Sorry I've neglected the blog! It's been so busy and I have so many pictures to upload and label each night that its been all I can do to keep up. Our cousins in Laughrane and St. Clears are all just really sweet people and could not be nicer.
First, there is our cousin Irene, who is 87. She is in poor health and at the moment, I am sorry to say she has been taken to hospital. She was ill before we came and of course everyone is very concerned. She and my mother sat the other day looking at old pictures and tracing the family tree while William went outside to the park behind the ancient castle motte behind the house and played football with the local kids. Thanks AYSO, because he actually knew what he was doing and when I went out to call him, the kids all waved bye and said 'Come back tomorrow, Will!'
Irene's son Colin was killed in a terrible car wreck last year. His wife Mary came down to meet us in person as well and is just the kindest, most generous person you could care to meet. She and mom and I got on like a house afire and her son Richard Evans and his wife Tiera and their baby Dylan came down from London as well. We actually did not get to spend as much time with them as we would have liked, due to Dylan's getting car sick, Tiera having had her wisdom teeth out and then everyone coming down sick the next day. Mary wouldn't let us in past the door because she didn't want us to catch it too.
Then we met our cousin Christopher and his wife Sharon and mother Chrissy. Chrissy's husband (Christipher's father) John was Irene's brother. He was the first cousin my mom made contact with in Wales when she was here 14 years ago. He passed away a couple of years ago and Christopher took us to the churchyard to put flowers on his grave. (It's the same churchyard where Dylan Thomas and his wife Caitlan are buried). John Rees was a botanist and did the flowers and garden at Dylan Thomas' boathouse for years.
One other interesting thing about Christopher Rees (and previously John) is that he is a burgess of Laughrane. Orignally, going back to Mideval times, burgesses were the prominant businessmen or property owners of a town or village. You can only become a burgess by inheriting it from your parent, or marrying the son or daughter of a burgess. In Laughrane, there is also a Portreeve. Our first night here, we ate dinner at a resturant called the Portreeve and there was a picture of a man in a long robe with a sort of gold chain of office around his shoulders. I asked Christopher what it was and he explained that a Portreeve is an official public title, very very ancient. The Portreeve holds court in the town or area under his jurisdiction on the third week of the month and mostly adjucates land disputes. There are only 3 other towns in the UK that still have a Portreeve, because the title has died out almost everywhere.
To maintain status as an official 'burge' every three years, the Portreeve and the town burgesses must walk , measure and maintain the bounderies of the land. Christopher says it is an all day event. The burgessese and the Portreeve all meet in the morning for tea and a bun and then set off across country, fording streams and climbing over fences, pacing the bounderies of Laughrane so it can maintain its status and title. Isn't that cool??
Christopher, Sharon and Chrissy took us out to lunch the other day. The pub is called the Carpenter's Arms and had a Sunday carvery. A Carvery, - quite popular here- is a sort of buffet with carved meats, lots of vegetables and huge portions of everything. Actually, all the food here is just huge- everything comes automatically with something like 4 or 5 sides- like roast beef WITH roasted potatoes WITH chips WITH boiled cabbage WITH boiled carrots WITH boiled or mushy peas WITH gravy WITH bread or a roll WITH parsnips. If you get a salad you get a green salad and probably a roll and butter, and possibly cold slaw and some other sort of cold mixed salad thrown in for good measure. Dessert portions are enormous as well- we are eating for America here, trying to prove that Americans are not rude and wasteful, etc. but really its pretty comical. We just keep trying to eat enough so no one is offended.
Everyone here is so nice, but Chrissy, Christopher's mother, is the best. She made us an enormous Welsh tea- all baked from scratch- when we came and after we dropped in the other day, after Christopher and Sharon drove us up the coast to Pembray and Temby where the beaches are, Chrissy made us just a 'small' tea. There were sandwiches, welshcakes, two kinds of cake, ...it was all so delicious!
The Welsh are very polite. Even strangers on the motorway are polite and anyone you ask for directions or so on don't seem to mind. The other night in a pub as we were paying our bill, I asked how far we were from St. Clears and a guy at the bar started telling us all the other most beautiful places to go and how to get there, lol, I can see now where I get that gene from anyway.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Laughrane and Castle Ruins
We drove into St. Clears and through the lower village. The road is so narrow that we have to stop over on the side and take turns when cars come up the other way. Everyone is very polite about it though and once you get used to it, its actually pretty easy to get used to.
As we drive slowly down the road, we pass a little pub called the Butcher's Arms and my mom says 'Oh my gosh, there it is! That's the pub where your dad and I first ate lunch!" and starts to cry. We pause for a moment and then mom points out our cousin Irene's house up the road. We keep on driving down to Laughrane and the car park near the castle ruins.
Seeing even the walls of a castle just STANDING there is pretty cool. The tide is out and the estuary it overlooks is almost all wet sand. Later I'm told that in high tides at autumn and early spring, the water will come in all the way up to the road and cover the car park and the grasslands and everything. But today is damp and cool and green and grey and there are just a few cars in the park.
We try to make some calls, but the phone is behaving terribly. Even though the woman at Verizon swore up and down that I would have service anywhere and that I could patch into any Euro network and I told her exactly where I was going- we will have service and a second later it is gone. We've actually only been able to make about 3 calls the entire time we've been in Wales.
