As a gift to ourselves for our 12th anniversary we decided to spend a long weekend — coinciding with the Canadian Thanksgiving weekend — in Montreal. We go to Montreal on average about once a year, always trying to do new things. This trip we decided that other than staying at our favourite hotel, we would explore parts of the city we hadn’t seen before, and try new restaurants as well.
Knowing we couldn’t check in to our hotel until around noon, we tried to time our drive Thursday morning to arrive around lunch time. The drive up was quick, with almost no traffic, so we still arrived earlier than anticipated. We decided to drive directly to one of the places suggested by our friend Nick K for lunch, and then to check in. We parked the car, and walked the few blocks to the restaurant, Bouillon Bilk.
This place has one of the most stark decors I have ever seen. Nothing on the all-white walls. Tables dressed with white cloth and white napkins. The only colours in the place were the dark suits nearly every patron was wearing. The waitress was very nice, but she had a little difficulty translating certain things on the menu which we couldn’t figure out on our own. Unlike many places we have eaten before there was no menu in English. We appeared to have arrived at the end of the lunch rush, so despite a packed house when we arrived, the food came out quickly and the restaurant emptied slowly. Sarah had a lovely parsnip soup, and I had what I called a deconstructed Reuben sandwich without the thousand island dressing or Swiss cheese. The plate included a veal sausage, a pork link, and some smoked meat, with a delicious sauerkraut that was significantly less tangy than any I had previously. We shared a Big Ben Porter from Brasseurs du Monde. When we exited the restaurant it was raining and the wind had picked up significantly. We made our way to the car, and then to the hotel which was only a few blocks away.
We checked in to our room, unpacked quickly, and used the WiFi to plan our afternoon. We decided to go to the Musée McCord, which was about a mile down the road on Rue Sherbrooke. For some reason I had forgotten to bring any sort of coat, but luckily Sarah had remembered to bring the windbreaker/raincoat we share.
We arrived at the museum with about 2 hours to wander before they closed. There was a brief queue at the entrance, and we used that time to decide to pay to see the exhibition Music – Quebec: From Charlebois to Arcade Fire, which ended up being quite informative. We were given an audio tour kit with headphones, and made our way through the exhibit, which was set up so that one could listen to excerpts or full songs, as well as video. There was also plenty of information to be read. The exhibit was scheduled to close on Monday, which may have also explained the number of people.
Once we were done with the Music exhibit we took in two of the permanent collections the museum had to offer. First we viewed Montreal – Points of View, and then Wearing our Identity – The First Peoples Collection. The former showed a bit about how the landscape of the city had changed over the centuries, and the latter had some very interesting articles of clothing from the native people.
After the museum we made our way back to the hotel to regroup. The original plan had been to go to the Bontanical Gardens that evening; however, we decided to postpone that another day due to the weather. We did decide to keep our dinner reservation though, so after cleaning ourselves up a bit we started out for the restaurant.
The last few trips to Canada we had paid the outrageous fees that AT&T required to roam, but we checked before we left and our new provider Cricket Wireless said they didn’t offer roaming in Canada (despite being a subsidiary of AT&T and using their network), so we decided to download an app that had maps that didn’t require connectivity. Every once in a while we stop and check the map, only to find we had passed our turn. We eventually found the restaurant, and were only a few minutes late, so we were able to be seated.
I don’t recall now who suggested Maison Publique or if they had actually visited the restaurant, but based on the connection with Derek Dammann and Jaime Oliver we decided to give it a go. [Edit: Jason Merrill, the head chef at Worthy Burger and Worthy Kitchen suggested the place!] My first suggestion for anyone wishing to go to this place, is to study the menu on the website before you leave and have your order ready. Not because the kitchen is slow — it is tapas style, so dishes come out as they are ready — but because there are no menus, English or French.
The waiter, Felix, who is more of a maître d, greeted us and asked us for our drink orders. I asked if there was a menu and he pointed to the wall of hand-written items on the wall in the other room. While Sarah washed her hands I went to check out the menu and noticed it was in French, and it wasn’t easily decipherable. I felt bad for the two women sitting below the menu as group after group of people hovered over their table staring at the menu.
Thinking I might try a drink instead, I walked to the bar — the place has a neighbourhood English pub feel to it — only to notice the taps coming out of the wall were not labeled. Back at the table I informed Sarah of my dilemma, and she too attempted to decipher the menu. Still in the dark as to choices when she returned, she asked Felix to recommend a pale ale, and he suggested a local gypsy brewer, Ghost Farm, which he said was “nice and hoppy.” We decided to ask Felix for food suggestions as well, and eventually settled on the pork flank (belly) with lentils, and the venison chop, which was not on the menu, and a Caesar’s salad. All the dishes were excellent, but the venison was amazing. Rare, it melted in one’s mouth. We enjoyed our meal, and the warnings about the way the food and drink options are displayed is not intended as a criticism, but a heads-up to those who may wish to go there.
After our meal we spent some time chatting about beer and Vermont with Felix before starting our walk home. It had been a long day, and despite spending half of it in the car, when we made it back to the hotel we found out that we had walked nearly eight miles. Back at the hotel I did some Internet research to start planning the next day’s activities.
In the morning we had the continental breakfast the hotel provides, and then made our way to Old Montreal. Surprisingly to me the historic district was someplace we had not visited in all of our trips. In fact, I can’t say I was even aware of it until this past summer when I watched an episode of Anthony Bourdain’s The Layover, where he made fun of the people in period dress.
We were there before many of the shops had opened and the artists that set up shop in Place Jacques-Cartier. We wandered around for a bit, and spent some time chatting with one of the artists. Having only had a light breakfast of yogurt, fruit, and pan au chocolate, we were getting a bit hungry, and the plans were to try an old favourite, Le Réservoir. Before setting off we stopped off for a coffee to warm us up, only to find that the mocha latte Sarah had ordered tasted like Swiss Miss. To make it up to her, we stopped by one of the Juliette et Chocolats on the way to the brewpub, where Sarah enjoyed an amazing hot chocolate.
We have had difficulty in the past with timing our visits to Le Réservoir, so we checked their website before we left the hotel in the morning. The website indicated that they were open on Fridays from noon to 3 a.m. so we felt comfortable making the long walk. Naturally, we arrived and they were closed with nothing but a vague sign and a phone number on the door.
We opted to try a new place we had passed on the way named Burger Royal based on the menu and the number of people inside. We (I) have a tendency to over plan things, but are rarely disappointed when the plans change unexpectedly. I jokingly like to say the universe is looking out for us when such things happen. And this was no exception as we had a delicious lunch of burgers and mac-n-cheese. The only downside to this restaurant is the lack of a beer menu, but in hindsight I think it was probably for the better that I didn’t imbibe so early. Especially with the size of the burgers and sides. I think I would have needed a nap had I had a beer too.
After lunch we made our way around the corner to Rue Duluth to visit a few of our favourite shops. The first one, a nice little Tibetan shop was inexplicably closed with no indication whether they would be open the rest of the weekend, so we went to the little Waldorf shop named Le Grande Ourse: Jouets Pour la Vie. This shop, as have mentioned in previous travel journals for Montreal, is primarily a toy shop but also has a small collection of Quebecois yarns.
After Sarah selected a few skeins for a project, and we left to meetup with a friend who lives in Montreal. Our friend Jill was kind enough to agree to meet at a coffee shop, Café Névé, in The Plateau even though it wasn’t close to her. This is a tiny little unpretentious neighbourhood cafe that appears to be popular with the twenty-somethings. We arrived a few minutes early and it was packed with hipsters and their gadgets, but a table soon opened and we enjoyed our lattes while Jill grabbed a bite to eat.
After our catch-up we made our way back to the hotel to freshen up and grab the car for our evening adventure to the Montreal Botanical Gardens for the Gardens of Light exhibition. Having spent all day walking, and being realistic about our ability to hike all the way to the gardens and back, we decided a car trip was in order.
Many readers may recall that we have been to the botanical gardens on previous trips, and will point out that I mentioned earlier in this report that we were supposed to be trying new things, but there is so much to see and do at the Montreal Botanical Gardens that we always try to find time to visit.
We arrived at about 6.30 and had a hard time finding a place to park. Once we did there were queues at the parking kiosks. My only complaint about the Botanical Gardens is the parking price is outrageous at $12, so take the Metro if you can. There were also queues to purchase tickets. The place was packed with people and prams, and we wondered what we got into. However, despite the elbow-to-elbow crowds the exhibition of Chinese lanterns was well worth it. We meandered through the rocky paths with the rest of the visitors, and I snapped as many photos as I could. Each turn exposed some new amazing creature made of stretched material and illuminated from within. Other parts of the gardens were lit up, and some places even had trees illuminated from below with lights timed to music being broadcast from speakers in the trees.
Exhausted after another full day of walking (11 miles according to the pedometer!) we drove back to the hotel, parked the car. But we decided we weren’t so tired that a few beers weren’t in order, and headed out for a nightcap at one of our favourite brew pubs, Cheval Blanc. We consider the Cheval Blanc our “local” when we visit Montreal as it is literally 2 blocks from our hotel. As I’ve said in previous travel guide entries, the atmosphere is a cross between a 1950s diner and a Chinese Restaurant, but it works.
What didn’t work this visit was the lame DJ who took to the sound system shortly after we arrived. An older white guy with a scruffy beard and a bald head hidden under his purposely-askew baseball cap, he bobbed and weaved, and made faces. Whatever. As a radio DJ — and an older bald white guy with a scruffy beard — I too like to bounce while I play my music. What was embarrassingly bad was his proclivity for abruptly stopping songs shortly after they started. Just as we were having a laugh and enjoying a song from the the film Madagascar, he’d stop, mid-beat and start some other song. But we enjoyed our beers and bar snacks, as always. It wasn’t the DJ who chased us away, it was our long day.
We woke up refreshed Saturday morning, and had a some coffee and yogurt before walking up Boulevard Saint-Laurent to meet Nick, Jen, and I.A.K. for breakfast at their suggested spot, Läika. We had a nice stroll and arrived a few minutes early in case we needed to get on a list or something, only to find the place was open but mostly empty. When our friends arrived we grabbed a few chairs and piled them around the small, round table where we chatted and caught up while perusing the menu. I like to tell people that all the best places I have ever been to in Montreal were recommended by these lovely folks, and Läika was another winner. Sarah had crêpes and I had the eggs Benedict with prosciutto. Jen and I.A.K had to run to make I.A.K.’s yoga class, but Nick stayed and we chatted some more. After paying the checks we all walked together for a few blocks before saying our goodbyes.
We had decided before breakfast to explore more of Old Montreal. We made our way there, walking off breakfast by walking along Boulevard St Laurent. We made a brief stop for more coffee, and meandered our way to Place d’Armes square in front of Notre-Dame Basilica. The Place d’Armes was filled with tourists snapping photos and surrounded by horse-drawn carriages, the drivers of the latter calling out to anyone who even looked at their horses. We continued to people watch as we finished our coffees, and watched as a newly wed couple exited the Basilica. People gawked, took photos, and cheered.
We’d had no plans to enter the church, and confirmed that when we saw the length of the queue. Instead we walked down the eastern side street, and spied a shop that specialized in Tibetan and Buddhist arts and jewelry! This was fortuitous as my mother-in-law, Nancy, had specifically asked us to buy her some earrings. She had requested them from the shop on Duluth that was closed, so we were very happy to find this place.
We continue to window shop our way through Old Montreal, eventually making our way to our destination, Château Ramezay. The Château is a wonderful little museum with rooms full of displays and exhibits covering centuries of Montreal’s history. We wandered from room to room, and read every one of the plaques. My feet were killing me from all the walking we had done, but I was enthralled by the exhibits.
Most of the displays were permanent, but the last room had an exhibit on crime and punishment in Quebec. Fascinating and terrifying. We then went downstairs where actors would normally reenact the lives of the people who would have lived and worked in the house. After poking our heads into the gift shop, we took some time to take in the gardens in back. There was a small fee to tour the inside of the house, but the gardens are free, and looked like a great place to relax, read, or have lunch.
As I mentioned before, my feet were sore, and we were both a bit tired, so we made our way back to the hotel, to rest up and decide on our plans for the evening. On our way back we noticed at least two brew pubs of interest, and decided we would try at least one of them for our evening nightcap.
Back at the hotel, we lazed around on the bed. Sarah started knitting but soon gave in to the desire to nap. I continued to research places to eat. We eventually decided that the tapas place we passed on our way back from Maison Publique on Thursday was of interest. The website I had found was only in French, but with the help of Sarah — and Google Translate — we were able to figure out many of the dishes on the menu, and that they had a 5-dish special that was quite reasonable.
The restaurant’s name is Barraca, and in addition to being a tapas restaurant, they are also a “Rhumerie.” We arrived a bit early for the Saturday night dinner crowd. We took our time with the menu as we decided on the five dishes we would want.
The menus were a challenge to read, and not just because they were only in French. The restaurant is quite dark in an ambient way, but the menu design is what the main issue was. Lots of small, black lettering on a beige background. As it was, I needed to use the flashlight on my phone to read it. The waitress was helpful with the words we couldn’t decipher, and we eventually decided on our drinks and tapas choices. Sarah is more of a fan of liquor than I and chose the national drink of Brazil, the caipirinha. I opted for a glass of wine as a change.
As is often the case when I am hungry and go to a tapas place, my eyes were bigger than my stomach. I thought five dishes wouldn’t be enough, but they ended up being just right. And they were all perfectly prepared and delicious. We really enjoyed our visit to Tapeo a few years ago. The atmosphere was wonderful, the service was great. But for the money, and convenience — Barraca is much closer to our hotel than Tapeo — I think I would recommend Barraca to friends. Plus, Barraca feels more like one’s neighbourhood place. Cozy. Tapeo feels a bit posh. I felt under dressed when we went.
