Why is it when you do something nice for someone else, you feel better than when someone does something nice for you? This morning, as I was crossing the intersection at Front and Yonge, I saw a young Asian woman walking around the corner and heard a distinct “ping”. She looked down quickly but kept walking. Having lost an earring on the street many, many years ago (I ignored the “ping” sound and have been searching ever since!), I decided to take a closer look.
There on the ground, behind the light pole, was a silver chain bracelet with a large fob clasp which had fallen off her delicate wrist. It looked expensive. Even if it wasn’t, I knew it was probably important to the owner. I scooped it up and went racing up Yonge Street in pursuit of the owner. I am always hesitant to stop strangers on the street by touching them but this time, I didn’t hesitate.
“Excuse me!” I cried.
She stopped and turned towards me, looking startled.
“Is this yours?” I asked, holding the bracelet out towards her.
Her eyes opened wide when she saw what I was holding and then exclaimed, “Oh yes it is!”
“I heard you drop it and saw you look but decided I would check the spot and there it was.”
Then she smiled a smile of gratitude, “Thank you SO much!”
The look of her face made my day.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Kindness To Canadians Abroad
I ran across this wonderful story today while reading the Acts of Kindness section in the online version of the Toronto Star. I thought it was poignant and just loved the Vimy connection.
I had just finished a foreign study term in Switzerland and had [enough] time before my flight to Toronto from Paris to see Vimy Ridge, something I had always thought was important.
Unfortunately I missed a connection in Brussels on my way and therefore missed the shuttle to the 90th Anniversary Memorial Service when I arrived in Arras. I took a bus from Arras the next day to Vimy which was still a ways from the memorial, but I decided I would walk through the countryside regardless.
I had walked for five minutes when a little car pulled up beside me and an elderly man asked if I was Canadian. After telling him in my broken French that I was, he offered to drive me to the memorial.
He told me he picked up Canadians every time he saw them, because he was thankful for the efforts during the world wars. He even promised to pick me up afterwards.
When I returned to the visitors centre, the guides called him up and he was back within minutes. He drove me to other cemeteries and sites that I would not otherwise have been able to see and drove me to the station to catch the next train to Paris.
His kindness showed me that almost a century later the kinship forged between our countries was still strong. The gentle man, as I was told in the visitors centre, was known locally as the 'grandpere des guides' - the grandfather of the guides.
Morgan Ip, Ottawa
I had just finished a foreign study term in Switzerland and had [enough] time before my flight to Toronto from Paris to see Vimy Ridge, something I had always thought was important.
Unfortunately I missed a connection in Brussels on my way and therefore missed the shuttle to the 90th Anniversary Memorial Service when I arrived in Arras. I took a bus from Arras the next day to Vimy which was still a ways from the memorial, but I decided I would walk through the countryside regardless.
I had walked for five minutes when a little car pulled up beside me and an elderly man asked if I was Canadian. After telling him in my broken French that I was, he offered to drive me to the memorial.
He told me he picked up Canadians every time he saw them, because he was thankful for the efforts during the world wars. He even promised to pick me up afterwards.
When I returned to the visitors centre, the guides called him up and he was back within minutes. He drove me to other cemeteries and sites that I would not otherwise have been able to see and drove me to the station to catch the next train to Paris.
His kindness showed me that almost a century later the kinship forged between our countries was still strong. The gentle man, as I was told in the visitors centre, was known locally as the 'grandpere des guides' - the grandfather of the guides.
Morgan Ip, Ottawa
Friday, October 19, 2007
Internet Friends
I make friends with people on the internet all the time. I’ve been doing it for almost 10 years now. Sometimes I actually meet these people in person (like my friend Jackie in London, England) and sometimes I don’t. Certain people I don’t want to meet but others I definitely do.
Laurie Perry is one of them. She writes a blog that is so wonderful, I can only hope to emulate her one day with my writing. She’s such a gifted writer, she’s actually published a book called: Crazy Aunt Purl's Drunk, Divorced And Covered In Cat Hair: The True-life Misadventures Of A 30-something Who Learned To Knit After He Split.
The cute title belies the content. Laurie went through some “stuff” during her separation and divorce. No matter where you are in your life at the moment, you will relate, in some way, to her personal struggle and the success she has obtained as a result. You can buy it online at Chapters/Indigo.
Or simply do what I did: go to Coles and ask them to order it for you. If we buy enough of these books in Canada, she just might come up here for the book signing trip. (Note to all my American readers -- this book is available at Barnes & Noble and through Amazon.)
If you can’t buy the book, at least check out her blog: Crazy Aunt Purl.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
October 9 (Coming Home)
Our final morning started with rain but it cleared by 11AM when Trevor arrived to collect us. We had a leisurely time in the morning, getting packed up and ready to leave. We were a little worried about our luggage weight (although we tried to keep our spending to a minimum) but figured we would just pay the penalty for the flight home. We knew we were over the limit on the flight from Paris so we were expecting the worse. Trevor drove us to the Station in Darlington, and we bought some sandwiches there to eat on 2.5 hour train ride. We met a couple of sisters from Wales on the platform by commenting on their two dogs, Honey and Jack. Honey was a Westie and Jack was a Yorkie. One of these days, we’re going to get a dog … :)
We arrived Manchester airport without incident and our flight left exactly on time (without any excess baggage charges for either of us) and, in fact, we arrived 45 minutes early at 6PM. The Thomas Cook flight home was a dream compared to the flight over -- roomy cabin, great food (on an airline!) and fun crew. The only negative thing was the fact that the movie was Shrek III. Is this movie playing on every single airline in the world right now? LOL When we arrived in Toronto, there were HUGE lines at customs. I don't know the reason for that because it was a Tuesday night. But after a 1/2 hour, we were through and our luggage was already there, waiting. The carousel had stopped before we got there. We grabbed a taxi, got caught in traffic on the 401 (what a welcome home!) and arrived home at 7:30PM. The only time I used my MasterCard was to pay the driver and when I checked my account online the next day, I found $60 in fraudulent charges from the taxi company, supposedly for the day before when I was still in the UK. I am fighting that out with Bank of Montreal as we speak.
Our trip was over but we have so many wonderful memories. This blog is a great way to help us remember what we did and where we went. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
JAM xo
We arrived Manchester airport without incident and our flight left exactly on time (without any excess baggage charges for either of us) and, in fact, we arrived 45 minutes early at 6PM. The Thomas Cook flight home was a dream compared to the flight over -- roomy cabin, great food (on an airline!) and fun crew. The only negative thing was the fact that the movie was Shrek III. Is this movie playing on every single airline in the world right now? LOL When we arrived in Toronto, there were HUGE lines at customs. I don't know the reason for that because it was a Tuesday night. But after a 1/2 hour, we were through and our luggage was already there, waiting. The carousel had stopped before we got there. We grabbed a taxi, got caught in traffic on the 401 (what a welcome home!) and arrived home at 7:30PM. The only time I used my MasterCard was to pay the driver and when I checked my account online the next day, I found $60 in fraudulent charges from the taxi company, supposedly for the day before when I was still in the UK. I am fighting that out with Bank of Montreal as we speak.
Our trip was over but we have so many wonderful memories. This blog is a great way to help us remember what we did and where we went. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
JAM xo
October 8 (City of York)
On Monday, we had to drop Rob’s parents in Northallerton for the day and then we stole the car for a trip to York, a historic walled city in North Yorkshire. I was particularly interested in seeing it because Toronto used to be called York. On the way there, we detoured to Linton-on-Ouse to visit the RAF base there. Unfortunately, since it is a training base, it was closed to the public but we managed to find the airstrip where the students were practicing their touch and go’s.
Rob went to boarding school in York and hadn’t been back since graduation. But he was sure he could find his way around. We parked at Bootham School and headed towards Bootham Bar, one of the four bars or gatehouses, leading into this walled City. Hungry again, we stopped for coffee, burgers and half a pint at the Hole in the Wall pub before walking along the City walls to Monk Bar. Descending from there, we ambled through the Shambles, winding our way down cobblestone pedestrian-only streets towards York Minster. I was stopping constantly, to take photos of funky shops, pub signs and flowers blooming in window boxes overhead.
