Punting on the Cam

Monday's plan was a trip to Cambridge. We climbed Old St. Mary's Church to the observation tower to get the lay of the land. On the way up we heeded the warnings about not trying to climb through the belfry area since, as the sign indicated, to do so was to "invite certain death." Bev and I were less than happy about the steep narrow winding staircase to the top, but we gamely did the climb. Cambridge is a beautiful town along the Cam River, and the buildings of the university are astounding.

Our next stop was the King's College Chapel, a gorgeous and unique church. The stained glass windows which run the entire perimeter tell the Bible story by placing Old Testament episodes on the top level and the corresponding New Testament story on the bottom level. They were used to help those who could not actually read to be able to know the Bible.

Punting on the Cam is a time-honored tradition and on a par with riding a gondola in Venice. It's also similar in the means of locomotion for the flat-bottomed boats. A person stands on the back platform of the punt and poles it up and down the river. It's an art, and we were just marvelling at what a good workout it would be for the core muscles, when our attention was caught by some excitement upstream.

A punt full of people had just started out from the pier when apparently one of the women aboard had decided it just wasn't for her. She had no sea-legs at all, and when she stood up in the punt, John said, "Someone is going to go in the water." No sooner had he uttered these words when she decided her course of action would be to jump into a vacant punt at the pier. Unfortunately, she just didn't know her physics or have good balance and soon she was splashing in the river, pink suit, purse and all.

All watching were just stunned for a minute and stared. Her party started to laugh when someone realized she couldn't swim. A young man in the crowd, who we suspect might be a lifeguard elsewhere, ran down the dock and jumped in to fish her out. Eventually she was laughing in that good-natured embarrassed way, and we were relieved that we hadn't actually witnessed a drowning. It certainly made the prospect of punting less inviting despite the young employees of the company who were hawking along the main streets to drum up business.

We rounded out the day at Cambridge with some shopping at several good outdoor stores. We were restrained, since we knew that our suitcases would only stretch so far, but Bev and John picked up a few last-minute things that will come in handy on their trip to China, which will begin on Sunday.

Although the weather had threatened rain all day, our timing was perfect. As we got back on the bus to the Park and Ride, it rained in earnest and we were glad we hadn't tried to picnic. That meant that our picnic lunch would become supper. Bev's mom Pam and their neighbor Alisa (sp?) joined us for pork pie, ham, boiled new potatoes, salad and a wonderful dessert consisting of gelatin made with Chardonnay and raspberries. (The latter will be my snack at the next card gathering. Get ready, girls!)

After dinner as we enjoyed tea and a second glass of wine, Bev and Alisa provided entertainment. Besides good looks and a sparkling wit, Alisa is also blessed with a fabulous voice. We were treated to several songs with Bev on piano and Alisa singing, but their rendition of Over the Rainbow really did it: fortunately, John's counseling background means that he is observant of such things and was ready with a roll of paper towels when I was reduced to a blubbering mass of jelly. The evening was one of those that we'll be remembering for years to come as a sparkling moment in a good life.

We are now back in Honor Oak Park, packing up and planning dinner. Tomorrow morning Chris will take the day off, take us back up to Stevenage and she, Bev and I will treat ourselves to our traditional manicures and pedicures. Our appointments have been booked and reservations have been made for a farewell dinner, complete with the six of us, Izzie and Steve and Alisa.

It's hard to even write about leaving, so I'm hoping John comes tomorrow night equipped with his paper towels.

Merry Olde England

Our trip back to England was rather uneventful, thank goodness. We headed out of Hannover on the train and arrived in Bremen just before 2:00 p.m. After getting oriented and obtaining information from the tourist office at the bahnhof (train station), we set off for the middle of town. On the way, a certain librarian I know refreshed my memory of the story of the Bremen Town Musicians, and we saw many reminders of the tale as we wound our way toward the town square.

We had been advised about some restaurants along the river that would give us a straight shot to the airport, so eventually we settled on a Mexican place and spent a leisurely hour enjoying our enchiladas and people-watching. A low-key bike ride along the riverbank completed this part of our "tour" of Bremen, and as the sky clouded up we headed across the bridge to find the road to the airport. Just as we crossed to the far side, the rain started. We were lucky enough to be right next to a building that had a large overhang which we found ourselves sharing with an old lady and two young men on bicycles. The old lady was very concerned for their welfare, since they were wearing tank tops and the rain was rather cold. We all managed to communicate, even though they spoke no English, and our knowledge of German hadn't expanded much beyond the words for left and right.

When the rain stopped we found the airport and had plenty of time to pack up the bikes and organize ourselves. Since EasyJet doesn't assign seats, it was good that we were there in plenty of time. We got ourselves in line, checked in and went to the gate to await a flight that ended up being about an hour delayed. We texted John and Bev, who were picking us up on the other end, and settled in for the wait.

