England 2006
MAY 6, 2006
Cooped up in a basement-level Internet cafe wasn’t how I wanted to spend my last afternoon in London. But alas, after three brilliant days of blue skies and T-shirt-worthy weather, the infamous London rain unexpectedly came pouring down. Ill-equipped with nary a coat nor an umbrella, I got my exercise today running back to the hotel to fetch my umbrella and change into dry clothes.
Oh how I’ve missed England! There was time when London was my go-to destination for a long holiday weekend but I haven’t been able to squeeze in a trip the last few years. Not much has changed here since my last visit. Except that Charles finally married Camilla and that the Queen Mother has moved on.
I arrived here Wednesday afternoon to sunny skies and weather shockingly warmer than in Los Angeles.
I was a little apprehensive about the hotel I chose to stay at – the sketchy reviews on Trip Advisor were far scarier to me than the recent Tube bombings – so I braced for the worst. Turns out it wasn’t that bad after all. Sure, the outside paint is peeling and the carpets are in dire need of replacing. The mattress is bulky and hot showers (okay, warm showers) are intermittent. (In fact, my first shower here was arctic cold! I soon learned that the earlier I take it, the better chance I have of getting warm water.)
But the hotel is fabulously situated in Notting Hill among million-pound manses and is a two-minute walk to the Tube station. The staff got a bad rap on Trip Advisor too, but I have come across five or six since I’ve been here and they have all been super friendly and accommodating. Maybe it’s because I’m cute and sweet. (Ha!) Hey, I’ll take what I can, because I can’t guarantee this brand of friendliness when I get to France.
My room looks out onto the quiet street below, overlooks a small park (here they’re called “squares”) and across the street lies a school attended by kids outfitted in cute red-trimmed gray uniforms with Madeleine hats. Every day, I sit on the window sill and survey the scene below me, feeling as though I’m watching a novel come to life.
It’s just that it’s all very British, posh yet unassuming, and I love it.
What’s been very un-British is that it’s been hot (save for today) and since I’ve only previously visited England in the Fall when the days are short, it’s very weird for me to be basking in sunshine at 6:30 (a.m. AND p.m.!)
Thursday I spent the day taking a driving tour of the Cotswolds, Oxford and Stratford-upon-Avon. I had taken a similar tour before, but this time I got to visit Anne Hathaway’s cottage and spend more time in Stratford. Gosh I love that town. I had a chance to walk to the river Avon and have cream tea — which, traditionally, is tea served with scones with jam and clotted cream (clotted cream is really nothing more than high-fat butter). It was so warm outside that throngs of people picnicked on the lawns by the river and really was a lovely sight to see.
And the glory of it all was the visit to Anne Hathaway’s Cottage in Shotley – an adorable thatched-roof stone 14th/15th century building that was Shakespeare’s wife’s childhood home.
Then spent yesterday touring the Lake District in the northern part of England. Someone mentioned that rain was expected, but it was gloriously sunny up there (never mind the chill factor and nippy wind.) “The Lakes” is truly breathtaking. It’s Beatrix Potter and Wordsworth country, and isn’t hard to figure out how they managed to find the inspiration to write. You’d wander lonely as cloud up here too if you were witness to this region’s beauty. It’s a three-hour train ride up (four hours back if you’re lucky – and of course that meant I was up from 4 am through 10 pm straight) but it’s all worth it to see hill after rolling hill dotted with horses, cows, sheep and dry stonewalls that have been here undisturbed for centuries (some as early as Roman times.)
We were taken by mini-coach around various lakes, stopping at Dove’s Cottage (Wordsworth’s old home), Wordsworth’s grave, Beatrix Potter’s house, and a slew of picturesque vistas for photo-ops. Once, the coach was delayed from advancing when a herd of cows blocked the small country lane. Most of the cows were nice enough to clear the road for us eventually, but of course, the alpha male had to take his sweet time shuffling off. Typical.
Sadly, no fields of golden daffodils sighted I, but there was still plenty to behold. We even took a cruise on one of the lakes (Coniston Water) and I braved the chill to take photos in the open part of the boat – WITHOUT GLOVES. Ah, suffering for my art.
We stopped for cream tea before heading back to the train station for the ride back to London. If I have one more cream tea I will die. Suppose the “clotted” cream really ought to mean “clogged cream” in that it’ll clog my arteries before this trip is over.
I woke up late today, glad not to HAVE to be anywhere at a given time. For shits and giggles, I checked out Maida Vale on the northern edge of town, where there’s a section called Little Venice.
Good thing I’m not on a schedule today, as the tourists are out en masse. This cafe is a thankful respite from the rain and crowds, and soon I’ll have to go back out to the chracteristically wet London that I love so much.
Tomorrow, I’m off to experience the Chunnel.
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