Friday, June 23, 1989

Farewell, Great Britain ...

This was a mildly hectic day that began with the gathering of all of our bags and trying to flag down a taxi. Our original plan was to only take the taxi to the Tube station, but ended up taking it all the way to Heathrow instead, since it was only £20 for the trip. With all of our bags, it was worth it for the convenience.

We got checked through customs with no problem, and at 3 p.m. GMT, we were on the plane and taking off for JFK in New York City. Our flight was very nice, and we were treated to a showing of "A Fish Called Wanda" - my fourth viewing. I have now seen that film in America, Britain, Spain, and over the Atlantic Ocean. It was an edited version, but on the whole it was still good. I was worried because of the curse I believed that it had on me... however, once again, nothing bad happened to me after the viewing, so I think it's safe to say the "curse" is definitely broken.

We arrived at JFK at about 5:30 EST, and boy, what a change in the weather! It was foggy and miserable, and our commuter flight ended up being delayed until 10:15 p.m. So we waited around the airport, eating expensive food and reading books (I am now reading "Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency" by Douglas Adams).

Tired, we finally arrived at Harrisburg International Airport at 11:30 p.m., and I was greeted to a big surprise... Chris Mulvihill and Shannon Hubbard were there at the airport waiting for me... which was more than a welcome sight! We talked for awhile as we packed Mr. Telencio's car (he came to pick us up and take us home), and then parted, since it was so late. Shannon is going to visit me tomorrow, and I'll be going to Millersville soon to see Chris and everyone else.

When I returned, we unpacked the car. I took a few things out of my suitcase, but I'm going to leave most of that for tomorrow. Grandma came up from her apartment to welcome me back. We talked for a little, and she was pleased to see me again.

Even though it was late, Greg called me shortly thereafter, so he and I talked for awhile. We're going to get together tomorrow and see the new movie "Batman," which premiered last night and is supposed to be quite good. It will already be the second time Greg has seen it.

While I was talking to Greg, Trista called me, so I got to talk to her for a few minutes as well. She's in New York right now and graduates from Hicksville High School on Sunday. She told me that her family has now moved back into our area, so as of July 1, she will be back in the neighborhood, which is great news!

Lots of things to see, and a lot of catching up to do.

It's good to be back home.

THE END

Sunday, April 9, 1989

Piccadilly at 3 a.m. (The Journey from Madrid to Hull, Part Two) ...

The train from Longfield to London rolled into Victoria Station at about midnight. However, I told the ticket agent on the train that I had boarded the train at a different station, so I ended up paying about half as much as I should have for the train ride to London. That was necessary, as I now realized that I needed to account for every pence that I had until I returned to Hull tomorrow evening.

At 1.30 a.m. in Victoria Station, after a coffee, rest, and a repacking of my bag into a locker so that I wouldn't have to carry it around all night, I made a decision regarding my fate for this evening. Rather than just sit at the station all night, doggone it, I was going to explore this city and try to salvage potential misery into fortune as best I could.

So I began my trek walking down Buckingham Palace Road to go - where else? - to visit the Queen and the Royal Family. Well they were tired and not accepting foreign visitors at this late hour, so I didn't stick around too long. I walked from the palace down Birdcage Walk on the St. James' Park side, toward Parliament Square to say hello to Mrs. Thatcher.

In the square were your typical landmarks... Big Ben, Parliament. Next I continued down Whitehall past 10 Downing Street, which was heavily guarded. So I assumed there would be no lodging for a wayfaring American here, either.

I continued to walk down Whitehall to The Mall, which brought me back to St. James' Park again. At this point I decided to take a break, sat at a park bench, popped a cassette tape of Emerson, Lake and Palmer's "Trilogy" album and listened to that here until it was done. I was tired at that point, but I got up and continued to walk, because that was the best way to keep warm, and by now it was quite cold outside. I headed back past Buckingham Palace and along Green Park to the Wellington Arch.

Here, I got a bit confused, and instead of going down Piccadilly, I ended up walking down Park Lane and through Mayfair... indeed, the wealthiest neighborhood in London, and I could clearly see why with the posh homes here. I was feeling rather safe in this neighborhood, though I must admit that throughout the night, I never felt threatened or unsafe... try doing this in New York City!)

I passed the Roosevelt Monument and soon found my way back to Piccadilly, which brought me shortly thereafter to Piccadilly Circus, where even though it was after 3 a.m., it was quite crowded here. I found myself wandering the streets in this vicinity, walking nostagically passed the Prince Edward Theatre, where Viv and I saw the musical "Chess" last December... and in the nick of time, too. It turned out that the cast performed its final show at the Prince Edward this very evening.

I then decided to make my way back to Piccadilly Circus and grab a donut and some coffee at the Dunkin Donuts there. I warmed myself up a bit here in the eatery, and even chatted a bit with the security guard there, named Dave. I parlayed my saga to him, and he offered to try and find me a place to crash for the rest of the evening after he went off duty at 5 a.m., if I wished, rather than continue wandering around the city. I told him I'd think about it and possibly come back at that time.