The Minster itself was very impressive and while we went inside to have a quick look around, we did not pay the admission price. We also made a quick stop at Thornton’s in order to buy chocolates (Rob brought them back for me from his last trip and I love them!) and Marks & Spencer to take a look around. We used to have “Marks and Sparks” in Ontario but it was always quite conservative and, dare I say it, dowdy. WOW! Have they ever upgraded their image! We made the mistake of going into the women’s wear department and I wanted to buy everything I saw. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any room for extras in my luggage.
We finally left York (after stopping for a pee break at Rob’s old school – I thought they were going to kick us out for trespassing but no worries) and drove to the Yorkshire Air Museum at RAF Elvington. There were numerous WWII Artifacts including aircraft, bombs, gunner cages, uniforms, etc. There was also a large display devoted to Sir Barnes Wallis, creator of the R-100 airship and the bouncing dam buster bomb (May 1943). After a long day, we reached home in about an hour and had a casual dinner of bangers and mashed.
Rob went to boarding school in York and hadn’t been back since graduation. But he was sure he could find his way around. We parked at Bootham School and headed towards Bootham Bar, one of the four bars or gatehouses, leading into this walled City. Hungry again, we stopped for coffee, burgers and half a pint at the Hole in the Wall pub before walking along the City walls to Monk Bar. Descending from there, we ambled through the Shambles, winding our way down cobblestone pedestrian-only streets towards York Minster. I was stopping constantly, to take photos of funky shops, pub signs and flowers blooming in window boxes overhead.
The Minster itself was very impressive and while we went inside to have a quick look around, we did not pay the admission price. We also made a quick stop at Thornton’s in order to buy chocolates (Rob brought them back for me from his last trip and I love them!) and Marks & Spencer to take a look around. We used to have “Marks and Sparks” in Ontario but it was always quite conservative and, dare I say it, dowdy. WOW! Have they ever upgraded their image! We made the mistake of going into the women’s wear department and I wanted to buy everything I saw. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any room for extras in my luggage.
We finally left York (after stopping for a pee break at Rob’s old school – I thought they were going to kick us out for trespassing but no worries) and drove to the Yorkshire Air Museum at RAF Elvington. There were numerous WWII Artifacts including aircraft, bombs, gunner cages, uniforms, etc. There was also a large display devoted to Sir Barnes Wallis, creator of the R-100 airship and the bouncing dam buster bomb (May 1943). After a long day, we reached home in about an hour and had a casual dinner of bangers and mashed.
October 7 (Muker, Yorkshire)
We finally had a lazy quiet morning on Sunday and we thinking of a late breakfast when Rob’s Mum told us to “get a move on!” LOL We ate, showered and dressed so that the four of us could take a day trip to Muker. Rob’s Dad had vacationed in the area when he was a young boy so when he retired and was looking to start a small business somewhere, he chose Muker. Before Swaledale Woolens opened, Muker was a small village with a pub. It is also a hiker’s destination, especially for those on the coast-to-coast walk across England. The Yorkshire Dales are challenging, even to the most experienced hiker but I can understand the allure, especially seeing the beauty of the Dale with my own eyes.
Anyway, Rob’s Dad sold the wool shop (all the wool is 'grown', spun and knit locally) but still likes to drop in occasionally to check on things. The village now boasts a gift shop/art gallery and tea shop/café, in addition to the pub and the shop. It was bustling with tourists, locals and hikers the Sunday we were there. After a lovely lunch at The Farmer’s Arms, we had a quick “walkabout” and went uphill to The Studio. This is a small room, with windows on two walls, which Rob’s Dad keeps in the hopes that it will eventually be used as an artist’s studio. There is a sink, a kettle, a couple of heaters, 3 chairs and bottle of wine. We rested for a bit and then Rob and I wandered off to take photos of the Dale and more sheep.
Finally, it was time to leave Muker and head home. His folks dozed in the back seat as we trundled along on twisty, windy roads. I took a two hour nap when we got home but then it was up at 6PM for drinks, followed by a scrumptious dinner of leg of lamb with roasted potatoes and brussel sprouts. It was our quietest day yet!
Anyway, Rob’s Dad sold the wool shop (all the wool is 'grown', spun and knit locally) but still likes to drop in occasionally to check on things. The village now boasts a gift shop/art gallery and tea shop/café, in addition to the pub and the shop. It was bustling with tourists, locals and hikers the Sunday we were there. After a lovely lunch at The Farmer’s Arms, we had a quick “walkabout” and went uphill to The Studio. This is a small room, with windows on two walls, which Rob’s Dad keeps in the hopes that it will eventually be used as an artist’s studio. There is a sink, a kettle, a couple of heaters, 3 chairs and bottle of wine. We rested for a bit and then Rob and I wandered off to take photos of the Dale and more sheep.
Finally, it was time to leave Muker and head home. His folks dozed in the back seat as we trundled along on twisty, windy roads. I took a two hour nap when we got home but then it was up at 6PM for drinks, followed by a scrumptious dinner of leg of lamb with roasted potatoes and brussel sprouts. It was our quietest day yet!
October 6 (Richmond, Yorkshire)
Saturday is market day in Richmond. On their website, Richmond is described as: “An historic market town, with Norman castle, Georgian architecture, cobbled market place, monuments and abbeys, the fast flowing river Swale, and breathtaking scenery -- a town that inspires painters and poets, past and present.” We took a tour of the Richmond Castle, including a trip up the narrow staircases to the top of tower. The view was spectacular! (See my photo link below)
Or course, I got hungry around 11AM so we headed to the local chippie for lunch. Rob’s Dad told us later that we went to the better of the two in town. All I know is the fish and chips were great. I decided I wanted that bracelet after all so we went to the HSBC bank and I withdrew £100. The cost was $205CDN plus a $5 service charge. I bought my bracelet and Rob bought some flowers for his Mum. We returned home and drove the car to the Bowes Museum in Barnard Castle. This is an amazing place with way too many artifacts and antiques to absorb in one visit. The vision of a grand French chateau in the middle of North Yorkshire was very disconcerting. One exhibit we did enjoy was a tribute to Emile Gallé and the origins of Art Nouveau of the early 20th century. Only then did we realize that the iron sign we saw in Paris was done in this style.
We stopped in Middleton St. George, where Rob spent some of his childhood, as well as Middleton One Row, where his father grew up and finally, St. George’s Ancient Church Cemetery where his grandparents are buried. It was a lovely old place, with headstones tipping over from centuries ago. We saw a daughter cleaning her father’s grave and working on the flower bed there. Her mother, a wee, frail, white-ahired lady, was perched on a neighbouring headstone, supervising her progress.
That evening, we went out for dinner to The Traveller’s Rest in Dalton, near Richmond. A simple country inn, with a roaring fireplace in the front room, the menu was posted on a huge blackboard so we spent some time there, trying to decide what we wanted for dinner. Once seated, we order a bottle of Spanish Rioja to complement our meal. Dinner itself was such a surprise – it was one of the best meals I’ve ever enjoyed. I had goat cheese salad with an entrée of salmon/prawn fishcakes. Rob had chicken wrapped in bacon with gruyere cheese. Rob’s parents had the pork tenderloin. We split two apple tarts four ways and enjoyed a lively discussion about the difference between a tart and a pie. According to Rob’s Dad, a tart has no “roof”. LOL
The cost of dinner was £110 with the tip and well worth every penny. While Rob was up paying the bill, I went around the corner into the kitchen and adopted a Dragon Lady stance, with hands on hips, demanding “Who is the chef here?” Three people turned to look at me with the fear of God in their eyes and two of them pointed to the young woman in the middle. I proceeded to tell her that our dinner was fantastic and after four days in Paris, it was better than anything I had tasted there. After many smiles and thanks, we were on our way, back through the hilly country roads, past sleeping sheep and home to bed.