We drive back to the B&B where we're spending the night. It's a really nice house and the husband has built on a second floor with guest rooms. For dinner we go to eat in Laugharne at the Portreeve and eat plaice and halibut and lots of veggies and talk to the lady who owns the resturant, who knows my mom's friend Noel and my cousin Irene (everyone in Laughrane and St. Clears knows everyone else - it's that kind of place) and have apple tart for dessert. While we're eating a couple comes in, obviously regulars, with two spaniel dogs. This is a fairly nice place, but the dogs lie down under the table ( being much better than my dogs would under the same circumstances) and no one pays any attention, so it must be cool.
They really seem to love dogs here. Also, St. Clears has ENORMOUS cats. Seriously, I have seen two cats here and they are just much bigger than all the cats I know. I love a big-headed cat, but these were just crazy large. But then I saw one normal size, so I guess they are not all mutants.
Next morning we are given a real Welsh breakfast with thick Welsh bacon which is more like what we call Canadian bacon, fresh oj, yogurt, eggs, tomatoes, toast and tea. Everything is terrific.We pack up for a day in Laughrane and go to the castle.
Laughrane Castle is mostly walls, but some of the inner tower sections remain. When we go in through the gate, my mom realizes that the lady working in the gift shop ( Sonja) is the same woman she talked to 14 years ago and they get on again like a house afire. William and I climb the inner tower to the top and the view out over the village and the estuary is amazing. You can picture the lord of the castle looking out over his fields or watching the tide for boats. Laughrane Castle was a residential castle, not a fortress, but it is still impressive.
After we climb CAREFULLY down the winding staircases, William and I walk in the chilly drizzle around the inside perimeter of the walls. Looking out over the ocean, small double doors open onto a little round room set into the wall with big curved windows looking out over the estuary and a little fireplace. A plaque tells us that this is Dylan Thomas' writing room. His boathouse, where he wrote Under Milkwood is up the lane from the castle, but he liked to come and sit here and wrote 'My Life As A Dog' in this room. If you picture it with a nice armchair and a table and maybe a blanket to put over your knees and a warm fire, it would be an amazing room to write or paint in or just to think in.
We walk through the grounds and collect my mom, who has traded more stories with Sonja, gotten names and email addresses from two other Welsh guys hanging out with Sonja ( I accuse her of picking up men the minute she's ditched W and I) and we go down to the car and drive out to the old farmstead where we'll be spending the week. We drive back through St. Clears and out into the countryside. After a bit, we turn down a curvy farm road with high hedgerows on either side and wildflowers and Queen Anne's Lace growing along either side.
When we finally turn in, we drive down a steep road and as we go through the meadows, a pheasant runs out in front of the car as if announcing our presence before flying off to the side. The old stone barn is 'proper Wlesh' - grey stone with painted trim and flowers and inside it is beautiful and totally rebult. Charlotte, our landlady is as charming as her house and barn are. She shows us around, takes William to see the chickens and promises us fresh eggs. She also offers to take William up into the woods in the evening to look for badgers and try out a swing they have there. She has also thoughtfully stocked the barn with TinTin books that used to belong to her own son.
We get settled in and then decide to go get groceries. I drive us all the way back to Caermarthan to the Tesco ( the M4 again AND roundabouts!) and get some food for a few days. Coming back to the stone barn feels like home. Later, ,mom's friend Noel comes over and brings us a bunch of brochures and a map he's marked up with good places to visit and stay. We have a good visit and make plans to meet up with our cousins tomorrow. For the first night, in the thick walls of the stone barn, we all sleep clear through the night.
As we drive slowly down the road, we pass a little pub called the Butcher's Arms and my mom says 'Oh my gosh, there it is! That's the pub where your dad and I first ate lunch!" and starts to cry. We pause for a moment and then mom points out our cousin Irene's house up the road. We keep on driving down to Laughrane and the car park near the castle ruins.
Seeing even the walls of a castle just STANDING there is pretty cool. The tide is out and the estuary it overlooks is almost all wet sand. Later I'm told that in high tides at autumn and early spring, the water will come in all the way up to the road and cover the car park and the grasslands and everything. But today is damp and cool and green and grey and there are just a few cars in the park.
We try to make some calls, but the phone is behaving terribly. Even though the woman at Verizon swore up and down that I would have service anywhere and that I could patch into any Euro network and I told her exactly where I was going- we will have service and a second later it is gone. We've actually only been able to make about 3 calls the entire time we've been in Wales.
We drive back to the B&B where we're spending the night. It's a really nice house and the husband has built on a second floor with guest rooms. For dinner we go to eat in Laugharne at the Portreeve and eat plaice and halibut and lots of veggies and talk to the lady who owns the resturant, who knows my mom's friend Noel and my cousin Irene (everyone in Laughrane and St. Clears knows everyone else - it's that kind of place) and have apple tart for dessert. While we're eating a couple comes in, obviously regulars, with two spaniel dogs. This is a fairly nice place, but the dogs lie down under the table ( being much better than my dogs would under the same circumstances) and no one pays any attention, so it must be cool.