We will admit we were tired when we got off the plane, a fact that John and Bev will back up. In fact, apparently we looked done in. They got us safely home, and we sketched out a plan for Monday.

Leaving for "Home"

The trip to Hamelin (Hameln here) did not take place. When we awoke on Friday and Karin went to work, Joe and the two of us decided to tackle some home chores. We got a taste of everyday German life as we took the car to be washed, bought groceries and did some organizing at home.

Dinner was a stir-fry combination of chicken, vegetables, the ever-present spinach and Indian bread wraps. After dinner we had a walk to the train station to buy our tickets for Sunday's sojourn to Bremen to catch our plane back to England.

Despite forecasts of rain and overcast weather, we awoke on Saturday to sun. After breakfast, the four of us hopped on our bikes and headed for a lake nearby to relax on a beach. Even with two native guides, the route was elusive and many stops were made at intersections to determine the best direction to take. We were rewarded finally with an interlude on a grassy beach, and a lunch of the fruit we had brought. Bob and I decided to supplement ours with a wurst from the concession stand, since we thought we shouldn't leave Germany without having consumed at least one.

We set off to circumnavigate at least part of the perimeter of the lake, and then head home. It was during this part of the trip that we noticed Joe's rear tire losing air. Since we had no patches with us, we had to keep stopping periodically to pump up his tire. Poor Joe got twice the workout of the rest of us, pedalling a soft tire most of the way home. As soon as it was possible, we hopped on a tram with our bikes and rode the rest of the way home that way. Bob and Joe patched the offending tube as soon as we arrived home, so Joe will be ready for his commute on Monday.

We had a breakfast feast this morning of Chef Joe's special egg, pepper, cheese and (of course) spinach mixture. We feel rather guilty leaving before the spinach supply has run out, but what can we do? In a little while, we'll head for the train station and after many dealings where we'll be sure to be missing Karin, interpretor extraordinaire, we'll end up at Bev and John's in Stevenage. Tomorrow the plan is to visit Cambridge, and then at some point make our way back to London, specifically Honor Oak Park, to finish visiting and organize for the trip home.

Randy tells us that we'll probably need to restock groceries when we get back, and there have been several minor repairs made while we were gone. As always when we travel to Europe, we'll have plenty of good ideas to implement around the house.

Biergartens Uber Alles!

We finally feel we are recovering from the ride into Hannover. Poor Karin has had to go to work these last few days, but Joe has been gracious enough to shuttle us all over town. After our whirlwind walking tour yesterday, we hopped on our bikes this morning to see more Hannover sights.

Joe led us (quickly, I might add) through the city to a lake and park behind the town hall we'd ascended yesterday and on to an old forest that had some centuries-old trees. We locked the bikes and hiked on the path through the forest to see the wild boars, deer and other wildlife that roam throughout the park.

A picnic lunch in a serene spot gave us a rest and then onward to a large formal garden. Unfortunately, since there is a festival going on, we couldn't enter the formal garden, but what we ended up doing was almost better. The Kleine gartens are plots which city residents can rent, cultivate into vegetable gardens, or more likely flower gardens, and proudly display for all to see. A "hut" is included with each plot. Here is what it amount to: people who live in apartments can have a yard and a little place to spend the weekend (they can't be lived in on a permanent basis) so that they can still have yardwork to do. They have a little cottage in which to relax on weekends without spending a fortune on gas to get there. Their "backyard" is across town. Go figure.

After dinner, Joe and Karin walked us over to a genuine Biergarten, a sort of outdoor bar with picnic benches set up. Over glasses of wine, Pepsi for Bob, we solved the problems of the world. Or at least we talked ourselves out and had a relaxing evening.

Tomorrow the plan is to set off for Hamelin, the home of the Pied Piper, after Karin leaves for work, poor thing.

Go East, Young Man!

Sunday was a riding day to be forgotten. The temperature was about 90 Fahrenheit, and there was no moving air. Read: tailwind nonexistent. We plugged along, still marveling at the ease of navigating Holland by bike, but otherwise uneventfully. I was told by Bob at the end of the day that I had kept a rather "gentle pace," his way of saying that I was being a slacker. When we rolled into our hotel that evening, we were almost too tired to eat.

Monday was almost as hot, but not quite as humid. Several towns we passed through offered a way to cool off in the form of fountains that we leaned back into, wetting our heads and then dunking our feet. It really helped to refresh us, and our last night in Holland was a tad more energetic than Sunday had been. We had a pleasant and huge hotel room at a reasonable price, and had energy left over to walk down the street to a Greek restaurant where we shared an enormous platter for two of Greek meat and salad, etc.

That night we called Joe and Karin to finalize plans for our arrival on Tuesday evening. Once we crossed the border into Germany, we noticed two definite changes: it became harder to navigate, since we had gotten used to the Dutch system. The signage wasn't there, there aren't as many concessions to bikes and our map was not specifically for bikes. The second thing was that prices dropped dramatically. We still lose on the dollar-to-euro exchange, but things cost significantly less here.

