Nick, and I hung around, eating crudités and having drinks while people continued to arrive. Besides Mr. Mitchell (and his wife, and Chris’s parents, and Liz, all of whom I’d just met) we didn’t know any other guests, so we stuck together. After Chris and Andrea made their entrance we were all seated for dinner. The four of us were at a table with some of Andrea’s friends who were about our age (probably a little older), and who literally could not believe that Chris was our junior high assistant principal/high school track coach. We had to bring him over to confirm our story! (It is rather improbable that we’d be at his wedding, if you think about it.)

The bride and groom making their entrance at the reception.

After a few toasts dinner began, and we were escorted to the buffet, table by table. Dinner was delicious and pretty soon our plates were clean and the music had begun. I told myself I wasn’t going to dance because, well, I don’t dance. But after a few glasses of wine all four of us hit the dance floor. We only danced for a couple of songs, but went back again once later and once when Andrea personally came and asked us to come do the limbo (oh dear). It wasn’t so bad, really. I almost liked it. Ha.

Just before the last song, Sophia and Nick left to make the drive back to Ft. Lauderdale. Ian and I stayed until the end, then thanked Chris and Andrea, and made our way back to the hotel. It was a long day, but it was also a lot of fun! I was happy to see Sophia again after so long, and I was also happy to see Chris literally brimming with joy. Honestly, I’ve never seen him so happy. It was awesome.

On Sunday, Ian and I packed up for the 12pm checkout. We savored our balcony view for a few minutes, then headed downstairs. After storing our luggage, we went out in search of lunch. We settled on Subway (a cheap lunch to make up for the surprisingly expensive one of the day before), and ate our sandwiches in the cool AC.

The view from our balcony.

We still had a bit of time before we had to go to the airport so we walked to the state park Mr. Mitchell had told me about. It was really disappointing—just a five-minute walk through tropical Florida woodlands to an historic house and then a boathouse on the water. I was bummed I paid $1 for each of us in the little “on-your-honor” box at the trailhead because it was definitely not worth it. But at least it gave us something to do and one last view of the water. There weren’t really any beaches in Coconut Grove, so we had to settle for harbor views.

The harbor as seen from the state park.

Some palm trees and blue sky at the state park.

Palm trees!

After our walk we headed back to the hotel to catch a cab. At the airport, Ian checked in and left, but I still had a while to wait for my flight. I got some Twizzlers (which they don’t have over here in the UK!) and read until it was time for me to check in.

This time the plane was completely full so I didn’t have a whole row to myself. Luckily, the two guys in my row only got up and down during the beginning, then completely passed out (it was an overnight flight, after all). I watched a movie (the “rockumentary” Anvil! The Story of Anvil), finished the book I was reading (The Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan), and fell asleep. Not a great night’s sleep, but perhaps a good 4 hours of interrupted (by neck pain and turbulence) sleep.

On the tube ride back to New Cross I struggled to stay awake, but it went by pretty quickly. Back in my flat I unpacked, showered, and got back to my routine. It’s dissertation film work and job-hunting for me now! Luckily, I had a nice mini-holiday in Miami to take my mind of those tasks for a while.