They really seem to love dogs here. Also, St. Clears has ENORMOUS cats. Seriously, I have seen two cats here and they are just much bigger than all the cats I know. I love a big-headed cat, but these were just crazy large. But then I saw one normal size, so I guess they are not all mutants.
Next morning we are given a real Welsh breakfast with thick Welsh bacon which is more like what we call Canadian bacon, fresh oj, yogurt, eggs, tomatoes, toast and tea. Everything is terrific.We pack up for a day in Laughrane and go to the castle.
Laughrane Castle is mostly walls, but some of the inner tower sections remain. When we go in through the gate, my mom realizes that the lady working in the gift shop ( Sonja) is the same woman she talked to 14 years ago and they get on again like a house afire. William and I climb the inner tower to the top and the view out over the village and the estuary is amazing. You can picture the lord of the castle looking out over his fields or watching the tide for boats. Laughrane Castle was a residential castle, not a fortress, but it is still impressive.
After we climb CAREFULLY down the winding staircases, William and I walk in the chilly drizzle around the inside perimeter of the walls. Looking out over the ocean, small double doors open onto a little round room set into the wall with big curved windows looking out over the estuary and a little fireplace. A plaque tells us that this is Dylan Thomas' writing room. His boathouse, where he wrote Under Milkwood is up the lane from the castle, but he liked to come and sit here and wrote 'My Life As A Dog' in this room. If you picture it with a nice armchair and a table and maybe a blanket to put over your knees and a warm fire, it would be an amazing room to write or paint in or just to think in.
We walk through the grounds and collect my mom, who has traded more stories with Sonja, gotten names and email addresses from two other Welsh guys hanging out with Sonja ( I accuse her of picking up men the minute she's ditched W and I) and we go down to the car and drive out to the old farmstead where we'll be spending the week. We drive back through St. Clears and out into the countryside. After a bit, we turn down a curvy farm road with high hedgerows on either side and wildflowers and Queen Anne's Lace growing along either side.
When we finally turn in, we drive down a steep road and as we go through the meadows, a pheasant runs out in front of the car as if announcing our presence before flying off to the side. The old stone barn is 'proper Wlesh' - grey stone with painted trim and flowers and inside it is beautiful and totally rebult. Charlotte, our landlady is as charming as her house and barn are. She shows us around, takes William to see the chickens and promises us fresh eggs. She also offers to take William up into the woods in the evening to look for badgers and try out a swing they have there. She has also thoughtfully stocked the barn with TinTin books that used to belong to her own son.
We get settled in and then decide to go get groceries. I drive us all the way back to Caermarthan to the Tesco ( the M4 again AND roundabouts!) and get some food for a few days. Coming back to the stone barn feels like home. Later, ,mom's friend Noel comes over and brings us a bunch of brochures and a map he's marked up with good places to visit and stay. We have a good visit and make plans to meet up with our cousins tomorrow. For the first night, in the thick walls of the stone barn, we all sleep clear through the night.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Automobiles, or Now We Are Really Here
Leaving the car rental is nerve-wracking. It isn't even so much the wrong side of the road thing. It is more the being tired and jittery and not having great directions out of the city and there being tons of traffic thing. We manage to get out of Swansea with only one wrong turn ( I backtrack and correct it) and my pulling into the wrong lane only once ( luckily there was no one coming towards me, but I am sure the people opposite thought I was crazy- or maybe just a tourist).
Once we get onto the M4 it is actually a lot easier. I just have to keep the center line to my right at all times and not let the car drift too far to the left. I handle the roundabouts without trouble too- the road signs show these sort of round shapes with lines going off to stand for the different roads leading out of the roundabout. Once I start visualizing them as clock faces and telling myself to get off the roundabout at 12 o'clock or 3 o'clock, it becomes much easier than my first couple of panicked accelerations towards an exit, praying no one else is coming.
The most difficult things are the little ones; the road signs are not green, so your eye is always subconsciously searching for the wrong color looking for directions. The eye is what trips you up- out of its corner, you see a car coming at you and the eye tells the brain to panic and get out of the way, you're in the wrong lane!!! But you aren't and so you have to make yourself stay put and not swerve over into the other lane. I still have no idea what speed I am driving at- if the little round signs are indeed to indicate how fast we are supposed to go, no one else seems to be paying any attention so I just try to drive at a speed that isn't too annoying to fellow drivers.
Signs for towns and places are in English and Welsh, so that isn 't too bad. But when you have to ARAF because another sign says YGOSOL it takes a few times to get it that you have to SLOW because of a SCHOOL. They are also very fond of painting all your turning instructions, etc. onto the road itself in fading white paint, which is not too easy to follow when it is pouring rain with a plumbers' van bearing down on you.
But really, I am not minding the driving. People are so nice about everything here. In the village, streets are so narrow that you just cruise over into the center until someone comes the other direction. Then you sort of take turns pulling to one side to let the other person through and everyone gives 'the wave' to thank you. I hate it when people don't give the wave when you let them into your lane or whatever. Here, so far, everyone does.
I've got so much more to write about- Laughrane and the castle and lots of other things. But I'm tired now and it's late here. More coming soon!