Because of the signage problem, we found ourselves getting turned around in every town we came to. At one point after lunch, Bob spotted a bike shop and though the owner did not speak English, she did manage to communicate to us that a canal we'd spotted on the map that led right into Hannover had a bike path along it. She assured us that it would be about four "stunde" to Hannover. We left the shop and said to each other: What the heck is a stunde? I dug our German dictionary out of my bag and we were pleased to discover that it means "hour." After doing the ride, we would like to see this woman cycle. If she does that path in four hours, she is Tour de France material!

We reached Hannover about 7, called Joe and Karin and they cycled to meet us at an intersection. Following them to their apartment, we realized the advantage they had in not having come all the way across the canal carrying our loads! They both are able to cycle to work most days, so they are very fit.

Joe has taken off work for three days to show us around. This morning, after Karin left for work, the three of us set off for the old city. Hannover has a system called the Red Thread, similar to the Freedom Trail in Boston. You follow a line along the sidewalk and there are numbers painted at various places that explain the particular sight you are viewing. We had to look things up once we returned to the house, since we forgot to take the book with us.

Hannover is a city that was particularly devastated during the bombing of World War II. About 60% of the overall area was destroyed and even a larger percentage of the interior. It is amazing that so many buildings were able to be salvaged, since there is a large number of the traditional half-timbered buildings in the old section. We visited the town hall where there is a display of scale models of the city throughout the years, including 1939 and then the post-bombing version in 1945 where you can see the results. It's incredible to think that a city can recover from such widespread devastation.

After that, we climbed to the dome of the building where it's possible to get a 360° view of the city. The elevator shaft that ascends the dome actually curves along with the curve of the dome. The elevator (lift, for our English friends) has a window in the ceiling so that you can observe this. It actually tilts back and forth as it climbs.

We had lunch in the marketplace where we were able to sample several kinds of food from different stalls, and shared some portions of things. Fresh vegetables and fruits were quite appealing and cousin Joe and I bought some things for dinner. We did find out, though, that a kilo of spinach is really a lot. The poor girl tried her best to pack it into a bag, and when we realized the quantity we all had a good laugh and had her stop at .6 kilo.

It's good to be in a house again. Joe and Karin's apartment is spacious. It's in a building that was put up in 1905 and the kitchen still has the original terazzo floor. The ceilings are 12 feet high and the rooms large. It's decorated quite in the style we like, and is very homey. We are glad that their home here is so pleasant. The best part of being in a home: we were able to do laundry!

Joe has sightseeing plans for us that may involve day riding on the bikes, but without carrying anything but the lock, it will seem like a treat.

Onward and Upward

Friday night, after getting settled in the hotel, we four decided to venture into the city to eat dinner. To get to Amsterdam the easiest route was to take the hotel shuttle to the airport and then get the train into town. We ate at an Argentinian restaurant (how about that, Mare & Chuck?) where we had excellent steaks and the music was in a foreign language I actually understood!

The down side was that Amsterdam was really less than attractive as a place to spend an extra day. I'm sure if we'd had Bob John's friends as guides it might have been more appealing, but as it was seemed tawdry and not worth revisiting on Saturday. We revised our plans and cycled out on Saturday morning after seeing Roger and Chris off.

We left the Amsterdam area about 11:30 a.m. and rode with a great tailwind for about 30 miles. A lunch stop was necessary, so we left the main route to go into the town of Hilversum. A sand volleyball tournament was happening in the main square, thanks to the importing of what must have been tons of sand. The loud music made that less than appealing for the traditional lunchtime map discussion, so we found a little cafe on a smaller square. The waitress was apologetic that our first choice for lunch, spaghetti, was unavailable. Little did she know that the reason for our order was that it was one of the few things on the menu we understood. We took the fallback choice of hamburger, which was served Dutch style: open face on a slice of toast, covered with ketchup, mayo and grilled onions. The fries were great, served with a side of mayo, of course. We were able to refuel and top it off with pastries from a nearby bakery.

Finding our way out of town and back to the main road was an adventure. We finally enlisted the help of four "pensioners," as Chris would call them, who were on an evening ride to a cafe in a park. Realizing that it would be too difficult to explain, they simply led us out on their way. Though I wouldn't say we had a difficult time keeping up, they rode respectably well for 75-year-olds.

After a quick late-afternoon stop at a cafe for a drink, we arrived at Amserfoort just as a festival was breaking down in the town square. We had a few moments of panic when we realized that the Dutch Open Tennis Tournament was taking place just outside of town. We remembered Gouda, and staying at the Chinese restaurant! Fortunately, the Tulip Inn came through for us. We booked a room and after cleaning up, went to the dining room. This place was a cut above the Tulip Inn we stayed at in Bergen Op Zoom. The dining room was reasonably priced, but the food fantastic. We had Leek Soup with goat cheese (sorry, Chris!), salmon with spinach sauce and mashed potatoes with scallions. The food was excellent, and since the dining room wasn't crowded the service superb.

