Last Day

4 October, 2009

Tomorrow is the airport day, going from Albuquerque to Denver, then on to Toronto and our little smart car, waiting patiently. Not looking forward to that. Bt at least we don't have to leave here until 10:00 in the morning.

Today was spent doing some things we had meant to do. We visited the place where Darlene had stayed on her previous visit. Went looking for a place for breakfast, and found the Zuniga at the corner of the Santa Fe Trail and Alameda. Had a delightful Cuban (for me) and Mocha (for Darlene) coffee, read part of the NY Times, and planned the day. Darlene was heading up the Canyon road to see some art and go to her Quaker Meeting (probably I should put that in the reverse order). I went to the New Mexico Historical Museum. We each spent several enjoyable hours, and met again in the early afternoon, at a roof-top cafe. It could take some getting used to this level of sunshine: 300 days a year is pretty hard to take!

Much of the afternoon was spent at the Rooftop Pizzeria, looking down, unfortunately, at a parking lot, but enjoying wonderful food and a very pleasant waiter and atmosphere. And of course, we ate enough that we don;t want to go out for supper, so are home again, and thinking about whether we want any food at all.

Darlene has begun to clean the place; no surprise there. And to review the pictures we have taken. I am doing this blog, then will retire to a glass of wine and some cheese, perhaps some guacamole, or who knows what.

Maybe write again, but I'll publish this.

Balloon Fiesta

October 4, 2009

Yesterday was the Balloon Fiesta in Albuquerque. We had decided to go - in fact, this was one of the main reasons we decided to come down here - so made the commitment to get up before dawn and catch the train down to the big city.

Four o'clock comes pretty early, and dark and cold. But we got up, got our togs on, put some food into our stomachs, and walked off to the rail station. New Mexico has this new commuter train called the RoadRunner, which is very popular. It is usually a commuter run, but they had put on a special run for the Fiesta. It was amazing to see about four hundred people lined up and pretty happy that early in the morning, waiting for the train. It was a crowd of families, couples, and solo people, all heading in the same direction.

Th train let us off at Albuquerque, we got herded into shuttle buses, and were off to the balloon grounds. This event has been going on for over thirty years, so they have a dedicated place, complete with a Balloon Museum, in town. What was spectacular about this yesterday, was that, as we drove into the grounds, there were some balloons in the air, checking out the winds, and so on. When they turned on their burners, to heat the air, it lit up the entire balloon. So the sky was dark, with the lit balloons in the air. Wow!

As the sky lightened, about 6:30 here, we were on the ground by a balloon getting ready to launch. Now try to imagine what it is like to have in the order of six hundred balloons that you want to launch. Logistically very difficult. They would let a bunch of about 25 launch at a time, then move onto another bunch. So there were always some that were partly inflated, others mostly inflated, others about to take off, an others launching, until there was no balloon left on the ground. the sky was full of them, or so it seemed. Most were the usual balloon shape, but some were more streamlined (more like a vertical oval) for racing, and others were just fun. There was a Nemo balloon, a Smoky the Bear, a Cow, a pop can, and so on. And the weather cooperated, with light winds and a mostly clear sky. Thousands of spectators were there to watch. And of course, the tents selling everything from breakfast to beer to tailgate chairs.

It was great fun, and wonderful to see. By 10:00, it was pretty well done, although there were other fair-type event through the day, and a night-time rising as well. But we were going to try and catch the 11:30 train back home.

We got back to the train station with lots of time, but then noticed an announcement that there was to be a delay, of uncertain length. We found out that the train had had a collision with a car, and there was no clear indication of when it would be cleared. We waited for two hours for the first train back home. But I met an older man, and had a pleasant talk with him. He was 84, had been a union organizer for asbestos workers in New Mexico, and was now on a trip with his grand-kids, who he was helping to get through university. We talked abut asbestos (and Quebec, although the mines he knew were in Texas), the struggle to get proper compensation for the union men. We talked about the state of medicare, education, wars. He was a WW2 vet, very opposed to the current wars, and in favour of Obama. Nice to see, and a pleasure to talk with. So the time went fast, and we were back off home.

The day ended at home, with an at-home supper and early to bed.

Sunday (today), we are up early, and off to get a breakfast at a cafe, before Darlene heads off to look at art galleries on Canyon Road, then to Quakers; I am going to the Palace of the Governors (the oldest public building in the US), for a tour of their History Museum.

Bonne Fete, Bob

October 2, 2009

This being my birthday, I got to do the schedule. So we slept in a bit, but got up in time to walk to the Plaza for a breakfast at the French Creperie, in the La Fonda Hotel. Served by a French woman, the breakfast was very chic. And we finished in time to go to the State Capitol Building, where we had been told there was an art gallery we might enjoy.

That was the great surprise. the building was newly-renovated, built as a circular structure to resemble the New Mexican Zia symbol. We were met at the door by a security guard, who opened the door for us, told us about the place, and wished us a pleasant visit to the building. This was such a change from what we had expected that we almost fell over. And the art that was there was remarkable in its diversity, its accessibility to the public, and its extent. We ended up spending over three hours just touring the area, and marveling at the art that was available for public perusal, even encouraged by the folks working there.

New Mexico, we have discovered, has many unusual things. Their state legislature is run by people who are elected, but do not get a salary or stipend. They get a per diem when they are working, and their expenses are covered. But the legislature itself only sits for sixty days per year. Interesting. They also have a state cookie! and an insect, and a poem, and so on. So it's a clearly different place from what we're used to.