Enjoy My Yorkshire Photos Here
Or course, I got hungry around 11AM so we headed to the local chippie for lunch. Rob’s Dad told us later that we went to the better of the two in town. All I know is the fish and chips were great. I decided I wanted that bracelet after all so we went to the HSBC bank and I withdrew £100. The cost was $205CDN plus a $5 service charge. I bought my bracelet and Rob bought some flowers for his Mum. We returned home and drove the car to the Bowes Museum in Barnard Castle. This is an amazing place with way too many artifacts and antiques to absorb in one visit. The vision of a grand French chateau in the middle of North Yorkshire was very disconcerting. One exhibit we did enjoy was a tribute to Emile Gallé and the origins of Art Nouveau of the early 20th century. Only then did we realize that the iron sign we saw in Paris was done in this style.
We stopped in Middleton St. George, where Rob spent some of his childhood, as well as Middleton One Row, where his father grew up and finally, St. George’s Ancient Church Cemetery where his grandparents are buried. It was a lovely old place, with headstones tipping over from centuries ago. We saw a daughter cleaning her father’s grave and working on the flower bed there. Her mother, a wee, frail, white-ahired lady, was perched on a neighbouring headstone, supervising her progress.
That evening, we went out for dinner to The Traveller’s Rest in Dalton, near Richmond. A simple country inn, with a roaring fireplace in the front room, the menu was posted on a huge blackboard so we spent some time there, trying to decide what we wanted for dinner. Once seated, we order a bottle of Spanish Rioja to complement our meal. Dinner itself was such a surprise – it was one of the best meals I’ve ever enjoyed. I had goat cheese salad with an entrée of salmon/prawn fishcakes. Rob had chicken wrapped in bacon with gruyere cheese. Rob’s parents had the pork tenderloin. We split two apple tarts four ways and enjoyed a lively discussion about the difference between a tart and a pie. According to Rob’s Dad, a tart has no “roof”. LOL
The cost of dinner was £110 with the tip and well worth every penny. While Rob was up paying the bill, I went around the corner into the kitchen and adopted a Dragon Lady stance, with hands on hips, demanding “Who is the chef here?” Three people turned to look at me with the fear of God in their eyes and two of them pointed to the young woman in the middle. I proceeded to tell her that our dinner was fantastic and after four days in Paris, it was better than anything I had tasted there. After many smiles and thanks, we were on our way, back through the hilly country roads, past sleeping sheep and home to bed.
Enjoy My Yorkshire Photos Here
October 5 (Paris to Yorkshire)
We were up at 6:30AM on Friday. I hate having to set an alarm while on vacation but what can you do? We were out the door by 7:30AM, after bidding a fond adieu to our little Parisian flat. I can’t say enough about this charming studio apartment. If you are interested, contact me for details. We wheeled our suitcases one block to Rue Sebastopol and we able to nab a taxi in short order. He was an excellent driver and not chatty so our drive to Charles de Gaulle airport was uneventful and blissfully quiet except for our own conversation. My bag was 2 or 3 kilos overweight so we had to pay a small fee before we could receive our boarding passes.
Our EasyJet flight was an hour late, due to fog in Paris. However, they had a “relaxation lounge” at our gate and I was able to snag to full-length loungers. Unfortunately, the lounge wasn’t exactly closed to the rest of the airport so we could see and hear the kids screaming in the play area. It was a long wait and there were no seat assignments so when we were finally loaded on the bus to be transported to the plane, I was expecting to sit at the very rear of the plane. However, we were able to sit in the first row, by the door. What luck! We had 3 seats between the two of us and Rob chatted up the flight attendant about her job during our one hour flight. We had to buy our coffee and snacks on flight but they were surprisingly good. Not bad for a 39€ trip!
We landed in Newcastle about an hour late but the skies had cleared, affording us a spectacular view of Swaledale from the plane. Deplaning and clearing customs was a bit of a cluster f***. There were two lines – one for citizens of the European Union (Britain, France, Italy, etc.) and one for non-European citizens (Canadians, terrorists, etc.). Rob has both passports but insisted on standing in line with me. The line crawled along and, in spite of the fact that we were the first off the plane; we were near the last to get through customs. I had to prove I was actually leaving the country.
I was starving again, so I insisted we buy sandwiches at Gregg’s, an English chain of fast food and drinks. The sandwiches were fresh and tasty at only £1.85 each! Rob’s parents frequently hire a driver to take them places so Trevor was on hand in Newcastle to collect us. We drove to Richmond along the M1 and finally arrived to a warm welcome from Rob’s folks and warm soup on the table. After lunch, Rob and I took a short stroll around town. We wanted to see the marketplace, Castle Walk, go to the HSBC and get some batteries for my camera. We bought them at Woolworth’s, and then strolled through town and along New Biggin Street where I found a lovely silver shop with some nice pieces. I saw a bracelet I liked but didn’t buy it.
Once back at home, I had a bit of a lie down for a couple of hours until 6PM, when it was time for an aperitif. Rob’s parents strictly adhere to this charming practice and I think I will adopt myself at home, but only on weekends. They offered to take us to a local Italian restaurant for dinner. In fact, I believe it is the ONLY Italian restaurant in town. They also have a Thai restaurant and two Chippies. There are many, many pubs as well. Dinner was lovely but the restaurant became very crowded towards the end so we had to carefully manoeuvre Rob’s Mum down the stairs with her cane. Again, we were early to bed in anticipation of the next day’s adventures.
Our EasyJet flight was an hour late, due to fog in Paris. However, they had a “relaxation lounge” at our gate and I was able to snag to full-length loungers. Unfortunately, the lounge wasn’t exactly closed to the rest of the airport so we could see and hear the kids screaming in the play area. It was a long wait and there were no seat assignments so when we were finally loaded on the bus to be transported to the plane, I was expecting to sit at the very rear of the plane. However, we were able to sit in the first row, by the door. What luck! We had 3 seats between the two of us and Rob chatted up the flight attendant about her job during our one hour flight. We had to buy our coffee and snacks on flight but they were surprisingly good. Not bad for a 39€ trip!
We landed in Newcastle about an hour late but the skies had cleared, affording us a spectacular view of Swaledale from the plane. Deplaning and clearing customs was a bit of a cluster f***. There were two lines – one for citizens of the European Union (Britain, France, Italy, etc.) and one for non-European citizens (Canadians, terrorists, etc.). Rob has both passports but insisted on standing in line with me. The line crawled along and, in spite of the fact that we were the first off the plane; we were near the last to get through customs. I had to prove I was actually leaving the country.
I was starving again, so I insisted we buy sandwiches at Gregg’s, an English chain of fast food and drinks. The sandwiches were fresh and tasty at only £1.85 each! Rob’s parents frequently hire a driver to take them places so Trevor was on hand in Newcastle to collect us. We drove to Richmond along the M1 and finally arrived to a warm welcome from Rob’s folks and warm soup on the table. After lunch, Rob and I took a short stroll around town. We wanted to see the marketplace, Castle Walk, go to the HSBC and get some batteries for my camera. We bought them at Woolworth’s, and then strolled through town and along New Biggin Street where I found a lovely silver shop with some nice pieces. I saw a bracelet I liked but didn’t buy it.
Once back at home, I had a bit of a lie down for a couple of hours until 6PM, when it was time for an aperitif. Rob’s parents strictly adhere to this charming practice and I think I will adopt myself at home, but only on weekends. They offered to take us to a local Italian restaurant for dinner. In fact, I believe it is the ONLY Italian restaurant in town. They also have a Thai restaurant and two Chippies. There are many, many pubs as well. Dinner was lovely but the restaurant became very crowded towards the end so we had to carefully manoeuvre Rob’s Mum down the stairs with her cane. Again, we were early to bed in anticipation of the next day’s adventures.