I also chatted with a nice fellow from Belgium, who only spoke a little English and was sitting in the booth seat across from me at the Dunkin Donuts. Despite the language difficulties, we had a nice conversation about world travel, before I set off once again on my own late night travels.

Continued walking a ways down Piccadilly, passing several airline offices (Zimbabwe Air, Aeroflot, Iran Air (picture of Khomeni inside), Libyian Arab Airlines (portrait of Khadafi inside), just to name a few that you don't often see in America.

I returned to the Dunkin Donuts at Piccadilly at 5 a.m. to see if Dave was serious about his offer; however I couldn't find him anywhere. So I continued my explorations up Regents Street, where I passed Hamley's toy store and a Lloyd's Bank that had its burglar alarm going off. Well that was splendid timing. I looked at the building with interest and curiosity, and then saw across the road a female cop, who summoned me to come over to her.

The cop asked me a few questions about where I was going and other things, and then said she was just concerned because I looked confused and she was trying to help me out. Not confused, just curious about the blaring alarm, which didn't seem to bother her much. She was very nice and we talked for a minute as I briefly explained my situation, before I continued my streetwalking past the BBC building, and up Portland Place to Regent's Park.

By now, it was starting to get lighter, and it was approaching 6 a.m. The park was closed, so I ventured down Marylbone Road, passing Madame Tussaud's, and then back down Baker Street. Still no sign of Sherlock Holmes' house at 221B. Made my way down Oxford Street, and now, on the brink of daybreak, I found myself in Hyde Park. They had a stack of wooden lawn chairs here, so I unfolded one and relaxed for awhile. Still a bit cold, so I didn't stay here very long.

Next I continued through the Serpentine to Hyde Park Corner. Next I passed by the Wellington Arch, Green Park, and marveled again at the numerous ducks and fowl congregated in St. James' Park (right). Amazing.

I took another stroll past Mrs. Thatcher's home, this time in the daylight, then finally made my way back to Victoria Station... stopping along the way at a small restaurant where I had a very nice English breakfast for only £2.65.

Next I decided to look for a grocery store to find some food that would get me through the return trip to Hull. I ended up walking down King's Road and through Chelsea (the place that Elvis Costello didn't want to go to...), as well as South Kensington, before finding a grocery store. Where do these people shop? I also walked past Harrod's along the way.

Well soon I found myself on Knightsbridge, which brought me back to Hyde Park Corner. Made my way down Grosvenor Place back to Victoria Station. This time I decided to stay close by, since it was finally getting close to the time when I could catch my bus. I went into a little shop and found a Spanish flag that I bought (something I couldn't find while I was in Spain. Odd.) Gathered my gear from the locker at Victoria Station, and I was at the bus station before 2, a half-hour before the bus left.

Finally, a chance for some extended rest!

But it was not to be. I took a few short naps along the way, and had a cup of chicken soup, which was nice. But I spent a good bit of the trip talking to the guy sitting next to me on the bus. Although I never got his name, I know his name must have been Bob. For some reason, he looked like a Bob to me. So he was Bob.

Well, the bus arrived in Hull a bit early (a little before 7 p.m.), and I caught a local bus (the fare had risen to 38p) back to The Grange. On the bus were Abbey and Cat, also returning to the Grange from their travels over Spring Break, so we chatted about where we had been until we arrived at our destination.

Boy, after all of that, I was glad to finally be back in my room! My only real meal of the day was that breakfast I had had back in London. Fortunately it was a filling as it was.

And then I saw Sid and J.P. when they arrived, a full day later than I had initially expected to see them. They were both relieved to see me, and then gave me a full account about what had happened.

It turned out that J.P. did come to the airport to meet me yesterday. Heathrow Airport, instead of Gatwick. The rest of the ordeal was simply us not crossing paths at the same time. Had I stayed at Sid's house, they did eventually return that evening.

It seemed like they were more worried about the situation than I was. At this point, with it all now in the past, I was OK with how things transpired. It turned out to be a much more interesting experience than I had anticipated.

Sid gave me back my bag-o-things that I gave her to watch while I was gone... and then J.P. hit bottom. We walked into his room and discovered that someone had broken into his first-floor room by smashing his window, then taking the stereo that was on the table next to his bed. Quite a bummer, especially since it wasn't insured. So the stereo that Doug bought, then J.P. bought from him, was now gone forever.

On the upside, I had a nice large stack of mail, including another package of Snappers from Millersville. So I reminisced with everyone, gave them some of the highlights from my month in Spain, then returned to my room.

Although you'd think I would've crashed at this point, I pulled out The Snappers and started reading them to get updated on news at Millersville. I finally fell asleep at about 2.30 a.m. - nearly 40 hours after I last had a night's sleep, crushing my old record of not sleeping, Camp Hill High School's "Wizard of Oz" cast party in 1986. Not exactly a record that I will be looking to try and break.