It now being noon, we were walking back to the centre of town, when my cell phone rang. Not the first time it has rung here (I got a call from paging on Monday), but this one was much nicer: it was from Dan, wishing me a happy birthday. We agreed to talk later, since Darlene and I were on our way to do something else. Which we did. then went back to the hotel, hooked onto their wifi network, and called him back. Nice to talk with him, and kind of neat to do it from this distance.

And then it was time for our afternoon glass of wine. Santa Fe is a low-rise city. The main hotel in town has a height of five stories, which pretty well makes it the tallest structure in town. There is a bar on the top floor, so we went up there, and looked down on the town. Paid too much for a glass of wine, but the view was impressive.

This cafe life, it does take time to enjoy. And the sun: boy, it's hard to take. Big decision this afternoon was where to have supper. That done, we went back to the apartment so I could have my beauty sleep and a shower, before heading out for supper. Le Cafe de Paris did not disappoint, and they even gave us a free dessert for my birthday.

Early to bed tonight, up tomorrow to get into Albuquerque before dawn. Tomorrow is the opening of the Balloon Fiesta, and there is a mass ascension at dawn. Looking forward to it.

Art or Bust

October 1, 2009

We had the car until noon today, and had decided to go back and try to find the gallery of an artist called Diana Bryer (if you've been in Darlene's private office, you might remember one of her pictures). When we were in Tuchas on Monday, we had stopped at an artist's co-op to look at some things, and had y chance intercepted a phone call from Diana while there. So we felt we were pushed to go and see her (no great pain for either of us, since we both quite like her work), and only had to find her. This was harder than you might expect. She did not put her address on the website, but her town was on it. Which was fine, except that the town was not on the map. So we set the GPS to take us somewhere near, and thought we would ask when we got what we felt was close. Of course, we took the incorrect turn, but it didn't turn out to be "wrong". We went back to the co-op we had been at a few days earlier, and asked the woman there. She was local and said things like: "go to La Puebla, then go further and you will se it....", but La Puebla also didn't make it onto the map. And when we asked for clarification, we were told to go past this or the other artist's place (which she assumed we would know, but we didn't), and so on.

To make it more exciting, we were running on the reserve tank in the car, so we needed to get gas, and soon. And of course, there was no gas station for many miles, so we were doing some praying. Fortunately, we were mostly going downhill, and we made it to the one gas station (an Old Boys-type place where we were abut the only gringo, the guy wouldn't do a fill-up, but you bought your gas in dollar increments, and there were large grills on the outside, along with a community bulletin board).

Found the gallery of Diana Bryer, and it appeared no-one was home. But as we went around the corner of the house, we were met by a young good-lloking man who turned out to be her son, and took us to the back of the large yard to her house, and her separate gallery. The gallery was in a construction trailer which she has painted to resemble a gypsy wagon. We were admiring this when we met Diana, and that's another whole story. She is wonderful, eccentric, laconic, verbose, opinionated, friendly, open, and just plain fun. We were in a hurry, but you couldn't hurry this woman. There was a story with each painting, and sometimes a story behind the story. Darlene was using her group-leading skills to keep us a bit on track. But we bought some prints, talked for an hour longer than we expected, went into her home as well, and left on the friendliest terms with hugs and kisses all around. She's a neat lady, and I expect we'll see her again.

Then it was high-tailing it back to the car place, to return the car. They were very nice, forgave us our hour lateness, and even drove us back home. So to celebrate, we went to the Oro House on the Plaza for a beer and some food, before walking back to the apartment. It was tiring, and we both felt like sleeping a bit. In fact, I think I will do that right now.

Out West

September 30, 2009

Today we decided to get up relatively early and get going. So we hit the road by about 9:30 (we still have a car rented). Actually went out to Los Alamos, based on a recommendation from the Lonely Planet Guide. And they were right: I had only the connection with the A-bomb, which was not exactly a draw for us. But there was a lot of other history in the town and of the area that we explored through their excellent museum, as well as the A-bomb stuff. And even that was more balanced than I thought it would be. So we spent a few hours there, then went on a trip along their Highway 4, which is the scenic route in that area.

That meant driving down to White Rock, where there is not much of interest except an amazing scenic lookout, over the valleys and mesas of the local canyon, and along the Rio Grande River. But it is also on the way to Bandelier Monument National Park, which I had wanted to go to because of the areas of old Pueblo ruins from about 500 years ago. And it was amazing (wait 'til I can add pictures to this). There was about a one-mile self-guided trail around a series of different types of Pueblo houses. they ranged from caves dug into the cliffs of tuff (compacted volcanic ash), to self-standing structures partly dug into the earth, and partly above the earth level. One of the involved climbing ladders up about 140 feet into a Ceremonial Cave, then down into the "kiva" where they lived; that one was scary, particularly on the way back down the ladders, with a strong wind blowing me sideways. It gave me a whole new respect for the women who would go down to the stream at the bottom to get water and then bring it back up again. Also helped me to understand why their average lifespan was only 37 years!

But the weather was wonderful, the scenery was terrific, and it was exactly what I had wanted to do here, so I was happy (at least when I got to the bottom of the ladders from the Ceremonial Cave).

(Apparently, this country was shaped significantly by a volcanic eruption about 1.5 million years ago which spewed 200 cubic miles of ash onto the surrounding country: enough to cover the entire state of New Mexico to a depth of over six feet if it had been spread evenly. Which of course it wasn't, so the area we were in, close to the eruption, was covered to a depth of hundreds of metres. And then has been eroded by water and wind - and glaciers - over the centuries to give the hills and canyons there now.)