Tomorrow we'll continue to make our way east toward Hannover. We actually rode up and down what passes for hills in these parts. Chris would have had fun with her altimeter.

Amsterdam, at last!

Friday, July 13.

Our riding day was relatively short today, only about 30 miles. On the LF2b for most of the day until we lost it at a construction site, we traveled through more picturesque countryside. We were literally riding atop dikes that held back canals and lakes from houses built by people who so trusted the barriers that their houses were lower than the water. The houses and canals were gorgeous, and in the process of threading our way through them toward Amsterdam, we were actually in bicycle traffic jams. Holland really is the center of cycling.

Everyone, and I do mean everyone, rides a bicycle here. They are a very different style, allowing the rider to remain upright and in street clothes. We've been passed on the bike route by men and women in their 80s, people commuting in their business suits, and today we saw a woman with her two children on her bike, and talking on her cell phone as she rode.

We're now comfortably ensconced in a Novotel near the airport where Chris and Roger will fly home tomorrow. We were actually able to cycle right to the airport today on cycling paths to check on their flight details. Tomorrow after breakfast, they will cycle to the airport, break their bikes down and bag them for travel and we will head into Amsterdam by train. We'll see Amsterdam on foot, since it's the bike theft capital of the world.

Sunday, we'll set off for Hannover toward Karin and Joe.

Storybook Holland

On Wednesday, July 11 we left Bergen Op Zoom and found our beloved bike route again. Our riding was somewhat uneventful until our lunch stop. We found a little diner run by a man from Hong Kong. He was selling mostly Dutch fast food (you don't want to know!) and when he mentioned that one thing in the case was spring rolls, our eyes lit up. They have a curious system where the raw food, mostly meat that seems to be extruded from some weird shaping machine, is displayed in the case. You choose it, they take it and fry it, and then you eat it. Thank goodness the Dutch do so much cycling and walking. French fries are served with either mayonnaise or a peanut butter sauce.

We had another of those interesting tri-lingual conversations, and when we showed him our map, he was very excited about the Molens we would see. We didn't think too much about it, but as we traveled, we found ourselves on a narrow pathway that wound its way through the famous canal system. We saw cows and sheep on both sides, and the countryside was amazing. Suddenly as we came around a turn, we found ourselves surrounded by the traditional windmills that we've all seen in picture books since we were little. It was really almost magical. The magical part was that we approached this group of them from the far end of about 20 that were in the area. As we progressed, we realized that the tour buses were parked at the other end. Fortunately, we had only a few hundred yards of wining through gaping tourists who weren't paying attention to where they were going.

We had made reservations for Thursday night at a place outside of Gouda, since a quick check while at the Tulip Inn showed that there were no vacancies in Gouda. We arrived at the town where the hotel was supposed to be located, but couldn't find it. Chris asked some men at a car repair, who kept repeating that it was in a Chinese restaurant. We wrote that off to being lost in translation, and set off to find our hotel. It was raining, and we were all on the border of being miserable, and hungry as the clock ticked on. We found ourselves on what seemed to be a deserted country road, where we had been directed by a woman in town. It just had the look of being farm after farm, with no hope of a hotel!

Roger decided to call the number we'd gotten from the website where we'd booked. Chris and I had a moment of panic, when we heard him say, "In Amsterdam!" After a little straightening out of a communication problem, we decided to continue in the direction we'd been going and about half a mile later, it appeared: The International Trade Centre, complete with the Hotel Het Oosten, part of the largest Chinese restaurant we've ever seen. We burst into laughter about the fact that the old men had been right; we were staying above a Chinese restaurant!!!

Another buffet lost money on us, as we satisfied hunger that had been fueled by an 80-mile day. After breakfast, we set off for Amsterdam.

If it's Tuesday...

Tuesday, July 10 began with a short ride to Dover to catch the Ferry which took us to Dunkerque, France. We had breakfast on the ride, which was very much like a cruise ship. Our arrival in Dunkerque had the familiar bike-trip quality of confusion in trying to navigate our way from the shipyard toward Brugges, Belgium. After about 90 minutes of going in circles, we got on our way and eventually realized we had crossed a border without knowing it.

Chris knew of a long-distance bike route that started in Brussels and went all the way to Amsterdam. We found the LF2b, as it's called, by happy accident and set off. Our arrival in Brugges was like something in a movie. We came into the town, which on the outskirts looks somewhat ordinary. Passing through the stone gate in the wall around the old part of the town changes everything. We were suddenly transported into Medieval times. We wound our way through the stone-paved narrow streets and stopped when we found some hotels. Chris knows French, so she was able to bargain us down to a good price.