Sated, we left and wandered down Rue Mont Royal. The street was bustling with activity, and people were in good spirits. The buses running their routes flashed “Go Canadiens!” across their marquees, reminding all that hockey season was back. The weather was only slightly brisk, but we were warm from the meal and the drink. We decided to try out one of the brew pubs we had spied earlier, and made our way to Le Saint Bock based on its extensive beer selection, and specific brew suggestions from Scott Russell.
By this hour of a Saturday night, Montreal’s night life was in full swing. The streets were packed with groups of people looking for fun. Younger people spilled out onto the sidewalks in front of bars and clubs to smoke cigarettes. We made our way into Le Saint Bock, and saw a small line just inside the door. The music and the chatter was loud but someone greeted us right away. We gestured that we were two, and he peered around the crowded space. We expected a wait, but he waived us on. However, the space he had in mind would have required us to climb over a group of other people and would have had us stuck in a corner. We very quickly decided that perhaps Le Saint Bock would have to wait for another trip. We thanked the man, and left.
Luckily our other choice, L’Amere a Boire, was only a block away. We walked up the hill, and saw a crowd of people. We thought we were in for the same issue, but it ended up the outside crowd was at an establishment next door. L’Amere a Boire has a more modern decor, and is split up into a few levels. One enters at a level with lots of little tables, and nooks. The bar is down one level below that, and then a staircase rises up beyond the bar to another level. There were stairs going up from that level too, which we thought lead to a rooftop level, but we didn’t investigate. All of the seats were taken with the exception of a raised two-top right by the door.
Sarah held the seats while I investigated the beer menu. Luckily the local free wifi was available, and with a quick search I was able to translate the words I needed to make my decision. I chose an “LNH” — which stands for Lager Noire Houblonée — a delicious black lager that tastes similar to a dry, nutty stout for myself, and an American pale ale called “Fin De Siècle” (end of the century?) for Sarah. We also tried their house cask ale, “Amère à Boire” and their oatmeal stout named “Muesli.” We enjoyed the beers and the bar staff was very nice. We also liked the glassware so much, we inquired into purchasing one. When we learned they were only CAN$6 each we opted to buy two. Probably a good thing as they have become our favourite drinking glasses at home. Full of good beer and cheer we walked the few blocks back to the hotel, and called it a night.
I started this article mentioning that this trip we endeavored to try places and things in Montreal that we hadn’t before. For the most part we did, and oddly enough the times we tried to go to some of our old standbys — such as Le Reservoir or the Tibetan shop — our plans were foiled. But Sundays in Montreal, for us, are all about tradition. And today being our twelfth anniversary, we embraced the tradition.
We packed up our stuff and checked out of our hotel around 9 a.m. and made our way to our favourite intersection: Boulevard Saint-Laurent & Avenue Fairmount, in the Mile End neighbourhood of the city. Being early on a Sunday the streets were nearly empty when we parked the car.
Still early for the start of brunch at Lawrence, we walked across the street to Dépanneur AS. Over the years we have spent time in a many corner stores looking for our favourite Québécois brews, and Dépanneur AS is our go-to shop. This little store has a great selection of local and regional beers, including a wide selection of Dieu du Ciel! offerings. The dépanneur is run by a sweet little old lady, but she knows very little about beer, and speaks nearly no English. Thankfully another gentleman (her son?) is on hand to help answer any questions, and offer suggestions. We spent nearly 30 minutes combing through the selection before lugging boxes of beers to the car, and joining the small queue forming in front of Lawrence.
We have been to Lawrence three or four times by now, but only for brunch. We love the food, the service and the bright, light-filled dining area. Based on the quality of food, we plan to go for dinner next time. However, this time we were here for brunch, and we indulged ourselves in delicious beignes and coffee, sausage sandwiches, and a full English breakfast.
The beignes sparked a conversion between us and a young couple next to us. I saw the woman spying our sweets and asked if she wanted one. She thanked me and politely refused, but she was intrigued enough to ask the waitress to bring her a mixed order. Before we began speaking we had heard them switching seamlessly between French and English. They playfully teased one another in the queue and continued to laugh and poke fun of each other while they dined. After we spoke they were curious how we Americans ended up in this Mile End restaurant, and we told them the short version of our traditions and that we were celebrating our anniversary.
While at Maison Publique on Thursday, we were told by Felix that one of the co-brewers from Ghost Farm was involved with Lawrence, so we inquired. It ends up the main brewer was not there but his partner was, and he took the time to chat with us about beer in Quebec and Vermont.
We left Lawrence with smiles on our faces, but ready to make our way home. We had at least one more traditional stop, a small boulangerie called Guillaume. On our last few trips it had been a few doors down from Lawrence, but that store front was dark. While at the dépanneur we asked and were told it had moved a short distance down St-Laurent, so we walked. There was a short queue made up of people and dogs, and it moved quickly. While Sarah ordered various sweet and savory breads and treats, I made friends with an English bulldog and a one-eyed Jack Russell terrier.
Our quarry in hand, we made our way back to the car and began the tradition of negotiating our way our of Montreal. Something we — or more accurately I — have always had trouble doing. After a brief stop at a Petro-Canada in an attempt to find a SIM for an iPhone for a future trip, we set off.
To make a very long story short, we moved very slowly in city traffic, made one wrong turn while trying to get on the freeway. We thought we missed a turn off of 33 only to find out we had inadvertently taken a short cut. And we sat in traffic for over an hour at the border only to to be practically waived through once we saw a customs agent. We stopped at Vermont BBQ at our exit on I-89, and arrived home to a happy dog and a wonderful anniversary present from Sarah’s mother. Sarah, Nancy and I enjoyed our BBQ and talked about our incredible trip. We have already marked our calendar to visit again in June 2015 for Mondial de la bière.
The Gage Hill Crafts crew decided to take a mini vacation in Montréal last weekend. The primary purpose was to attend the annual beer festival, Mondial de la Bière, held each year, but as usual we found time to do lots of walking and eating. I said “as usual” but this time was different as it was the first time Nancy had been to Montréal. In fact, it was the first time she had left the country since she was a student living in Germany. She got her passport last year in anticipation of our trip to Scotland and Wales later this summer, so why not break it in with a quick jaunt to Canada? Parfait!
After making arrangements for our friend Ryen to take care of our menagerie, we set up out early Thursday morning. The weather for the drive was beautiful, and there was practically no traffic until we arrived in the city. Even so we arrived at our favorite hotel, Hotel Château de L’Argoat, a bit too early to check-in, but since one of the rooms was ready they let us park the car and we stowed the luggage in that room before heading out to explore.
We were all hungry, so lunch was on the agenda, but we weren’t sure where. Montréal, and specifically the Plateau area of the city, is packed with so many different restaurants, so picking can be a challenge. We decided to go in the direction of Le Réservoir even though we suspected they wouldn’t be open yet. Confirming that to be the case, we scoped out some places on St. Laurent Avenue — an area with which we are most familiar — and decided on Jano. Jano had been one of the places our friend Nick had suggested for dinner that night, and since we had opted for a different place, we decided to check it out anyway for lunch. The staff was very nice and helpful, but the menu was a bit heavy on shellfish, of which Sarah is allergic, so it limited our choices. I had the Sandwich au steak de porc Bifana, with frites. Sarah and Nancy split a simple, large, salad and a plate of gigantic sardines.
After lunch we still had a bit of time before Le Réservoir would open its doors, so we wandered down rue Deluth to check out some of the shops. We stopped in La Maison du Tibet, a cute little place with a sweet owner. We chatted with her for a bit and Nancy bought a small piece of jewelry. As we walked a little further down the street, we nearly turned around, but decided to go as far as St. Denis. A half a block later I caught a glimpse of yarn out of the corner of my eye and alerted my knitting companions. The store, La Grande Ourse, ended up not being so much a yarn store, but a children’s store. It has all sorts of little handmade toys made of fabric and wood. Nothing from the sweatshops here. We quickly struck up a conversation with the owner, a sweet, older woman. She asked us about our sheep, and about our plant-based natural dyes. We purchased a few small items — including a top for Nick & Jenn’s daughter — and exchanged business cards before departing. We promised the owner we would contact her when we had some samples we could send her.
By now it was definitely time for Le Réservoir, so we stopped in for a pint to cool off. I had their IPA, Sarah had a cream ale, and Nancy cooled of with an iced tea. Whilst sipping our beverages we received a text from Rich & Carol stating they had arrived at the hotel. We told them we would sip slowly and they eventually met up with us, so we had to have another round. We departed shortly after so we could check in to our room, and change for dinner. They planned to explore some more and meet us at the restaurant.
After freshening up in our rooms, we hopped in the car, and drove toward the Mile End neighborhood. The plan was to meet Nick and his daughter at the restaurant, Nouveau Palais. Unfortunately Jennifer was out of town and wouldn’t be joining us. Traffic was light, but parking in Little Jerusalem was tight. We eventually found a spot, and negotiated the large groups of children playing and riding their bikes on the sidewalk. We were still a few minutes early, and the first to arrive, but the staff showed us to our tables. The place is an old diner, so no pulling up tables to make one large enough for our group of seven. We did; however, have two tables across from one another. Since Rich does such an excellent job of reviewing restaurants, I will simply link to his review and say I agree with him. The dinner was delicious, the service was good, the atmosphere was a little odd. The old diner hasn’t seen an update in decades, and the brown panels, and stuffed animals weren’t all that appealing. But I still very much enjoyed myself, and would go back again.
We were all rather tired by now, and Nick’s daughter was approaching her bedtime, but there was still time to take a quick trip to Cheskie’s. I was full but enjoyed the awesome smells coming from this famous boulangerie. Each time the door opened the smell of chocolate wafted through the warm, dusk, summer air. Nick and his daughter went in for cookies, and Carol joined them for an evening snack. We all parted and we drove back to the hotel. As we were warned there wasn’t a space in the hotel lot behind the building, but after dropping off Sarah and Nancy I found a great spot right in front. The hotel’s evening manager met me at the door and assured me that I was fine there until 9 the next morning. We all planned to get up early for breakfast, so it wouldn’t be an issue.
We hooked up with Rich and Carol again, this time to go to Le Cheval Blanc, which I had heard of, but hadn’t realised was only a block away from the hotel. As Sarah said this place is the love child of a 1950s diner and a Chinese restaurant with the neon clocks and green faux marble laminate on the walls. As expected with Mondial de la Bière in full swing, the place was noisy and packed, but we were lucky to find a table. The beers were amazing, and in hindsight some of the best I would have all weekend. We only stayed for one round before heading back to the hotel to rest up for the beer festival the next day.
In the morning, as we got ready to meet Rich and Carol to go to a favourite breakfast spot of theirs, my back went out. I don’t know if it was the soft bed or some other reason, but it hadn’t gone out since we helped neighbours clean up after Tropical Storm Irene. Bad timing to say the least, but I was at least glad I had the forethought to bring my back brace. Sarah had to help me with my socks and shoes, but I gritted my teeth and off we went. We met in the lobby and all piled into Nancy’s car. I drove, dropped everyone off in front of the Le Restaurant L’Avenue, and searched for a spot to park. The spaces out front were out of the question due to street sweeping, so I had to drive around the neighborhood. As I got further from the restaurant I started to fear the long walk with my back aching, but luckily I was able to find a space only a block away, and found the others waiting in front. We were some of the first people there, but it because apparent that Rich and Carol were correct to suggest we get there early as the place filled within moments. Our waiter was very nice, and since the menu was exclusively in French, we all helped each other with translations. The place is famous for it’s oeufs Benedict, and I think Rich, Carol and I all selected some variation — mine with smoked salmon. Sarah had scrambled eggs, bacon and potatoes, and Nancy had an amazing dish of pancakes “Américaine” which included granola and Canadian maple syrup. We all enjoyed our meals, and after a trip to the freaky restrooms, we were on our way. Rich has uploaded his Offbeateats review for those of you looking for more detail.
Rich and Carol decided to explore on foot, and we made plans to meet them at the beer festival later. Sarah, Nancy, and I climbed back into the car, found a bank to get some cash, and headed back to the hotel just long enough to drop Nancy off and to check Google maps for an idea on how best to get to the Palais des congrès de Montréal where the beer festival was being held. Once we arrived at the bus station, something felt wrong and we spoke with a gentleman in the information booth. He confirmed that the information Google maps had given us was wrong, and that we really didn’t need to take a coach bus a travel a few blocks. He gave us instructions on how to grab the Metro to go the two stops, and we left. It ends up it would have been faster and possibly less walking to have done the entire trip on foot, but by now we were at the Berri-UQAM Metro station, so we boarded a train and got off at the stop adjacent to the Palais des congrès. A quick check of Find Friends, and a text from Carol, and we attempted to meet up with them. Again, we did more walking than should have been necessary and it appeared that all attempts to help my now seriously aching back would be for naught. But we found Rich and Carol, just as the ticket booth opened, and we were some of the first few people to enter Mondial de la Bière.
Being first has its advantages, but it was also quite overwhelming. We later decided that choosing which beer to spend one’s first and last tickets on is the most difficult. I won’t go into detail about the many delicious beers we sampled over the next few hours or so. You can follow me on Untappd if you are really interested. Suffice to say we had a great time, I didn’t have a single bad beer, and all the alcohol and walking really seemed to help my back loosen up. Sitting meant it stiffened up again, but the good beers and great company helped me forget. The venue was great. There was an indoor section in the convention hall as well as a garden area outside. The outside area had trees and park benches. It was nice to have options, but we ended up preferring the beers and the atmosphere of the indoor section; and no smokers inside.
When we left, we again parted ways with Rich and Carol as they went on to explore one part of town and us another. Sarah and I walked a great deal, most of it uphill, to return to the Plateau before making our way back to the hotel to rest for a few hours, and shower to wash off the sunscreen.
