Steve & Sandy Blog

As many of you know, our wonderful friend Lucy Munoz was moved to London by her company for a two year stint. We kept talking about visiting, but things kept coming up. Suddenly, she had been there eighteen months and would be coming home soon, so we’d better get off to see her this summer or miss a golden opportunity. Since summer is better weather in the United Kingdom, and since Sandy’s slow season in Berkeley real estate is August, we made our reservations.

Several days before the flight, Sandy started coughing, but it seemed to be getting better as our departure day arrived. By four PM in the afternoon, we were on the Virgin Atlantic 747 for the ten hour flight. We both tried to sleep to get onto the new time zone – eight hours ahead, but Sandy’s cough woke her up after an hour, and I woke up after three hours because I was concerned about her. So we still arrived in London pretty tired, ten-thirty in the morning their time, two-thirty AM hour California time.

Leaving customs, very tired, there was our familiar smiling face: Lucy! What a sight for sore eyes. Big hugs and welcome and questions of the flight. Thank god she has not yet picked up the Cockney accent, but I’m sure it will come.

Left the airport as Lucy drove expertly on the wrong side of the road along highways and then through miles of London city centers, through the center of Putney to her beautiful brand-spanking new condo on the bank of the River Thames (pronounced Tim, or something like that).

Lucy’s condo is not only brand new, it is modern. She has a glass wall that overlooks the Tim (Thames) with birds and boats and a ten foot tide change twice a day. The glass wall can be pushed aside so there is no wall – only air and a rail to keep from falling three stories into the lovely gardens. Lucy regularly opens the glass wall on all the nice, sunny days, all fifteen of them a year.

The day we arrived was broken sun and clouds – but nice enough to open the wall and enjoy the view. The next three days were overcast and drizzly – not great for sitting in the sun.

That night we met Lucy’s Hungarian friend, Andrea, affectionately known as Spooky, and walked to dinner. Sandy and I forgot how much you have to walk in a city, since we live in the burbs. If we have to walk 150 feet from the car to a restaurant or shop, we complain. After a half mile walk, Lucy said we are getting closer. No wonder those women are so thin!

That walk through London put a lot of things into perspective. London is definitely a global city. Although the most expensive in Europe, many, many of the people spoke with accents from other parts of the world. The British seem very open to all who have been living in their former “colonies.” For example, Muslims are much more prevalent in all areas of the UK than I have ever seen in the US.

Of course, people asked where Sandy and I were from, especially with me wearing one of the only bright neon Hawaiian shirts on the Island. And when we said “San Francisco,” we’d always ask, “Have you been there.” The overwhelming response was “yes.” Everyone has been to San Francisco, except one policeman whose wife is afraid to fly. Practically everyone had not only traveled to the US, but had stories about visiting San Francisco. Lucy’s flat is on the approach path to Heathrow Airport, and approximately every minute from 6:00 AM to 11:00 PM another jet passed overhead – most of them widebody from other countries. Doing some figuring in my head, I came up with about 200,000 people travel in and out of Heathrow every day. Apparenty, a lot of them are headed to San Francisco.

The last time I was in the UK, thirty-some years ago, I did not like the food, except for the fish and chips. This time, the food was delightful everyplace we went. I’m not trying to give too much credit to Sandy’s heritage, but the Indian influence was incredible. Everyplace we went in the UK had curried this and masala that. What a difference. Once the Brits tried tasty food, they went for it entirely. Go into a pub where they used to serve steak and kidney pie now you get curried chicken and lamb tikka masala. Of course, on the bottom of the menu in small letters is still the steak and kidney pie, sometimes.

Saturday night, we met Sandy’s cousin from South Africa for dinner at a “brilliant” Indian restaurant. Raneet is a musician and environmentalist, but works as a computer specialist to make a living while he pursues his other interests. For example, he’s just received acceptance to a Peruvian Nature Reserve as a volunteer worker for 12 weeks next May, plus a couple of weeks exploring the Andes. After Peru, he’ll be “wherever the wind blows me and has the VISA to go there.”

During our 3 day stay in London, we noticed that prices were nearly identical to that of our area in California. Meals, drinks, buses, houses, etc. Of course, they were identical in terms of Pounds to our dollars – and since the exchange rate is essentially 2:1, that means everything was twice as expensive as our prices. A breakfast that costs eight pounds actually cost sixteen dollars. One inn keeper was delighted to see Americans – the exchange rate is so high that they are a rarity now.