The room was like something from a fairy-tale. A satin bedspread and worn wooden floors gave the room an elegant look. After cleaning up, we made our way to a Vietnamese restaurant we'd spotted. Here, the language barrier became cumbersome, but after a halting conversation with a man whose only languages were Vietnamese and Flemish, we managed to order a fixed-price banquet that included some excellent dishes. Full and happy, we strolled back and agreed on a time for breakfast, which was included.

Hoteliers who include a breakfast buffet invariably lose money on cycle-tourists. The dining room full, we retreated to a basement room where Roger's head touched the brick ceiling, and filled up on warm croissants, eggs cooked to order, cereal, yogurt, coffee, tea, etc. and then rode on to the town square.

Our friend Bob had shown us pictures of his visit to Brugges, but Bob was unprepared for the sight. Everything is stone and picture-book perfect. We'd like to visit the place again when we have a few days to explore. Bob and Chris found a map shop and purchased some maps that would help us find our way. We picked up the LF2b again on the edge of town and started off next to a canal.

Imagine our surprise to find our way blocked by a flock of sheep, complete with sheepdog and shepherdess with a crook! We wound our way through the flock, studiously avoiding the manure as we did, wondering how it was possible they could be so relatively close to town.

The bike route has allowed us to make most of our trip without having to share a road with cars. When we are on an auto road, it is very quiet and throughout the motorists are extremely deferent to our presence. It's like cycling heaven.

Soon we crossed another border, again without realizing it, and were in the Netherlands. Our bike route took us to that night's destination, but not without a 5 p.m. stop in a bar for some apple pie (the only part of Dutch cuisine anyone has anything good to say about!), coffee and some conversation with five men in their 60s who were doing their own bike tour. We all watched the Tour de France on the tv in the bar. We had to settle for the visuals, since the commentary was in Dutch.

We continued to our destination for that night: Bergen Op Zoom (Dutch is an interesting language!) and stayed at the Tulip Inn.

Then longen folke to goon en pilgrimage...

The dates will be off for these next few posts, because it's been a few days since I was able to get to a computer with time to summarize! I'll start with Monday, July 9.

Chris returned to London early morning and we organized and set off for the train station. Our first stop was Canterbury Cathedral. It was awesome to be in the place where Chaucer's pilgrims were headed, and easy to see why they did. The countryside was beautiful: green, rolling, quiet. After greeting Richard, Chris's friend who works in the Cathedral precincts, we stored our bikes and took an audio tour of the church.

Standing on the exact spot where Thomas Becket died, and hearing the history explained while you looked around was truly a privilege. The Cathedral is a beautiful space, Gothic and majestic with touches from other periods. One of the periods which touched it unkindly was the Puritan destruction of some of the stained glass, in their effort to rid religion of unnecessary worldly trappings.

After the tour, we had lunch and waited for Jane, who cycled up from her house at St. Margaret at Cliffe to meet us. Jane is training for a cycle trip to Rome in August, so she was glad for the chance to ride. Our trip through the English countryside was actually a bit hair-raising. Picture roads that are about as wide as our bike lanes back home. They wind through 12-foot high hedges, and I do mean wind. Your sight lines are about 100 yards when things are good. You are on the left side of the road! Cars come and patiently wait, but at times either you or the car, or the tractor has to pull over to let someone pass.

We had about 28 miles like that to do. About 10 miles into our trip, it started to rain. Hard. Then it hailed. Then, Chris got a flat, or a puncture in England. All we could do was laugh, change the tire and push on. We were rewarded with a breathtaking view of the sea when we reached the coast, and were even able to see the famous White Cliffs, since we were near Dover.

Additional rewards included the knowledge that a hearty stew was in the oven, and Richard had arrived home and offered to run me a warm bath. That was the most luxurious and indulgent thing a host has ever done for me.

Dinner was excellent and their house and property gorgeous. They were just married about a month ago, and built their house themselves on Richard's family property. We felt too dirty after the rainstorm to even go in, but they made us feel welcome and we spent a great evening trading stories.

Allez!

The shopping area is just a five-minute walk from Roger and Chris's house, so after breakfast we did laundry and decided to do some shopping to replenish supplies that we'd been helping to consume as what was probably record speed for the Hardmans. We explored the area, had our first taste of fish and chips and stopped in at the grocery store. Our lunch was enlivened by the theft of a cash machine from the store next to the fish and chips shop. While we ate, we were entertained by the sight of English policemen taping off the crime scene and beginning the canvass of the neighborhood to find a witness to the crime.



Soon after we returned home from our shopping excursion, Steve and Georgina joined us with their own load of groceries. When the time came, the four of us headed into London by train to join Roger and Isabel in Trafalgar Square, at the huge party launching the Tour de France. We were enjoying the festive atmosphere when we ran into Nigel and Cathy and Pat, friends of Chris and Roger. Even Georgina enjoyed watching the giant screen tv, which was our only real view of the stage where riders were introduced. Each team came to the dais, was introduced and interviewed and then rode a circuit around the Square. We were able to see them loop behind us and get a close-up view of the riders.