October 4 (Paris)
On Thursday, we again had pan du chocolat for breakfast. All I can say is, I’m glad I don’t live in France because it would be difficult for me to refuse these things every morning! We were having another touristy day in Paris so we started on the métro and headed towards the Arc de Triomphe. We then walked down the Champs Elysées but after our rather small petit déjeuner, I was ready for some serious food. We stopped for lunch at Bistro George V and both ordered a glass of rosé to go along with our steak frites. The Parisians eat a large meal in the middle of the day but I was still surprised to see the petite young woman beside me devouring a steak the size of Manhattan!
After lunch, we walked. We turned on the Rue Boiteie and walked along there to Avenue Hausmann. This brought us to the Galleries Lafayette. By this point, for some reason, my hip was bothering me mightily so we had to go inside. Rob took me into the store entitled “Femme” (women) and we walked right into the accessory and jewellery department. All of sudden, my hip felt better! LOL The choices were endless and expensive. I recognized a few of the designers we carried at Viva including Les Nereides and Les Joyaux de la Couronne. We didn’t spend long in this store because of the outrageous prices. We continued along the Rue de l’Opera, behind the L’Houvre and past the Palais Royal. We took some stunning photos, including a sign for the metro in arte nouveau style (more on that later in my Yorkshire blog).
We finally reached the Rue Rivoli, which carried us home for a rest and a chance to do some packing since we were leaving quite early in the morning. Eating in Paris had proved to be a bit of a challenge. Our expensive lunch at the Eiffel Tower was delicious, as well as our dinner at Le Train Bleu, but we were having difficulty finding a low cost, nutritious and tasty meal elsewhere. Most of the patisseries seemed to have the same menu, none of which was appealing to me. The constant cigarette smoke in my face was also a big deterrent. We finally discovered an Italian restaurant in our neighbourhood called Pasta Ricca. It was quite busy and the menu looked appetizing, with a good selection of wines and salads. I had a Greek salad (in spite of the fact that we were in an Italian restaurant, it was quite good!) and Rob had a shrimp/avocado salad. We both had pasta and a good Italian red wine. Up to that point, we had not been able to find anything except French wines, of which we are not particularly fond. After our wonderful mean, we scooted home and we were again worn out and ready for an early night.
Enjoy My Photos of Paris
After lunch, we walked. We turned on the Rue Boiteie and walked along there to Avenue Hausmann. This brought us to the Galleries Lafayette. By this point, for some reason, my hip was bothering me mightily so we had to go inside. Rob took me into the store entitled “Femme” (women) and we walked right into the accessory and jewellery department. All of sudden, my hip felt better! LOL The choices were endless and expensive. I recognized a few of the designers we carried at Viva including Les Nereides and Les Joyaux de la Couronne. We didn’t spend long in this store because of the outrageous prices. We continued along the Rue de l’Opera, behind the L’Houvre and past the Palais Royal. We took some stunning photos, including a sign for the metro in arte nouveau style (more on that later in my Yorkshire blog).
We finally reached the Rue Rivoli, which carried us home for a rest and a chance to do some packing since we were leaving quite early in the morning. Eating in Paris had proved to be a bit of a challenge. Our expensive lunch at the Eiffel Tower was delicious, as well as our dinner at Le Train Bleu, but we were having difficulty finding a low cost, nutritious and tasty meal elsewhere. Most of the patisseries seemed to have the same menu, none of which was appealing to me. The constant cigarette smoke in my face was also a big deterrent. We finally discovered an Italian restaurant in our neighbourhood called Pasta Ricca. It was quite busy and the menu looked appetizing, with a good selection of wines and salads. I had a Greek salad (in spite of the fact that we were in an Italian restaurant, it was quite good!) and Rob had a shrimp/avocado salad. We both had pasta and a good Italian red wine. Up to that point, we had not been able to find anything except French wines, of which we are not particularly fond. After our wonderful mean, we scooted home and we were again worn out and ready for an early night.
Enjoy My Photos of Paris
Monday, October 15, 2007
October 3 (Vimy)
On April 9, 2007, the Canadian War Memorial at Vimy, France, was rededicated after a complete overhaul. The original monument was falling to pieces so a huge retrofit was undertaken by the Canadian government. There was extensive news coverage of the rededication and at that time, I remember saying to Rob that I would like to go to Vimy one day. And so began our discussions about a possible trip to Europe. Wednesday October 3 was the day for us. We were booked on the 10:22AM train out of Paris to Arras. We actually set the alarm for 8AM, and after a cold breakfast of bread, paté, cheese, champagne, OJ and pain du chocolat, we set out via the Métro for the Gare de Nord.
Less than an hour later, we were eating again at Café du Pays in Arras (coffee, omelette and frites). We took a taxi to Vimy, which is a very small farming community about 20 minutes from Arras. The weather was awful – rain and fog – but somehow appropriate, given our quest. We met Brianne from Niagara Falls at the front gate. She explained the layout of the grounds and suggested we visit the memorial first before heading to the visitor’s centre. We walked down a short road, flanked on both sides by maple trees in full fall foliage. Once we cleared the trees, we looked to our left and saw the monument in the mist.
I had seen photos and news footage of the Vimy memorial but nothing prepared me for being in close physical proximity to it. It was breathtaking and heartbreaking. I will let my photos do most of the talking about this sight because words cannot describe it. There were a few people milling around the monument with us but after awhile, we were left alone with it.
The land surrounding the monument was granted by France to Canada “in perpetuity” after the war. The monument is built out of white stone from Croatia (the mine had closed but they re-opened it to refurbish the monument). The lawn immediately surrounding the monument is well-tended but beyond that, most of the area is roped off with warnings about live ordnance. The rolling hills were unnaturally built from craters of exploded mines and weaponry. The lip of the ridge could be seen through the trees and the drop off was steep. No wonder the area was coveted by both sides -- it would give the occupier a definite visual advantage and act as a natural barricade. The herd of sheep quietly grazing off to the side were our only companions, along with four large crows cawing loudly as they circled overhead. The mist dampened all sound and we found ourselves talking in low voices as we walked around the memorial.
Designed by Canadian sculptor and architect Walter Seymour Allward, the Vimy Memorial stands on Hill 145, overlooking the Canadian battlefield of 1917, at one of the points of the fiercest fighting. It took 11 years and $1.5 million to build and was unveiled on July 26, 1936 by King Edward VIII, in the presence of President Albert Lebrun of France and 50,000 or more Canadian and French veterans and their families. In his address, the King noted, "It is a memorial to no man, but a memorial for a nation."
At the base of the Memorial, in English and in French, are these words: "To the valour of their countrymen in the Great War and in memory of their sixty thousand dead this monument is raised by the people of Canada"
In fact, more than 66,000 Canadians died in action or of their wounds after the war; more than one in ten of those who had worn uniforms. Among the dead are many who have no known grave. Inscribed on the ramparts of the Memorial are the names of 11,285 Canadian soldiers who were "missing, presumed dead" in France.
(courtesy of Veterans Affairs Canada)
I was loathe to leave this special place . . .
Finally, we pulled ourselves away from the monument and made our way to the Visitor’s Centre. Inside, we were greeted like visiting royalty by the young Canadian staff. The Centre is totally manned by Canadian bilingual university students who apply in Canada for the opportunity to live and work in France for four months. We watched a video on how the monument was refurbished. We decided to go visit the onsite cemeteries before taking a scheduled tour of the underground trenches at 3PM. There was a large flagpole with a Canadian flag and the sun came out just as I was about to take the photo.
In the cemeteries, we met three guys from Sheffield who were on a one week tour of different battlegrounds in France. They gave us a ride back for the tour of the Grange “subway”. The five of us went down with Scott, our tour guide from Whitby Ontario, along with 25 English school kids. Being in the trenches and the underground human “subway” was a harrowing and humbling experience. As Reg, one of our fellow tourists commented, “Every Canadian needs to see Vimy.” For a history of Vimy Ridge and Canada’s amazing contribution to this battle in World War I, please refer to the Veterans Affairs Canada website.