After brief naps, we reconvened in the lobby with Rich, Carol, and Nancy before walking along rue Orleans to Chinatown. Rich had been eager to try a noodle place called Nu-Do [Rich’s OffBeatEats review], where they make their noodles fresh and in front of you. We were not disappointed. We each got a noodle soup, some kimchi and some dumplings. When we arrived we were all mumbling about the heat wave and the lack of air conditioning, but by the time we finished our spicy meals we barely noticed as we sweated it off. Again we got there just in time as the place filled up quickly with eager diners. After paying our tab, we wandered off thinking we might search for ice cream, but by the time we reach Bld Sherbrooke we said goodnight to Nancy and pointed her in the direction of the hotel before deciding that brownie sundaes at Le Réservoir were in order.
We walked miles again, and my back was screaming at me, but it was worth it. Rich, Carol, and Sarah squatted on a table downstairs while I checked in vain to see if the rooftop had any openings. We ordered two brownie sundaes, made with a sauce that includes their in-house stout, and a round of beers. Being Friday night it was packed and loud as people enjoyed themselves on this hot summer evening. We stuck to one round, before calling it a night, walking the back streets to avoid the hustle and bustle of the crowds making their way out for the evening.
Once back at the hotel, we said goodnight to Rich and Carol and confirmed the time for the morning’s excursion. I quickly got ready for bed and collapsed onto the bed, giving my back a much-needed rest from a long day of standing and walking.
We rose early Saturday morning, packed and made our way down to the lobby to check out. We saw from the window that our car was behind 2 other vehicles and we wanted to give the staff plenty of time to free it so we could get to Lawrence before the line got too long. It ended up we arrived with plenty of time, so we parked and walked across the street to our new favourite dépanneur to buy beer. The staff was very helpful as we check the stock against our notes from the beer festival the day before. We packed up our haul and put it in the car, and then Nancy and I got in line at the restaurant while Rich, Carol, and Sarah walked to Fairmount Bagel around the corner to stock up for the trip home.
A member of the Lawrence staff took everyone in lines name and the number in their party and we were all allowed in en masse shortly after. We asked for coffees (cold brewed and lattes) and two orders of beignes — each order coming with a chocolate, lemon, and custard — while we drooled over the menus. I ended up getting the full English breakfast which came with bacon, a sausage, black pudding, bubble and squeak, eggs and toast, and everything (as always) was delicious! The staff at Lawrence is amazing as they attend to you as a group. Your water glass is never empty, your finished plates never stay long, your coffee cup is filled as soon as it is emptied. And despite always being busy you are never rushed. We savored our coffees after finishing our food, settled our tabs, and made our way to our next stop as we attempted to eat our way out of the city.
A stone’s throw from Lawrence is Boulangerie Guillaume, a cute little neighbourhood bakery with a large variety of savory and sweet baked goods. The front of the store is small, but on this warm morning the sliding doors were open allowing us to not only see the selection but smell it. We took turns going inside and came away with bags filled with treats to take home.
We had planned to go directly to the hotel on our way out to drop off Rich and Carol, but decided he just had to get some chocolate to complete the trip, so we stopped at La Vieille Europe, a gourmet shop catering to ex-patriots from Europe it seems. They have an amazing selection of cheeses, wines, chocolates, nuts, coffees, etc. Parking was at a premium, so I dropped everyone off and drove around the block until I found a spot in a 15-minute zone across the street. The place was packed, so it took a while for the group to emerge, but once they did we were on our way. We dropped off Rich and Carol at the hotel, and began to navigate our way out of the city.
Before we had phones with GPS and map apps this was nearly impossible, and Sarah and I recalled our first trip when it literally took us over an hour to find our way to the highways leading out. Apple Maps did a great job of keeping us on course (For those keeping track, Google Maps 0, Apple Maps 1) and we were on our way. There didn’t seem to be much weekend travel traffic, and we were out of the city in a matter of minutes it seemed. The trip home was uneventful. The lines at the border weren’t bad, and we were home in under 3 hours. What an amazing trip, even with my back going out. Sarah and I plan to return again in October for our wedding anniversary.
It feels like we have been planning this trip forever, and we kind of have. We made the decision to buy the tickets in June, and we have spent the last six months planning nearly every minute of the journey. We printed blank calendars and emailed friends, negotiating for their valuable time. As the trip got closer we booked our trains, buses, planes, and hotels and considered the calendar full.
Now that we’ve landed in London, it hardly feels real.
We were mostly packed last night, and after feeding and walking the dogs for the last time for 2 weeks, we used the morning to pull the toiletries together and go over our lists. Convinced we had packed everything we would need, we drove to Ryen’s house, put Penny in her garage and took Ryen’s car to the Dartmouth Coach depot. Ryen’s a big reason why we are able to take this trip. We’re grateful she agreed to look after the menagerie while we are gone!
The bus trip from Lebanon to Logan Airport was uneventful. We took an early bus, feeling more comfortable people watching at the airport than our watches on a bus later. The movie was new remake of The Karate Kid, but half-way through the movie the DVD stuck. The driver did what he could, but even had it not stopped the trip was less than the length of the film. More than likely it will be the same film on the way back anyway.
We forget that while we will be away for the next two weeks, including Christmas, that it is too early for most holiday travel, so the airport is less busy than expected. We were both surprised that we weren’t asked to participate in the new “enhanced” body pat-down or choose the full-body scanner — and were mostly relieved. Still early, we went to an airport pub to have a beer and meal before the flight. A little after 7 p.m. we boarded and our red-eye was underway.
The flight over was not that great. A few first-time-flying infants were less than enthusiastic and expressed as much most of the way, alternating turns screaming. Our seats were directly in front of the toilets in the mid-section of the plane, which means no one kicking you in the back of the seat, but it also means less legroom and the constant sound of an airplane’s toilet flushing. With earplugs in and headphones tuned into the in-flight entertainment, the flushing sounded as if an announcement was about to come on over the intercom. We both managed to grab a little sleep, but in fits and starts and dreams involving being flushed down a large loo.
We arrived at Heathrow a little after 8 a.m., found our luggage and made our way to the Heathrow Express. The Express had wifi so we checked email and updated friends and family that we were on the ground in London.
The Heathrow Express is about a 15 minute ride, and once we got to Paddington Station, we queued at the cash machine and learned that our debit cards weren’t working. The bank had been updated over a week earlier, so this was confusing. The credit card was working and so we bought Oyster cards and made our way to the hotel in Lambeth. Outside of the Lambeth tube stop we tried another cash machine and got the same result. The hotel was in walking distance, so we decided to check in and wait until the bank was open to contact them.
We got a little turned around, but eventually found the Novotel and checked in to our room. We drew the curtains, turned off the lights and tried to nap, but we’re foiled a few minutes later by staff knocking loudly on the door. We shooed them away and went back to sleep, knowing we need more energy if we are to keep up with Nick and Jess this evening.
When we woke up from our brief nap it was nearly time to get ready to meet with Jess and Nick. While Sarah called the bank to sort out the debit card issue, I went to the lobby to use one of the hotel’s iMacs. After a few tweets and instant messages it was decided we’d meet Jess at their flat while Nick attended to some pre-Christmas party time with his boss. Our plan was to walk along the Albert Embankment and across the Vauxhall Bridge to reach the flat, so we bundled up and headed out into the misty gray rain.
Jess buzzed us in when we arrived and we took the lift up to their place, and hung out drinking tea. Nick had been communicating with Jess and was trying to decide whether he would be missed if he binned going to the office party. He eventually decided he needed to make an appearance and suggested we have a few drinks before meeting so we weren’t too far behind him; Sarah and Jess had martinis and I had a Stella Artois. The message from Nick to meet him at the secret location for drinks before dinner came shortly and so the three of us hopped on the tube.
We arrived at Tottenham Court tube stop about 20 minutes later and made our way to the Centre Point building, where Jess had a few words with some smartly-dressed people at the desk and we are waved to the lifts. The lift was an express that only stopped at the 27th floor, the Paramount Club. Once we arrived we were greeted by a loud bar packed with more well-dressed people. Now we understood why Nick made sure to insist we didn’t wear ripped jeans.
After a quick eye at the extensive drinks menu, Jess made her way to the bar and ordered a round of cocktails for us all. Drinks in hand we attempted to go up to the top floor bar but were told they were hosting private office Christmas party up there. Nick said he only wanted to show his out-of-town guests the view and we’d come right back down, and the doorman acquiesced and sent us up in the lift a few more floors.
The top floor bar presented a nearly 360 degree view of Christmas-decorated London spread out in all directions. We slowly walked around pretending like we belonged and then found a corner, where no one else was, and chatted. When we felt we seen it all we went back downstairs, grabbed Nick’s coat and bags and headed toward our dinner spot.
Once in SoHo we made a beeline to the restaurant, which means we went by way of another place Nick wanted to show us first. A place that sold delicious … cake. We were hungry, not having eaten since Boston, and tried to keep Nick focused, but he led us to Yauatcha where — like a dessert ninja — Nick got us in and out and managed to buy us an adorable cake!
We (finally) found the restaurant, Polpo, where we waited only a few minutes for our table. As we were being seated, Nick accidentally bumped into the next table nearly knocking over a bottle. The couple was polite and we got on with ordering wine and discussing which dishes the table would order. Polpo serves Italian-inspired “tapas” dishes. Small portions meant to be shared. We each picked a favourite item from the menu and filled in the gaps with other interesting plates. The food was delicious! Mortadella, walnut and gorgonzola salad; Pork belly with radicchio and hazelnuts; Grilled sliced flank steak and white truffle cream; Buttered new potatoes with roasted radishes; Cod cheeks in a light red sauce, and a few others I forget.
The only bad news was it was nearly 11 p.m. and the kitchen was closing! This started a little lighthearted chat with the couple whose bottle of water had nearly been knocked over. We joked about buying their pork bellies from them. They laughed and eventually insisted we accept a plate of the grilled flank steak they couldn’t finish. Nice folks. They were dining late in order to stay up to watch the English cricket team play in The Ashes.
The next stop was Milk & Honey, a drinks club of which Nick & Jess are members, and where we first met them in 2007. We each had another drink, chatted a bit more, and then rang up a taxi. As we waited in front of Milk & Honey for the taxi we noticed the people we saw were in fine spirit and holiday cheer. One nice couple was helping their equally inebriated inflatable sex-doll friend get home safely. We waited a little longer then bribed a driver out front to take us where we wanted to go. Once back at Nick & Jess’ we said our goodbyes and made arrangements to meet for breakfast the next day. We walked back to our hotel, getting in at a little past 2 a.m. and cursed agreeing to such an early start the next day.
The Regency Cafe to High Wycomb
As predicted we both woke up a little worn for wear from the cocktails the night before, but we got up, got dressed and walked back to Nick & Jess’ flat before landing at The Regency Cafe — which both Jess and Rich had recommended.
We had been warned about the rules of this place: Do not sit down at a table until you had placed your order, and be ready to order when it is your turn. We had also been warned of the way our order would be called, but that part ended up being nothing like we imagined. After the four of us had placed our orders with the nice, petite, soft-spoken woman at the counter we grabbed a table by the far window and chatted. The food comes out in spurts, but you are alerted in bursts.
“BREAKFAST SPECIAL, BLOOD PUDDING, HASH BROWNS!”
Vibrating off the window next to us came bellowing a deep, baritone voice from the same woman who had quietly referred to me as “love” moments before. We realised then that this place was a challenge the morning after a night of drink.
Jess needed to get to work, so we left The Regency Cafe, said our goodbyes to her and walked with Nick to Pimlico Fresh for coffee. As we are standing out front I noticed a familiar face waving to us. Rich greeted us at the door explaining that he and Carol had different methods for dealing with red-eye flights. Hers was to nap (I agree) and his is to plow on through and pretend nothing happened. Granted Rich travels a great deal, so your mileage may vary. Rich was having his breakfast and we joined him with our delicious lattes.
After second breakfast, Sarah and I took Nick and Rich’s suggestion and took The Tube over to Monument to the Great Fire of London (aka Monument) to take in some views of the city from Christopher Wrens functional tribute.
When we arrived the weather was gray and misty, but by the time we paid our admittance fee and climbed the spiral staircase to the observation deck it had also become a bit gusty, making the walk around the deck interesting. We both think the thick wire meshing made it a challenge to enjoy the view, and may have even induced a bit of vertigo. It was an enjoyable experience that we were glad we did. We took a few more photos and then made our way back down, where we were greeted by a woman who gave us certificates that we had, in fact, been to the top of Monument.
Next we headed back to our hotel to pick up our bags which had been stored while we played tourist. We strapped on our backpacks and rolled our luggage to the Lambeth tube station, and took a straight shot to the Baker Street stop. We got a little turned around, but we weren’t expected by Tait for an hour. We reoriented ourselves and headed for the Sherlock Holmes Museum to pick up a souvenir for a colleague of Sarah’s. We then noticed a Beatles memorabilia shop a few shops down and squeezed to the tight little shop with our luggage, which they preferred to my standing in the doorway. I stood very still with the bags while Sarah looked at suitcase-friendly gifts and brought them to me for my approval or whimsy. I listened to the two female store employees as they quoted Yellow Submarine along with the film which was playing in the store.
Satisfied with our purchases, we walked a few blocks along the crowded sidewalks of Baker Street to Tait’s workspace. Still a bit early, we made our way to his office and took a seat and tea and chatted while he tied up loose ends with clients in various time zones. Satisfied that no one would be too angry if he left 2 minutes early, we made our way back down the lift and around the corner to The Bee Hive pub, where we briefly caught up over a shout before heading to Marylebone station.