Once we get onto the M4 it is actually a lot easier. I just have to keep the center line to my right at all times and not let the car drift too far to the left. I handle the roundabouts without trouble too- the road signs show these sort of round shapes with lines going off to stand for the different roads leading out of the roundabout. Once I start visualizing them as clock faces and telling myself to get off the roundabout at 12 o'clock or 3 o'clock, it becomes much easier than my first couple of panicked accelerations towards an exit, praying no one else is coming.
The most difficult things are the little ones; the road signs are not green, so your eye is always subconsciously searching for the wrong color looking for directions. The eye is what trips you up- out of its corner, you see a car coming at you and the eye tells the brain to panic and get out of the way, you're in the wrong lane!!! But you aren't and so you have to make yourself stay put and not swerve over into the other lane. I still have no idea what speed I am driving at- if the little round signs are indeed to indicate how fast we are supposed to go, no one else seems to be paying any attention so I just try to drive at a speed that isn't too annoying to fellow drivers.
Signs for towns and places are in English and Welsh, so that isn 't too bad. But when you have to ARAF because another sign says YGOSOL it takes a few times to get it that you have to SLOW because of a SCHOOL. They are also very fond of painting all your turning instructions, etc. onto the road itself in fading white paint, which is not too easy to follow when it is pouring rain with a plumbers' van bearing down on you.
But really, I am not minding the driving. People are so nice about everything here. In the village, streets are so narrow that you just cruise over into the center until someone comes the other direction. Then you sort of take turns pulling to one side to let the other person through and everyone gives 'the wave' to thank you. I hate it when people don't give the wave when you let them into your lane or whatever. Here, so far, everyone does.
I've got so much more to write about- Laughrane and the castle and lots of other things. But I'm tired now and it's late here. More coming soon!
Thoughts on London While On The Train
Some thoughts on London:
1)London is just a really vibrant, hip, energetic city. It has a certain vibe and everyone seems really active and busy all the time. I guess the closest American city I can think of to it is SanFrancisco.
2) There are NO giant SUVs anywhere. Seriously, even on the highway in from Heathrow and in the expensive neighborhood we stayed in, we never saw anything bigger or fancier than a mid-sized Land Rover or a Mitsubishi. And even they looked sort of useful and unpretentious, like they were trying to blend into the crowd of smaller vehicles. Not an Escalade or Hummer in sight.
3)There are bikes and motorcycles and scooters EVERYWHERE. All sorts of people are riding them- people in business suits, casual clothes, with baskets full of groceries or briefcases strapped to the side. They are totally fearless in the crazy traffic too.
4)Its a little warmer, seasonally here than at home and everything is blooming- roses, tulips, everything. Its just lovely and you get the feeling that Londoners really appreciate this perfect weather and sunshine, because they know it won't last.
1)London is just a really vibrant, hip, energetic city. It has a certain vibe and everyone seems really active and busy all the time. I guess the closest American city I can think of to it is SanFrancisco.
2) There are NO giant SUVs anywhere. Seriously, even on the highway in from Heathrow and in the expensive neighborhood we stayed in, we never saw anything bigger or fancier than a mid-sized Land Rover or a Mitsubishi. And even they looked sort of useful and unpretentious, like they were trying to blend into the crowd of smaller vehicles. Not an Escalade or Hummer in sight.
3)There are bikes and motorcycles and scooters EVERYWHERE. All sorts of people are riding them- people in business suits, casual clothes, with baskets full of groceries or briefcases strapped to the side. They are totally fearless in the crazy traffic too.
4)Its a little warmer, seasonally here than at home and everything is blooming- roses, tulips, everything. Its just lovely and you get the feeling that Londoners really appreciate this perfect weather and sunshine, because they know it won't last.
Trains- dogs welcome too!
We took a black cab to Paddington Station. London is famous for these cabs and they are the BEST- especially if you have what seems like an awful lot of luggage. It and us all fit easily and we get our train tickets and have plenty of time to hang on the platform before catching the train to Swansea in Wales.
The train is clean and fast and smooth and very quiet. We have about a 4 hour train ride altogether and listen to our iPods and look out the window as the landscape changes and read. We share a bottle of water and the croissants and apples and it's a good ride- just what we need after the exhaustion of the previous day.
Gradually the countryside changes and everything becomes very very green, with dots of sheep and cows and when we stop at about the fifth station out, the signs are in Welsh and English and we know we are in Wales. A boy gets on with a sheepdog ( meaning a border collie type dog, not a fluffy grey and white one) and they ride with us all the way to Swansea. The conductor tells me that dogs are always allowed on trains in Wales and seems to be searching my face for disapproval. I assure him that I think it's terrific and wonder briefly how much havoc my dogs could wreak in 2 hours on this tidy train, but push the thought away.
We get off the train at Swansea, invigorated and ready to move. William sits with suitcases piled around him as mom gets directions to the car rental. We catch another cab, and it turns out that our car is a silver Volkswagon station wagon ( an 'estate car' , we are told). It's longer than my car at home, but it has room for all the suitcases in the boot, so off we go!
The train is clean and fast and smooth and very quiet. We have about a 4 hour train ride altogether and listen to our iPods and look out the window as the landscape changes and read. We share a bottle of water and the croissants and apples and it's a good ride- just what we need after the exhaustion of the previous day.