This has certainly been one of the most interesting days of my life, and quite an ending to one of the most interesting month's of my life.

Pictured top is a postcard that most accurately depicts the first half of this particular day!

***

• Number One Song in Britain This Week: "Like a Prayer" - Madonna
• Number One Song in America This Week: "The Look" - Roxette

Saturday, March 25, 1989

With 3 pesetas in my pocket ...

Woke at 10.30 a.m. and showered before packing our things to check out of the room. They wouldn't accept Vivienne's check, so we had to go out and find a bank. None were open (again with the Easter weekend, in hindsight probably not the best weekend to visit a very Catholic city), so we had to go to an automatic teller and use my Access card to get the money we needed.

We went back to Pension Pintor, paid our bill, and then left our luggage there so that we could take in a bit of last-minute sightseeing. Again, we walked through Gotica and Ramblas, eating sandwiches at a little shop near our room (the only way to eat on a vacation to Spain!) (Pictured is one of the buildings located in he Gothic Quarter.) Next we took the Metro to the Arc de Triomphe, and it was an absolutely clear day. I took a few more photos and relaxed in the park before we returned to our room, picked up our luggage, and returned again to the Arc de Triomphe, this time to wait for the bus.

At 3.30 p.m., our bus left for the return journey to Madrid. Along the way, we were treated to listening to the American Top 40 countdown on the radio while getting another look at exactly the same beautiful scenery we saw when we first came to Barcelona.

Unfortunately, we had Mario Andretti as our bus driver, who insisted upon driving excessively fast along some very narrow and winding roads that would be tricky for a regular car, let alone a large motorcoach. We weren't the only ones who thought he was going a bit too fast. Eventually, he was pulled over by the police and ticketed for speeding, which was actually quite humorous to me. Of course, it did little to deter him, and it wasn't long before he was speeding along the Spanish countryside once more. (Pictured is some of that Spanish countryside, zipping along.)

Well, after passing through the cities of Zaragoza and Guadalajara, as well as making two pit stops - one where I bought a Barcelona '92 Olympics key chain and a can of beer (since it was 60 pesetas cheaper than buying a Coke), we finally arrived at Madrid's bus station, poor and tired, at midnight.

Further revelations occurred at this late hour:

1. Being Easter Sunday now, the Metro was closed.
2. This meant we would have to take a taxi back to the Residencia.
3. The clocks here were moved ahead an hour, making it even later than midnight.
4. We had very little cash on hand.
   

Well, we dished out all of our money to the taxi driver (including 100 pesetas extra for night service.) So with a secure 3 pesetas in my pocket, we carried our luggage from the taxi back into the Residencia. We said our hellos to everyone who was present, and even The Old Man gave us some food - a delicious hot ham sandwich.

After unpacking and a game of checkers, Viv and I hit the hay for some sleep. After all, it was 3 a.m.

Friday, March 24, 1989

A Very Good Friday ...

In the interest of saving money, today was to be a beach day. Actually, since it was Good Friday, nearly everything was closed. Well, not everything, but the banks were closed, and that meant we couldn't withdraw any money, which left our options limited. We walked through Parc De La Ciutadella, where they have a nice zoo, Zoologico De Barcelona. We had difficulty finding the beach at first, but eventually we found it... though it wasn't much of a beach.

First, we ate lunch at a little cafe, then we went out on the beach to sunbathe for awhile. It was a little cool for the beach, but OK, especially considering it was March. Hey, I think I managed to get a little tan.

It was also a beach where many people went topless. Interesting. Viv didn't partake. I did, though.

Well, at a little after 4, it got a little too cold for us, so we left to clean ourselves up and do some more sightseeing. We walked through the Gothic Quarter (Barri Gotic) towards the Ramblas, which was absolutely jam packed with people this afternoon. It turned out to be a Easter (Semana Santa) procession that we couldn't quite make out, but from our vantage point we managed to capture glimpses of a drum corps, a hugh float-type thing, some guys on horses, and little guys wearing what looked to me a bit like KKK-ish outfits (though quite obviously, this was for a much different purpose.)

We ate dinner at Burger King, and afterwards did some night sightseeing. Took some photos in the central area with lit-up fountains, and then walked down a road to what was supposed to be another Gaudi building. Unfortunately, it turned out that most of it was covered up for renovations, so no photo there.

Following that we caught the Metro at about 10 p.m. and retired to our room quite exhausted, concluding our last full day in Barcelona.

Pictured is the Museo de Arte de Cataluna (top), and the view from the front of the museum (bottom).

Thursday, March 23, 1989

Rambling About Barcelona ...

Woke up at around 11 a.m., showered, then hit the city. The first thing Viv and I did was walk through the Gothic Quarter, which was a beautiful area. Very narrow streets were lined with ancient buildings, and filled with little shops and restaurants. It soon led us to the Ramblas, which was a rather touristy area, but nice anyway. We bought a few postcards, and I bought an ALF comic book and a T-shirt commemorating the upcoming 1992 Summer Olympic Games in Barcelona.

