by Lil Cromer
London is an impressive cosmopolitan city. Our hotel was on the Westminster Bridge with views of Big Ben and the Eye with the Thames around the corner. The city is over 2000 years old consisting of two parts, Old London and the West End where all the wealth and the theaters are located. The 2012 Olympics will be held in London’s East End. Many sections of London are under construction to give them a cosmetic lift so as to show off to the rest of the world.
St. Paul’s Cathedral, where Lady Diane and Prince Charles were married, was designed by Christopher Wren and a work of art. The present building dates to the 17th century. The apse behind the main altar was built to honor American servicemen and women who lost their lives while fighting in England. Under glass sits a book with the names of the 28,000 deceased Americans; each day a page is turned. Underneath lie 200 memorials to famous people who have died such as Lord Nelson and the Duke of Wellington.
Did you ever wonder why many tourists have a fetish obsession with cathedrals? Ditto for cemeteries and crypts? I’d rather visit pubs and restaurants chatting with the living rather than communing with the dead.
Stretching all across the British Isles are 94, 000 miles of footpaths through farms and private property. A “Right to Roam” law allows anyone to walk on these footpaths. Madonna bought an estate near Salisbury and was shocked one morning to find people hiking across the front of her home. Apparently, she was not aware of this Right to Roam law.
Stratford-Upon-Avon is Shakespeare’s hometown. All tour buses stop here. It’s touristy, non-literary types might find it’s much ado about nothing. So as not to disappoint, I visited Shakespeare’s home a small, musty old place.
Liverpool, a large and bustling city with a downtown full of shopping malls, is a must stop for Beatle’s fans. The city used to be a depressed industrial center but has enjoyed a cultural renaissance and welcomes visitors with a new confidence and energy. Restaurants in Liverpool are undistinguished.
The Lake District, thirty miles long and thirty miles wide, is nature’s lush, green playground. Locals are fond of declaring that their mountains are older than the Himalayas and were once as tall but have been worn down over the ages. The south was home to Beatrix Potter, creator of Peter Rabbit. Unfortunately our time there was severely limited requiring another trip across the pond.
York, a city of 190,000 people where one in ten is a student, dates back to 71 A.D. In the Industrial Age, York was the railway hub of northern England. Today the leading industry is tourism.
At Oxford, on our lunch break, a fellow traveler and I visited a famous pub called the Eagle and Child, an old haunt of J.L. Tolkien and C.L. Lewis.
Warwick Castle was built in 1068 at the command of William the Conqueror. Our docent arrived at the castle decked out in medieval garb complete with wig and made castle life come alive. He walked us through a castle invasion then provided an interesting tour of this famous medieval landmark.
Stonehenge was built by Druids in 2000 B C and is aligned with the midsummer sunrise and the midwinter sunset, but its exact purpose remains a mystery. Blue rocks were hauled from Wales 180 miles away and were thought to have magical powers.
Hadrian’s Wall was built by the Romans in 122 A.D. and stretches seventy-three miles coast to coast across the narrowest stretch of northern England. It was a defensive fortification, but the exact purpose of this wall is still being debated.
Bath where Romans once walked on ancient stone pavements around the steaming pool is well preserved and interesting to tour. A new friend and I enjoyed brunch at the Pump Room.
Glastonbury “a new age community” in Somerset is a unique city loaded with aging hippies. Folklore tells of Joseph of Arimathea taking a young Jesus to Glastonbury to escape from the Jews. He was also in charge of the Holy Grail — residents of this small town are still looking for it. King Arthur was also associated with Glastonbury. I overheard somebody say the hippies were looking for Merlin so they can buy drugs from him. At a street fair, I had the best chair massage from Caroline, not that I needed one after sitting on a bus for weeks.
To keep up on world events, I read the Independent each day. If I covered up the masthead, I’d swear I was reading the NY Times or USA Today. The financial meltdown in Europe is much the same as in the US regarding banks, mortgages and the devalued Euro.