We gave Tait cash and he used a kiosk to purchase our tickets to High Wycomb. We made our way to the platform and boarded a “quiet” carriage, where Tait and I played backgammon against each other on our iPhones while Sarah played a game on her iPad. The trip was brief, so I was only able to beat Tait the one game we played before we our stop. At the train depot we cleaned out the back of Tait’s station wagon which was full of dog gear. Sarah asked to be in the front seat and promptly made her way to the wrong side of the car.
After a quick shop at the market to get some more beer, we arrived at Tait’s place where Paula was waiting. Tait retired to the kitchen to put the finishing touches on the curry, while we caught up with Paula and met their two wonderful rescue Greyhounds. We presented Tait with a hat made of our yarn that Sarah had knitted along with some Vermont-made hot sauces and a bottle of Maker’s Mark. Paula received a set of handwarmers which Sarah had also knitted and we also gave them the spoon I carved when we took a course with Bill Copperwaite five years previous. I also had one of the better beers I would drink this trip when I was presented with a Gem by Bath Ales. After dinner, we watched a few comedy sketches on YouTube, and I beat Tait on a traditional backgammon board, before we all went to bed.
More tomorrow from Wales.
After Nick and Paula spoiled us with an evening of great food and good humor in High Wycombe, we were ready to camp out in their home for a few more weeks of idle relaxation. Alas, they have lives to get on with and we had plans to meet up with an old friend in Wales, so we had to press on to the next stop on our tour.
We tagged along with Nick on his morning commute via train, stopping at a small cafe near his office for yet another Full English Breakfast. (It was at this point in the trip that I thought one or both of us might turn into a Full English Breakfast if we continued eating them.) Fortified on grease, potatoes, and coffee we took a short hop on the tube before catching the train to Cardiff.
The view out the train window was beautiful, and we rolled along through the hills and many farmlands with sheep, horses, and beef cattle. At some point it began to snow quite steadily, adding to the layer of frozen precipitation already on the ground and upping the magical winter-wonderland feeling.
After three hours we arrived at Cardiff Central Station in the Welsh capital. At this point the snow was falling fast and heavy, and had already blanketed the city. We waited several minutes for a cab to take us to the hotel, managed to check in despite a problem with the online reservation I had made weeks earlier, and spent a few minutes relaxing in the room and enjoying our snow-laden view of downtown.
I wasn’t keen to spend a day lazing about, so, despite the snowstorm, we decided to trudge into town for some sightseeing. We realized that this type of snowfall was unusual for the area, and this was confirmed along our walk: a van stuck in a car-park — unable to make the 10-degree incline of the exit to the street; taxis, buses, and cars sliding along the road; and no sign of any snow shovels or snow blowers for clearing the sidewalks. By mid-afternoon there were at least 4-5 inches of accumulation on the ground and the snow was still coming down in a sheet. It was beautiful! We made our way along the river and over the bridge to the central downtown area.
Apparently the economic boom of the early-mid 2000s spurred a massive revitalization effort in Cardiff. The buildings on the main streets looked completely new, and the entire downtown felt like one large upscale open-air shopping arena. Although traffic on the streets had lessened due to impassibility, we found many people on foot enjoying the snow while holiday shopping. We passed through the streets of shops to the northern end of the city and found Cardiff Castle. Unfortunately, due to weather, the tour guides were closing it up. We did manage to cajole them into letting us take a quick photo from the main gate, and they told us that they expected to reopen at the weekend.
Foiled at our first attempt at tourist activities, we set off to try to find the Dr. Who exhibit that a friend had recommended. I couldn’t remember whether this was in the Millennium Center, or the sports stadium, so Rick humored me as we made a circuit around town, trying to find any sightseeing opportunity that hadn’t closed due to weather.
Eventually we backtracked and found the National Museum Cardiff, but like all the other cultural points, this was closed too. Tired, cold, and soggy, we decided to give up and began making our way back to the shopping district in search of dinner. Rick had received some suggestions of pubs to try, but our phone Internet service was spotty so it was difficult to locate them. Then, as we passed Cardiff Castle and paused for another photo of the outside, I realized we were standing in front of The Goat Major, one of the suggested spots. It was a sign, and we went in to warm up with pints and pies.
Like many of the pubs in Cardiff, The Goat Major serves Brains…SA Brains beer that is. This brewery was founded in 1882 and has their headquarters is in Cardiff. We began with one pint of Brains Black and one of the bitter while pondering the menu, an extensive list of pies, including their award-winning chicken pot pie.
After ordering I took a turn around the pub to check out the historic photos and memorabilia on the walls. It turns out that the place is named for the mascot of the Royal Regiment of Wales. There were photos and a number of newspaper clippings about the history of the Regiment and its Goat Majors….a fascinating and quite odd bit of military tradition.
The pies were brought and we settled into a second rounds of pints. The food was indeed excellent, and we enjoyed our meal as the pub began to fill with the after-work crowd. Finally, warmed from the food and drink, we tottered back to the hotel through the snow and the Christmas lights, looking forward to our visit to Trealy Farm the next day.
Usk & Trealy Farm
Having gone to bed relatively early, we awoke refreshed to a beautiful snow-covered day on Saturday morning, ready for another adventure. Knowing we’d be on the move for most of the day, we headed down to the Novotel’s breakfast buffet, which is much higher quality and greater selection than the type of “continental breakfast” one finds in US hotels: there’s cereal, fruit, juices, pastries and fresh breads, plus hot items including all of the makings of a Full English. It’s quite a good deal.
After our meal we walked to the train station, which was easy to find now that we had started to get our bearings around Cardiff and the sun was shining. We took the train down to Abergavenny, the closest rail stop to Usk, then hopped into a taxi for the second leg of our trip. Farmlands set along rolling hills sparked in the sunlight and I was reminded very much of home.
The taxi driver didn’t know exactly where the farmer’s market took place, but we knew that it was set up “across from the prison,” so easy enough to find. We arrived to find a few shoppers milling about outside, and immediately noticed some of the vendors, selling whole game birds, fresh fish, and locally brewed beer. Inside we found yarn, cheeses, local wine, handmade chocolates, vegetables, and in the middle of the market, our friend James from Trealy Farm with a crowd sampling his traditional charcuterie: cured sausages and air-dried ham. James seemed to be the most popular stall in the market. We said hi briefly but didn’t want to get in the way of commerce, so stepped aside for a cup of hot tea.
After the warmup, I decided to check out the two yarn vendors there, while Rick browsed some of the other booths. I couldn’t decide which yarns to buy and went to look for Rick, who had left the building. Then I remembered the beer vendor setup outside. Sure enough Rick was there talking with the brewer of Untapped Brewing Company who was interested in the popularity of the homebrew scene back in the States. He had a nice selection of different styles available, and we selected a stout and a porter. Then, after securing our purchases in James’ booth, we decided to check out the local castle.
Usk Castle is a ruins dating from 1170 CE, but still functions as a residence! To reach the site we crossed through the village passing small shops and quaint houses, and saying hello to people in the street. As we came to the castle grounds we had to walk up dirt drive, and met a young man who smiled and greeted us. At first we thought he might be a castle caretaker or a guide, but as we crested the little hill we found that he was there selling Christmas trees, and apparently had thought we might be customers.
We didn’t see any other grounds staff and asked if we could tour the castle on our own. The young man seemed to think it would be alright, so we clambered up some terraced gardens and made our way into the keep, which was still well intact. We then circled around the walls and eventually found a gate leading into the main courtyard. A small signpost on the gate warned that there were sheep grazing in the castle and asked visitors to close the gate behind them, which we did. As we entered, we found some geese to our right and another signpost explaining that they were on sentry duty and warning us to stay clear — knowing geese to be quite territorial, we also heeded these instructions.
We didn’t see the sheep at first, but immediately noticed the view beyond the walls and towers of the castle. In a corner of the grounds we spotted some stairs leading up to the top of a wall. I had some trepidation about walking on a ruin but the wall had been reinforced with steel bars and there was a handrail, so Rick forged ahead and I eventually followed. The views of the mountains and the village were incredible! At the other end of the wall was another tower, and Rick found sheep droppings on the stairs. He descended the tower and eventually ended up back in the courtyard below my position on the wall. I had him take my picture, and then we switched and I took his. Finally, we spotted two sheep on the other side of the courtyard, eating shrubs and reaching up to nibble on some evergreen trees. They were nonchalant about our presence so we took a few pictures as we made our way around the circular courtyard to check out more of the view.
We stayed in the castle as long as we could, enjoying the quiet, the snow, the views, the sound of sheep munching gently. Eventually it was time to return to the market, so we headed back down the hill, passing one of the castle manager’s buildings on our way to the road. He had some dressed pheasants hanging on a line outside the door, strung next to tools, coats, boots.
Arriving back at the market, we found many of the vendors clearing up. After James finished with his last customer, we started helping him organize his wares and pack up the truck. Apparently it hadn’t been as much of a sale day as he’d hoped, so there was more meat to pack. We sorted, organized, and began stacking bins and baskets of sausages and dried hams. Through careful planning and puzzling we eventually managed to stack every last piece in the van and squeeze in after it. James then drove us back to the farm.
Trealy Farm is situated on the side of a hill in Monmouthshire, and as we approached the road curved so that we could see most of the property from a distance. After a few minutes we turned onto a snowy dirt road which was fortunately flat as the meat van didn’t have much traction. We passed a neighboring dairy farm and eventually parked at the bottom of the drive. Since it was cold out, James elected to leave the meat in the van, and we unpacked just the essentials — James’ cell phone charger, the cash box, a tray of veggies and a box of desserts traded at the market — and carried them up to the house. Ruth joined us, and we were invited in for tea and a warm-up by the massive hearth in the living room.
Once warm, Ruth suggested a walk to see the land and the animals up close. I was feeling a little tired and feverish but didn’t want to miss out. Fortunately there were extra wellies since our shoes were already wet and we were about to head out into damp snow. Bundled again, the four of us set out along with Ruth’s new sheep dog, Sid. We made our way through a series of pastures, each one fenced and bordered by hedgerows. The views across the sparkling valley were spectacular!
In each pasture there was a different group of animals. First there was a flock of sheep with a few different breeds including Manx. Next we made our way over to a herd of boer goats and met the friendliest buck I’ve ever seen. He loved getting scratches from James. We moved through this pasture into the next, which held some Welsh Mountain sheep, the primary breed that Ruth raises both at Trealy Farm and her family farm in northern Wales.
This particular group consisted of ewe lambs that had been selected for breeding. Because they were young, Ruth had been using them as a practice group for her dog Sid to work. Apparently young dogs like Sid have to build up their sheep-herding confidence, so practicing on a group of nervous young sheep is preferable to a group of stubborn matron ewes who might not respond as easily. Ruth was happy to give us a demonstration of Sid’s abilities as she had only had him at the farm for a couple of weeks. Sid did an excellent job – first gathering the flock and bringing them to Ruth, then moving them to the other side of the pasture. At one point the flock broke into two groups, but Sid was patient and eventually got them back together and into the correct spot. It was the first time that Rick and I had seen a sheep dog work outside of a staged demonstration and it was very impressive to watch.
By this time dusk was rolling in, so we began making our way back to the main barns. We saw some kids that were being kept under shelter for warmth, along with a couple of beef cattle. Then James wanted to show us his wooly pigs, a rare breed that he uses for the charcuterie business. Unfortunately the pigs were reluctant to come over when James called, and weren’t enticed even by grain, so we climbed the fence and went over to the pigs. It was dark out, but you could see how hairy these pigs were. They also were smaller than the commercial breeds we were accustomed to seeing. I was a little wary as they snuffled my boots (pigs do bite!) but stuck around long enough to feel their thick, wiry coats.
We retired once again to the living room hearth to warm up, and were invited to stay for dinner. James cooked while Rick and I got to spend a little more time with Ruth. Of course Rick had met both of them when he visited in 2001, but I wanted to learn more about Ruth’s connection with sheep. Turns out her family has been in the farming business for generations, and much of that time has been with sheep. She told us that her father had passed away the previous year and left her a large farm with 2,000 head of sheep in northern Wales, which she hired someone to manage. Rick and I half-joked when we volunteered to help manage the farm. We talked breeds and shepherding for a while, and I mentioned that knitting had become a trendy hobby in the US. It was very interesting to note the similarities between the breeds that I’d seen at Trealy farm and those that I was more familiar with in the states. The Manx reminded me of the Navajo-Churro sheep that Rick and I raise, and the Welsh Mountain were small, like Shetlands.
All this time amazing smells were wafting in from the kitchen, and Ruth traded places at one point to finish the roasted vegetables. We then sat down to an amazing meal of a French-style cassoulet with a new type of salt-cured sausage that James had been experimenting with for the business, plus fresh cabbage and potatoes from the market. There was a side of roast turnips and more potatoes with herbs. The meal was amazing! After dinner we talked about the local- organic- and slow-food movements and compared progress in Europe and the US. James had attended a Slow Food North America meeting and was impressed at the innovative marketing and products that some US producers were using to sell their products. We talked about the Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) model of direct sales from farmer to customer, the farm-to-plate initiative in Vermont, slaughterhouse and meat inspection regulations and our friend Walter Jeffries who is building his own meat processing facility on a micro-scale. James and Ruth seemed pleased as we were to find others who shared an interest in local, sustainable farming and were more engaged with their efforts than the average city visitors.
As the conversation drifted into beer-making, James broke out a selection of desserts that he’d also scored at the market, including French tarts, cheesecake, and other delights. Rick discussed the homebrew movement in Vermont and the renewed interest in being able to grow hops and grains locally for small and hobby beer production. It was a wonderfully engaging and relaxing evening and we were reluctant to leave, but knew we had to get motivated before we missed the last train back to Cardiff. Before we left Ruth gave us a Welsh Christmas card.