Gradually the countryside changes and everything becomes very very green, with dots of sheep and cows and when we stop at about the fifth station out, the signs are in Welsh and English and we know we are in Wales. A boy gets on with a sheepdog ( meaning a border collie type dog, not a fluffy grey and white one) and they ride with us all the way to Swansea. The conductor tells me that dogs are always allowed on trains in Wales and seems to be searching my face for disapproval. I assure him that I think it's terrific and wonder briefly how much havoc my dogs could wreak in 2 hours on this tidy train, but push the thought away.
We get off the train at Swansea, invigorated and ready to move. William sits with suitcases piled around him as mom gets directions to the car rental. We catch another cab, and it turns out that our car is a silver Volkswagon station wagon ( an 'estate car' , we are told). It's longer than my car at home, but it has room for all the suitcases in the boot, so off we go!
Chelsea Dagger, you must be rich with shoes like that
After crashing hard for a few hours, W & I wake to find that my mom has already been out to a little grocery down the road and come back with roast chicken, gazpacho, pineapple juice, apples and a little cherry cake. It is all delicious and we eat it and explore the small but comfy and elegant flat in the heart of Chelsea. I have to totally give my mom props- getting a flat for the night instead of a hotel room was less expensive and way way cooler. We are hip urban Londoners eating roast chicken in our posh little flat. Seriously though, it really makes you feel immediately more at home- you have an actual key jangling in your pocket as you let yourself out of the building. You might be anyone in the city, going to a job or meeting friends for coffee or picking up some flowers on the corner or going for a run in the park across the street. You just don't FEEL as lost and touristy- I highly recommend it.
We go out and walk around Chelsea towards Sloane Square. If any of you recall the Princess Di era,this is where she and her pals got the nickname 'Sloan Rangers' because they shopped a lot and it is filled with snazzy, very expensive little shops. And shoes. Lots and lots of shoe stores.
(There were even a pair of very cool brown leather crush boots with straps wrapped around them calling my name, but as soon as I did the conversion from pounds to dollars and figured out their price, that shut them right up) .
It was a beautiful sunny, warm evening and EVERYONE was out. Chelsea was filled with families and $400 strollers and also with kids in school uniforms of all sorts. Seriously, they were ADORABLE- playing cricket in a field, skipping around the park chasing pigeons, holding onto little hats- they were all flavors and varieties and all very very cute.
We wondered around and had dinner in a little pub near the flat and then went up and crashed out again. The next morning while mom took a shower, W and I went down to a little Belgian cafe up the street that was also an organic bakery and had a fabulous breakfast: ( there is going to be a lot of food in this blog, so just get used to it)fresh orange juice, soft boiled egg with tiny whole-grain bread fingers, perfect pale butter, greek yogurt with fresh fruit and muslei, two bowls of cafe au lait (for me, but I did let W sip- its half milk anyway and was possibly the best coffee I have ever had) and finally for W a chocolate croissant ( he let me nibble the end of it). Mom came and joined us, we got three croissants for the road and went up to the flat to pack up and catch the train. Breakfast is a most civilized and perfect way to start the day. Especially when it is all organic, free trade, delicious and not any more expensive than it deserves to be.
We go out and walk around Chelsea towards Sloane Square. If any of you recall the Princess Di era,this is where she and her pals got the nickname 'Sloan Rangers' because they shopped a lot and it is filled with snazzy, very expensive little shops. And shoes. Lots and lots of shoe stores.
(There were even a pair of very cool brown leather crush boots with straps wrapped around them calling my name, but as soon as I did the conversion from pounds to dollars and figured out their price, that shut them right up) .
It was a beautiful sunny, warm evening and EVERYONE was out. Chelsea was filled with families and $400 strollers and also with kids in school uniforms of all sorts. Seriously, they were ADORABLE- playing cricket in a field, skipping around the park chasing pigeons, holding onto little hats- they were all flavors and varieties and all very very cute.
We wondered around and had dinner in a little pub near the flat and then went up and crashed out again. The next morning while mom took a shower, W and I went down to a little Belgian cafe up the street that was also an organic bakery and had a fabulous breakfast: ( there is going to be a lot of food in this blog, so just get used to it)fresh orange juice, soft boiled egg with tiny whole-grain bread fingers, perfect pale butter, greek yogurt with fresh fruit and muslei, two bowls of cafe au lait (for me, but I did let W sip- its half milk anyway and was possibly the best coffee I have ever had) and finally for W a chocolate croissant ( he let me nibble the end of it). Mom came and joined us, we got three croissants for the road and went up to the flat to pack up and catch the train. Breakfast is a most civilized and perfect way to start the day. Especially when it is all organic, free trade, delicious and not any more expensive than it deserves to be.
Planes...New Arrivals Now Deplaning
Ok, I have some catching up to do, I know! First the flight went well. My mom and William and I did get the perfect seats we wanted by using seatguru.com to scope out the layout of the plane ahead of time, and then reserved the seats the minute it opened up on the net. Of course that didn't prevent us from being seated in close proximity to the family travelling with a 4 year old, a toddler and a baby in arms. You cannot win them all. The baby slept through almost the whole flight, but the toddler made up for it. Everyone was actually pretty cool about it and the parents kept giving us grateful looks whenever we shot them a sympathetic smile or picked up the blankie from the aisle instead of giving them the evil eye every five minutes.