We wanted to finish the scenic route, so took off in the car after seeing the pueblos, and the highway took us up the Jemez Mountains to and into the extinct crater of this volcano, then down the other side of it. As you can imagine, it was pretty exciting. The crater was about a mile in diameter, and is now an active farm, complete with cattle. We had hoped to get a hot spring bath in the town of Jemez Springs, but the baths were closed, so we had to settle for a beer instead.

Then back home to Santa Fe, through amazing country with yellow to ochre-coloured hills, some in the shape of mesas, some in dramatic hills and cliffs. The scenery was stunning, and varied enough to remain always interesting. We got to Santa Fe, stopping at the La Choza restaurant for a meal. Now, as I said to Darlene, I don't think it is the New Mexican food which will bring me back. They are very proud of their green and red chilies, and the meals they cook with them. My taste buds are used to the relatively bland Ontario diet, and couldn't stand the heat at all. So we had a nice meal without the chili or the salsa (but enjoyed the guacamole). And the decor and atmosphere were hot and more to our liking, so not at all a waste.

But always good to get back to our little apartment, and get my wife into a bath, and me onto this computer.

Santa Fe Church Day

September 29, 2009

Today was a slow day getting going, probably good given that we would be visiting religious facilities for much of the day. We didn't intend that, but that's how it turned out.

The day began with our ritual checking of email, reading, having breakfast (at the apartment), and trying to decide how we would spend the day. We thought we would see some museums today: there are some good ones in the centre of town. And we wanted to take guided tour around town as well. But when we got downtown, stomachs prevailed and we went to eat at Casa Pascual, a well-known breakfast and lunch place in town. Lovely food, and a good time, but it was 1:00 before we got to the museums, and they closed at 5, and we wanted to see two of them. So that plan was thrown out. Instead we took a guided tour of the town, which was about 90 minutes long and showed us many parts of town we would not have otherwise visited. (Interesting fact: this town has an artists colony of such size and skill that the Art Scene here is second only to New York City, apparently.)

After the tour, we went to and visited the Cathedral in town, a wonderful building, French Romanesque on the outside, and definitely New Mexican on the inside. Lots of colour, lots of fun almost in the decorations (is that sacrilegious?). For a Basilica, it was amazing. And one of the amazing things about it was that it was built using partly money from a local Jew, and there is a Jewish symbol for Yahweh right above the main door, complete with the appropriate script. You don't see that every day!

So, logically, the next place we went was the Loretta Chapel, which used to be part of a Catholic girls' school, and is now privately owned by a spa, of all places. But has inside it a 24-foot high spiral staircase made without external supports, and using wooden pegs rather than nails. Made, according to legend, by an itinerant carpenter who is still anonymous, over a hundred years later. The chapel itself was pretty ordinary, and probably not worth the money to get in, but the stairs were kind of neat.

Having seen the girls' school, we then went to the boys' school. Now their chapel was pretty fantastic: the San Miguel Mission church, built in 1625 with the help of Mexican Indians, destroyed almost some years later by American Indians, rebuilt by Spaniards and .... well, you get the picture; kind of like the castle in Monty Python. But the chapel was wonderful. It is simple, mostly done by hand only, in an adobe-walled structure, with a wood-carved front screen influenced by the Mexican heritage. There was a sense of it being a very well-used building with real people really believing, and was refreshing after the Loretto chapel. We loved it.

Now, I have to say that we had a quest here. There is a saint known in this area, San Pascual, who is the patron saint of kitchens and cooks, among other things. He is always shown with a bottle or glass of wine, as well as wooden spoons, and perhaps other kitchen stuff. So of course we like him, and were looking for something like a painted image of him to bring home. Well, as Darlene said to me, the search for San Pascual turned into, at the end of the day, a finding of San Gria in one of the local cafes. So we had to end it there, and decided in the end to stay at home and eat again from foods gleaned from the whole foods store in town.

On the way home, as we walked by the parking lot near our apartment, we were met with a rather strange bleating noise. We looked, and saw a man blowing on something, sitting on one of the guard rails of the lot. As we approached, it was clear that he was blowing repeatedly on a ram's horn, a shofar. We asked the lot attendant, and he told us that this was the owner of the adjacent restaurant (which is called Los Mayas). Since it's somewhere around the Jewish New Year, we have to assume that he is Jewish, and this is not some weird Mayan custom. But it kind of fit in with the rest of the day.

Tomorrow is a day for hot springs and pueblo explorations. We have car, so we'll be out of town for much of the day.

Taos

September 28, 2009

Getting the car turned out to take longer than we had thought, so we didn't get going until late in the morning. But we were on our way before noon, and up the highway to the High Road. We stopped in an information office for the Pueblos, and got a map plus some information. The onto the high road.

The road itself went through high prairie ares, scrub bush and sage, with some cacti as well. Again, we kept expecting to see cowboys riding towards us from the horizon. We went up and down, through forests which were in some of the valleys, and then up to the dustier and more sparsely vegetated peaks. We stopped for something to eat in a small town called Truchas, where you don't want to be a single female, and Spanish is a definite asset. It seemed to be stuck in the 1950's, and could be set in a northern Mexico parish: dogs sleeping by the road, people in cowboy boots who probably hadn't had work in some time. We got some food at the "General Store" (in quotes because it didn't have much besides snack foods), and got our own glucose tolerance test to eat.