Of course that means the exchange rate is very favorable for Brits to travel to the US. That must be why there are so bloody many of them in parts of San Francisco. On Monday morning we set off for our journey of the UK outside of London. The first place we visited was Windsor, Lucy’s home for the first year she lived in London. Windsor is the home to Windsor Castle, the Queen’s home when not in Buckingham Palace. Windsor Castle is a very “castle-like” castle, like shown in the fairy tales. It is also very large, encompassing what appeared to be many city blocks. The town was rather quaint and friendly. Lucy loved the view, but there was not enough excitement, so she had to move to London where the night life and weekend festivals were more her style. If only the Queen had invited her to tea more often…

Lucy wanted to explore Wales. We’ve never been there, and didn’t even know anything about it, except when English people mention Wales and the Welsh to each other, they always snicker at some inside joke. Although the United Kingdom has four “countries,” England, Wales, Scotland, and Northern Ireland, over 80% of the people live in England, even though England has less than half of the land mass. Therefore Wales is much more rural than England. Lucy wanted to go, so we were all for it. About a two hour drive past Windsor, we were on rural two lane roads and headed to Brecon in Southern Wales, where Lucy had made reservations at a castle for the evening. The town was very quaint, with narrow streets hardly wide enough for one car, never mind two. The castle was up on a hill, and we could see the old castle walls. Inside, the rooms were being refurnished, nothing special, and it wasn’t until the inn keeper gave us a quicktour that we realized how massive this castle really had been, and how central it was to the taming of Wales by the English. It was taken by the Welsh, then the English, then the Welsh. At one point, the English king killed thousands of wives and children of the people that opposed him. Each time there was a battle nearby, the town of Brecon was destroyed. Finally the townspeople, during a time that there was relative peace in the area, dismantled most of the huge castle, used the rocks for churches and other town buildings. The town was never destroyed after that.

Wales has about 5% of the UK population, and probably 20% of the land area. Against the sea toward Ireland, it is apparently quite rainy and dreary, even by English standards. While we were there, the weather was beautiful, sunny with temperatures in the low 70’s, hot by English standards. The people were nice, and everything was fabulous. The Welsh have their own language, a form of Gaelic, I guess as part of the peace process with the English. the English make lots of fun of it, since it is on every sign, right above the English. Welsh is supposed to be “musical,” although I didn’t find it particularly easy to listen to. It is not harsh like German, but it is not as flowing as French.

Anyway, I’m wandering off the story, kind of like we did around the Welsh countryside as Lucy drove us in her BMW, with Richard giving us directions. Richard is Lucy’s GPS navigator, or Sat Nav as it is known in England. I was very surprised at the number of campgrounds we saw. I never figured the Brits to be campers, but I guess I was wrong. Driving around Wales we saw lots of castles in Wales – especially along border between Wales and England, where the Welsh defended their lands and the English kept trying to get it. And lots of sheep – very few cows. I don’t know how they got enough milk to sell in the stores, or enough beef for feeding. But PLENTY of sheep. And probably hundreds of types of sheep, judging from the various refrigerator magnets we saw with sheep heads on them. They must export most of the wool – because there were sheep EVERYWHERE – in the fields, on the hills, on the roads, in back yards and front yards. Of course, lamb was a common dish, and I had it prepared every way imaginable, including multiple curries.

That night we spent in an old Lord’s castle-like home, four hundred years old, made of large stones. It was essentially in the middle of nowhere, although called a town, in the Snowdonia area of Northern Wales. While in Brecon, we had purchased a “Best of UK B&Bs” which was a great investment. The room was fabulous, people were great, and the food was fabulous (with several curries, of course). The only problem was the large room we shared with Lucy had no shower – a large graceful tub, but no shower. Sandy and I will take a bath now and then, but always followed by a shower. Still, we made do. I took a bath after dinner, and the others had theirs. Unfortunately, I had no hot water. Sandy suggested I use the electric tea pot to heat some water and make it warm. I did that, and after about five pots of water it was fine, with very little water left to rinse off. Still, it did the trick.