We walked around more Gothic buildings and shops (Viv bought sunglasses as well) until we returned to our room to drop things off and make our way via Metro to the Temple de La Segrada Familia. It is a century-old gothicy cathedral designed by Gaudi that is noted by its continuous construction. Gaudi started building it in 1882, and it has yet to be completed. (Pictured top is me at the temple. To the left is my admission ticket.) Since it is unfinished, there was a lot of construction going on while we were there, but it was still opened to the public. We climbed some steps to get to the top, but only made it part way.

After a look in the museum at the temple, we left to check out the site where the 1992 Olympiad is being constructed. To get there we had quite a climb up to the top of a hill where a Ceramic Museum sat. It gave us an incredible view of the city. We walked around here awhile before we came upon our destination. Though not impressive in and of itself, what made it worthwhile was knowing what was going to be there in a few years. We saw the shells of several large structures being built for the Olympic Games at the construction sites. (Third image above is of Viv outside one of the Olympic construction sites; fourth is of another construction site.) Hope they get this project finished faster than the one over at the Gaudi temple!

Next we walked on past the Miro building (closed) to the tram, which we rode and got another skyline view of Barcelona. The tram took us to the Castilla, and though it was rather cold it was definitely worth the trip. Here I got what could be an incredible photo of a sunset over Barcelona. (Picture #4, above, is me at the Castilla, with the tram in the background. Sorry, no photo of the sunset, actually. More about that fiasco later.)

After looking at all this castle had to offer, we walked down the road to the bottom and gradually made our way back to the room. After a short rest we left for dinner, and decided on a place that was way over our budget, but very nice and worth the extra expense. It was at Cosmos on the Ramblas that I (finally) had a steak, and Viv had Hake, all with soup, the trimmings, dessert, and a fine bottle of wine. Our bill came to 5,600 pesetas (£23 or $38) Wow!

We came back to our room a bit tipsy, broke, and very pleased to be spending the night in a city as beautiful as Barcelona.

Wednesday, March 22, 1989

Madrid to Barcelona ...

Today marked my 6th month living in Europe. I woke up quite early today - 7 a.m. - to eat breakfast and then leave with Viv for the bus station. With our bags in tow we set off and arrived with 15 minutes to spare. However, we very nearly missed our bus when we waited in the wrong area. Fortunately, we caught the error in time and just made it on the bus.

The trip was quite long... nine hours, to be exact, including an hour in stops along the way. But it was fascinating because of the amazing scenery we enjoyed along the way. We saw towering snow-peaked mountains, sleepy little Spanish towns that almost seemed deserted, and everything from farmland to desert.

Viv and I sat in the back of the bus relaxing during the journey. While she rested, I read some more of "The Satanic Verses" and took a few photos. They showed the movie "Splash" on the TV in the bus along the way. But of course, it was dubbed in Spanish, so I couldn't understand it.

We finally arrived in Barcelona at 6 p.m., and after a bit of disorientation, I bought a map and decided which way we should head. We hopped on the Metro and headed from Arc de Triomf to Jaume I, on the fringe of the Gothic Quarter. After a short walk we finally arrived at our destination, Pension Pintor, a recommended hotel in my cheap Europe guide, nestled deep in the very old buildings of this section of Barcelona. We got a room for 1,800 pesetas a night, and after we unpacked we took a walk towards the beach. It was windy, so when we found it we didn't stay very long.

We returned to the room and made sandwiches with the luncheon meat we had. We were exhausted after our long journey, so soon afterwards we went to sleep.

Thursday, February 9, 1989

On to the North York Moors ...

Today was another field trip day for Geography Class, this time to the North York Moors. It was quite a journey to get there, but it was a very nice and scenic area... with a lot of heather.

We learned quite a bit about British National Parks, which are administered quite differently from American National Parks. The most notable difference is that most of the land at a British park is privately owned (only 2% of the North York Moors is actually owned by the state). So while there is much preservation, there are also more residences in a British National Park than you would find at an American one.

We got to walk around the Moors for a bit, then stopped at a pub for some grub. Afterward I picked up a copy of The Times and then boarded the bus to head back to Hull. I read in the paper that there was another plane crash... this time a 707 with mostly Italian passengers heading for the Caribbean.

In unusual news that did not make the papers, J.P. had his trousers stolen. He believes that they were stolen from some drunken Belgians, who swiped them from the drying cabinet. While he said before that he does not believe in the concept of "revenge," he today more-or-less refuted that notion by declaring war upon the entire nation of Belgium. I think he could take them if he catches them off guard.

Overall, this was a pretty good, interesting day. Viv continued her studies.

Wednesday, February 8, 1989

A Field Trip to Leeds ...

Today we had the first of a two-part field trip for Geography class, this one to the city of Leeds.