Then we proceeded to get lost, trying to find the way to Taos, and missing the cut-off. Eventually finding it, stopping at two art galleries to look and buy a few things (a small retablo of San Pasqual and a ceramic dish), and purely by accident had a phone conversation with Diana Bryer, who we plan to visit while here. The we got lost again, ending up on a dusty road with no place to go but to turn around. Thank heavens for the GPS in this case. We got back on track and went to visit one of the Pueblos on the way to Taos. It was closed to the public, so we moved on, and made it to Taos in time for a coffee and a short look around, before starting back to Santa Fe via the Low Road (itself a very stunning road), getting home by about 8:00. We ate at home, read and went to bed. We will go back to Taos in a few days for a longer visit.

Santa Fe

September 28, 2009

I am still catching up. The first few hours in Santa Fe were tiring to me. The elevation here is about 7000 feet, and I was finding myself breathless at first, and perhaps a bit dizzy. After some water, and a sleep, I felt a lot better, so we went out on the town after dark, to explore a bit. Walked and looked and talked. Ate supper at Zia's, late but appreciated, and came back to sleep.

The next morning we were up early, reading our books, enjoying the cool clear air, and having our breakfast at the apartment before heading out to walk again. Went down to the Plaza, over to the Cathedral (where we walked the labyrinth), and continued to tour the town by foot. This place is a town where you have to build in the adobe style, and buildings mostly cannot be more than three stories tall. But the colours range from sand to auburn almost, and seem to reflect the sand colours of this area. There are of course lots of tourist things available, but also lots of interesting things going on. This is an artist's place, so we stopped in some galleries to see sculpture and paintings, walked through some of the stores in the area, and mostly had a good day visiting the town.

Lunch: We stopped near the oldest church in America (an adobe church built in the 1600's) at "The Upper Crust" pizza place, shared a pizza and a bottle of wine, then walked off towards home. The rest of the afternoon was spent in a nap and some reading, with some planning for the following day. Supper: went to a place called "Dinner for Two" and had a very good meal there. It helps that it's just around the corner,since we were tired from our day's walking.

Sleep and a decision to go to Taos the next day, along what is known as "The High Road". Difficulty getting a car rental arranged but we though we could do it in the morning. So we went to bed, opening the indows to let the cool air into the apartment.

The Southwest Chief

Monday, September 28, 2009

Well, since I am on vacation, I guess I had better do a blog. So here we go, now 4 days into this time off....

It all begins on Thursday night, when we leave and drive to the Best Western Hotel at the Toronto Airport. Got there about 9:00 (PM), and settled in. Now here is where darlene and I are different. We both knew that we would be getting up at about 4:00 AM to catch our plane, but we react to this knowledge differently. I want to go to bed immediately; Darlene figures this is a cue for staying awake and eating and talking through the night. So we compromised: we stayed up and ate a bit, then I went to bed bu about 10:30, with the clock set for a gawd-awful time of the morning.

That call came far too early, and in the dark, we stumbled around and got ready to leave. Caught the shuttle by 4:40 and were at the airport in time to check in and go through the song-and-dance required to enter the US of A. A little puddle-jump across a few Great Lakes, and we were there, at O'Hare.

It was surprisingly easy to get from O'Hare downtown. There is a rapid-transit line that goes the whole way (called the "El" in Chicago), and for $4.50 for the two of us, we got to the Union Station in about an hour. Why can't Toronto, a so-called "World City", do something like that? It was just fine, and relatively painless.

So we got to the train station by about 9:30, had a nice talk with the ticket agent, who issued us our tickets, checked into the lounge reserved for the hoi-polloi who have some kind of sleeping arrangement, and left our bags there, before going out for a walk and a bit of breakfast. That part of Chicago was quite safe and easy to navigate, and we found a pleasant enough place for some food (decidedly lacking on the airlines). the went back to the lounge, which is a kind of place where people can sleep or gather, or do their Internet thing, or whatever. there were lots of seniors who were in groups, and labelled to keep from getting lost. So I felt kind of at home.

After a while, we were led down to the train platform, and found the car we were to be in. Got in and immediately had a problem. We had assumed we would have our bags with us in our roomette, but it was suggested by the nice lady who was looking after us that there wold not be enough room. And was she ever right! The roomette was two seats facing each other, and not a lot of additional room to move. Minimalist, but sufficient. There was room for the two of us, plus a small bag for each of us, and that was it.

Settling in, and looking out the window, we passed through the suburbs of Chicago for a long time, before getting to the farmland of Southern Illinois. We were going southwest, as befits a train called the Southwest Chief. And the land to the southwest of Chicago was flat - flatter than our Prairies, I think. Full of corn fields and soybean fields, with a few cows thrown in as well, and the odd down-on-their-times small towns. Darlene got off at some of them, I stayed in our "cabin" and read. Then we had supper: odd to sit in the dining car, eating okay food off plastic plates. Not exactly what I had expected. But we got to wtch the sunset over the Plains, an that was great.

After supper, we read and then to bed. Getting me up into the upper birth and into bed was like slipping into a sleeping bag inside a pup tent. But, once in, I slept well with the rocking and bumping of the train not disturbing at all. We passed through most of Kansas during our sleep, and woke with a bit left before heading into Colorado. Had breakfast watching the sun come up. And crossed the wide Missouri about then as well.

Colorado began quietly enough, with the same type of flat country. But then became hillier, developing ridges, cut by water and wind. And rivers eroded into the ground. And high plains in places, bare except for sage and chaparral. I kept expecting to see John Wayne riding towards us, but it didn't happen.