Afterwards, I went to the main drawing room of the house, which had WiFi access and I could check emails and voicemails. I mentioned to one of the people who worked there about the cold water, they said if had pushed the electric “boost” switch on the wall for the hot water heater, it would have heated up another batch. Apparently, they activate the hot water tank at night when the electric rates are lower, and that normally lasts for the day. However with three in our room, it didn’t quite do it. Live and learn.

In the meantime, one of the people working at the inn was a young man from France who was very taken with our Lucy. Surprise, surprise. Although a bit younger than her, Flo was always at her side when she needed anything. Neither of our WiFi connections were working properly, and Flo spent well over an hour getting it up and running. While I was sitting nearby and Lucy and I talked about how I couldn’t get on, either, for some reason he ignored me. I didn’t have to do anything too important, so went back to the room. It was then that he asked Lucy if I was “her father.” Hmmmph. The inn was otherwise great, and after a traditional Welsh breakfast, including black sausage (made with dried pig’s blood), we made reservations for another night-and explored a bit more of Wales. We ended up in a town called Betys-doerf-Coed or something like that. A tourist town, it was in a beautiful valley, with the sun shining down, a beautiful large community park in the center, and lots of shops all around. We stopped for a bit, and spent the afternoon there. Sandy finally found a shop that had woolen goods for a reasonable price, and Lucy enjoyed finding jackets. There were an extraordinarily large number of camping stores – considering the town was small and fairly remote. Maybe they use the camping clothes as everyday clothes because they don’t absorb the rain like cottons and wools. Anyway, Sandy found some great travel clothes – since camping clothes are light and generally clean easily and dry quickly.

Returning to the Inn, we missed afternoon High Tea and the accompanying sandwiches since we had shopped too much, so Lucy and I hiked up to a beautiful waterfall about ten minutes away, and then found new ways back to just explore. Another great meal, then some time on the computer – mine worked this time, even without Lucy’s boyfriend, then it was early to bed and early to rise, since breakfast service stopped at nine o’clock.

After our trip to Wales, we have no idea why the English snicker at the thought of Wales, or the Welsh. Actually, the joke is on the English – Wales is beautiful, the people are warm and nice. We’re so glad Lucy gave us the wonderful experience.

Next, it was off to the city of Birmingham, England, where Lucy would take a train back to London and join some people from work for a four day rock band festival in Reading, sleeping in a tent with eighty thousand of her closest friends.

Since we would have the BMW for the next three days it was time to show her how good I was at driving on the wrong side of the road. I managed to get it out of the parking spot and onto the road with no major problems, while Sandy was in the back seat repeating her mantra, over and over: “Keep to the left. Keep to the left…”

Everything was fine, so Lucy convinced Sandy to get into the front passenger seat, while she got in the back. Of course, right after that we went into a small town with narrow roads, rock walls along the roads, and trucks whizzing by the other side keeping us right against the edge of the road. I only hit the curb twice, and Lucy said she had done that many times, not to worry. Later I looked at the rims of her left front wheel and realized she was telling the truth – there were lots of dings.

Anyway, we got to the train station in Birmingham relatively safely and got Lucy to her train. The station had a large shopping mall attached, and Sandy and I took a break checking it out. Everything I noticed about the people of London was also true in Birmingham – lots of people of color and with accents.

Richard, our Sat Nav, or “Dick” as Sandy called it, took us out of the big city and toward Shakespeare country. Using the cell phone Lucy left us, we contacted several B&B that looked fabulous until we found one with a room at the night, near the Warwick Castle. Apparently the Warwick Castle is the most photographed place outside of London – but Sandy was having none of that, she had seen enough castles, so it was time for some culture.

We headed off to Stratford Upon Avon (yes, the proper name is “Stratford Upon Avon” not Stratford On Avon, except for one Holiday Inn that hadn’t gotten the word). We parked and got onto a double-decker tour bus and saw where Shakespeare did most of his work. And that was it for the cultural side of the ten-day trip. Had a great meal in a French bistro, another lovely night followed by another English breakfast, and it was off to Oxford University to get t-shirts. Oxford is a beautiful city – charming although definitely a city. School hadn’t started, but there were thousands of tourists buying t-shirts to show they had gone to Oxford. As a present to Lucy for loaning us her car, cell phone, apartment to crash in, and many other things, we decided she needed more than a t-shirt, so we got her a zippered sweatshirt.