Before we left for the trip, I got my mail, and the timing was perfect... I received the latest copy of The Snapper courtesy of my friends back at the newspaper in Millersville. I took the newspaper along for the bus ride to Leeds. I got to read my first commentary article that appeared in the paper, and I learned that Sam Kinison was coming to perform at Millersville. Man, I was outraged (since I couldn't be there!) During my freshman year we listened to Kinison over and over again... and now to know that I'm missing him when he would've been within walking distance of my room! Well, what can you do...maybe he'll schedule a return engagement next year.

Anyway, Leeds was OK. Slightly interesting, but really just a big industrial town. We took a look at some of the areas where urban revitalization is taking place. Kind of neat to see how they can turn old, abandoned areas into new and useful homes and offices. (Picture #1 is J.P. looking at some of the reclamation projects in Leeds, where an abandoned factory was turned into upscale condominiums.)

Next we went to Saltaire, a small town near Bradford that was build in the mid 1800s as a self-sufficient community for the workers as the Salt Plant, a textile mill operated by Sir Titus Salt. Interesting planning concept there. We toured the Plant - it's not used as an industrial plant anymore, and there was actually an art exhibit there featuring works by David Hockney. Overall it was a small, somewhat bizarre, but overall nice town. (Pictures #2 and #3 are from the Saltaire visit.)

After that we boarded the bus and headed back to Hull, and after dinner, J.P. and I wrote letters to the editor of The Snapper, mainly to trash some pathetic political cartoons in the newspaper. We then broke from the trashing to watch M*A*S*H, but still giggled profusely at the brilliant witty words we wrote in our letters.

Viv still studied all day.

Thursday, January 19, 1989

A Bonny Weekend Begins! ...

Today, Dr. Morrison picked me up to take me back to Ness with him for the weekend. The highlight will be a classic Scottish tradition... the Burns' Night Supper, honoring the celebrated 18th Century Scottish poet, Robert Burns (he's the guy who wrote "Auld Lang Syne.")

Decided to start the celebration by taking it easy and taking a pass on my classes today. Packed my bag, said my farewell to Viv, and then Dr. Morrison and I left Hull around 2.30 p.m.

We moved quite well, stopping along the way at a Grenada Rest Stop for some food and coffee. Arrived in Ness around 5.30 p.m. and went straight to the Old Quay, where Fiona was working, and had some dinner. I enjoyed a nice gammon steak.

We then went back to the Morrisons' house, relaxed, talked, and watched Woody Allen's "Play It Again Sam," which was hilarious. Dr. Morrison is a big fan of Woody Allen. Then I read a bit from the "Book of Lists," before heading up to Glen's old room to get some sleep. He's in America, so I'm sure he won't mind.

Friday, January 6, 1989

Birthplace of The Bard ...

Only a couple of days left before we have to return to the reality of college life in Hull!

J.P. and I ate breakfast at about 8.30 a.m. (very good and filling), then packed our things, left the pub, and explored Stratford-Upon-Avon.

First, we went to visit Shakespeare's Birthplace. (Picture #1: Me at Shakespeare's abode). It was a very well preserved old home. We walked around the house, admired the historic furniture and costumes, and especially the original manuscripts and books on display. We even got into an interesting conversation with one of the tour guides for quite awhile.

I got some keen photographs of the home, then we walked through the gift shop (which we learned was not an original feature of Shakespeare's home when he lived there!). I bought a Shakespeare poster for Viv. (Picture #2: My ticket stub from the tour. Yes, it may seem like I saved everything!)

Next we walked along the Avon River (the "Upon Avon" part of Stratford), marveling at the hundreds of ducks and swans that congregated along the banks of the river. It was quite amazing. (Picture #3: The Royal Shakespeare Theatre, and a congregation of ducks and swans in the Avon River.)

We walked into the Royal Shakespeare Theatre and looked around a bit. Decided not to get tickets to see a show today. (I did get to see one, "Julius Caesar," when I was here for my class trip in '87. That was a bit of a mistake, though. A group of tired high school travelers taken to see a heavy 5 act, no breaks, play. However, I'll never forget when my friend Justin, who had fallen asleep, was startled awake by the actor's scream of "Brutus!")

From there we visited the Church of the Holy Trinity, where Shakespeare is buried (and was baptised). We continued to scour the town, and I found a book store where I bought two more James Bond paperbacks for 25p each. We ate a good meal at a little restaurant that had a luncheon deal for £3.50. It was well worth it!

Well our next destination was Plymouth, which required a bit of a train ride. So after lunch it was time to bid farewell to Stratford and head back to the train station. We wrote a few postcards until the train to Birmingham arrived. I finished writing mine on the train ride while J.P. slept.

When we finally got to the train station, we had a long wait because the train to Plymouth was delayed 78 minutes due to a freight train that had caught fire and forced other trains to re-route.

Soon, we boarded the Inner City 125 and were on our way to Plymouth. We sat next to a very annoying kid who liked to use the word "turd" a lot, but it was an otherwise pleasant journey.