Once the introductions were over, we headed to Covent Garden where we enjoyed waffles with chocolate for dessert at an outside table. Realizing that we needed to be ready to ride to Greenwich the next morning, we headed for home and went to bed.


In the morning, the five of us and Georgina geared up for the ride to Greenwich where we met more than 150 London Cycling Campaign people and were issued blue wristbands which got us admission to a special viewing area for the Prologue time trial. Our large group wound its way eleven miles through downtown London to Hyde Park where we locked our bikes along with thousands of others in a bike parking lot temporarily set up in the grass, and walked through the Peoples' Village, an area set up like a festival with food, free beer and performers. After a luncheon of fish and chips and beer, we proceeded to our viewing area.


The Prologue Time Trial of the Tour de France proceeds like this: the first rider does the course and his time is noted. Then each rider is "released" about a minute apart. There are 189 riders, so of course, this takes more than three hours. The fastest riders go last. This gave us plenty of time to nap in the sun, play with Georgina, walk around and take in the sights of Hyde Park, watch the giant screen tv across from our area and just enjoy the atmosphere in general. Only a year ago or so, I was saying, "Wouldn't it be great to be able to see a part of the Tour just once?" and here we are!!!!


The wait was well worth it. Fabian Cancellara from Switzerland, the reigning world time trial champion took off. From the first seconds it was obvious that his ride 'round the course would be different from the rest. He took first place with 10 seconds to spare! Watching him flash by in the rainbow jersey and helmet was a breathtaking sight. Though most of the crowd around us were pulling for the Brits, David Millar and Bradley Wiggins, no one could witness such a performance without appreciation of the skill involved. It is widely accepted that he may not win any other stages, since the time trial is his specialty, but it was a great moment to witness.


The ride home was quite challenging. We decided to strike out on our own, without the "peleton" formed by the London Cycling Campaign group, especially since we were accompanied by Roving Marshall Hardman. I am fairly sure I'm up to any challenge, since at this point I was riding a bike I'd never ridden before, on the left side of the road in London traffic.


This morning our destination was Greenwich. The riders would be arriving about 11:00 a.m. from London and at the Prime Meridian begin racing in earnest. We stationed ourselves in town before the Meridian, and at about 10:30 began to see the caravan of cars that preceed the racers. Even at the modest "rolling start" speed, it was awesome to see all the riders still fresh at the beginning of the race.


They were followed by team cars and buses. We made a quick visit to the Royal Observatory where Bob took a picture of his feet straddling the Prime Meridian, and we left for home. Once home, Roger fired up the barbecue and cooked the chicken we'd been marinating since yesterday and we ate in the yard. Bob and I complimented the British event planners who made sure that the two stages of the Tour that were to take place in England happened on what were apparently the only warm sunny days so far this calendar year!


We will pass a quiet evening waiting for Chris's arrival tomorrow and getting our things ready for the cycling part of our trip. Chris will arrive early tomorrow morning and we will leave by train for Canterbury, and then on to St. Margaret's-at-Cliff where we'll spend the night with friends of Roger and Chris. Tuesday morning, a short cycle to Dover and then the ferry to Dunkerque, France and a ride along the coast to Belgium -- just behind the Tour de France group.

Allez!

We'll Always Have Paris...

Thursday started early: 4 a.m. to be exact. Our hero, Roger, arose with us at that ungodly hour to drop us off at Waterloo Station to catch the train to Paris. Chris even poked her head into the kitchen before we left, since we won't be seeing her until late Monday afternoon at Canterbury. Once we found the entrance to the train station, things went smoothly. It's a strange sensation to be travelling that fast on the ground (186 miles per hour across northern France!), descend into a tunnel and pop up in a different country. The first thing we noticed was that the world was at rights again; that is, people were driving on the right side of the road! The problem was that now they were talking gibberish.

We had decided to try the walking route; when we left the Gare du Nord, we headed south toward Ile de Cite. During the walk there we began the comparisons. Paris around Le Gare was something like NY on 7th Ave in the low 40s. The streets and sidewalks were wider than in London, more littered and more familiar.

The Ile de la Cite, the section of Paris that contains the Palais de Justice and Notre Dame is like something from a book. Or more specifically, movies. Seeing the front of the cathedral took me back to visions of the Hunchback. We were able to go in and look around the Gothic Cathedral and of course, light a candle, as always.

We continued our hike along the Seine. We'd decided that one day was not enough to spend in any museum or on any one thing, so we opted for the overview. We walked along a river path where yachts and tour boats were docked. As at home, during these last few weeks of school, there are dozens of field trip groups. Kids are the same where ever you find them; teachers yelling at them sounds the same even in a different language.

We arrived at the Louvre and satisfied ourselves with a tour of its outside. That is almost enough! The building is awesome; the majesty of the plaza in the middle is contrasted by the modernity of the pyramid entrance added in recent years. One of these days we'll go back and spend the week that must be necessary to tour such a vast place.