Wales is the size of Massachusetts. The Welsh people cherish their linguistic heritage and understanding them was a real challenge. I did learn how to say “Good health to you” a pub toast; YECH-id dah! I enjoyed leek soup, Welsh rarebit, which is melted cheese on toast, and lamb at an authentic Welsh dinner at Cardiff Castle. The emcee was a woman who could have been Kathy Bates’ sister. The staff entertained as well as served the meal. Though ruled by the UK government in London, Wales now has a measure of independence and self-rule but is less urbanized and less wealthy than England. In North Wales towers Mount Snowdon situated in Snowdonia National Park. Smack dab in the center is Betws-y-Coed a small picturesque town loaded with trees and waterfalls where we stopped for lunch.
Scotland makes up about a third of Britain’s geographical area, but has less than a 10th of its population. Scotland has two distinct parts, the north is called the Highlands and the south is the Lowlands. Edinburgh, the capital, was all dug up in preparation for a new tram system expected to be up and running in 2012. The Scots warn to prepare for “four seasons in one day,” and they know what they’re talking about. We experienced sudden outbursts of cold rain followed by sunny skies. The Royal Mile, a famous walk, is actually 200 yards longer than a mile; every inch is packed with shops, cafes and lanes leading to tiny squares. Our city tour guide was an outspoken semi-retired gent in a green tartan kilt who had a wonderful sense of humor and a real love of his city. His wit had us rolling in the aisles. He quipped, “Politicians are like a bunch of bananas — green when you get them, eventually turn yellow, not a straight one in the bunch and if you keep them long enough they rot.”
When we think of St. Andrews, golf immediately comes to mind. However, the university is sometimes referred to as the Scottish Cambridge. Centuries ago, St. Andrews was the religious capital of the country. The Royal and Ancient Golf Club hasn’t entered into the 21st century. Women are denied membership and can only enter the club during the Women’s British Open. I expected this club house to be mammoth and impressive much like we see on TV during the British Open. Au contraire, it’s an unimpressive two story stone building.
Glasgow, while bigger than Edinburgh, lives in the shadows. Architecture buffs love Glasgow as it’s packed with Victorian buildings. The city has an earthy charm, souvenir shops were as scarce as hen’s teeth, there is no upper-crust history and the locals don’t put on airs.
Visitors are a novelty and friendly locals do their best to entertain and amuse the tourists. A cabbie quipped, “The people of Glasgow have a better time at a funeral than the people of Edinburgh have at a wedding.”
If you’ve ever wondered where the term “tight-fisted” came from to describe the Scots wonder no more. When the farmers left for the fields early morning, they cut off a huge chunk of hard porridge their wives had made the night before. In order to eat it later in the day, they put a chunk in their hands and ran it through water to make it soft enough to eat. If they didn’t keep a tight fist the porridge would be lost in the stream.
The roads throughout the British Isles are categorized thusly: M (motorways like our interstates), A (like our four lane divided roads), B (two lane roads) and C (oxcart paths). Driving in the Highlands near Balmoral gave us a thrill watching our driver negotiate those narrow winding paths. Drivers are more considerate there than the road-rage group in the US; I never did figure out how they knew who was suppose to give way, but somebody always did. The tour director provided a funny anecdote about the royal family who stay at Balmoral Castle during August and September. Seems they love to drive in the country and are not the best drivers, driving fast and a bit reckless. One day the Queen was driving wi
th her dogs along one of these C roads and cut off a male driver. She stopped and asked her security team to tell the man she’d like a word with him. He was nervous about the meeting, but had a delightful chat with her after which they both went on their merry ways.
Terrorist threats have highlighted issues with Britain’s large immigrant population, nearly four million. Second generation Muslims, those born in Britain, who strongly identify with other Muslims rather than their British neighbors, were responsible for the July 2005 bombings. A handful of radical Islamic clerics unfortunately began to justify the bombers’ violent actions.
Throughout the British Isles you’ll see many Eastern Europeans, mostly Poles, Slovaks and Lithuanians, working in restaurants and hotels. These transplants, who started arriving after their home countries joined the EU in 2004, can make more money here than in their home countries. Small-business owners have found these new arrivals to be polite, responsible and affordable.
Over the last several years, Britain has seen an epidemic of binge-drinking among young people. A recent study revealed one out of three men and one out of five women routinely drink to excess. I experienced this while being awaken at 2:30 a.m. by revelers exiting the pubs at closing — most were young people. The drink drive laws are extreme throughout the British Isles.