James, Rick and I bundled into the farm’s ATV and headed down the drive. At the bottom, James retrieved a couple of packages of meats for us to try, then we got into the family car and James drove us to the train station. Trying to read the schedule was a bit confusing but with the help of another passenger we confirmed that a train headed to Cardiff would be along in a few minutes. It was about 10:00 pm and a few more passengers arrived on the platform, all of them dressed up for a night out in the big city. Rick and I couldn’t purchase tickets via the kiosk without chip-and-pin credit cards, so we boarded the train planning to pay cash for our journey. We rode along and kept expecting a conductor to pass through, but arrived at our stop without seeing one. We then tried to purchase an exit fare but the office was closed. Seeing that the exit gates were open, we figured we had made our best effort to pay for the journey and walked back to our hotel, full of awesome food and memories.
Tomorrow we explore Cardiff some more.
After a wonderful visit in the countryside, we attempted to see some of the Cardiff attractions that we’d missed previously due to snow. Our first stop was Cardiff Castle. Unfortunately we found the place still closed due to snow, and at first I boggled at this. The keepers had over 48 hours to clear away the snow, so why wasn’t the castle open again? But reality was sinking in. None of the sidewalks or roads had been cleared, because there were no snow plows. Heck, there weren’t even snow shovels! So, we took a few more pictures of the castle exterior, then did an about-face and headed back to the shopping district across the main avenue.
On our first day in town we had spotted a couple of souvenir shops across from the castle, and these were fortunately open. We browsed through trinkets and eventually found a few items to purchase: a couple of refrigerator magnets for our collection, a miniature love spoon, and a baseball cap for my step-father. We also purchased a few postcards. From the shop we headed south back through the central mall, now treacherous with sand-like snow/salt in places and shear ice in others. We spotted an open-air Christmas market and stopped to look at jewelry. While I browsed earrings for my mother, Rick watched and heckled folks who were trying to break up a thick sheet of ice on the sidewalk, at one point asking the sausage vendor to use his enormous frying pan to aid the effort. After selecting some earrings we ducked into cafe for some hot chocolate (for me) and coffee (for Rick), which we enjoyed on our way back to the hotel.
Among other attractions we’d missed on our first day, the Dr. Who exhibit was still on our list and, after getting better information, decided that this would be our pre-dinner activity since it was in the bay, an area we hadn’t ventured to yet. We took the scenic route off the main avenue, wandering through a new development of townhouses and condos. Like the main shopping center, this are looked completely new. After about 15 minutes we arrived at Cardiff Bay and made our way into the shopping mall.
The exhibit was a little corny but worth the £6 entry fee. It was fun seeing all the costumes, props and especially the daleks up close. We took our time going through the exhibit and took lots of photos. At the end we browsed the gift shop and I decided to get a small die-cast dalek/tardis set for my office. We noticed one of those souvenir penny machines and made a few Dr. Who pennies to give to friends. At this point it was time to think about dinner, so we decided to ask the guide at the exhibit for his recommendations. The man was a trove of information! Not only did he make some very good suggestions of restaurants, but he also gave us a detailed overview of all of the locations in the warf where the Dr. Who series was filmed, from the main streets, the parliament building, even the ice cream shop.
Based on our friend’s information we decided to stroll the bay before heading to dinner. It was early and there were very few people out, and most of those we did see were workers clearing the sidewalks. We decided to head to the pub for some quiet away from the sound of shovels on ice. The sea was grey but we enjoyed the view from the second story as we sipped our pints. I could imagine a large bustling crowd of tourists on the docks below in the summer – queuing for boat rides, waiting in line for ice cream, getting sunburnt – and I was reminded why we opt to travel in the off season.
After our beer it was time for dinner, and we chose CÔTE based on our tour guide’s suggestion. This is a chain restaurant with a French bistro feel and menu, and we found the atmosphere, service and food excellent. When we arrived we were still a little early for the main dinner hour, but as the evening wound along the place filled up. There was a French couple in the corner eating steak, an Asian couple on holiday, and, eventually, a large group of coworkers/friends out for the annual Christmas party. We took our time finishing the delicious meal, but were happy that the timing had worked out well, as we departed just as the place started to get noisy.
On our way back we walked up the main boulevard, Lloyd George, towards the city center. It was getting cold again and walking was difficult through the snow/sleet/sand mixture on the sidewalks. I was very glad to see the hotel bar again, where we stopped for a quick nightcap before retiring. We went to bed early in anticipation of our 5:00 am train to Holyhead in the morning on our way to Ireland.
Travel Day to Ireland
Being able to check out the night before made getting to the train station early this morning much easier. Switching rooms the day before had the added benefit of giving us more time since we were mostly packed, and going to bed at 9.30 p.m. made getting up at 4 a.m. … tolerable.
As soon as we woke, we called down to the front desk and asked them to have a taxi ready by 4.30. We brushed our teeth, threw on some clothes, and were in the lobby a few minutes early. We confirmed everything with the checkout staff and gave him one of the complimentary coupons for a bottle of wine we received the night before at Côte. The taxi arrived at the set time and the driver politely chatted with us about the state of world economies as soon as we got in the back seat. Nice guy, but at that hour neither of us were interested in such a heavy discussion.
We had already booked our train online from the states, so we weren’t all that concerned when we noticed the gates were wide open and no one was there to take our tickets. We figured we’d show the conductor our confirmation print-out and all would be well. Not knowing where we changed trains, we couldn’t figure out which platform to be on, so we asked around.
Once on the train there was some confusion as to whether we were on the correct train, but eventually we were assured; and told we needed to change at Shrewsbury to get to our final destination in Holyhead. We settled into our seats across from each other, covered our heads and tried to sleep. The speaker in the carriage didn’t seem to work, but we didn’t notice until we both woke and noticed we were at the Shrewsbury station. We hopped up, grabbed our gear, got off the train and ran down to the train heading for Holyhead.
Awake and on the train we checked for a cafe car, and found none. Announcements were being made that the train was being checked for a technical problem, so I took a chance. I grabbed my ticket from Sarah, just in case and I ran from the train to the Pumpkin Cafe on the platform. The place was packed but many people were simply waiting with their luggage until their train came. It was too cold to wait on the platform. I was able to order 2 chocolate muffins and 2 teas with milk and be back on the train in a matter of minutes. Only to be told a few minutes later that the train had been canceled and that we needed to move to another platform and wait for a train which would arrive in 20 minutes. By now, Sarah wasn’t feeling well, so we waited in the heated area near the next platform. When the train arrived we got in the last carriage on the train which just happened to be the one closest to where we were on the platform. We boarded, found seats and settled in for the rest of the journey.
It ended up that we were in a very cold carriage that we eventually learned had no heat! The train was packed and everyone was bundled up against the cold. The train was too packed to risk losing seats (and moving luggage), so we stayed in our table seats. Due to the weather, many people had opted to use the train to travel and those trains that were running, were running at capacity we learned. Sarah began knitting a baby’s jumper to keep her fingers moving. The train remained packed as Holyhead is a main ferry port and with closings at a few airports — including Heathrow and Dublin — more people than usual found themselves heading home for Christmas via the train.
We spoke with a few people on the train including a nice Irish guy who worked in England and was heading to Dublin to be with family for Christmas. We asked him if the ferry port was close to the train station, not knowing if we would have trouble considering we were a little behind schedule. He replied that he thought the 2 were connected as there is “nothing in Holyhead but the train station and the ferry.” A few minutes later after he had taken a phone call from his brother he said “I stand corrected. There is also a nuclear power plant.”
Once in Holyhead, we walked to the end of the station and directly into the ferry port, where we showed our tickets, passports and checked our bags. We then were shuttled from the station to the boat via buses. Once on board the ferry we found a few seats in the middle of the boat and settled in for the 1.5 hour trip. I picked up a newspaper in the store and Sarah continued to knit. The Irish Sea was relatively calm, the skies were clear and sunny, and the trip was uneventful. We noticed that most of the passengers on the ferry were parents and their young children, and decided that even in good weather parents may choose to take this route over airplanes. We also noticed that every crew member on board the Irish Ferry, including the people doing the announcements, seemed to be from Eastern Europe.
When we reached Dublin, we found our bags, headed for the taxi stand and quickly found a car hire to get us to Connolly Station. We arrived in time to use the facilities, grab a cup of coffee, and sit for a few minutes before boarding the train to Longford. The train took some time getting out of the city, but once it did we rolled nicely through the Irish countryside as the sun set on one side of the train and the moon hovered low above the horizon on the other. We arrived at the Longford station, on time, just after dark, where our friends Dave and Anne fetched us. We all caught up in the car on the drive to town, stopping briefly to get a few medicines for Sarah — who seems to be coming down with a chest cold. We dropped Anne off at their place to take care of the dog, and continued on to Ballymahon to check-in.
Skelly’s is one interesting place, and in the good way! From the street there is an off license shop with a pass-through to the pub, which can also be accessed from the side-street alley. Behind the pub, with another entrance off the alley, is the hotel lobby and the entrance to the restaurant. The stairs lead up to the hotel’s rooms and office space.
Dave walks us in from the street, says hello to everyone in the place as we make our way to the bar, introducing us along the way to members of the staff who quickly get us up to our room. Before we can blink we are closing the door behind us and in a very cute room with a full-sized bed, two end tables a wardrobe, a sitting chair and a small flatscreen TV mounted in the corner. The en suite has a new stand-up shower and lots of space. It is obvious the whole hotel part of the building is nearing the end of a complete remodel, and they have done a good job.
Once we unpack and clean ourselves up we head down to the pub and order two pints of Guinness. I made an embarrassing mistake when I grabbed for my beer off the stand after the second pouring and was reprimanded. One more pull later and we both had two pints with thick creamy heads, defying gravity, in front of us. We thanked the bar manager, Seamus, and took long pulls off what were the best pints of Guinness either of us had ever had. My personal mustache thick with a rich overlapping one of foam.
Like much of the rest of the area, Ireland has been dealing with record cold and snows, which are unusual for them. The pub was a bit chilly, and while we waited for Dave and Anne to meet us to go to dinner, we moved over to a table in front of the pub’s big fireplace to finish our drinks. Once they arrived we walked out (without paying or negotiating of any sort) and went to another establishment that is a pub/restaurant/hotel called Cooney’s. We all talked and talked and barely had time to look at the menu, but eventually ordered our meals (we had only nibbled all day) and had a nice supper. When we were done we walked back to Skelly’s where we had a few more drinks in front of the fire before saying goodnight.
We went upstairs and crashed. It was a long travel day, but a great deal of fun. Hopefully Sarah will feel better tomorrow, but she’s probably going to take a “duvet day” if she doesn’t.
The room was very comfortable and we both slept pretty well, even though Sarah’s cough has gotten a little worse. When we got up we went down to the dining room and Pat fixed us up with breakfast. Full Irish for me, and scrabbled eggs and cereal for Sarah. Pat’s an excellent cook, and very generous with his portions.
Because we are the only one’s currently staying here we dined alone near the window that looks out into the alley. Today seems to be rubbish day as we watched staff from Skelly’s and the next door shop gather their bins and take them to the street. Then we noticed a coffin going by on a gurney into the back of Skelly’s. Pat came into the dining room a few minutes later and said with a smile, “I guess you saw the coffin go by. We also do the undertaking around here, so if you die don’t worry it’s all sorted.” We laughed and I suggested they print up cards that read “Eat, Sleep and Be Buried!”
Pat also tells us that overnight were record cold temperatures for Ireland and that they are having trouble with some of the pipes. This means that we still won’t be able to get our laundry done!
After breakfast we return to the room to await the call from Dave and Anne. Sarah has decided that she is going to stay in and try to get better by watching Gaelic soap operas. Dave sends me a text message that they need to run some errands and asks if we want to join. I informed him that I will be glad to tag along, but that Sarah won’t be joining us.
Dave and Anne picked me up shortly after the text and we pile in the car and head for Athlone. We park in a lot and then walk around the frosty village taking in the sites, including stumbling upon a store named Scully Guns & Tackle! After while Dave and I parted ways with Anne so she could shop for a dress to wear to an upcoming wedding. Dave and I eventually make our way to his brother-in-law’s pub, An Cearnog (translates to The Square) where we had a delicious lunch — egg mayonaise (egg salad to Yanks) for Dave and a B.L.T. for me — and a couple of stouts* by a roaring turf fire.
After lunch Dave and I found the local O2 shop where I was hoping to top up my phone with more minutes, but ended up simply buying another SIM with time on it, as it was easier. Afterward we made our way to the mall where we planned to meet back up with Anne. Once we found the mall entrance we popped in a book shop to pick up a driving test manual and as we exited the store we ran into Dave’s mother and father, Ann and Tommy, before Anne found us. Dave invited his parents to join us at Skelly’s later for drinks, and we all made our ways back to our respective cars.
When we arrived at the car Dave got a call from his father that they couldn’t get into their car because the locks had frozen! We started toward where they were before receiving another call from them saying not to bother as a woman threw some tea on it and they were able to get inside. Dave and Ann dropped me off at Skelly’s so they could head home and feed their dog before meeting up with us later for drinks.
When I got back to the room, Sarah was still in bed but said she was feeling a little better, so after freshening up the two of us headed back to Cooney’s for a light supper. Sarah had soup and salad and I had the chowder and a stout. When we finished we walked back to Skelly’s, ordered a stout for me and a brandy for Sarah, and settled into a booth close to the fireplace to wait for the others to arrive.
Dave, Anne and Dave’s parents arrived shortly and we played the Interesting Americans role as Tommy peppered us with questions about the farm. Dave got the next shout and Sarah switched to Bailey’s which Dave’s mother was also drinking. A little while later a boyhood mate of Dave’s named Ollie joined us and the conversation and drink continued to flow. It was probably fortuitous that Sarah switched from brandy, as each member of the group eventually made their way to the bar to buy their round based on what each person was drinking when they left the table. By the end of the evening I had had six (20-ounce) pints of stout and Sarah as many Bailey’s!