Sarah, another one of the Canadian students, ordered a taxi to take us back to Arras where we stopped for a Croque Monsieur (toasted cheese sandwich with ham) and a beer while we waited for the train. We were home by 7:45PM, and after a light supper with some wine, we were in bed for another early night.
Click here to see my photos of Vimy
Less than an hour later, we were eating again at Café du Pays in Arras (coffee, omelette and frites). We took a taxi to Vimy, which is a very small farming community about 20 minutes from Arras. The weather was awful – rain and fog – but somehow appropriate, given our quest. We met Brianne from Niagara Falls at the front gate. She explained the layout of the grounds and suggested we visit the memorial first before heading to the visitor’s centre. We walked down a short road, flanked on both sides by maple trees in full fall foliage. Once we cleared the trees, we looked to our left and saw the monument in the mist.
I had seen photos and news footage of the Vimy memorial but nothing prepared me for being in close physical proximity to it. It was breathtaking and heartbreaking. I will let my photos do most of the talking about this sight because words cannot describe it. There were a few people milling around the monument with us but after awhile, we were left alone with it.
The land surrounding the monument was granted by France to Canada “in perpetuity” after the war. The monument is built out of white stone from Croatia (the mine had closed but they re-opened it to refurbish the monument). The lawn immediately surrounding the monument is well-tended but beyond that, most of the area is roped off with warnings about live ordnance. The rolling hills were unnaturally built from craters of exploded mines and weaponry. The lip of the ridge could be seen through the trees and the drop off was steep. No wonder the area was coveted by both sides -- it would give the occupier a definite visual advantage and act as a natural barricade. The herd of sheep quietly grazing off to the side were our only companions, along with four large crows cawing loudly as they circled overhead. The mist dampened all sound and we found ourselves talking in low voices as we walked around the memorial.
Designed by Canadian sculptor and architect Walter Seymour Allward, the Vimy Memorial stands on Hill 145, overlooking the Canadian battlefield of 1917, at one of the points of the fiercest fighting. It took 11 years and $1.5 million to build and was unveiled on July 26, 1936 by King Edward VIII, in the presence of President Albert Lebrun of France and 50,000 or more Canadian and French veterans and their families. In his address, the King noted, "It is a memorial to no man, but a memorial for a nation."
At the base of the Memorial, in English and in French, are these words: "To the valour of their countrymen in the Great War and in memory of their sixty thousand dead this monument is raised by the people of Canada"
In fact, more than 66,000 Canadians died in action or of their wounds after the war; more than one in ten of those who had worn uniforms. Among the dead are many who have no known grave. Inscribed on the ramparts of the Memorial are the names of 11,285 Canadian soldiers who were "missing, presumed dead" in France.
(courtesy of Veterans Affairs Canada)
I was loathe to leave this special place . . .
Finally, we pulled ourselves away from the monument and made our way to the Visitor’s Centre. Inside, we were greeted like visiting royalty by the young Canadian staff. The Centre is totally manned by Canadian bilingual university students who apply in Canada for the opportunity to live and work in France for four months. We watched a video on how the monument was refurbished. We decided to go visit the onsite cemeteries before taking a scheduled tour of the underground trenches at 3PM. There was a large flagpole with a Canadian flag and the sun came out just as I was about to take the photo.
In the cemeteries, we met three guys from Sheffield who were on a one week tour of different battlegrounds in France. They gave us a ride back for the tour of the Grange “subway”. The five of us went down with Scott, our tour guide from Whitby Ontario, along with 25 English school kids. Being in the trenches and the underground human “subway” was a harrowing and humbling experience. As Reg, one of our fellow tourists commented, “Every Canadian needs to see Vimy.” For a history of Vimy Ridge and Canada’s amazing contribution to this battle in World War I, please refer to the Veterans Affairs Canada website.
Sarah, another one of the Canadian students, ordered a taxi to take us back to Arras where we stopped for a Croque Monsieur (toasted cheese sandwich with ham) and a beer while we waited for the train. We were home by 7:45PM, and after a light supper with some wine, we were in bed for another early night.
Click here to see my photos of Vimy
Friday, October 12, 2007
October 1 and 2 (London to Paris/My Birthday)
On Monday, we had an early start to Waterloo Station. Rob’s Aunt was worried about our getting there on time and was in a near panic when the car we had ordered the night before hadn’t arrived. Rob decided to walk out the Mews and flag down a taxi. After a few minutes, one came trundling down the Mews and it turned out that the taxi driver, Jane, knew Priscilla from their Bridge club. We arrived at the train station in plenty of time, got through customs with the officials there giving our passports a cursory glance and enjoyed a wonderful train ride to Paris. I knew we were going through the “chunnel” but there was no announcement. We had gone through a few tunnels beforehand so it wasn’t until we were a few minutes in before Rob announced we were, indeed, in the chunnel. It was uneventful and I tried not to think of the millions of tons of water over our heads and all around us. The Gare de Lyon is old and beautiful (more on that later). Our taxi driver spoke limited English but we were able to give him direction to the apartment.
We arrived at 149 rue St-Martin in the 3eme arrondissement 15 minutes later to find a very ugly building. The entrance was flanked by a patisserie and a used clothing store. We had the code to enter the building and were even more disappointed once inside. The entrance hall was dark and dingy, lined on one side the metal mail slots. Pushing through the next door, we found ourselves at the bottom of a decrepid staircase leading up to the first floor. I pushed the call button for the elevator and Rob wrestled both our suitcases into the lift. There was barely enough room for them and him, so (not quite trusting the lift) I took the stairs to the third floor. Things did not get much better the higher we went. This building had definitely seen better days. Eventually, the owner, Daniella (“Dany”) arrived, apologizing profusely for keeping us waiting. She led us into the apartment and we discovered a hidden gen. The flat was trés jolie and extremely well appointed with fridge, two burner stovetop, dishwasher, small European washer/dryer combo (in the same machine!) and a television.
We had anticipated paying her a safety deposit equivalent to the rent (320€ for four nights) but were concerned about getting it back. Our flight was scheduled for early Friday morning and she would have to meet us by 7:30AM to refund our deposit. Apparently she liked the looks of us and told us to forget the deposit so Rob just paid her the balance owing and off she went! We unpacked and relaxed a bit before heading out to pick up a few groceries. We went for a stroll around the neighbourhood and ended up at the supermarket for groceries, wine, etc. We had a light supper of salad, cheese, pâté and red wine after taking a short siesta. It was raining but we decided to go for a short walk before calling it a night.
We slept in on Tuesday morning, waking up at 9:45AM. I guess being on vacation was wearing us out! My Beloved quickly dressed and ran downstairs to buy me a “pan du chocolat” (not called a croissant in Paris) for breakfast. Served with a small pink birthday candle (Rob brought two, just in case one broke in transit), along with champagne and orange juice, it was a great start to my birthday celebrations. Once outside, we made our way to the Chatelet des Halles métro station and opted to buy a 3 day pass for 18.60€ each. The line we needed was down 3 escalators and 2 sets of stairs. I found the entire system to be hot, dirty and confusing. (No doubt the heat was caused by our being so close to the Centre of the Earth!).
We arrived at the Eiffel Tower for lunch. Rob had made a reservation online at Altitude 95, the restaurant located on the first level of the Tower or 95 metres up. He didn’t receive any printed confirmation so, of course, they didn’t have our reservation but fortunately had plenty of room for us. We were seated one row back from the floor-to-ceiling windows and, while we could see everything, we were anxiously watching the couple next to us finish their coffees so that we could grab their table. Sure enough, we were able to move over before our first course arrived -- gazpacho soup and Caesar salad for me; goat cheese salad and salmon for Rob; and a glass of rosé wine for both of us. We settled on molten chocolate cake for dessert (guess who got to choose that!) and café au lait. It was a lovely, long, luxurious lunch – perfect for my birthday!
We walked back along Les Invalides and Blvd. St-Germain, not really shopping but stopping to take photos and admire the architecture which was everywhere. We passed the Palais de Justice and asked to be stand just inside the gate to take some pictures. Rob bought me a scarf I admired for 10€ and a velvet jacket on the street, also for 10€. We took the obligatory touristy photos on the bridge over the Seine and finally wound our way back home to rest.