Ireland, an island the size of Maine with a population roughly equal to Detroit or Boston, is divided into Northern Island and the Republic of Ireland. Northern Ireland is a country of the United Kingdom, like Scotland or Wales while the Republic is an independent nation with its own seat at the UN. This 300 mile long saucer-shaped island ringed with scenic coastal cliffs is only 150 miles across at its widest point. No matter where you go in Ireland you’re no more than seventy-five miles from the sea. The Irish are an engaging and feisty lot. One of my favorite phrases is, “There is no bad weather only inappropriate clothing.” Music is the norm in most pubs worth their salt. The Irish are also big pharmaceutical producers: More Viagra is made in Ireland than in any other country … though the proudly virile Irish males claim it’s all for export.
Tourists on a budget in Ireland will encounter the holy trinity of pub grub: Irish stew, chicken curry and fish and chips. The holy trinity of beer is Guinness, Smithwicks and Harp and I can tell you I drank my share. What dismayed me was the Bud and MGD taps alongside the local beers.
Church attendance has decreased dramatically over the past twenty-five years, due in part to child-abuse scandals at parochial schools. If not for the influx of devout Catholic Poles, attendance would be even lower. It was evident that the taverns compare favorably to the churches. The resilient Irish people maintain an unsinkable and optimistic belief in the future.
The decades long conflict in the north between the Unionists and the Nationalists was more about nationality than religion, in spite of what the rest of the world thought. Northern Island is now statistically the second-safest place in the world — after Japan.
Today’s Ireland is cosmopolitan, vibrant, business-savvy and impressively globalized. Their people have a worldwide reputation as talkative, athletic, musical, moody romantics with a quick laugh and a ready smile. We learned an Irish toast: Slainte (SLAWN-chuh)
Ireland is the only English speaking country to adopt the euro currency. Irish time is not unlike South American time. I saw business signs posting hours as 9:00ish and 5:00ish, bus stops at 10:30ish. The elected president is a female, the graceful Mary McAleese and I’m told quite effective. She appoints the prime minister. A favorite phrase: If you’re phoning heaven, it’s a long distance call from the rest of the world but a local call from Ireland. Rainbows were prevalent in the Republic of Ireland as it rains several times per day — no wonder it’s called the Emerald Island.
Dublin, home of Oscar Wilde, is the capital of Ireland and originally a Viking settlement. We visited Trinity College which houses the “Book of Kells,” an illuminated manuscript Gospel book in Latin within an extensive research library. In the city square stands a statue of Molly Malone with her cockles and mussels cart. The locals refer to this as the “Tart with the Cart.” While in the city I stopped at no less than four pubs and noticed that the Irish will bet on anything. One afternoon the patrons were glued to a horse race. After the race most of them headed to a room in the bowels of the pub then returned with cash and a ticket. It took a little getting used to the fact that there is no “th” sound in Ireland. They tink rather than think, say tree rather than three and ting rather than thing.
County Kildare offers perfect conditions for breeding horse, much like Lexington, KY which I visited this past summer. We took a tour of the Irish National Stud farm on a misty morning and admired how they treat the “over the hill” studs that are spoiled and left to live out their lives on this beautiful farm.
Rock of Cashel is one of Ireland’s most historical sights; it’s a steep 100 yard walk up to the rock itself.
Waterford, the oldest city in Ireland, hosts more pubs than cafes. A tour of the factory was impressive. We were afforded a sneak preview of the Solheim Cup even before the golfers saw it. All major works are made in pairs just in case there’s a problem.
The Ring of Kerry is a delightful 110 mile circular loop around the coast along narrow winding roads. We stopped at a little village named Avoca where “Ballykissangel,” a first rate Irish mini series, was filmed.
Cliffs of Moher (more) is one of Ireland’s great natural thrills. For five miles, these dramatic cliffs soar as high as 650 feet above the Atlantic.