Eventually we had to call it quits, and it was a damn good thing we are staying above the pub. We slipped out of our clothes, brushed our teeth, chugged water and did our best to pass out. We have to make a good impression for Dave’s brother and his partner tomorrow.
* Apparently in most parts of Ireland one simply orders “stout” to get a Guinness.
A Day in the Country
Despite falling asleep rather easily, I had a hard night — and harder morning — after all those pints last night. When we left the room and dragged ourselves to the dining room for breakfast I had difficulty even listening to Pat suggest a full Irish breakfast, so I opted for scrambled eggs, cereal and lots of coffee. I was so hungover, I had to take my time with breakfast, but managed to get through it without incident.
Back in the room we were still wondering what to do with a week’s worth of laundry and very little in the way of clean clothes, so while Sarah showered I took a walk down the high street to see what options might be available. I poked my head in the chemists shop and was directed to a shop a few blocks away. After managing to pass it the first time I found the shop and spoke with the woman who runs it. She was glad to help, but her turn around time would be too late for us, so I thanked her and walked back to Skelly’s. Dave had said the night before that we could do our laundry at his brother’s place when we visited, so now it was looking like that was going to be our only option.
When I got back I asked Pat about wifi access because we had noticed at breakfast that there was a SSID named “Skelly’s”. He said we should be able to access it, but we hadn’t been able to. Nice (and trusting) guy that he is, Pat led us to the office where the access point was located and left me to fiddle around with things. After looking over the settings I decide to power cycle the access point and then we were finally able to connect.
Once back in the room we talked about the plan to return to London the next day, and decided that based on the news reports we should consider taking a train and ferry rather than risking our flight from Dublin being canceled. Sarah did some research and booked our train and ferry tickets and I spoke with Skelly’s manager, Peter, about the possibility of hiring a car to get us to the train station early tomorrow morning. Peter said he would speak with their brother James who drives the taxi (naturally!) and make the arrangements to have the car there at half five. We are very impressed with Skelly’s!
Dave and Anne met us out front with two cars. We hopped in the car with Anne and met Dave at the market to pick up the ingredients to make faux meat sauce and pasta. While there we hunted for fragrance-free laundry soap in case Dave’s brother and his partner didn’t have any on hand. Then we followed Dave to drop off the car he had borrowed and made our way to his brother’s place.
We meandered through the snowy back roads before arriving at Ken (Dave’s brother), and his partner PB’s, farm just as the sun was setting. What a beautiful spot they have! Before the sun went down completely we all wandered around outside enjoying the way the last light of day shown on the hoarfrost before heading in to start making supper, and finally do some laundry!
While PB and Anne made supper, Dave, Sarah and I chatted and noshed on some cured meats from Trealy Farm that James gave us, and delicious beers from Untapped Brewing we bought in Usk. Ken was finishing up some chores but joined us shortly before the meal was served.
After supper, I helped with the washing up, before we all settled in the sitting room around the Stanley wood stove to talk. Occasionally I would pop out to check on the laundry, which was is in the garage. The telly was on and when the weather reports came on we’d all stop to see what the latest was on the Dublin airport. It was starting to look like we made the right decision to book the ferry.
It was getting late and we had to get up very early if we were going to be ready for James the next morning, so we grabbed our clean clothes, thanked our wonderful hosts and all piled into the car. Once back at Skelly’s we all hugged and said our goodbyes. What a wonderful visit it has been, but tomorrow we head back to England.
Back to London
Another early start to the day for your intrepid travelers with a 4.45 wake up to finish packing, eat, and be out front by half five to meet James our driver. Since we had most of our stuff packed last night, we finished up and dragged our cases downstairs.
Pat, being the good man he is, left us a note letting us know where we could find the fixings for our cereal. We each had a quick bowl, some yogurt, and some orange juice and were on the sidewalk with 5 minutes to spare only to find Jimmy waiting. I quietly soaked in the view of Skelly’s one last time while Jimmy helped us load the bags into his minivan. Then we headed to the Edgeworthstown train station, which had been recommended by all the Skelly’s as the better option as it is closer to Dublin by a stop.
Damn good thing we took that advice — not that we wouldn’t have — because, as usual, we had set a strict schedule for ourselves. You can then imagine our panic as we did some Google searching and realised the train we were on was apparently destined for a station we believed to be further from the ferry port. It therefore came as a surprise when the station we wanted (Connelly) was called as the next stop. Whew.
We hurried to grab our bags and moved with the heavy crowd to the exit, where found the exit fare booth, which had a long queue. After paying for our train ride we exited the station and found the taxi stand, where we found a car waiting and ready. I fired up GPS map on the iPhone and followed along to see how long it would take to get to the ferry; and I found myself agreeing with the cabby’s planned route. We made great time.
Once at the ferry port, we hopped out, grabbed our luggage and made a beeline for boarding. We signed in, checked our larger bags and headed up the escalator to the gate. We slightly panicked again when it looked as though the gate was closed and the door was locked, but the sign said the boat was boarded. The next ferry wasn’t for at least 4 hours; we needed to be on that boat. I ran around looking for someone to ask and only found a coffee stand. Everyone simply waived me to the doors which I already knew to be locked without any explanation.
Eventually another waiting passenger said we were in the right place and they simply hadn’t unlocked the doors yet. A little embarrassed, but mostly relieved by this news, I dropped my shoulder bag with Sarah and entered the gents, where I was startled by another confusing announcement. I quickly washed up and ran outside where only Sarah was standing anxiously. They had announced last call to board! We hurried through the gate, hopped on the shuttle bus, which immediately departed, and then we were the absolute last passengers to board the ferry. But we made it!
Being last to board meant we had poor choices available for seating for the voyage, so we grabbed the first seats we saw together. Like the last trip across the Irish Sea this boat was filled with young couples with young children. Some in the arms of a parent, stepping gingerly as they negotiated the narrow aisles. Others running amok, staring at people as they charged through, and quickly losing their tender balance. Today the Irish Sea is more awake than the last trip, and she wanted to have a laugh.
At first I tried to play Angry Birds on the iPad, but quickly realised that was a bad idea when I started feeling a bit dizzy, so I put my earplugs in, leaned my head on my hand and tried to nap. My theory being that when one is drunk and the room is spinning it is better to fight closing your eyes, but when the room — or in this case, boat — is, in fact, moving, I thought it would be better to close my eyes. And while I was correct with this assumption about closing my eyes, it was the earplugs that were genius.
On the rare occasion I opened my eyes, I saw screaming children (muffled by the earplugs for the most part!) in the arms of a frowning parent. In most cases either the child, the parent, or both had sick on them, and I re-named the previously christened “Breeder Boat” as the “Baby Barf Boat.”
A short poem film by Rick Scully.
Once the voyage ended we went though customs at Holyhead, and found a cafe to grab a coffee and muffin before picking up our train tickets. The train to Chester was on time, so we boarded, stowed our luggage, found our reserved, forward-facing, seats with a table and settled in. Directly behind us ended up being some drunken Irishman who spent the entire journey messing with the staff, hitting on the women within sight, but mostly taking the piss out of each other. They were annoying, sometimes amusing, but mostly harmless, and we just hoped they weren’t switching trains to London with us in Chester.
The Chester station was packed with people as people did everything they could to get home for Christmas, and it was difficult to get through the crowd to the platform where our train was expected. Again, we stowed the luggage and found our seats on the more posh Virgin train. We both took advantage of the free wifi to check email, and check in with friends. We were hoping to hear from the airline about the status of our flight, but didn’t see anything.
Once the train started moving, Sarah went to the cafe car for a snack and came back with some wine and beer, despite being carded and not having her passport on her. I chatted with an elderly couple behind us who recognised me as the bloke who bumped his head on a low-hanging lamp at the cafe in Holyhead. They too had opted for the ferry and train and abandoned their plane tickets. In front of us two older women seated themselves and they had a sweet little dog with them who was eager to make friends with me. We all introduced ourselves and we found out our new friend was named Lily.
Shortly the elderly couple who had also taken the ferry told us that their flight had been canceled and that ours had to have been as well as the entire Dublin airport had been closed! Sarah and I high-fived each other as we realised how much time and frustration we had saved. Instead of being an hour or so out of London on a train with wifi AND a cute dog, we might have been camped at the airport. Bullet dodged, Christmas saved.
Just after dark we pulled into Euston Station and it was mobbed with people, making it a challenge to get through with our small rolling bags, but we packed ourselves into a Tube carriage and made our way to Pimlico Station. Once on the sidewalk, we fired up the GPS on the iPhone and mapped the flat address where we are staying for the next few days. We got a message from Kaszeta that everyone is at the Cask & the Kitchen having a few beers and to meet them there. We arrived a few minutes later and greeted Kaszeta and Carol and met Kaszeta’s brother Dan and Dan’s wife Sophie.
Carol offered to help us find the flat and the nuances of getting in and out — which includes a fob for opening the gate, taking an elevator to the next floor up, walking along a veranda to the door which is down a few stairs. Once at the door we had trouble working the three sets of locks, but luckily Sophie anticipated this and joined us to help. We got the 2-minute tour, dropped our bags and headed back to the pub.
After a few more delicious, and strong ales, we all made our way to Dan and Sophie’s place in the same complex where we had a lovely meal of bangers and mash. After supper, we got to know Dan and Sophie and caught up with Kaszeta and Carol. We said goodnight, had one more at the Cask & the Kitchen and then retired after our long travel day.
Tomorrow, we get to see Chris Mear!
Chris Mass Eve
Today ended up being about getting ready for Christmas, and the evening was spent much as it was three years previous, basking in the company and talents of Chris Mear. Thankfully we didn’t try to recreate that night’s drinking!
The morning’s first task was to find someplace to buy all the things needed to make the trifle for tomorrow’s Christmas dinner with Ann and Jack. Using the GPS in the iPhone and the general directions given to use the night before by Sophie, we decided to head to Victoria and see what any of the markets had to offer, before continuing toward the Belgravia Waitrose.
Along the way we entertained ourselves by counting the number of Mercedes and Jaguars we saw parked as we walked along the sidewalks of the neighbourhood embassies. The market was small but surprisingly had a large selection of everything from wine to produce. The staff did their best to make the bins look full, but the customers deftly moved around them to fill their carts as fast as they could restock. There were plenty of staff to help customers find items on their lists, and we were on our merry way within an hour. Our four reusable bags borrowed from the flat filled as full as we could manage for the long walk back.
We were rather hungry by the time we got back and unpacked the groceries, so we headed back out to see if anything was still open for lunch. We pushed on a few more blocks between Pimlico and Victoria, eventually locating a nice Mediterranean place named Kazan, which we chose mostly by the fact it had the most people inside it for a mid-afternoon, and then by the enticing menu posted in the window.
The staff were attentive and the food was delicious. We ate slowly savoring the wonderful spices, sipping from the red wines we selected. I was pleased with the Turkish wine, Yakut Rouge, I chose to go with my fire grill meat platter. The Turkish Delights delivered with the check may have been Sarah’s favourite though, and she asked a staff member for the name of the product. The guy returned with a piece of the cardboard box in which the double-roasted pistachio Güllüoglu brand candies were delivered.
We were told they were a popular brand, but we stopped by a half dozen newsagents on the way back and none appeared to have head of it. Once we got back to the flat I did some more research and it looked like we would be able to find Güllüoglu in the states, but knew we could just beg friends to ship them if the need arose.
After showering and freshening up we walked to Victoria Station to start our journey to Snaresbrook to meet up with Chris. The tube was packed with people getting in some last-minute shopping or making their way home for tomorrow’s holiday, when all transportation is closed. We stood for most of the trip, shuffling to one side or the other depending on which side’s doors were opening next, and taking in all the people. Some quietly staring ahead with their earbuds falling into a pocket or hand, others talking to their mates, many people laughing and smiling. The two teenage girls sharing a set of earbuds and singing along to a favourite pop song was hillarious.
We arrived at the Snaresbrook station about 5 minutes later than we were expected, but there was Chris Mear waiting with a car and that famous grin. We decided to try and find a pub serving food and walked to a few pubs near St. Mary’s Church, but they were all packed. The one that was marginally less packed, the Nag’s Head, is were we stopped for pints to assess the dinner situation. After reacquainting over beers, we returned to the car to drive to a tried-and-true favourite of Chris’ named Loon Yee.
We were seated by the window next to a group of 6 people having a good time. We ordered drinks and tea and tried to look at the menu while wanting to talk. We each picked a few appetizers and entrees, closed our menus and resumed catching up. The food came quickly and we tucked in. At one point a pair of young drunk guys came down the side walk singing and Sarah cheered them on through the window, only to be greeted with one of the fellas stopping and giving his willy some fresh air. Everyone turned away and thankfully the guy wasn’t persistent and his mate wanted to keep walking, so they left and we laughed. Such Christmas enthusiasm.
The more welcome Christmas spirit came a few minutes later when the staff walked into the room with a fondant pig cake with lit sparklers sticking out, and we all sang happy birthday to one of the women in the group next to us. When we finished I leaned over and said hello and the birthday girl introduced herself. Born on Christmas Eve, and named Carol!
We finished up our dinner, and drove back to the same spot we had parked before to get to St. Mary’s for midnight mass. We enter the church and Chris settled in to the organist position and we took our spot in the front row directly in front of him, but our view blocked by the size of the instrument. Still the best seat in the house in our opinion and we’re there for moral support. If we could see him we might heckle him and we don’t want to make him mess up. Not that we’d do something like that.