For some reason, we decided to take the subway to dinner at Le Train Bleu. In retrospect, it was not a good decision because by the time we arrived, I was hot, sweaty and cranky. The restaurant had our reservation but seated us next to a wait station so I could watch all the waiters scrape food into the garbage. Not great so Rob asked if we could change tables, which we did – much better! The restaurant is located in the Gare de Lyon train station. The restaurant is quite popular with tourists and locals. It is extremely beautiful, with its high ceilings and huge windows. Its immense rooms are crammed with sculptures, gilt and vast paintings. The restaurant was very busy, with a business conference of sorts going on in the back room, as well as large tables of business suits discussing the days’ events. We shared a plate of smoked salmon and a bottle of St-Emilion cab sauv. I had beef tenderloin and Rob had the duck. We split another chocolate dessert and both had coffee, although I could not drink my espresso – too strong for me. We took the metro home and I slept like a baby!
We arrived at 149 rue St-Martin in the 3eme arrondissement 15 minutes later to find a very ugly building. The entrance was flanked by a patisserie and a used clothing store. We had the code to enter the building and were even more disappointed once inside. The entrance hall was dark and dingy, lined on one side the metal mail slots. Pushing through the next door, we found ourselves at the bottom of a decrepid staircase leading up to the first floor. I pushed the call button for the elevator and Rob wrestled both our suitcases into the lift. There was barely enough room for them and him, so (not quite trusting the lift) I took the stairs to the third floor. Things did not get much better the higher we went. This building had definitely seen better days. Eventually, the owner, Daniella (“Dany”) arrived, apologizing profusely for keeping us waiting. She led us into the apartment and we discovered a hidden gen. The flat was trés jolie and extremely well appointed with fridge, two burner stovetop, dishwasher, small European washer/dryer combo (in the same machine!) and a television.
We had anticipated paying her a safety deposit equivalent to the rent (320€ for four nights) but were concerned about getting it back. Our flight was scheduled for early Friday morning and she would have to meet us by 7:30AM to refund our deposit. Apparently she liked the looks of us and told us to forget the deposit so Rob just paid her the balance owing and off she went! We unpacked and relaxed a bit before heading out to pick up a few groceries. We went for a stroll around the neighbourhood and ended up at the supermarket for groceries, wine, etc. We had a light supper of salad, cheese, pâté and red wine after taking a short siesta. It was raining but we decided to go for a short walk before calling it a night.
We slept in on Tuesday morning, waking up at 9:45AM. I guess being on vacation was wearing us out! My Beloved quickly dressed and ran downstairs to buy me a “pan du chocolat” (not called a croissant in Paris) for breakfast. Served with a small pink birthday candle (Rob brought two, just in case one broke in transit), along with champagne and orange juice, it was a great start to my birthday celebrations. Once outside, we made our way to the Chatelet des Halles métro station and opted to buy a 3 day pass for 18.60€ each. The line we needed was down 3 escalators and 2 sets of stairs. I found the entire system to be hot, dirty and confusing. (No doubt the heat was caused by our being so close to the Centre of the Earth!).
We arrived at the Eiffel Tower for lunch. Rob had made a reservation online at Altitude 95, the restaurant located on the first level of the Tower or 95 metres up. He didn’t receive any printed confirmation so, of course, they didn’t have our reservation but fortunately had plenty of room for us. We were seated one row back from the floor-to-ceiling windows and, while we could see everything, we were anxiously watching the couple next to us finish their coffees so that we could grab their table. Sure enough, we were able to move over before our first course arrived -- gazpacho soup and Caesar salad for me; goat cheese salad and salmon for Rob; and a glass of rosé wine for both of us. We settled on molten chocolate cake for dessert (guess who got to choose that!) and café au lait. It was a lovely, long, luxurious lunch – perfect for my birthday!
We walked back along Les Invalides and Blvd. St-Germain, not really shopping but stopping to take photos and admire the architecture which was everywhere. We passed the Palais de Justice and asked to be stand just inside the gate to take some pictures. Rob bought me a scarf I admired for 10€ and a velvet jacket on the street, also for 10€. We took the obligatory touristy photos on the bridge over the Seine and finally wound our way back home to rest.
For some reason, we decided to take the subway to dinner at Le Train Bleu. In retrospect, it was not a good decision because by the time we arrived, I was hot, sweaty and cranky. The restaurant had our reservation but seated us next to a wait station so I could watch all the waiters scrape food into the garbage. Not great so Rob asked if we could change tables, which we did – much better! The restaurant is located in the Gare de Lyon train station. The restaurant is quite popular with tourists and locals. It is extremely beautiful, with its high ceilings and huge windows. Its immense rooms are crammed with sculptures, gilt and vast paintings. The restaurant was very busy, with a business conference of sorts going on in the back room, as well as large tables of business suits discussing the days’ events. We shared a plate of smoked salmon and a bottle of St-Emilion cab sauv. I had beef tenderloin and Rob had the duck. We split another chocolate dessert and both had coffee, although I could not drink my espresso – too strong for me. We took the metro home and I slept like a baby!
Thursday, October 11, 2007
September 30 (London Sightseeing)
On Sunday, we again took the tube but this time we went to Green Park station. We were on our way to see the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. The weather turned glorious – it was warm and sunny for most of our sightseeing day. The walk through Green Park brought out my camera, for the first time. There were numerous canvas and wooden chairs scattered throughout the park, and a sign charging to use them. I think it was £4 for two hours (or maybe £2 for four hours). I’ll have to check my photos again. There was a group of 4 brightly dressed “monks” in front of us (Hari Krishna?) and they strolled off through the park to do whatever it is monks do on a Sunday afternoon.
The crowds thickened the closer we got the palace. And suddenly, there it was, in the middle of the city. I don’t know what I expected but I didn’t expect this. It seemed smaller than I imagined and, dare I say it, kind of boring with its plain, boxy exterior. The gates were quite embellished however (see photos) and the gardens were beautiful and obviously very well tended. The tourists surrounding us were speaking so many different languages, I couldn’t figure out what half of them were. The police, mounted on huge white horses and bikes, were doing a fine job of keeping everyone back of the line. We could hear the band playing the Dam Busters March. Most of the activity seemed to be taking place behind the gates and we couldn’t see very much. Once the band starting playing Frank Sinatra songs (yes, really!), we decided to leave. We did manage to see the band march off and they were quite impressive.
We walked along Birdcage Walk, named after the Royal Menagerie and Aviary which were located there during the reign of King James I. We strolled along to the Victoria Embankment and stopped for lunch at the Churchill Café, a little Italian joint that had a special of roasted chicken, fries and salad for £7.50. We had that and coffee. The meal was quite good and quickly served by harried Italian waiters. We were enjoying our meal until a French couple sat down behind us with their two children. Both parents proceeded to chain smoke during their entire time at the table. It was a forecast of things to come in France. :(
After lunch, we decided to go over to the Parliament Buildings, which were quite impressive, including the large statue of Richard the Lionheart on his horse. We took a lot of photos here, as well as shots of Westminster Abbey and another statue of George V. Unfortunately, the Abbey was closed for choir practice so we meandered around the west side of the building, photographing the 10 Christian martyrs who are depicted in statues above the Great West Door. I spotted a small walkway leading into the Dean’s Yard. The outside walls were covered with red maple ivy and the green dappled lawn was breathtaking (see photos). Then we discovered the door to The Cloisters which was one of the highlights of our trip. We walked slowly along the stone corridors, reading the ancient funeral effigies on the walls, enjoying the quiet and relative coolness of the well-trodden passageways. We also went inside the Museum to view various royal costumes preserved and displayed on life size wax figures of the original owners. We found a small garden at the end of one hallway and several small doorways, about 5 feet tall.