After a longer stop to attach another engine for the final climb, we started what was for us the final part of a wonderful trip: over the Santa Fe Pass into the town of Lamy. Wonderful scenery, beautiful skies, and so much better than driving. When we got to Lamy, we were met by Irvin Santoval, brother of a friend of Darlene's. He drove us into town, and we were then on Stage Two, the part in Santa Fe.

Salisbury

Saturday, May 23

This was to be our final day in the UK, and we had planned to spend a good part of it at the Cathedral. Dan and I were going to climb the tower as part of the tour, and Darlene would do something on the ground, as well as going for the tour.

So after breakfast we walked down to the Cathedral, and got in for the tour (self-guided) of the building itself. It is one of the most beautiful cathedrals I have seen: wonderfully proportioned, completely intact, and with terrific acoustics. I had wanted to get there in time to see the sun coming through the east window, which is a modern window (1998, I think) dedicated to Prisoners of Conscience. It was wonderful, with the light coming through a dark blue window into the chapel. After looking around for some time, Dan and I signed up for the tower tour, and then we all went to lunch.

One of the events of the Arts Festival was going to be a vespers service, with multiple choirs and two orchestras, to be held in the main part of the cathedral in the evening. Unfortunately, we had to leave town before that to get to Heathrow in time for our flight the next morning. But at least, we felt, we could get to see the tower.

When Dan and I arrived for the tower tour, I heard music coming from inside the cathedral. Exciting, I thought, and entered into the main church. They were having their final rehearsal for the evening, and I got to hear about an hour of the concert (without paying, which made it even better!).

The tour of the tower was a bit scary, and somewhat vertiginous. You get to go up into the attic of the church, then across it and up some narrow, steep stairs to an outside gallery which barely fit us, and dropped straight down onto the roof. Fortunately the weather was just fine that day.

The tour took longer than expected (the guide was one of those windy Brits!), so we had to rush to get Dan to his train, then walked back to get ourselves to the bus for our trip to Heathrow.

The next day was all about travel: bus to the airport, plane (again quite full) to Toronto, and my cousin Pam waiting there to drive us home. It was pleasant to arrive back home, after an eventful and fun time with our boys in Britain.

Stonehenge

Friday, May 22

We decided to go on our seniors' tickets for the tour of Stonehenge and Old Sarum (the first edition of Salisbury, dating back before the Romans). The bus left in the early morning (well, early for me: 10:00), and we were on it and anxious to start.

Now, you need to understand that buses in England are the same size or larger than those in Canada, but the roads are smaller. There are, in general, no shoulders, and sometimes no centre lines either. This does not slow anyone down, though. We were merrily speeding through the rolling areas around Salisbury on our way to Stonehenge, passing by these petit British cars as if we were on a four-lane road. I was glad not to be driving, and Darlene was ecstatic that we were not in a car. It is dangerous enough just crossing a road, much less driving on one.

We were not prepared for the impact of Stonehenge itself. First, it is bigger than you think it will be. Those suckers are enormous, and how they got the stones there remains a wonder and a mystery. And, second, the way in which they had organized the tourist experience was in my opinion very good, so that you had the time to explore, and question, and learn, about this 5000 year old monument to something....We had a wonderful time, and took about twice the time we had expected to take with it. And the weather, for once, was sunny, although cool. So it was a joy.

Then to the old settlement of Old Sarum, an old castle and town from probably the ninth or tenth century. We walked around and marvelled again at the work done by these people from the pre-oil era. The rocks around that area contain a lot of flint, so the structure was quite different from what we would expect in Canada.

Daniel arrived in the late afternoon, and we met him, then went for a dinner before going to the Salisbury International Arts Festival. I had Boar to eat, and the other two had beef, in another old tavern near the market square.

That evening was the start of the Festival, also in the Market Square. It was due to start at 8 PM, and we go there before that. Not much was happening, just one stall for some indian food, and a couple who were doing a wonderful skit with vegetables (I can explain). But we had been led to believe there would be some acrobatics or circus-type performances, and this was not happening by 9 PM, so we were getting antsy. Then....what felt like suddenly, there were people dressed in whiteface, drumming a hypnotic beat, and dancing together, and among the many people in the square. They moved around, drawing us all into their rhythm. And it was infectious, exotic, exciting, even sensual, to hear them and watch them.

After about 30 minutes of almost non-stop drumming and dancing, there was a pause, and the drummers re-appeared seemingly in mid-air. The had attached themselves to harnesses, and were lifted by a crane into the air—all the time drumming as before. And then one of them began to do trapeze maneuvers in the middle of the other six. Very difficult to explain, but wonderful to view: it was magical to see these performers probably twenty feet in the air, performing their little hearts out. We were so glad we stayed.

A perfect end to a very good day.

The Cathedral

Thursday, May 21

The Salisbury Cathedral dominates the skyscape of this town. The town itself is about 20,000 people, and the buildings are all low-rise. The cathedral's spire is the tallest in England, so it sits quite high.

(Interestingly, the German Luftwaffe were apparently given strict orders not to bomb the Cathedral, since they used its spire as a guide on their way to London.)

We walked downtown from the B&B, about twenty minutes, found the Information Bureau, and from there were directed to the Bus Station to buy our tickets for Stonehenge for the next day. A very pleasant experience, actually: the man there decided that we really were both Seniors (to save any extra paperwork) and deserved the rate for that, both in our trip to Stonehenge, and for our trip to Heathrow on Saturday. Ah, bureaucracy!