The music filled the small, old church and service was very nice. I always enjoy shaking hands with the welcoming strangers and taking a blessing during communion. The karaoke-like screens for the hymns are welcome to these trespassers, but still look out of place in this very old building of worship.
After mass, we thanked the vicar and made our way back to the car. Chris fired up his iPhone’s Tom Tom app to navigate his way through the practically deserted streets of London; only going the wrong way once, and rewarding us for his mistake by driving us over Tower Bridge for the first time. We didn’t remember the actual address of the flat, so Chris dropped us off at a corner in the general area, where our day of looking for lunch helped us navigate back to the flat.
Once home, we got ready for bed, and off to sleep without any sign of Father Christmas having broken in. I thought we had been good this year, myself.
We were a little tired this morning after the previous night’s events, so we didn’t get up to peek at abandoned London, which is what London looks like on Christmas Day morning. Instead we each had a bowl of cereal before Sarah got stuck in making the trifle and I attempted to do laundry in the flat. Attempted, because the tiny all-in-on washer and dryer doesn’t do what I expect of it. No matter how small a load, everything comes out damp and hot and far from what I would call dry. What was supposed to be a quick task quickly became a reason to worry about the clock and the timing of our departure for Jack’s place.
I think Sarah’s trifle looks great, but she worries about it. Working in an unfamiliar kitchen with unfamiliar equipment and materials always makes it a challenge to her, but she always does well. Even the plastic punchbowls we picked up at Sainsbury’s are doing a fine job in their roles as trifle bowls! We are each a little on edge as the clock clicks closer to the hired car arriving in front of the building at half two. It took a great deal of begging and negotiation on Jack’s to secure a car on Christmas Day for a reasonable rate of 25 quid. We have spotty reception in the flat and we did not want the driver to leave us behind.
The car arrived a few minutes early, but we got the call. We rushed to gather the food, gifts, coats and anything else we could before running to the lift and out to the road. The drive from Pimlico to Tooting went by our windows quickly as London was closed for the national holiday. We were soon at Jack’s doorstep. Ann showed us where to put our coats and we made our way into the front room to meet their “German friend”, Al. We had been expecting a person who spoke German or at least English with a German accent, but instead it was an old mate of Jack’s from university who happened to be of German decent.
Ann brought Sarah a glass of red wine and a pint of bitter for me, along with some delicious canapes, and we sat down in front of the fireplace to get acquainted and reacquainted. Al put on his special winter mix of music which was made up of selections from Captain Beefheart, Del La Soul, Radiohead, Revered Horton Heat and even Snoop Dogg. Not your traditional holiday sounds!
When the turkey was ready, we gathered at the table, pulled crackers, donned hats, and made very merry over a lovely meal. In addition to the bird, there was bread salad, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, and a tangy sauerkraut which our new German friend had brought.
After the meal we retired to the front room again, loosened our trousers (well, I did!), and tried to play a game far too complicated for the conditions. We decided to have pudding and try another game (Scruples) and had more than a few laughs. I am dubbed a “man of high moral caliber” making it easier for people to get points simply by asking me their questions.
Drunk and happy, we reluctantly call the car hire service for our return trip before they close for the evening, and it arrives so quickly we barely have time to say proper goodbyes. In the backseat on the way back to the flat I follow along with Google Maps as we weave through the heart of the capital while we discuss the evening. To the taxi driver I mention the agreed upon fare of £25 and he fires back that it will be £37! I argue as politely as I can, but once we arrive at the flat I eventually bite through my lower lip and give exactly £37. The driver on the way to Tooting received a nice tip, but not this guy.
Exhausted, we brush our teeth, fall into bed and wish each other a happy Christmas.
Boxing Day morning brings news that the Tube strike that had been all over the media over the last few days was officially on, meaning we need to take a bus to the football match in Fulham. We check London Bus, and over cereal study the maps and routes before gathering our coats (and Rick in the Father Christmas hat) and boots and heading out to Victoria Station.
We know this is traditionally London shops’ busiest day; the Tube strike is bound to make for slow travel everywhere.
We stand outside Victoria Station and wait for the 11 bus to Fulham Broadway; mostly because of the information the app gave us, but also because we see people in West Ham colours obviously dressed for the grounds. The streets are packed with people, but only slightly more than previous days. The buses are packed as they arrive and empty quickly at this busy station. We swipe our Oyster cards and go upstairs where we find a seat.
We hop off the bus at the last stop of its route, and a quick glance at the GPS Map app shows we still have a ways to go. Nothing we can’t walk and still be on time to meet the lads. As we step off the bus and look at the phone a pair of male Chinese students ask if we can help them find Craven Cottage. Heading that way, we say they are welcome to join us for the long walk. We make small talk before ducking into a Nero Cafe for coffee and hot chocolate to warm us up. While we wait for our drinks, we sit down at a table where we learn they are huge Premiere League football fans, and primarily Manchester United supporters. They tell us they are trying to see as many matches as they can while on break from their classes. The orders ready, we continue on our way with our new friends.
At Putney Bridge we send text messages to Sharp, Tait, and Spahr. We quite literally bump into Sharp as we are all looking at our phones typing messages to each other. Warm greetings and introductions of our new friends to our old friend and we make our way to find Tait, Spahr and Charlie. Doing so, we’re on our way! The long walk through the park on the way to the grounds is covered in ice and we mind our steps as we chat and laugh. One of the students says he will always picture me as Father Christmas. When we get to the gates we say goodbye to the Chinese students, wishing them luck, and make our way to our seats. The queues at the refreshment stands are long and undefined. They also are having trouble with the hot water. No tea or coffee, making many in the crowd groan and swear. The hot dog is only filling.
The match gets underway and the home side start well, and are rewarded in the 11th minute when Hughes scores on a header. However, despite out-playing West Ham, the Cottagers make a few mistakes and combined with a brace from Carlton Cole. The final score is 3-1 to the Hammers. The walk out is slow as fans soak in the loss. Sitting in the middle of the relegation zone at Christmas is not something that was expected.
Once the crowd thins, we make our way over the Thames to The Boathouse for beers and crisps. We find a small table in a back room, away from the bar, and tell stories, catch up, and laugh, and laugh. We all leave together, hug and say goodbye. We make our way across the river to a bus stop and wait. We overhear a pair of drunk men who wonder aloud “who won the West Ham match?” I tell them the result and they cheer and start singing songs. The bus arrives and the songs go on. The men sing West Ham chants from the top of the bus and we smile from below at what we started.
The traffic is horrible and our bladders fill faster since the drinks at The Boathouse, so we hop off the bus somewhere along the line with lots of posh shops and fairy lights in the trees, but not one single place available to us. We wander around the square as quickly as possible thinking of our limited options when we find one of the self-cleaning public toilets to save the day! We hop back on the next bus to Victoria Station, jumping off a few blocks early to avoid the crowds. From here we walk the quiet neighbourhood streets and eventually to the flat. We eye the closed Cask & Kitchen and lament that it is not open at this moment.
Not seeing much else open, and after consulting with Smith via Twitter, we decide to head over to the Queen’s Arms. The same one where the MetaFilter meetup is scheduled tomorrow. A trial run for us, and a much needed meal. The place is very cozy, and our server Mike was witty and friendly, taking time to chat with us. We finish with the amazing sticky toffee, and I knew we would enjoy a return trip.
For now it is time to sleep, and save energy for the meetup. Thankfully the flat, and the bed, is only a few blocks away.
Tourist Day & MetaFilter Meetup
Allowed ourselves a bit of a lazy morning knowing it would be a long day. After bowls of cereal we cleaned ourselves up, made our way to Victoria Station and caught a bus to Liverpool Street. Being a little early to meet Dan, Sophie, Carol, and Rich, we wandered around the streets outside of the station taking in the architecture and taking photos. After meeting the others we grabbed another bus to a pho place Rich suggested once he realised his favourite spot was closed.
The food was delicious and we all enjoyed ourselves, but the restaurant made things a little difficult by refusing to honour our American credit card. Rich said they can’t legally do such a thing, but ultimately we decided to repay Rich and Carol later rather than argue.
After lunch we parted from the group to go to St. Paul’s Cathedral to do a little site seeing. Neither of us had been inside St. Paul’s so we were curious about the London skyline landmark.
Once inside, we paid our fee, picked up the iPhone audio tour device, and made our way through the beautiful space. Eventually we climbed to the top and made our way around the dome, dodging other tourists, and taking photos of the stunning views of the city.
With the closing hour nearing, we made our way toward the exit, stopping by the gift shop and restrooms before heading out into the dusk. We made our way to the Tube stop and head toward Oxford Circus to have dim sum at our favourite place, Ping Pong.
The closer we got to Oxford Circus the madder the Tube trains and stations became. When we got off the train and made our way to the surface it was wall-to-wall people moving in every direction. We stepped against the wall to check the iPhone map and then did our best to stick together as we moved with the crowd.
We ducked down and alley seen on the map and found a less busy route to the restaurant. Ping Pong was busy, but we were shown to our table right away. The table was small, making it a challenge for the wait staff to find places for our items, and as more people poured in the service got spottier. We eventually got our puddings, settled the check and scrambled to get back to the flat so we could make the MetaFilter meetup.
Once outside the crowds seemed larger and when we got to the Tube we encountered long queues at all the Oyster ticket machines. It took 20 minutes just to get a top-up so we were definitely running late. Glad we called the meetup for a place close to where we are staying!
We got back to the flat, dropped our packages, freshened up, changed clothes, and dashed out to Pimlico The Queen’s Arms to meet the others. As we were walking, I sent a Tweet asking for someone to post updates from the Arsenal/Chelsea match that was about to kickoff. The Queen’s Arms doesn’t have a television, and I wasn’t about to be rude and be glued to the phone for updates. Someone offered to send me direct message updates shortly after we arrived at the pub, and we settled in at the large table set up for our group.
We got to meet some new people; however, we found it amusing that very few of the attendees were actually British! Other Americans visiting — including Rich, Carol and Dan — plus an American who works in London, a few Canadians, and at least one lovely Irish musician were there. The Mear brothers, Sophie, and some bloke were the only proper Brits!
Some people ordered food, most had drinks, and everyone had a good time. The staff was great to us; Ollie and Rosie really took care of us. Rosie was curious about brewing beer, so I helped explain the basics to her, and at last shout bought the two of them a beer of their choice. Rosie opted for an Anchor Steam just as I had just ordered. We also learned that Arsenal had upset Chelsea, 3-1, so we were chuffed … and surprisingly not too drunk.
We said our last goodbyes to Chris and David, and Rich and Carol for this trip, and made our way back to the flat for the last night in London, where we got ready for bed immediately.
Last Full Day
As the trip winds to an end I am finding it a little harder to get up and go in the morning. I am having a great time, but running on fumes now. It’s a grey, rainy morning. I am not hung over, but feel a bit out of it. We meet up with Rich and Carol early before they make their way to the airport and back home. While walking around Pimlico we found a modern, yet cozy, little place called Carmel’s, across from Kazan. We each tucked in to some variation of a full English breakfast and quietly chatted about our various adventures and plans for the our return to the States.
Once breakfasts were finished, we said our goodbyes and parted. We then made our way to the Tate Britain for some culture. We decided to investigate the Eadweard Muybridge exhibit and if there was time check out the Rachel Whiteread drawings, which were included with admission to the Muybridge. We did end up seeing both, and very much enjoyed the Muybridge exhibit. We went in knowing a little bit about his work in timed photography, and came out amazed. The large-scale panoramic work was particularly fascinating. We also found time to walk around other permanent collections that were beautiful, and got to people watch.
Feet starting to drag, we eventually made our way to the museum’s shop, and found a few gifts for ourselves and a few friends. While waiting for Sarah to complete the purchases, I ran into Dan and Sophie in the lobby. Appears they fancied a bit of culture as well! Before they went on their way though, we made plans to have breakfast in Pimlico in the morning so we can return the key to the flat.
After all the pretty things and culture and stuff, what we fancied most was lunch and we decided we had to go to the Queen’s Arms one last time. We made our way through the sprinkling rain back to our new favourite comfort food pub where we split a burger and a sticky toffee, and I had a pint. As we left we said our goodbyes to the staff we had spent time chatting up over the week and headed back to the flat to rest and clean up before our date with the Mear family later.
We finally left the flat and began our journey to North London just after dark. The tube was filled with people when we got on at Victoria, but eventually thinned as we made our way north east across the city. Most of the way we amused ourselves people watching.
We were in great moods when we arrived at our stop. We walked the long platform, checked our Oyster cards’ values, and turned the corner to see Chris’ smiling face once again. We assumed we were walking to their place, but ended up meeting David and Jennie just up the road and continued with them to their local Chinese restaurant. Jennie’s milieu.
Jennie took charge and ordered (in Chinese) the set family meal, but we didn’t know what that meant. A pile of plates came out and we ate. And more came out and we ate. And then soup came out and we ate. And by now we are feeling more than full. It was then we found out we hadn’t even had the entrees yet! And the thing about the set meal is there is no take away leftovers! You eat what you order. By the end of the meal we could barely keep our heads up. Full and tired, and happy. Jennie continued to speak Chinese to the staff and it became obvious she was picking up the check despite our offer to take her and her sons out as our treat! She’s so sweet. We’ll miss her and the boys!
After dinner, we barely had the energy to waddle back to the South Woodford tube. However, being a few zones outside the city meant we got seats. The train filled as we got closer to the heart of London. The ride was long and filled with characters coming home from football matches being played or pubs where they were watched and discussed. We leaned against each other in solidarity and exhaustion, remembering to switch at Oxford Circus and getting off at Pimlico, which we’ve learned is a much nicer walk this time of night.
Starting to think living here (not London, though) would make all this visiting so much easier than these marathon visits every few years, but tomorrow we begin the process of going home.