We were overwhelmed by our first impressions of Plymouth, which were even more pleasant. The weather was warm, and it was enjoyable walking around at 9 p.m. We found a very nice Bed & Breakfast to stay in (Picture #4, the business card for Westwinds, where we stayed), for only £9.50 each, then went for a walk and grabbed some dinner.

The waterfront was incredible, and the scenery along with the unbelievably warm weather almost immediately made this trip to Plymouth worthwhile. (Picture #5, the scenic Plymouth Hoe Waterfront, featuring the landmark Smeaton's Tower.) We continued to walk around and found a nice little restaurant that was still serving dinner. We both ordered the lasagna and salad. After dinner we explored the waterfront a bit more, the site where the Pilgrims departed for America back in 1620. Then we returned to the room, where after a little reading, I went to sleep.

I don't think I can express enough how pleasant this place is.

Thursday, January 5, 1989

Land of Shakespeare ...

J.P. and I woke up a bit later than we had hoped (9 a.m.), but we were still in good shape for keeping on our travel plans for the day, which was to find us eventually arriving in Stratford-Upon-Avon.

We got the flat cleaned up, then called Liz from a public phone (she had been trying to get a hold of us, but the line to her brother's flat was not connected.) She came over to inspect the place, only to dirty up the carpet we had just cleaned. Thanks Liz!

Once we got the proper approvals from Liz, we all walked to the bus station, and from there rode to Ashton station, and then caught another bus to Manchester Piccadilly. There we caught the train to Birmingham New Street Station, then had to take a walk to Moor Street Station, where we had a 50 minute wait. So we got to spend a little less than an hour in Birmingham.

From there, we caught the train to Stratford-upon-Avon. We had no problems finding a Bed & Breakfast here, as we went to one that was also a pub, located very close to the train station. How convenient, all around!

After we unpacked, we explored the town at night, taking a look at the Royal Shakespeare Theater (pictured), then eating dinner at a Poppins. We returned to the room after a bit, then each took much needed baths. Next we went downstairs to the pub for a pint and some pool, then retired to the room to read and watch some TV... a movie called "The Carey Treatment" starring James Coburn. I finished reading "Thunderball," then went to bed.

Wednesday, January 4, 1989

'Yanks Shoot Down Gaddaffi Warplanes' ...

Arose to the sounds of Genesis' "The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway" at a little past 9 a.m. Got ourselves up and soon made the chilling discovery that no only was there no heat in the apartment, but there was no hot water as well. So no showers today!

We caught what was pretty much the furthest thing from a direct route into Manchester, finally arriving at about noon and began our search for the Manchester Evening News building. Today was the day we had scheduled a tour of the building with the editor and Dr. Morrison's friend, Mike Unger (pictured).

I bought a copy of the newspaper to get the address, and when we finally found the road it was located upon, we began the search. It wasn't too long before we found ourselves in front of the building, an hour before we were expected. So we walked around town for a bit, into a bookshop where I bought 2 more Bond books ("For Your Eyes Only" and "The Man with the Golden Gun"), then we walked around to the concert hall. While there we passed by a bank where we saw the police running in, but we never exactly found out why. Stopped into a model shop, and by then the time for our tour was drawing near, so we left and headed back to the Manchester Evening News.

When we arrived, we ended up having to wait about 15 minutes, but for a very good reason... because of a late breaking story that just hit moments before we arrived. The United States had just shot down two Libyan MiG fighter jets in the Mediterranean Sea. Needless to say, I was thrilled to have an opportunity to be there when the news hit and experience the process of pulling together a news story at a large metropolitan newspaper (it has a daily circulation of about 350,000.)

It was an amazing operation... they put out six editions every day! (Compare that to my college newspaper The Snapper, which cranks out one a week.) Got to visit the Features Department, Sports and News departments at work, saw the giant presses and watched them remove the old edition and replace it with the new one that featured a story on the late-breaking news of the melee in the Mediterranean.

Mike was very gracious to give us some of his time to show us the newsroom in action... especially considering our visit coincided with heightened activity. We also had some pretty interesting discussions about journalism. One thing we talked about was the Lockerbie air disaster. He made the decision to declare the plane crash a terrorist bombing before it had been officially declared as such. He said the evidence up to that point, particularly the way the plane crashed, made it clear to them that this was definitely a terrorist bombing. I questioned his decision suggesting that it was too soon to make that call when the possibility still existed that it was caused by some other malfunction on the plane. He said his gut told him that this could not have been anything other than a bombing. "What would you have done if it wasn't?" I asked.

"But we were right," was all he responded to this and my other questions, unflinching and smiling. I soon realized that it was the only answer I was going to get. He was so confident that his gut was correct that he never even entertained the possibility that he might have been wrong. And you know what? He was right.

Mike gave us a few souvenir copies of the newspaper, and satisfied with what we had learned, we were on our way to scour Manchester and see what else it had to offer.

We went into a library that had some very old books, but we were not permitted access to see much of anything, so we didn't stay very long.