We had hoped to see an Evensong while in England, and managed to get to the Eucharist in the Cathedral. This is the Communion for Ascension Day, and was of course an elaborate affair, lots of incense and praying. But some lovely singing as well. It really is a marvellous structure, the Cathedral. We will go back for a tour proper, but after the service, walked around the Close a bit and the neighbouring areas. Then off for something to eat, which we found in a pleasant second-floor restaurant on the Market Square.

Daniel was to arrive the following day, in the evening, so we saved some of our tourist things for him. tomorrow would be Stonehenge!

Swansea

Thursday, May 22

The trip down here was by an older line called the Mid-Wales Train, which travels slowly from Shrewsbury to Swansea, through some of the wonderful Wales countryside: imagine greens like you seldom see, with sheep almost everywhere, and streams traveling alongside the train. And moors. And little towns. It was worth the extra time it took to get down here.

Now Swansea is not Shrewsbury. It is more working class and bleak, with rather poorly done urban renewal in places, and a sense of a city under duress. This is a bank holiday weekend, so lodging was difficult, and we ended up staying in a Premier Inn, pleasant enough but pretty ordinary. However, we got settled in early enough to get a good walk by the ocean, and that was great. Some sea shells to add to the collection, and some rain to meet expectations, and we returned to the room after a long walk towards the Mumbles, but not reaching it.

The hotel we were staying in had internet at 3 Pounds per minute, so we went in search of a free internet. Of course these are all attached to bars and loud noise, so we didn't stay long. Supper turned out to be one of those comedies of error, with a Spaniard, German, and Italian working in an Italian restaurant, none of whom could understand what we wished to order, and getting it all quite wrong. The dinner was almost, but not quite, a disaster.

Fortunately, the hotel was close and we got there, dodging the inevitable rain, and settled into an awful TV show before bedtime.

Darlene was up earlier than I (surprise) the next morning to walk with the garbage men and the early joggers. She went back to the beach and got some more of her sea-time exposure. Then it was pack, find a cafe for breakfast, and get to the train, on our way to Salisbury.

This involved a quick transfer, but was pretty painless. The Brits really do trains better than we do. They might have been a bot better at announcing the stops, though: we almost missed the Salisbury stop.

And on to Shrewsbury

Monday, May 18

We of course had the worst time of mooring over the whole two days, trying to get it to the dock of the marina at the end of the trip. Almost put Darlene in the brink, and managed to totally blow it as far as my skipper credibility is concerned...sigh.

The folks at the marina seemed to be quite inattentive and not helpful, different from all the other folks we had met so far who went out of their ways to help. So we were not unhappy to get a cab back to the Gobowen train station, then a short twenty-minute ride to Shrewsbury. On the train we met a man in his late sixties who had just completed a 14-day walk along the Offas Dyke, for which he was justly proud.

Why Shrewsbury, you might ask? Well, it is a town with many virtues. Charles Darwin was born and bred here. There is a history and architecture going back to the Elizabethan times, with buildings of the timber and stucco variety all over, some of them quite askew. It is imminently walkable, and so far a real pleasure to do. And we will catch, in a few days, a train back into Wales, to Swansea and the Mumbles (so named because a French soldier thought the hills looked like boobs and called them the mamelles.

We went to the Tourist Bureau to get our accommodation worked out. The trip there was one of those up-hill-down-hill-all-about-the-town trips, dragging our bags behind us. But we were rewarded with a very pleasant lady at the Bureau who got us a good price (for England) on a room at the Prince Rupert Hotel, right in the centre of the oldest part of Shrewsbury. This hotel, it turns out, goes back almost 900 years, with the original part inside the current hotel and still having its rooms rented: we explored that part, with stairs and walls at all angles, and a sense of a ghost lurking somewhere. We walked out and around the streets, each with their own curves and hills, described in our book as a spaghetti structure, which I think is apt. Lots of houses from Tudor times, as well as Elizabethan and Georgian times. Also buildings into the 20th Century, and clearly a working town. We fell in love with it at once, and decided to stay an extra day.

Lunch at Cromwells, more walking, including a visit to the Dingle (a wonderful formal gardens), then time for a pint, which we got at The Three Fishes, a traditional pub. An excellent supper at a pub called The Golden Cross, one of the oldest in Britain (licensed for 600 years), and a talk with Gareth, the owner, who proudly showed off his rooms upstairs, decorated like a bordello, but wonderful in their excessiveness and their history.

The next morning was slow to get going, but we managed to get out of the hotel in time to catch a walking tour, presented by a former cop, of the town and some of its history. We decided to have supper at the Drapers Hall ("drapers" are wool merchants, interesting in part because Darlene's grandfather Izatt was a draper), again a very old building.

Wednesday morning came and we had to pack up, and moved on to the train station reluctantly, and with a view to returning some day.

Das Boot

Saturday, May 16

Wonderful serendipity. We got up slowly, prepared for our trip to the train station (do all cities have a Picadilly Station in England?), and caught our cab. This was also a good-bye to Patrick, since we were very unlikely to see him again here. And of course, being Manchester, it was rainy.

But we got there, and the station was one where we had to go up and over a set of tracks to get to the one we wanted. we had bags, so took a lift. And when the lift doors opened, there was a former patient of mine from Dundas! So it really is the epicentre of the universe. But nice to see him: he in his home town visiting his brother, and we in my son's town visiting my family.

The train ride was smooth and uneventful, also fairly fast. We got to the small town of Gobowen, Wales (the friendly conductor on the way asked if we had family there: "it really is a bit in the middle of nowhere", he said). A wonderful stationmistress directed us to a store for some food for our boat trip. she said it wouldn't take long to shop, and she was right. The Co-op was small, but quite adequate, and we were provisioned and on our way in no time. Got the perfunctory tour of the boat, with all its little tasks that we had to do each day or the boat would sink, or we would come to ruin in some other way. It all sounded like too much work, but the sun was shining at that point, and the world seemed right. So we were off.