After we left the Abbey, we walked halfway across Westminster Bridge over the River Thames and took some photos of The London Eye on the far bank. We waited for double decker bus no. 11 to the Financial District and walked towards the Tower of London. We encountered a small parade along the way, with people in period costumes. I’m not sure what that was about. We headed towards the river and the first thing we saw was the Tower Bridge about to open to let a ship through. Again, refer to my photos. We spent two hours touring the Tower of London and saw so many wonderful things but the most impressive was the tour of the Crown Jewels, which were on display there. They were enclosed in glass cases, with slow moving sidewalks on either side of the case. We viewed both sides and the size and quantity of the jewels was mind boggling! We toured so many of the buildings and just as we were about to leave (they were closing in a few minutes, we spotted Moira Cameron, the first female Beefeater in history to go on duty at the Tower of London. Cameron, 42, beat five men to the £20,000 per-year job as a Yeomen Warder. She told me she has 22 years of military experience. I was honoured to have my photo taken with her.
Enjoy My Photos of London
The crowds thickened the closer we got the palace. And suddenly, there it was, in the middle of the city. I don’t know what I expected but I didn’t expect this. It seemed smaller than I imagined and, dare I say it, kind of boring with its plain, boxy exterior. The gates were quite embellished however (see photos) and the gardens were beautiful and obviously very well tended. The tourists surrounding us were speaking so many different languages, I couldn’t figure out what half of them were. The police, mounted on huge white horses and bikes, were doing a fine job of keeping everyone back of the line. We could hear the band playing the Dam Busters March. Most of the activity seemed to be taking place behind the gates and we couldn’t see very much. Once the band starting playing Frank Sinatra songs (yes, really!), we decided to leave. We did manage to see the band march off and they were quite impressive.
We walked along Birdcage Walk, named after the Royal Menagerie and Aviary which were located there during the reign of King James I. We strolled along to the Victoria Embankment and stopped for lunch at the Churchill Café, a little Italian joint that had a special of roasted chicken, fries and salad for £7.50. We had that and coffee. The meal was quite good and quickly served by harried Italian waiters. We were enjoying our meal until a French couple sat down behind us with their two children. Both parents proceeded to chain smoke during their entire time at the table. It was a forecast of things to come in France. :(
After lunch, we decided to go over to the Parliament Buildings, which were quite impressive, including the large statue of Richard the Lionheart on his horse. We took a lot of photos here, as well as shots of Westminster Abbey and another statue of George V. Unfortunately, the Abbey was closed for choir practice so we meandered around the west side of the building, photographing the 10 Christian martyrs who are depicted in statues above the Great West Door. I spotted a small walkway leading into the Dean’s Yard. The outside walls were covered with red maple ivy and the green dappled lawn was breathtaking (see photos). Then we discovered the door to The Cloisters which was one of the highlights of our trip. We walked slowly along the stone corridors, reading the ancient funeral effigies on the walls, enjoying the quiet and relative coolness of the well-trodden passageways. We also went inside the Museum to view various royal costumes preserved and displayed on life size wax figures of the original owners. We found a small garden at the end of one hallway and several small doorways, about 5 feet tall.
After we left the Abbey, we walked halfway across Westminster Bridge over the River Thames and took some photos of The London Eye on the far bank. We waited for double decker bus no. 11 to the Financial District and walked towards the Tower of London. We encountered a small parade along the way, with people in period costumes. I’m not sure what that was about. We headed towards the river and the first thing we saw was the Tower Bridge about to open to let a ship through. Again, refer to my photos. We spent two hours touring the Tower of London and saw so many wonderful things but the most impressive was the tour of the Crown Jewels, which were on display there. They were enclosed in glass cases, with slow moving sidewalks on either side of the case. We viewed both sides and the size and quantity of the jewels was mind boggling! We toured so many of the buildings and just as we were about to leave (they were closing in a few minutes, we spotted Moira Cameron, the first female Beefeater in history to go on duty at the Tower of London. Cameron, 42, beat five men to the £20,000 per-year job as a Yeomen Warder. She told me she has 22 years of military experience. I was honoured to have my photo taken with her.
Enjoy My Photos of London
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
September 27 to 29 (Toronto to Manchester to London)
Our trip to Europe started out very badly, with a horrific Air Transat charter flight to Manchester. Thankfully, the overheated cabin, claustrophobic seating, one hour stop in Montreal, etc. is a distant nightmare and the only blot on an otherwise incredible vacation. The £20 premium that Rob paid for each of our pre-assigned sets was thrown away as a result of a flight change – instead of flying direct from Toronto, we had to leave 1.5 hours earlier and stop in Montreal to pick up people there. Rob was able to sleep on the plane. I was not. The air on the plane was so devoid of moisture, I was coughing for a day afterwards. My lungs were completely dried out, as well as my eyes, which felt like they were cracking in my skull. *shudder* Never again! You obviously get what you pay for ($92 return, plus tax).
We arrived at Manchester Airport an hour earlier than planned so we were thrilled to discover the train into London ran every hour on the hour. So we opted to catch the noon train. However, our prepaid tickets (£27 each vs. £100 each at the station) represented reserved seats on the 1PM train. We decided to play “dumb” tourist and hopped on to the earlier train to Crew. Once there, it was a 20 minute wait for the connection to London. Aboard the train to London, we discovered two empty seats reserved from Liverpool to London with no occupants, so we plopped ourselves down and donned our dumb tourist expressions. The ticket collector barely looked at our tickets so we relaxed and enjoyed the ride.
Arriving at Easton Station an hour earlier than planned, we called Rob’s Aunt Priscilla to announce our imminent arrival. Finding the taxi queue proved a bit challenging despite the unilingual signs, in English no less! Although the line seemed a mile long and the taxis miniscule, I was assured by Rob and the man in front of us that you could fit a small car in the taxi. They were right! The cab was like a Mini on steroids, if you can imagine such a thing. There was room for us, our suitcases and much more. I wish I had taken a photo inside, with its LCD screen, TV remote, electronic door lock sensors (“if the red light is on, the door is secure”). Rob and the driver had a serious discussion about our destination and the best way to get there during Friday’s rush hour traffic. The driver was ensconced on the other side of a thick Plexiglas panel and spoke to us over a microphone – very futuristic.
We arrived at the Gloucester Mews in Paddington in due course, £10 lighter. Priscilla expressed dismay at the size of our suitcases but Rob managed to wrestle them upstairs. After saying “hello”, I promptly fell into bed for 2 hours of much needed sleep, while Rob trundled over to the Bank to pick up the Euros he had ordered for our trip to France. I woke up, somewhat refreshed and made myself ready for cocktails. We were being joined by Priscilla’s companion, Rupert. He came bearing an ice cold bottle of Proseco and a large can of Pringles! Priscilla called for reservations at Concordia Notte, one of their favourite local Italian restaurants. As P put it to them on the phone, “You’ll know us when we arrive except we’re 4 instead of the usual 2”.
Dinner was our treat but due to a sore tooth, P did not enjoy her meal. The restaurant was quaint and caught in a bit of time warp with photos of famous people up on the walls from decades past, including the owners in various states of girth. We had a nightcap before finally heading to bed. The pasta and the wine were passable but the company made up for any culinary deficiencies.
In the morning, Rob and I set out to go shopping. The weather was overcast and drizzling. We left around 10:30AM to walk to the nearest tube station, Lancaster Gate. Priscilla suggested we buy a day pass for £5.10 each. There was a huge line for tickets because the automatic ticket dispenser was out of order. It eventually came back online and we paid in cash – very efficient when it works! It was 78 steps down to the platform or you could board a huge elevator like the kind they use in hospitals. The tube was just that – very narrow and very hot – definitely not as comfortable as the subway in Toronto. One car in London holds less than half the number of people you would see on a subway car in Toronto.