Galway looks like a boom town, rare in Western Ireland. It’s a lively university city with a population of 75,000. What Galway lacks in sights it makes up for in ambience. While on the road near Galway Bay the bus was held up for ten minutes by a paving crew. One of the passengers, a dairy farmer from Australia, sang “Galway Bay” after prompting from me. This man has a dulcet voice, so sharing it with others is the right thing to do. He also entertained us in various pubs throughout the tour.
Inverness, which is Gaelic for mouth of the River Ness, turned out to be a great stop, thanks to Rick Steves. He wrote about a pub called Hootananny which turned out to be less than a block from our hotel. Ready for a beer after a long day on the bus, I rounded up a few new friends, all from Australia and walked to Hootanannay. The afternoon music just finished so we managed to snag a table. I went to the bar to fetch some beers for the four of us and chatted up a young college boy to my right and asked for a recommendation of a good local beer. While waiting for the beers, I asked David, “What about this bloke?” pointing to a bald snaggletooth man to my left. David said, “He’s alright.” So, I bought the man a pint as well. Less than five minutes later the guy came over with his beer and a box and sat down with us. Turned out he was the afternoon entertainment. He pulled out a small beautiful accordion and told us the history of this handmade instrument from Italy. Next he began to play some beautiful Irish music; I thought my new friend with the beautiful voice was going to have an orgasm. They made beautiful music together while we all laughed and drank. A little while later, David came over, introduced us to his gay friend from Glasgow, found a couple more chairs and joined us. I discovered David was a writer and just finished an outré novel that needed editing. Naturally I volunteered to do so. He emailed it to me when I got back home and what a weird manuscript! He promised to send me a copy when it was printed, but he never did.
My talented Irish friend at Hootananny
Blarney, home of the Blarney Stone, turned out to be a day I won’t soon forget. It was Sunday, and I elected to skip walking up to the castle to kiss the germ-laden Blarney Stone, opting instead to sit in a café and chat with locals. A young couple, on their way back from church, sat down next to me with four beautiful kids, all with rosy cheeks. Liam, Mary Catherine, Tomas and Baby Brendan ranged from four years old to two weeks old. I offered to hold the baby while the young couple enjoyed their tea. I’ll cherish a photo of Mary Catherine diving into a scone slathered with red jam, mos
t of it on her face.
A beautiful Irish family
I always wondered why there were so many Irish priests here in the USA. After the potato famine, the oldest son got the estate and younger siblings, with fewer options for making a living in Ireland, joined the priesthood and emigrated, many to the US. Father Eddie, an Irish priest in Florida, spent the night in our condo after a St. Paddy’s night of reveling. Hal got up at 9:00, I arose and 11:00 and Father Eddie rolled out at 1:00 in the afternoon looking for an aspirin. These Irishmen, whether laymen or priests, are party people.
Much like England, the per-capita consumption of alcohol has tripled since 1970. Ireland is dependent on the US market fluctuations, “When America sneezes we get pneumonia.”
Full English breakfasts sustained me through the entire tour. I savored the baked beans and broiled tomato halves but passed on the black pudding, a rather tasteless blood sausage. I discovered that Brits call zucchini courgette, and eggplant aubergine. The brown breads were hearty and yummy as well as fish and chips and Cornish pasties. At the Pump Room in Bath, I ate my first crumpet, which resembled our English muffin.
An elderly Russian couple, Boris and Natasha, brought a virus on board which spread like wildfire throughout the bus. The cacophony of coughing set nerve endings on edge. Some folks were so ill they summoned doctors to the hotel and took antibiotics. I was one of the fortunate ones; there were only six of us out of forty-one who didn’t catch the bug. The second day of the tour a seventy something gent from the Gold Coast of Australia suffered a massive coronary and thanks to the quick actions of a medic and his wife performing CPR, the man survived. He met the bus back in London at the end of the tour to thank the Good Samaritan who saved his life.
Victoria Station is a thing of beauty as well as a beehive of activity. At the end of my tour I took a cab to the station to catch a train to Bognor Regis to visit Cyn and Jeff and nearly got on the wrong train. I watched in amazement at folks who needed to use the toilets fish for change or use the change the machine; it costs thirty pence to pee at Victoria Station. Naturally it was downstairs and I struggled with a large bag. A thoughtful cleaning woman opened a handicap stall for me on the first level.