Then it was off to Stonehenge. At first the trip to Stonehenge was fine. Until we were about three miles away, according to Richard, then traffic stopped. Although Stonehenge is way the heck and gone from everyplace, it was the Friday of a three day weekend, “Bank Holiday,” and the road that goes to Stonehenge also leads to rural areas and campgrounds of Exeter, where thousands of people were getting away. Thirty minutes later we were two-mile away from Stonehenge. Forty-five minutes later we were a half-mile from Stonehenge seriously wondering if it was worth going to, even though we had traveled ten thousand miles and it was probably the only time we would ever see it, when we reached the crest of a hill…

In the middle of a flat plain, a half mile from us, was Stonehenge. Because we were moving at about one mile per hour, we had a completely different experience from those who traveled to it at fifty miles per hour: We had time to just be amazed it was in the middle of flat nothing (except for the sheep), and very stately, majestic! Finally getting to parking lot, we joined the throngs of people, looking at rocks that had been dragged from a place over two hundred miles away in Wales, placed in a large circle, with other rings around them, with special altars set up to see the summer solstice sunrise and winter solstice sunset.

It really was fabulous, but we had to get on to our next B&B, in the town of Bradford-On-Avon. Apparently Avon is an old word for “river.” So the Avon River means “River River.” Cool, huh?

This time Richard/Dick navigated us to an old windmill that had been converted to a B&B. Our hosts there looked like people out of the Hansel and Gretel fairy tale. Kind of skinny with klogs on their feet, intense with bright smiles and crooked teeth. Again, no shower, just a tub. But the town was charming and pretty, they all seem to be, but it must have been a fairly major crossroad for the holiday weekend, because there were LOTS of cars whipping through those narrow streets, keeping us on the very narrow sidewalks as we walked to and from dinner, which seemed safer than trying to get the BMW into and out of that traffic. The following morning we left to go back to London and recover from our trip. But first, we had to go back to Oxford to exchange Lucy’s sweatshirt. The two Georgetown graduates forgot to check the size – we got an extra large, it would look like a tent on her. But at least we got our Oxford t-shirt to show we went there – we must be smart!

Fighting city traffic for the last hour to Lucy’s in London, thank god it was a Saturday. They all drive on the wrong side of the street. That night we just relaxed, had nice warm shower, and walked to fabulous Malaysian lamb dish with coconut rice in Putney at Lucy’s favorite restaurant. The next morning we walked downstairs to an outside restaurant that literally was over the Thames River for another wonderful meal of “Bubbles & Squeak” and “Bangers & Mash.” After stuffing ourselves, we drove to Wimbledon to get souvenirs, see the town, and pick up Lucy from the train station after her great camping/rock-fest adventure. After four days in the mud and dirt, the first thing she did when she got home was take a long, long shower. But Lucy is not about to sit around when there is company, she had Spooky find some interesting things to do for our last night, and interesting it was: We went to the Ice Bar. This place is kept at about zero degrees F., and everything is made of ice: the walls, the bar, the tables, even the drink glasses. You get a special thick, silver poncho with thick gloves attached, go through the entryway, and suddenly you are in the middle of the north pole. It is modeled after the “Ice Hotel” in northern Finland, that is rebuilt every year out of ice. The James Bond movie with Halle Berry was filmed there, if you’ve seen it you get the idea. It seemed a little funky as an idea, but it was so much fun when we did it. Spooky suggested we all go to the actually Ice Hotel this winter, flying in to northern Finland then taking a dog sled to the hotel, where even the beds are made of ice. I think we’ll let her do that on her own. If we couldn’t get a hot shower at some fabulous B&Bs, I’ll bet we couldn’t get one at the Ice Hotel – it would melt everything.

Of course, we also had to get some sleep for our ten hour flight back to the USA – so it was home before midnight, hours before Lucy really wanted to get back, on a weekend night.

To reassure those that know Lucy, she is definitely in her element – London, parties, international travel and people. In fact, it is so her, we are encouraging her to stay longer!

That’s all for now. With luck in about five months I’ll be writing another travel log from South Africa.

Cheerio!