William finally realized his previously unmet holiday goal of watching 'Marley and Me' (AND ON A PLANE!FLYING OVER THE OCEAN!) and I flipped around the movies and messed with my iPod and read my ChickLit light novel bought just for the occasion. None of us really slept, but it went ok.
Customs was pretty good too- considering the enormous amount of people they move through there, they really were very efficent and pleasant and even though we all felt ( and I am sure, looked) hung over, we got out, got our luggage and found our driver very quickly.
This is a huge perk of traveling with mom. I would have just caught the new express train into London, but mom felt ( rightly) that we would all be too tired to schlep luggage on the train and got a car to come and get us instead. William fell completely asleep in the car and we were not much better. The rental agents for the flat were lovely and told us it was being cleaned immediately ( some other Americans were decamping from it even as we piled up our luggage in the lobby and William went to sleep on my messenger bag like a drowning man clinging to a life raft) and they took pity on us and whisked us in early as the cleaning lady was still vaccuming. William sleep-walked out of the lift and down the hall and onto a sofa and didn't move for about 3 hours.
William finally realized his previously unmet holiday goal of watching 'Marley and Me' (AND ON A PLANE!FLYING OVER THE OCEAN!) and I flipped around the movies and messed with my iPod and read my ChickLit light novel bought just for the occasion. None of us really slept, but it went ok.
Customs was pretty good too- considering the enormous amount of people they move through there, they really were very efficent and pleasant and even though we all felt ( and I am sure, looked) hung over, we got out, got our luggage and found our driver very quickly.
This is a huge perk of traveling with mom. I would have just caught the new express train into London, but mom felt ( rightly) that we would all be too tired to schlep luggage on the train and got a car to come and get us instead. William fell completely asleep in the car and we were not much better. The rental agents for the flat were lovely and told us it was being cleaned immediately ( some other Americans were decamping from it even as we piled up our luggage in the lobby and William went to sleep on my messenger bag like a drowning man clinging to a life raft) and they took pity on us and whisked us in early as the cleaning lady was still vaccuming. William sleep-walked out of the lift and down the hall and onto a sofa and didn't move for about 3 hours.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Pounds & Sense - followup
Well, ,my mother went to pick up her pounds. At the bank, the girl at the counter had her wait and then follow her back to an office where the female manager from the day before carefully counted out the pounds twice for her. Then, as my mother got up to go, the woman asked her to wait a moment - and ( you guessed it!) offered to open an account for her. By now my mom was a little miffed about this entire account thing and told the woman emphatically that she did not want an account at Chase and would not be opening one.
The woman paused and considered and then handing my mother a business card, saying " Well... I'm going to give you my card. Just in case you change your mind. And if you call me within, hmmm, let's see... THREE WEEKS, then I'll even waive the start-up fee when I open the account for you!'
My mother finally escaped Chase bank alive, without a checking account even though the FIVE DOLLAR fee would have been waived. Seriously, Chase, do you really think that is enough incentive to get people to bank with you? I mean come on, times are rough, but you'd think they would have at least offered her free checks or a travel mug with the Chase logo or a fancy pen or something really cool, RIGHT? ( note the sarcasm in my typing) .
Incidentally, my mother's friend had no trouble or hassles when she picked up the additional $200 pounds. Maybe it wasn't a large enough amount so they didn't think it was worth harassing her for business. Anyway, at least that's over with.
Oh! A friend expressed concern that I had put this info out there about my mother carrying so much money. I would like to reassure everyone that I have left out the pertinent addresses, etc. and also that my mother has assured me that she plans to have ME carry most of it. So if you're coming after us, please go for me, and not the short grandma lady. Thanks!
The woman paused and considered and then handing my mother a business card, saying " Well... I'm going to give you my card. Just in case you change your mind. And if you call me within, hmmm, let's see... THREE WEEKS, then I'll even waive the start-up fee when I open the account for you!'
My mother finally escaped Chase bank alive, without a checking account even though the FIVE DOLLAR fee would have been waived. Seriously, Chase, do you really think that is enough incentive to get people to bank with you? I mean come on, times are rough, but you'd think they would have at least offered her free checks or a travel mug with the Chase logo or a fancy pen or something really cool, RIGHT? ( note the sarcasm in my typing) .
Incidentally, my mother's friend had no trouble or hassles when she picked up the additional $200 pounds. Maybe it wasn't a large enough amount so they didn't think it was worth harassing her for business. Anyway, at least that's over with.
Oh! A friend expressed concern that I had put this info out there about my mother carrying so much money. I would like to reassure everyone that I have left out the pertinent addresses, etc. and also that my mother has assured me that she plans to have ME carry most of it. So if you're coming after us, please go for me, and not the short grandma lady. Thanks!
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Pounds and Sense (common) are in short supply
My mother called tonight from Ohio. She told me a story that perfectly illustrates why I don't bank with Chase bank anymore.
She wanted to change some US dollars for pounds to have actual money on hand when we get to the UK. She had called ahead to her local bank and was told Chase would convert the money for a small fee, even if she did not have an account there. She called Chase and confirmed that they would change 1000 pounds' worth. The man at Chase said she should open a checking account as well. My mother told him she did not want a checking account and confirmed that it wasn't necessary to open one to exchange money.