Walked around town a bit more and went into an art gallery that had a wealth of pottery and silverware, as well as extensive paintings. We then ventured next door to a Falklands War exhibition, which was also very interesting, and educational. I knew a little bit about the war beforehand, but this gave me a deeper perspective on it.

When we left we headed to a little chippy shop where we got a very good meal for under £2 each. Wondering what to do next, J.P. and I decided to take in the cinema, and went to a theatre where they were showing the movie "Willow." It was the second time I'd seen it, but definitely a fun and entertaining movie. Val Kilmer is one of my favorite actors right now.

Following the film, J.P.'s foot started hurting and we decided to make our way to the bus station, though we got a bit misguided along the way, prolonging J.P.'s agony. We finally managed to make it to the station, and after a bit of a wait and my own excursion for some chips n gravy and a cola, we caught the bus back to Ashton. We walked back to the flat, talked a bit, then went to bed around midnight.

Tuesday, January 3, 1989

An Unrivaled View of the Lake District ...

Woke up for an 8.30 a.m. breakfast (a good, hearty English one!), paid our £10 bill to the kind folks at the Lynwood Bed and Breakfast, then J.P. and I were off. Money is getting scarce, and a cashpoint machine was nowhere to be found in the Lake District, which could prove troublesome.

So after buying a deck of "Lake District" playing cards as a souvenir and scurrying around town, J.P. was able to get £10 out of a Barclay's cashpoint machine... although it cost him a ridiculous £1.50 to do so. Then we were finally off for some sightseeing.

We first followed a footpath that, according to the sign at the start, promised us an "unrivaled view of the Lake District." Well if it's unrivaled, then it's the view we want.

Indeed, it did provide us with quite a picturesque image of the Lake District. There was a light fog that misted through the valley and provided us with an interesting atmosphere to enhance our "unrivaled view." (For awhile, J.P. and I used "unrivaled" to describe nearly everything we encountered.) Good pictures here.

We continued to explore for awhile, looking at sheep and pretty landscapes (waterfalls, sheep, trees, more sheep). (Photo left is of sheep doing sheep things.)

We also had a most interesting encounter with a mule, and when we strayed from the trail for a minute, I caught a glimpse of what I thought was a deer. Turns out it was actually 3 deer. Unfortunately, they ran off before I could snap a photo of them. It still made my day.

We walked back to Windermere where we grabbed some pub grub, then made an unsuccessful attempt to visit Grasmere, where William Wordsworth lived and where my class trip visited the previous year. When that didn't work out, we walked around some more, saw more sheep, then found something labeled a "Public Trail."

But was it? All we found was mud, horse manure (or some kind of manure, anyway), and a fence enclosing a private farm. So we snuck out with manure on our shoes and snapped a picture of the "trail of no return."

At this point, it was time for us to depart and prepare for the next leg of our journey. So we headed to the train station, unloaded our luggage from the locker, and caught the train to Oxenholme, satisfied with our journey to the Lake District. Our next stop, Manchester, where we were planning to stay with Liz Ortega.

But our plan hit a snag when I called Liz from the Oxenholme train station. It seems she was having a bit of a row with her parents, and she didn't think that we'd be able to stay at her place. That could definitely pose a problem for us.

Well we caught the next train to Preston, where we sat in the "cattle car" once again, and then from Preston caught our last train that took us to Manchester. Once we got to the station, I called Liz again, and she had some good news for us. She said we were allowed to stay in her brother's apartment, since he was in Holland at the moment. Good break!

So we hopped onto a very crowded bus and made our way to Ashton-Under-Tyne, where Liz met us at the bus station, after which we all went to McDonald's for some dinner. Then we caught another bus that took us to her brother's flat, then unloaded our gear when we arrived. Since the heat had been shut off, the flat was rather chilly inside.

The three of us sat inside and talked for a bit, during which time we opened up one of our bottles of wine. When Liz left, J.P. and I played some cards... "Blackjack," of course (not the "21" variety most commonly attributed to this name; the British version.) It's a game we played a lot back at The Grange Halls.

We played for awhile in a bit of a giggly mood (partially because of the cold room, partially because of the wine), and midway through we decided to mix it up a bit and play some Gin Rummy instead of Blackjack. However, after the cards were dealt, we both apparently forgot and just started playing Blackjack again. We both had a good laugh when we realized what we had done.

Finally went to sleep around midnight.

Monday, January 2, 1989

On to the Lake District ...

It's another day of traveling today... this time from St. Andrews to the famed Lake District of western England. After gathering our gear and saying our farewells to the Pruntys for their generosity, Mr. Prunty drove J.P. and me to the train station, where we caught the train.

It was crowded, but we still managed to waggle ourselves two seats, which were free but were reserved for other passengers once we arrived at Edinburgh. Well, when we gave up those seats, we were fortunate enough to find two seats that were only reserved from Carlisle.