Now, this boat is called a narrow boat, and for a reason. forty-one feet long and less than seven feet wide. An RV on water. Basic, but possible. The canal is about as wide as two of these, with a bit of room to spare. Except at the bridges, when it narrows to be only slightly more than a single width.

And then there were the tunnels and the aqueducts. Each of those was a single lane, so you had to ensure that there was no one coming the other way before entering. The tunnels were about 400 metres long, and totally dark, so you were bouncing off the sides and unable to see a lot at the same time. The aqueducts were open, and high. One side had a walking path and railing, and the other had a steel side with a sheer drop of over 100 feet beyond that. The good news is that the sun was out while we did it (the rain was at other times, and it did rain!). The worse news was that it was very scary and when the wind came up you were sure you wold be blown right off. But we made it. My steering is improving, Darlene's is making great strides. But our mooring leaves something to be desired, and is fraught with anxiety for both of us.

Right now we are moored outside the town of Llangollen. Darlene walked into town to get some supplies, and I had a nap. She had an adventure when it was longer and more arduous than expected. I had an adventure when one of the mooring spikes came out and one end of the boat was "flapping" in the canal. We were each helped by strangers who assisted us in making it better, and we are now looking at a friendly bottle of wine before moving to a different place for the night.

If I had doubts about it, I am now convinced I am a true-blue landlubber. And one who enjoys vacations with a modicum of luxury, rather than ones where there is a healthy dose of work.

However, the day ended well, with a walk into the town—a beautiful town built by the looks of it in the nineteenth century, and maintained well until now—and a supper at a riverside restaurant which was good and filling and relatively cheap. We walked back to the boat in a bit of rain (although I think in Wales they call this sunshine), and settled in for another night.

Darlene has asked that i be sure to mention the rapid changes of weather we have experienced. Today began cloudy, followed by rain. As we approached the Aqueduct, the sky miraculously cleared, and we were met with blue, plus a bit of wind. Then it clouded and rained again. Then cleared, then clouded. One man we talked with said it was because we were close to the border with England, and the weather couldn't decide whether to be English or Welsh: he might just be right. But we have become accustomed to experiencing rapid changes, many times a day.

the Canal and all

Sunday, May 17

We didn't get up so early today, but it was sunny when we woke about six. By the time we got up at seven, it was cloudy, and soon began to rain. We were headed back to where we rented the boat, so retracing our steps from the previous day. But of course we are now seasoned boaters, and much better than yesterday. And we were going downstream, which gives us the right-of-way as well. So we began, reluctantly leaving Llangollen, and going through tight stretches of the canal. We met boats which made us pull over (literally—you should have seen Darlene tug on those ropes to slow the boat down and keep it in place: I was very proud of her), and others which almost hit us. But we met some nice folks who helped with the locks and the lift bridge functioning that we needed to do. As I said yesterday, the weather here changes fast. It was pouring (pissing might be a better, albeit less polite, word), and we were getting soaked. So we stopped, moored, and prepared to settle in for a long haul. In less than five minutes, the sun was out and it was warmer than the whole previous day. So we started out again. We stopped for a bite at a local pub along the way, trying to manage it between two rain showers. And we pretty much succeeded, getting back to the boat and on our way just as it started to rain.

We got most of the way back to the starting place, and moored for the night. Supper was light, and involved some wine, as I recall.

We have decided to see more of Wales, and tomorrow brings us to Shrewsbury, and the start of a longer Wales trip, before getting back into England in a few days.

More to come.

Manchester

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Ah, Manchester...it is rainy and cold today, just as one would suppose in one's prejudice about this city. Still a nice place (particularly since we have a nice son here), but nonetheless miserable weather. We got here later last night, after a mix-up with trains, but we are here.

Our last day in London was a good one. We had enjoyed the time at Covent Gardens, so went back there for another look, and were blessed with another operatic singer in the courtyard, followed by a string quartet; it doesn't get much better. A walk around those pats was wonderful, then we decided to walk to the British Museum (about a kilometer away).

I suspect that if you grew up with something as large and comprehensive, and impressive, as the British Museum, you would believe in your bones that Britain was the centre of the known world. As far as I could tell there was something from almost anywhere there. It was quite literally phenomenal. We saw the Rosetta stone, the Elgin marbles from the Parthenon. There were lots of school kids, and the like, fondling the statues with the signs that said "do not touch". It was hard not to scream at them.

The trip up here was fine, and we were met by Dan, Pat, and Electra. We went out for Chinese food, and got to bed late.

Today was a day for e-visiting the Manchester we got to know three years ago. I got sleepy after lunch and came back to Dan's place to sleep. Darlene and Pat went to see the North End part of the city, which is the arty part and turned out to be quite fun.

Supper at a Brazilian restaurant, run by a Portuguese man from the Island of Madeira, who couldn't explain why he left an island with a year-round temperature of 20-33 to come to Manchester. But there you go.

So tonight to bed, and tomorrow to boat.

Prep for England

May 8, 2009

They say that preparing for a trip is as much fun as doing the trip; I'm not so sure! I had done a lot of work finding and booking a place in London for our first night (and at a price that didn't entirely break the bank), only to have Air Canada in their usual manner let me know by email that they had changed our flight. So instead of arriving on Friday night, getting early to bed and being okay on Saturday, we flew overnight Friday, the 8th, and arrived (speaking for myself) irritable and bleary-eyed on Saturday morning.