She went to the bank and explained what she wanted. They told her there would be a $5 fee for the conversion. She agreed, only to be told doubtfully by the girl at the counter that she wasn't sure they were allowed to change that much and wouldn't my mother like to open a checking account while she was at it?
My mother said no, she didn't want a checking account, thank you, just to exchange the money. The girl said she needed to ask a manager about it. Another woman came and my mother explained the situation again, also telling her that she had called ahead to make sure she could exchange the money there. The manager assured her that of course she could exchange her money, there was no problem with that, but didn't she want to open a checking account as well?
My mother explained again that she did not need another checking account and just wanted to exchange the US worth of 1000 pounds. ( This is the point where I would have been fed up, but my mother knows how to catch her flies with honey and persevered). The woman said again that exchanging money was not the issue, but it was possible that they would be unable to exchange that MUCH money. She suggested that my mother speak to another gentleman at the bank- the man my mother had spoken to earlier in the first place.
My mother said no, she had spoken to him already earlier, had told him she did not want a checking account and had been told she could make the exchange here. Nevertheless, the bank manager insisted on getting him.
My mother explained that she had called earlier and what she wanted. The man told her she really ought to consider opening a Chase checking account. My mother refused and said again that she did not want one, she had a bank check from her regular bank and could they either exchange the money or not?
He said of course they could- but of course if she DID open the checking account with just TEN DOLLARS, she would not have to pay the exchange fee. My mother pointed out again that she did not need another checking account. The man from the bank said that she could open the account but that she WOULDN'T NEED TO USE IT- that there were some fees involved, but only about $36 dollars!
At this point, my mother burst out laughing in the middle of the bank. She said she actually had tears in her eyes as she pointed out to the man that he wanted her to pay $10 with an additional potential $36 in fees for an account she did not need and did not want- to avoid paying a FIVE DOLLAR exchange fee.
Sheepishly, the man from Chase bank agreed that it did seem a little 'silly' when you looked at it that way. He then assured my mother that they could in fact change the money for her- he just needed to find out how much. But he wasn't sure. Really.
My mother spent some more time trying to pin them all down to an actual dollar amount. She offered to go to her bank and bring back cash to exchange. She was told that wouldn't be necessary. Finally they decided that she could exchange 800 pounds' worth, but no more. When she asked why, they couldn't tell her, so she decided to take what she could get. She was told the money would be available by Friday and to come in and pick it up.
My mother left the bank, but as the day wore on and she thought of all the ridiculous trouble this had been, the thought of those last 200 pounds irked her. She had wanted 1000 pounds, darn it, not 800! So she called a friend and got HER to go into the bank and ask to exchange another 200 pounds' worth of dollars.
They are both supposed to pick up the money at the same time. I think they ought to go in together, skipping arm in arm. Without opening checking accounts.
I hate Chase bank.
She wanted to change some US dollars for pounds to have actual money on hand when we get to the UK. She had called ahead to her local bank and was told Chase would convert the money for a small fee, even if she did not have an account there. She called Chase and confirmed that they would change 1000 pounds' worth. The man at Chase said she should open a checking account as well. My mother told him she did not want a checking account and confirmed that it wasn't necessary to open one to exchange money.
She went to the bank and explained what she wanted. They told her there would be a $5 fee for the conversion. She agreed, only to be told doubtfully by the girl at the counter that she wasn't sure they were allowed to change that much and wouldn't my mother like to open a checking account while she was at it?
My mother said no, she didn't want a checking account, thank you, just to exchange the money. The girl said she needed to ask a manager about it. Another woman came and my mother explained the situation again, also telling her that she had called ahead to make sure she could exchange the money there. The manager assured her that of course she could exchange her money, there was no problem with that, but didn't she want to open a checking account as well?
My mother explained again that she did not need another checking account and just wanted to exchange the US worth of 1000 pounds. ( This is the point where I would have been fed up, but my mother knows how to catch her flies with honey and persevered). The woman said again that exchanging money was not the issue, but it was possible that they would be unable to exchange that MUCH money. She suggested that my mother speak to another gentleman at the bank- the man my mother had spoken to earlier in the first place.
My mother said no, she had spoken to him already earlier, had told him she did not want a checking account and had been told she could make the exchange here. Nevertheless, the bank manager insisted on getting him.
My mother explained that she had called earlier and what she wanted. The man told her she really ought to consider opening a Chase checking account. My mother refused and said again that she did not want one, she had a bank check from her regular bank and could they either exchange the money or not?
He said of course they could- but of course if she DID open the checking account with just TEN DOLLARS, she would not have to pay the exchange fee. My mother pointed out again that she did not need another checking account. The man from the bank said that she could open the account but that she WOULDN'T NEED TO USE IT- that there were some fees involved, but only about $36 dollars!
At this point, my mother burst out laughing in the middle of the bank. She said she actually had tears in her eyes as she pointed out to the man that he wanted her to pay $10 with an additional potential $36 in fees for an account she did not need and did not want- to avoid paying a FIVE DOLLAR exchange fee.
Sheepishly, the man from Chase bank agreed that it did seem a little 'silly' when you looked at it that way. He then assured my mother that they could in fact change the money for her- he just needed to find out how much. But he wasn't sure. Really.