But once we arrived in Carlisle, our luck ran out. The train by now was completely packed, and at this point we had no choice but to stand in the "cattle car" for the bulk of our trip.

During our trip south through Scotland we passed by the Lockerbie train station, site of the Pan Am Flight 103 crash 12 days ago. We didn't pass by the crash site (picture #2 is of the Lockerbie crash site from the newspaper), but that's just as well.

Well it was a relief when we were finally able to depart that train and climb aboard the train that would take us to Oxenholme, and from there we caught another train to Windermere, the small town right in the heart of the Lake District, perhaps best known as the home of famed British poet William Wordsworth. (Picture #3 is me acting like a nerd at the sign welcoming us to Windermere. Yes, I said "acting." Shut up.)

J.P. and I first found ourselves a Bed & Breakfast room, then walked around Windermere for a bit. We found a trail to hike, which was very scenic and followed a stream (photo #4, below).

We soon happened upon the tiny hamlet of Bowness and began our search for a place to eat. Our search failed miserably, so we returned to Windermere, where we met with no more success. After resting in our room for about an hour, we returned to Bowness at about 6 p.m., and this time we found an open restaurant, Gibby's, where we could dine. Whew! We were starting to think that all of the restaurants were closed for the season.

We had a 15-minute wait, but that was nothing considering how long it took us just to find a place that was open. And it was worth the wait. J.P. had haddock while I opted for the turkey dinner. I paid for it with my Access card.

After eating, J.P. and I walked back to the room, watched "Desperately Seeking Susan" on TV, followed by a Woodie Guthrie special, and then went to sleep. We plan on checking out more of the scenery here tomorrow.

Friday, December 30, 1988

Loch Ness Expedition ...

J.P and I got our wake-up call at 7.45 a.m. and were downstairs by 8 for our breakfast. It was a delicious collection of bacon, sausage and egg (salmonella-free ... which is fortunate considering the recent outbreak here in Britain), breads, tea and cereal. We left the table feeling full and satisfied, well-aware that we had received more than our money's worth at Mrs. MacTaggart's bed and breakfast.

We each took a bath, and then packed our bags and bid our farewell to Mrs. MacTaggart at a little past 10 a.m. We walked around Inverness for a little bit before catching the bus that took us down the road to Urquhart Castle on Loch Ness. (All three pictures are of Urquhart Castle, #2 including me and J.P. on the hill overlooking the castle. The photo on the banner for this blog was also taken at Urquhart Castle.)

The weather was overcast, but surprisingly warm, dry, and wind-free. We arrived at the castle at noon, and then spend an hour and a half exploring it. It was actually the ruins of an old stone castle, which made it all the more interesting, and nestled in lush green landscape and set right along the famed Loch Ness. Very picturesque... easily the most gorgeous place I have visited here in Britain.

We climbed around every place we were permitted, snapping a number of photos and thinking about all of the people who would be jealous of where we were at the moment. No, sorry, no signs of the legendary Loch Ness Monster.

After seeing all that we could, we caught a 1.30 p.m. bus back to downtown Inverness, and then ate a late lunch at a place called Charlie's Diner. J.P. also purchased a pipe, and seems to be enjoying that as much as the lighter he purchased a little while back. He's becoming a regular sophisticate.

We then casually made our way over to Inverness Castle, which as it turns out, is nothing more than a municipal building, but a scant 150 years old! Still rather nice for a government building, and it was on the site of a former castle. We walked around town for a bit longer, then headed to the train station, where we sat for awhile, writing postcards until we could catch the train to Glasgow (though we were only taking it as far as Perth.) I finished writing my cards on the train, and did some other writing as well, and then did a bit of reading.

Then the trip ventured into the bizarre.

We arrived at the town of Perth, where we were to change trains to Dundee, and then St. Andrews, where we were planning on spending a few days with our friend Kenny Prunty. But we soon found out we had an hour and 15 minute wait here. So while we were waiting in the very quiet train station, we decided to check out the adjoining coffee shop. However, we couldn't get any food because there wasn't a cook, just a red-haired guy who was more interested in playing the pound machines than serving his customer's interests. J.P. ordered a gin and tonic, while I had a coffee in a dirty mug.

While we were here we took note of a vagrant that we named "Froggy" (because of a voice resembling the "Little Rascals" character), and his gang. They provided us with some very interesting entertainment, a little show with our beverages, you could say. When J.P. ventured out into town to find some food (a failed mission), Froggy put on another fabulous show, although I couldn't understand most of it.

At one point, he came up to me and asked what book I was reading, and I showed him my James Bond paperback. He looked at the title, laughed, and then grabbed my head for a second in satisfaction, then left. We finally left the Twilight Zone for Dundee, where we had another hour long wait for the next train we needed to catch. This time we went into town and we had a more successful food sortie.

We finally got to the train station in Leukers, where we then took a taxi to St. Andrews. Finally got to Kenny's house, told him of our evening's misadventures on the train, then watched some TV, read a bit, then finally went to bed.