I had also booked a narrowboat trip in Wales for the time May 15-18, but the people who do the booking are very laid back and didn't get some information to us, necessitating a call across the pond. And then there was the Income Tax which wasn't yet done, and of course the bathrooms had to be cleaned, and various other anxiety-reducing measures invoked before we could actually get onto a plane.

Patrick flew in from Calgary on the 5th, and had a few days with us getting ready as well. It was really nice to see him again, and that time went fast.

And fortunately my cousin Pam was able to drive us to the airport, so we didn't have to worry about parking at all.

We drove off to the airport, got there in lots of time, and got onto the plane for our ride. We actually arrived in England fifteen minutes early. The flight over the last few minutes was quite wonderful, coming in over the southern coast and low hills, with fog in the valleys. And then over the centre of London, right over the Parliament Buildings and the London Eye, before turning west to Heathrow.

Saturday, May 9

After landing, we got our first taste of what was to become a theme here: hordes of people all going in one direction. Our plane-load, along with a few others it seemed, were herded along a narrow corridor to this great cattle-sorting station called Immigration/Customs. Winding our way along the lines, we were able to finally get to the front and through into another too-big room where our bags were supposed to arrive (they all made it). Then through some other dingy places to the exit area, and a meeting with Daniel and his girlfriend Electra (whom we were meeting for the first time). I managed to keep awake and be civil, and we each got fitted out (I think they say "kitted out" in the UK) with an Oyster card, which is the electronic pass for the Underground, and wound our way into Kensington, and finally to the hotel.

(As an aside, Heathrow—a least the terminal at which we arrived-is in need of some repair and a good coat of paint. It has that 1984, late-USSR proletarian look.)

The hotel is an old Victorian house converted to a hotel, managed by German staff, and decorated to their tastes. But clean and comfortable, overall. The room we were assigned was small, but adequate. Certainly adequate for me to get a few hours of sleep before going out again-thus rendering me almost human.

Saturday was the Tower of London, a must-see for any tourist. It was begun by William the Conqueror in 1071, and added on over many centuries. It served to imprison many and torture or execute some of those (most famously Anne Boleyn); but also was the home for some of the monarchs over the centuries. It now serves to hold the Crown Jewels, which we saw in all their exuberant luxury; and has museum-like services as well, showing off armour and the such. We saw some of that, and it was quite interesting.

We had eaten a pub lunch in the heart of London, so were not hungry for supper, or at least we were more hungry for sleep. Went home and slept from about eight to about seven the next morning.

Sunday, May 10

Today was Mother's Day, and we were going to see Romeo and Juliet at the Shakespeare Globe. I had been looking forward to this for many weeks. We got there in enough time to look around a bit, and then settled into our wooden seats (benches actually) and watched a wonderful performance of the play, much as Shakespeare would have presented it. The weather cooperated (thank heavens: the roof is open to the sky), and the pidgeons kept coming and landing on the stage. The sound was mostly good, and not amplified. So I was glad I brought text to follow along. But the humour and the tragedy were well portrayed, and I found it quite moving, at least in part because of the setting.

But all things come to an end, and we went off in search of the London Eye after Dan walked with Electra to her train and then rejoined us. Electra had overcome my reticence towards the Eye-I thinking it was just a big ferris wheel and likely too scary even for me, much less Darlene-and had convinced us that it was something we might consider doing. And she was spot-on. It was wonderful, transported high above the Thames in this pod-like thing (they actually do call them Eyepods!) to get the view you can't get from anywhere else.

And then back to the hotel, found a very nice French restaurant in our neighborhood (www.thelittlefrenchrestaurant.co.uk) before heading back for another fairly early night.

Monday, May 11

Today we had planned to take a formal bus trip around London. You know, those open-topped sight-seeing buses which are in many big cities. And he day was bright, albeit cool and a bit windy. We paid too much for the tickets, but what-the-hell. Got on, and started. We had an unscheduled stop for about 40 minutes so they could change buses, and another diversion due to a Tamil demonstration near Westminster, so it was less than stellar. But we saw Buckingham Place, St.Paul's Cathedral, Canada House, and heard a wonderful operatic singer in Covent Gardens. This, and lots of other sights from the outside. and did some walking as well, all in the sun. I have the sun-burned pate to prove it.

Last night, we saw Dan off to Manchester after a short meal together in our own 'hood. And we went to bed. Seems like we sleep a lot, but I think it is still the time-shifting.

Tuesday, May 12

Today is Tuesday. It was just Pat, Darlene and I. Pat wanted to head off on his own, so Darlene and I went to St.Paul's Cathedral for a more detailed inside look. We paid our money and walked in wonder at the art of the place, truly a magnificent building (particularly since it was built in the 17th Century). We went up to the dome area and tested the Whispering Gallery (it worked), and marvelled at the opulence of a structure built in honour of a person who taught simplicity and charity. But as a structure, and as art, it blows you away.

That and walking about took most of the day. We had lunch in a little bar down a narrow alley near the Cathedral, tried to take a bus back home (only to discover that you can't get here from there), and got back to our hotel to say goodbye to Pat, who is on his way to Manchester tonight.

So what are our impressions of London? Expensive, busy, beautiful, packed with people, lots of restaurants. I like it, and want to come back. You feel like you're in a movie set, and you keep having this impression that you've been here before-when you could not have been.

And tomorrow we see more of it before heading north to Manchester ourselves.