My mother spent some more time trying to pin them all down to an actual dollar amount. She offered to go to her bank and bring back cash to exchange. She was told that wouldn't be necessary. Finally they decided that she could exchange 800 pounds' worth, but no more. When she asked why, they couldn't tell her, so she decided to take what she could get. She was told the money would be available by Friday and to come in and pick it up.
My mother left the bank, but as the day wore on and she thought of all the ridiculous trouble this had been, the thought of those last 200 pounds irked her. She had wanted 1000 pounds, darn it, not 800! So she called a friend and got HER to go into the bank and ask to exchange another 200 pounds' worth of dollars.
They are both supposed to pick up the money at the same time. I think they ought to go in together, skipping arm in arm. Without opening checking accounts.
I hate Chase bank.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Hi Tech/Lo Tech travel prep
Ok, I'll be honest right up front: this post is mostly so I can practice typing on Philip's old Macbook, which I am taking with me to the UK. I feel like there is a lot of tech stuff involved on this trip: laptop, iPod, cell phone, camera, etc. At home, I feel fairly tech savvy- although to be fair, this might be just because I have Philip around to ask about anything I can't figure out.
But there is something about taking all of this with me that makes it seem more overwhelming. I mean, I'm GLAD to be taking all this with me, but I also know I could manage without it if I needed to. Obviously the hi-tech mode of travel is easier, but part of me almost wishes it wasn't.
One of my favorite books has always been Innocents Abroad by Mark Twain. I would love to have taken that trip- seen the world from that perspective, at that time. In homage to the low-tech (albeit privileged traveler) we went to the art supply store today and I got William and I both bound sketchbooks like the ones I used in school, and probably way more new pencils, fine point pens, oil pastels and gouche than we will need.
But it was so fun, and I like the lo-tech idea of sketching and painting through Wales. I bet a lot of the ladies who traveled with Mr. Twain did sketches or possibly delicate watercolors. Currently my plan is to sketch and take a picture of everything I sketch in plein air so I can maybe paint it more extensively later when I get home.
In addition to the art supplies, I also got the mundane stuff today: luggage tags, toothbrush containers, etc. Oh- and I got a new tomato-colored trenchcoat as well. I didn't want to wear my fleece and windbreaker in London or Cardiff. One thing I've figured out going back and forth between Chicago and Ohio for several years is that it's silly to wear country clothes in the city and city clothes in the country. Besides, I hate looking like a tourist.
But there is something about taking all of this with me that makes it seem more overwhelming. I mean, I'm GLAD to be taking all this with me, but I also know I could manage without it if I needed to. Obviously the hi-tech mode of travel is easier, but part of me almost wishes it wasn't.
One of my favorite books has always been Innocents Abroad by Mark Twain. I would love to have taken that trip- seen the world from that perspective, at that time. In homage to the low-tech (albeit privileged traveler) we went to the art supply store today and I got William and I both bound sketchbooks like the ones I used in school, and probably way more new pencils, fine point pens, oil pastels and gouche than we will need.
But it was so fun, and I like the lo-tech idea of sketching and painting through Wales. I bet a lot of the ladies who traveled with Mr. Twain did sketches or possibly delicate watercolors. Currently my plan is to sketch and take a picture of everything I sketch in plein air so I can maybe paint it more extensively later when I get home.
In addition to the art supplies, I also got the mundane stuff today: luggage tags, toothbrush containers, etc. Oh- and I got a new tomato-colored trenchcoat as well. I didn't want to wear my fleece and windbreaker in London or Cardiff. One thing I've figured out going back and forth between Chicago and Ohio for several years is that it's silly to wear country clothes in the city and city clothes in the country. Besides, I hate looking like a tourist.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Preperation
We are leaving for Wales on the 28th. Today is the 17th. Eleven days seems like a lot of time, but it isn't really. There is still so much to do and organize just to be prepared. Still, some of it is done. It's strange- I cannot wait to go, but every time I look out into the yard, I see some gardening job that I am worried will be done too late when I get back, or some other task that I feel as if I am abandoning.
I mean, I know I'll be ready when the time comes, but right now, Wales - the Wales of Dylan Thomas and Cader Idris and King Arthur all seems still too far off to be quite real. Even the red buses and bustle of London is only something I've read in a book, not yet immediate enough to be realized or processed.
In a strange way, what I am most looking forward to now is the moment when we are on the plane, seat belts fastened, doors locked, tray tables in an upright position- rising into the air. Too late for anyone to stop us or for turning back or worrying about grass seeding the yard or whose call I might miss at work. Packing and preparing all still too transient and able to be disrupted.
I want it to be too late for anything to happen.
I mean, I know I'll be ready when the time comes, but right now, Wales - the Wales of Dylan Thomas and Cader Idris and King Arthur all seems still too far off to be quite real. Even the red buses and bustle of London is only something I've read in a book, not yet immediate enough to be realized or processed.
In a strange way, what I am most looking forward to now is the moment when we are on the plane, seat belts fastened, doors locked, tray tables in an upright position- rising into the air. Too late for anyone to stop us or for turning back or worrying about grass seeding the yard or whose call I might miss at work. Packing and preparing all still too transient and able to be disrupted.
I want it to be too late for anything to happen.
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