We continued along the Seine until we had a great view of the Eiffel Tower. It's an amazing sight. I didn't regret foregoing the trip to the top; you know my opinion of high places. It was really enough just to get the view of it from across the river. From there, we continued to the Arc de Triomphe. The area between the Louvre and the Arc is beautiful. It's a straight shot, and coverage of the Tour de France in recent years made it seem very familiar.

On the way there we stopped for lunch at a little cafe, where I had L'Orangina with my quiche in honor of Shawna. The man who first waited on us spoke no English, but was pleasant enough in helping us with our order. When we came back in to choose pastries for dessert, the owner was behind the counter. In somewhat halting English, he expressed his joy that we were there, saying: I love Americans. Welcome to Paris. That was certainly an unexpected surprise. While we're not sure he represented the majority of the French, it was great to hear it from someone.

We'd been advised by several people that Montmartre was the section of the city not to be missed. As the name implies (Mont) we were ready to climb the hill. At the top sits the church of Sacre Couer. Because of the route we chose, (taking us past the Moulin Rouge), we came at it from behind. We climbed into a much more traditional area of narrow winding streets and dozens of shops and cafes. We stopped near the top of the hill at a cafe, since it was approaching the time for afternoon tea. (See how English we've become!) Since we were in France, I substituted red wine for tea. We were treated to an amazing view of the city and still had more climbing to do. After a much-needed break for our feet and some time to enjoy the view, we hiked up to where the tram and tour buses were letting out the crowds.

Sacre Couer was everything our friend Chris had promised it would be. A Romanesque Basilica, it was as different from the Gothic Notre Dame as could be. The sacristans took every effort to shush people and make sure that is was also maintained as a place of worship. We spent some time inspecting it and then discovered the stairs and park to the front. If it's not the highest point in Paris, it certainly has one of the best panoramas. We listened to a singer who entertained the crowd with Billy Joel songs -- in English - and his guitar, and just took in the view.

We made the trip down, discovering on each level some new beauty: fountains, statues, gracefully curving stairs. We were glad that we had done it "backwards" since the best was always yet to come. Looking up at Sacre Coeur from the bottom was as good as discovering its beauty from the inside.

Dinner was at a little restaurant where the owner lied to us about the size of the pizza so that we would order two. He seemed glad we were Americans, but for monetary reasons! Then we finished our trip to the train station and settled in for the ride home. By the time we came into Waterloo station, used the Tube to get to London Bridge and bought our train tickets to Honor Oak Park (our home away from home), we were feeling like pros. But really tired.

Roger greeted us with an offer of a glass of wine and the assurance that our grueling day had left us looking no worse for wear, and after a relaxing chat, we went off to bed to rest up for our day off. Tonight we join him at Trafalgar Square.

In the Eye...

We recovered this morning from our long day, which included school(!) and lasted until our arrival home about midnight after the play. Chris ran this morning before going to work, so the three of us enjoyed a rather leisurely morning. At least it was for those of us not going to work. Roger had taken the train in to work and planned to run home, yes run, and Chris thought she'd have to work late. We organized our things, did some laundry, and set off for an adventure that I (Maggie) was somewhat skeptical about: the London Eye.

That's the nickname for what is officially called The Millenium Wheel. It's a giant Ferris Wheel that was erected for the Millenium and was intended to be dismantled afterwards. Everybody thought it was too neat to give up, though, so it's still operating as one of the most popular tourist sites. I was nervous because I don't do heights, as some of you may know, but it really wasn't bad. Since you ride in an enclosed capsule it doesn't have the feel of being "out there." Once you're up near the top at about 500 feet above the river, you can see all of London. It was great to have an unobstructed view of things, and to be able to see where everything is in relation to everything else.

Afterwards, we walked across the Westminster Bridge and saw Parliament and Big Ben close up, as well as Westminster Abbey. A visit to the National Gallery was next where we saw an exhibit of Dutch portraits, including several Rembrandts. It seemed ironic to be seeing Dutch paintings in London since we're going to the Netherlands, but we might not have as much time to look around in the city next week.

After that, we walked (and walked...and walked) back to the train station and came home to decompress before our next big adventure: Paris. We'll be rising early tomorrow to take in the City of Light.

Act II

What an amazing evening. Ater a great day at Heathcote School, the four of us took the train back into London to see Love's Labour's Lost. Walking into the Globe was one of the most evocative moments. We thought of our friends Jay, Ken and Fred as we watched the play. As our friend Chris said later, it really brings out what a bawdy and fun experience going to the theatre was. I hope to come back some day to see one of the tragedies. It was definitely a highlight experience.


We caught the train home and are now gearing up for another day in the city. After our trip to the Engish countryside at Stevenage, it will seem very bustling.

When is a Tower not a Tower?