Today is all about travel. We need to meet Dan and Sophie for breakfast and to hand the keys over to them so we scurry around the flat making sure the place is at least as clean as we found it — checking behind dressers and bed for items that may have wandered off. We want to make sure Dan and Sophie don’t have to do anything more before her father needs the place next. As we find wandering items we do our best to squeeze them into the bags we have. We may have more with us than when we left in the gift exchange market, but eventually we find a place for everything.
Satisfied, we leave our luggage near the front door and walk to Pimlico Fresh. We are early, and order coffees before grabbing spots on the long bench near the huge blackboard. Dan and Sophie arrive shortly thereafter. We place our breakfast orders, and return to the table. We chat about Muybridge, our visit, and their holiday travels. Once we finish our delicious breakfasts we all return to the flat, retrieve our bags and return the keys. Then we try to convey just how grateful we are to them for their hospitality to strangers.
After the goodbyes, Sophie points us to the bus stop around the corner where we catch the 436 which terminates at Paddington Station. The bus weaves its way through the heart of the city, and we attempt to soak it all in one last time. The city looks a bit stuck in the aftermath of Christmas, between the madness of the few days after the holiday and the days leading up to New Years Eve. People on the street have slowed their pace a bit, it seems. Even Paddington Station seems to be moving in slow motion when we arrive, and I start to wonder if it is my desire to stay has made the time crawl.
We take turns monitoring the luggage, grabbing coffee, and using the facilities, all the while monitoring the board for the next Heathrow Express train. Despite my apparent time control, the train is ready to board and we make our way down the platform and choose a carriage. We settle into our seats and take advantage of the last free wifi we are likely to see on this side of the pond. The conductor comes by, and soon after we are on our way.
Heathrow — as always — is buzzing with people when we arrive. It doesn’t have the crazed atmosphere we had seen on the television for the last week when so many flights were canceled. It is the busiest airport in the world, and it shows, but last week was mad. We make our way to the Virgin area, check in at the kiosk, and then wait in line to check our luggage. The staff is efficient and polite and we move on. We are so early we don’t have a gate assignment. After going through customs and having our bags scanned, we find spots just past the duty free shops and relax. Again we take turns watching bags and grabbing drinks or snacks. I use the iPhone to chat with friends on IRC and to use up as much of the pre-paid card as possible. Sarah reads Sherlock Holmes on the iPad.
We had been monitoring Rich’s tweets of their journey home the day before, and it sounded like they had a long, hard trip. The weather was still bad today, but we were hopeful. Once we were able to board, the plane’s captain came right out and said they anticipated a quick flight. We went through our usual boarding routine, meaning I immediately put earplugs in, and we nested as best we could. I was able to tell it was the exact same plane as the flight over, but at least we had better seats this time. Luckily the flight was smooth, the movie, books, and iPad entertained us, and we each were able to grab some sleep. We even landed early!
We breeze through customs, grab our bags, and find the waiting area closest to where the Dartmouth Coach stops. Unable to find an ATM, I exchange a few a quid for the local currency at a less than perfect rate, before buying a couple of muffins on which to nosh. Sarah monitored the bags and iPhone which I had plugged in to a (rare) public outlet for a much-needed charge. We are early for the bus, and spending most of the time waiting by zoning out and/or people watching.
The bus is a few minutes late, but it ends up being the “express” so we will go directly to Lebanon, cutting out one stop along the way. The dark, quiet bus is perfect and we melt into the high-backed seats as we pull out of Logan and into the Boston night. As predicted the movie is The Karate Kid (again) and we watch the muted screen to see if we can find where we left off 2 weeks ago.
The bus trip is uneventful — although we still didn’t see the end of the film. We are very happy to see Ryen’s smiling face when we arrive. We all exchange hugs and she helps us with our bags. I slide into the driver’s seat and we drive the short distance to Ryen’s grandmother’s house, where we extend our thanks and say goodbye. The car is warm, and feels good. We are both tired, and with the end of the trip in sight, we get on the highway and aim Penny toward home.
In our absence a good amount of snow has fallen, and thankfully Ryen called Matt Loftus to come over and plow. It was nice to return to a clean — very well-plowed — driveway. At the door we are greeted by excited dogs who have been startled from their naps and are bouncing for our attention. There is a stack of holiday cards that arrived while we were away. We unpack the toiletries, grab beers, turn on the tree’s lights, and go through the cards together on the floor while the dogs get as close to us as they can.
As we get ready for bed, we talk about how much we already miss our friends and wonder when our schedule will allow for our next visit. Hopefully soon.
Though we’re not usually beach people we were pleasantly surprised when, a few months ago, we were invited by a few of Rick’s cousins to join them in Wildwood, NJ for a Scully family reunion. Rick had not communicated with them much in the past 20 years, and I had never had the pleasure of meeting them. So we booked a room in the hotel they had selected and planned for a trip to the beach.
Driving down was pretty easy. We left the house about 7:30 on Friday; zipped through Vermont, Massachusetts, and Connecticut; had to wait for about an hour in New York to cross the George Washington Memorial Bridge; then made our way through the toll-road slolham on the Garden State Parkway, only getting a tiny bit off track just as we were crossing into Wildwood Crest. Rick’s excellent intuition and sense of direction quickly got us to the hotel just as Tami and Ed arrived.
The hotel looked like a beached cruise ship, white with tropical details and a multi-level porch/patio area off the back overlooking the ocean. Thankfully it was not one of the new over-done highrise hotels, but one of the many remaining theme hotels from the 1960’s. The themes reminded me of a more subdued, beach version of Las Vegas; an interesting combination with the ocean.
We were quickly (re)introduced to Colleen and Jamie and their kids (and one grand-daughter) and joined them on the ocean. We chatted for a bit before returning to the hotel patio for some grilling. After our food settled a few of the kids (myself included) decided to jump in the pool. I had forgotten how much I love swimming.
After the sun went down we moved up to the second-floor patio overlooking the pool. Exhausted after a full day’s drive, we retired at a reasonable hour. The next morning, I rose early hoping for a morning swim, only to find pool didn’t open until 10:00 a.m. So Rick and I headed to the nearly deserted beach to have a look around the tidal pools. I was surprised to see evidence of sand crabs and even a little beach grass on such a crowded beach.
The rest of the group rose and we headed to breakfast at the noisy and overpriced Flip-Flop Cafe, which seemed quite popular. Then we returned to the beach with Jamie, Cyd and Shannon, taking pictures and looking for shells.
The kids had made a speedy recovery from breakfast and wanted to go for a swim in the pool. I decided to wait a bit and parked myself by the pool with my knitting. Tim and Gina were giving Leanna a swimming lesson and I had a blast watching her jump from the side of the pool into her dad’s arms. Eventually I couldn’t resist and I joined the pool crowd for a few minutes, before we relocated back to the sand. By this time it was around noon and getting hot. We rented a couple of beach umbrellas, which were quickly erected by a very helpful teenage beach umbrella dude.
Rick and I were quickly roped into helping Forewoman Shannon build sandcastles Little did Rick and I realize at this point that we had failed to get an even coating of sunscreen on our legs and feet.
Meanwhile, Leanna had been playing with her parents and was eventually due for a nap, so the three of them went back to the hotel for a rest. By this time, I was hot and covered in sand, and Tami had been gently baking herself in the sun for good while, so we decided to join Cyd for a dip in the ocean. I had not been planning to swim in the salt water, but I was so hot and the water so cold at this point that I couldn’t resist. I had a shock getting into the water but once in it felt refreshing. I was surprised how far out Tami and I were able to wade and still reach the bottom. The tide was really coming in at this point and so even though it was a bit rough I felt comfortable. Tami and I were having a great time when we spotted dolphins about 50 yards further out from us. Though we never were very close, it was my first time swimming anywhere near larger sea life, and I understood why people like to snorkel.
We finally dragged ourselves out of the sea and I lay out under one of the umbrellas reading Sheep! Magazine. Rick returned and he and I had a catnap on the beach while Jamie and Cyd headed to the surf shop. Shannon returned and once again enlisted our help, this time in setting a trap for her brother. She devised a rouse by which she would invite him to sit beside her on a beach towel, only to trick him into falling butt-first into a pit. Rick tried to convince her the retribution she might face from Cyd would be worse than the joy she would have at tricking him. But I tried some reverse psychology and, while Rick went to cool his burning feet in the ocean, I dug in with enthusiasm to help Shannon make a deeper hole. After about 20 minutes of eager preparation and gleefully imagining Cyd’s expression as he fell into her trap, Shannon began to doubt the wisdom of her plan. Eventually she talked herself out of it and we backfilled the hole just as Jamie, Cyd and Colleen returned from the surf shop.
After some more beach time we made our way back to the swimming pool, where Shannon and I played at shouting to each other under water and trying to understand one another. We didn’t have much luck. The pool was very crowded so we didn’t stay long.
For dinner Tami had planned a special belated birthday meal for her sister Colleen, with fillet mignon for everyone and a birthday cake. All the family pitched in with various side dishes, and I saved the day with the lettuce we brought from our first CSA basket.
After dinner we decided to head down to the boardwalk. Cyd and Shannon played a few games on the midway and won a couple of prizes (Sonic the Hedgehog and a lovely pink gorilla). Then it was time for rides! Cyd spotted a terrifying ride: basically a small human hamster ball attached on the end of a bun-gee line which launched passengers into the air and left them swinging and bouncing for some time. Meanwhile, Shannon wanted to go into one of those 3-D horror houses and I was elected to join her. While I was happy to be Shannon’s wing-woman those spook houses always give me the creeps and I was glad we weren’t in for too long. Rick then joined Shannon on the carousel.
By this time Jamie and Cyd had determined that the line for the human hamster bun-gee ride was going to be over two hours, so they decided to ride the “Screamin’ Swing” (a very large, hydraulic-powered number). Realizing they would have a bit of a wait for that ride as well, Tami, Rick and I decided to try the “Great White” – an old fashioned wooden roller coaster, while Shannon hung out with Colleen and Ed. The Great White lived up to it’s name. The drops were spectacular, the curves spine-crunching, and by the time we were released we were definitely a whiter shade of beach-tanned.
We joined up with the rest of the group just as Cyd and Jamie were getting onto the swing, and we had a blast watching their faces and listening to their screams. Then it was time for a round of boardwalk food, including waffle/ice cream sandwiches, funnel cake, and soft-serve. We headed back to the hotel about 11:00 p.m.
The next morning Tami and Ed decided to sleep in while the rest of us trucked over to the restaurant in a nearby hotel for a big sit-down breakfast. The food at the Coronado was delicious and we took our time eating it. Rick and I had already packed up the car in anticipation of check-out time. After saying our good-byes the two of us decided to make a quick detour down to Cape May before hitting the road for the long ride home.
If you’ve never seen it, Cape May, New Jersey is a quaint Victorian beach town at the southernmost tip of the NJ shoreline. The architecture is beautiful and the townsfolk have done an excellent job of preserving the old houses, churches and municipal buildings. We were happy to find this community tucked away from the buzz and development of the beach. After strolling about and taking pictures, we stopped in at a dog-breed-fancier’s gift shop where we picked up a Boston Terrier flag for the garden, as well as some note cards. Then we hit the yarn shop that I’d spotted on the way in to town and I bought some beautiful hand-painted cotton yarn which I intend to use for baby sweaters for a couple of friends. (Side note: Why do babies come in waves? We have several friends who had babies about a year ago, and now I have a few more who all seem to be due this year between October and December.)
After the light shopping excursion we piled back into the car and headed towards the parkway. Traffic was heavy and by the time we reached New York City it was at a standstill. Thunderstorms were rolling in and as we neared the George Washington bridge the sky opened up. It took us over two hours to get across the bridge, only to encounter more delays on the other side. Eventually we made it into Massachusetts, the storm clouds parted, and we were able to drive the speed limit again. We high-fived when we saw the “Welcome to Vermont” sign, only to realize that home was still an hour and a half away. I put some moe. on the iPod and we grooved our way home through the dark, foggy night. When we finally pulled into the driveway, we noticed that our friend Justin had started building the sheep barn.
It was past 10:00 p.m. when we got home, but I was antsy from the long car ride and we were expecting a lot of contractors the next day, so instead of going to bed I decided to make some cinnamon rolls for the crew. Rick put some aloe lotion on his burnt ankles and feet and we finally hit the hay at 1:00 a.m. We had an awesome time at the beach and look forward to the next Scully family reunion. Next time we’ll just have to make a couple of modifications: find a way to avoid New York City, and remember to put sunscreen on our feet.
When we got married we took a long weekend to go on—what we called at the time—our Honeymoon Lite. We had a lovely time in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia, but we wanted to do more. We talked about going to Europe as soon as we could. Then Life got in the way. We bought our house in Silver Spring, and we realized just how much of a time-suck home ownership could be, especially when the home is 75-years-old and hasn’t been looked after for the last 10 or more. Then my father passed away and suddenly we had another house in need of cleaning and serious maintenance plus the need to sort the estate, etc. Shortly after that we decided to move to Vermont where we first settled in a small flat in Montpelier and then it was back to house hunting and job hunting, and … Well, you get the idea. In “Beautiful Boy” John Lennon sings “Life is just what happens to you, while your busy making other plans.”
This past summer Sarah reminded me that we had planned to take a real honeymoon. With our fifth anniversary coming up in October I wasn’t about to argue, and so we booked tickets to England and started planning our “Real Honeymoon.”
I won’t go into the boring details of the planning other than to say that with so many friends in the United Kingdom, it was difficult trying to coordinate schedules, especially considering our trip coincided with the Christmas holiday. We were disappointed we weren’t going to be able to see James and Ruth in Wales because of their holiday plans, but we ended up being able to schedule visits with nearly everyone else. Planning a MetaFilter meetup helped. Continue reading “London, Cambridge & Reading, England 2007”