On Monday, Bob and I found our way to the train station near Chris and Roger's and started the requisite sight-seeing. We walked over the Tower Bridge and toured the Tower of London. Much to our surprise, it doesn't seem like our idea of a tower at all. Rather, it's like a small town. The Yeoman Warden who led our tour talked about the history of the tower, its reputation for executions, etc. (You would know him better as a Beefeater, their nickname). He did a good job of explaining the history and highlights and we were able to see where the higher-ranking prisoners stayed and where they got the privilege of being executed in private, rather than in public out of "respect" for their positions in society.

From there, we walked to St. Paul's Cathedral and looked in. We opted out of the full tour because of the price, but were able to see that it was a magnificent place. Eating lunch on the steps of such places seems to be a typical European custom, and the English certainly are undaunted by the weather which switched from raining to sunny about every 10 minutes or so all day.

Afterwards, we crossed a pedestrian bridge known locally as the "Wobbly Bridge" to the Tate Modern Gallery. We got pulled into an exhibit which focused on conditions in the major urban areas of the world and how they are changing. Since Bob has had to deal with some of these issues as part of the Trail Council, it was particularly interesting for us.

At about 4 p.m., or 16:00, we met Roger and toured his office. It is in a beautiful maze of alleys full of 400 year-old pubs and shops. He had taken our overnight bag into town for us and then he was kind enough to literally put us on the train to Stevenage where we were met by John.

John's wife Bev managed to get out of a meeting she was supposed to attend about the future closing of her school, so was able to join us for dinner. John made sausages, mash (mashed potatoes) and haggis. The latter item was surprisingly good! We all teased about our lack of enthusiasm when he told us it was on the menu, but had to admit that it was delicious. I must say that I've consumed more meat since landing in England than I normally do in a month.

Today we visited at the school where Bev is the Assistant Head Teacher (sort of like an assistant principal) and John works with a cadre of people similar to guidance counselors. I got to sit in a Spanish class with students about the same age as those I teach. I learned that language teachers are the same everywhere, regardless of their national origin and training. The lesson was on numbers 1-1,000. The teacher had a Smart Board and used interactive website games to reinforce the lesson. (Sound familiar, Shawna?) Afterwards, we used 10 minutes for her students to ask me questions about the U.S. and our schools. Sadly, they mostly wanted to know how many shootings and stabbings I had witnessed in the school hallways.

We also got to spend some time with older students, those preparing to take courses that will eventually lead to enrollment in the university. That was pleasant since both of us have become accustomed to working with much younger students. What we noticed about the experience as a whole is that there are more similarities than differences, but the differences are interesting. The most salient is that the school is not locked and we spotted probably more than 10 doors that lead directly outside. Students routinely go outside between buildings to change classes, have PE and eat their lunches. They also have a 15-minute break in the morning where they can do so. Since Columbine, that seems to be a thing of the past in the U.S.

We are back at Bev and John's now, preparing for a short walk to the High Street (business district) of old Stevenage, and tonight will head into London for the play.

Cheerio!

Sunday, 1 July 2007

After a much-needed rest, we awoke this morning to the sound of baby steps pursued by Grandpa steps. Isabel and Steve, the Hardman's daughter and son-in-law had left early in the morning to participate in a 10k race in the city. Chris was off to the cathedral for ordination ceremonies. After a leisurely breakfast with Roger and Georgina, we all headed into town on the train for some touring. After train lessons, we strolled along the Thames, on the south side (very important for orientation purposes) where we saw London Bridge, the Tower Bridge, the Clink (the original jail that was called that), Southward Cathedral - the oldest Gothic Cathedral in England - , the Globe (replica built on the site of the original), and crossed a pedestrian bridge. The pedestrian bridge is known locally as the Wobbly Bridge, since when it was first built the wind and vibrations caused it to wobby fiercely. It was closed and re-engineered to be more stable.

At 12:30 we met up with all of the Hardman's and Bev and John. It was a wonderful reunion. We had lunch at an Asian noodle restaurant and did some more strolling. There is an interesting display of huge guitar sculptures, each signed by a famous musician. We will explore that further tomorrow and report details later.

Eventually, we had to return home as Chris had more ordaining to do and Isabel and Steve needed to get home. Roger, Bob and I shared a quiet dinner and caught up on reading and tidying up.

Tomorrow our hosts will be out early, so we will head into town on our own, just like grownups. We plan to cross the Tower Bridge and visit the Tower of London. After that, it's either the Tate Modern Collection (all the museums are free), or ride on the London Eye, a huge glass Ferris Wheel type thing that gives a great view of the city. Visibility will determine.

Tomorrow evening Roger will put us on the right train to Stevenage, where we'll spend the night with John and Bev and visit Bev's school during the day. I'll be paired with a Spanish teacher and Bob will visit the library. After school, we'll return with them to London, where the six of us will have dinner and see Love's Labour's Lost at the Globe. How English can you get?