We got out on Bond Street and walked to Oxford Street, the discount shopping Mecca of London. I bought a colourful scarf in a store called Next for £12.50. We turned down Regent Street because Rob wanted to take me to Liberty’s. What a remarkable store! It is very beautiful architecturally-speaking and contains very high end merchandise with a huge stationery department. After a quick trip to the “loo” (sinks inside the stalls!), we decided to stop for a spot of lunch at the champagne and oyster bar located on the lower level. We ordered two coffees, two bowls of soup and a plate of smoked salmon to share. Our server informed us that the salmon was flown in fresh every second day from Scotland. I don’t believe I’ve ever tasted anything so exquisite before. Lunch cost £32 with 12% gratuity included.
We exited out the back of Liberty’s onto Carnaby Street, which was full of Saturday shoppers. Bright and colourful, I could very well imagine the vibrant scene of the 1960’s when this street became the centre of fashion trends in London. We found a tacky tourist shop to buy a thimble for my friend Scott.* We continued South and east to Piccadilly Circus which was a madhouse (obviously, aptly named) with hundreds of tourists. We carried down along Regent Street to Pall Mall and Trafalgar Square. There were more tourists here as well. We took a lot of photos and then walked up Charing Cross Road to the Leicester Square tube station. We hopped on the tube to Knightsbridge, where Harrods is located. Unfortunately, our arrival was marred by anti-fur demonstrators with placards of skinned animals and one pathetic, threadbare 6’ “fox” handing out leaflets. Rob noticed that the female protester was wearing leather shoes – there you, you see. :)
Harrods was PACKED with people of every nationality and language. In general, I found London to be extremely multi-cultural and I could imagine myself living there. We spent well over an hour at Harrods, enjoying the massive food court, the luxury bathrooms and expensive merchandise. We spent an exorbitant amount of time in the jewellery department, looking at watches, jewels of every hue and some designer pieces I recognized from my days at Viva (Heidi Daus and Alexis Bittar). The £10 million Egyptian Escalator is worth a ride, although we successfully managed to avoid the statue of Dodi and Diana that was erected somewhere in the store.
Finally, it was time to make our way toward Mayfair, to The Audley, a pub where we were meeting my friends at 5PM. Jackie and I had no problem finding each other in the busy bar, in spite of the fact that we had never met before in person. Scott and Noel were on the same bus so they all arrived together. What a fantastic reunion! We didn’t leave the pub until after 10PM after 5 or 6 rounds of drinks and dinner (Rob, the voice of reason, made us all eat something). It was a long and tiring day but one I will never, ever forget.
* When Scott and I worked together at Viva, he got a strange long distance phone call one day from a man named Jim in England, who insisted that someone had given him a thimble from our store. We never sold thimbles – we were a designer jewellery and accessory store – but someone must have bought this guy a thimble in Mexico and gifted it to him in one of our bags. The story is hilarious because the guy just went on and on and on about his thimble from Mexico and desperately wanting one from “Jalisco” (pronouncing the word with a hard “J” sound instead of the soft Spanish “H” sound) in his thick English accent. When he found out Scott’s family name, he insisted Scott was English (he’s actually American, from Seattle) and beseeched him to go out and find him a thimble with “Jalisco” on it. It took forever to get the guy off the phone but only after Scott promised to look for a thimble. Funny thing is, Scott actually caught himself looking for thimbles and when Jim called back two weeks later, Scott gave him the bad news (no thimbles in Vallarta), along with the number of the British High Commission in Mexico City. Hopefully, Jim got the help he needed there … tee hee.
We arrived at Manchester Airport an hour earlier than planned so we were thrilled to discover the train into London ran every hour on the hour. So we opted to catch the noon train. However, our prepaid tickets (£27 each vs. £100 each at the station) represented reserved seats on the 1PM train. We decided to play “dumb” tourist and hopped on to the earlier train to Crew. Once there, it was a 20 minute wait for the connection to London. Aboard the train to London, we discovered two empty seats reserved from Liverpool to London with no occupants, so we plopped ourselves down and donned our dumb tourist expressions. The ticket collector barely looked at our tickets so we relaxed and enjoyed the ride.
Arriving at Easton Station an hour earlier than planned, we called Rob’s Aunt Priscilla to announce our imminent arrival. Finding the taxi queue proved a bit challenging despite the unilingual signs, in English no less! Although the line seemed a mile long and the taxis miniscule, I was assured by Rob and the man in front of us that you could fit a small car in the taxi. They were right! The cab was like a Mini on steroids, if you can imagine such a thing. There was room for us, our suitcases and much more. I wish I had taken a photo inside, with its LCD screen, TV remote, electronic door lock sensors (“if the red light is on, the door is secure”). Rob and the driver had a serious discussion about our destination and the best way to get there during Friday’s rush hour traffic. The driver was ensconced on the other side of a thick Plexiglas panel and spoke to us over a microphone – very futuristic.
We arrived at the Gloucester Mews in Paddington in due course, £10 lighter. Priscilla expressed dismay at the size of our suitcases but Rob managed to wrestle them upstairs. After saying “hello”, I promptly fell into bed for 2 hours of much needed sleep, while Rob trundled over to the Bank to pick up the Euros he had ordered for our trip to France. I woke up, somewhat refreshed and made myself ready for cocktails. We were being joined by Priscilla’s companion, Rupert. He came bearing an ice cold bottle of Proseco and a large can of Pringles! Priscilla called for reservations at Concordia Notte, one of their favourite local Italian restaurants. As P put it to them on the phone, “You’ll know us when we arrive except we’re 4 instead of the usual 2”.
Dinner was our treat but due to a sore tooth, P did not enjoy her meal. The restaurant was quaint and caught in a bit of time warp with photos of famous people up on the walls from decades past, including the owners in various states of girth. We had a nightcap before finally heading to bed. The pasta and the wine were passable but the company made up for any culinary deficiencies.
In the morning, Rob and I set out to go shopping. The weather was overcast and drizzling. We left around 10:30AM to walk to the nearest tube station, Lancaster Gate. Priscilla suggested we buy a day pass for £5.10 each. There was a huge line for tickets because the automatic ticket dispenser was out of order. It eventually came back online and we paid in cash – very efficient when it works! It was 78 steps down to the platform or you could board a huge elevator like the kind they use in hospitals. The tube was just that – very narrow and very hot – definitely not as comfortable as the subway in Toronto. One car in London holds less than half the number of people you would see on a subway car in Toronto.
We got out on Bond Street and walked to Oxford Street, the discount shopping Mecca of London. I bought a colourful scarf in a store called Next for £12.50. We turned down Regent Street because Rob wanted to take me to Liberty’s. What a remarkable store! It is very beautiful architecturally-speaking and contains very high end merchandise with a huge stationery department. After a quick trip to the “loo” (sinks inside the stalls!), we decided to stop for a spot of lunch at the champagne and oyster bar located on the lower level. We ordered two coffees, two bowls of soup and a plate of smoked salmon to share. Our server informed us that the salmon was flown in fresh every second day from Scotland. I don’t believe I’ve ever tasted anything so exquisite before. Lunch cost £32 with 12% gratuity included.
We exited out the back of Liberty’s onto Carnaby Street, which was full of Saturday shoppers. Bright and colourful, I could very well imagine the vibrant scene of the 1960’s when this street became the centre of fashion trends in London. We found a tacky tourist shop to buy a thimble for my friend Scott.* We continued South and east to Piccadilly Circus which was a madhouse (obviously, aptly named) with hundreds of tourists. We carried down along Regent Street to Pall Mall and Trafalgar Square. There were more tourists here as well. We took a lot of photos and then walked up Charing Cross Road to the Leicester Square tube station. We hopped on the tube to Knightsbridge, where Harrods is located. Unfortunately, our arrival was marred by anti-fur demonstrators with placards of skinned animals and one pathetic, threadbare 6’ “fox” handing out leaflets. Rob noticed that the female protester was wearing leather shoes – there you, you see. :)
Harrods was PACKED with people of every nationality and language. In general, I found London to be extremely multi-cultural and I could imagine myself living there. We spent well over an hour at Harrods, enjoying the massive food court, the luxury bathrooms and expensive merchandise. We spent an exorbitant amount of time in the jewellery department, looking at watches, jewels of every hue and some designer pieces I recognized from my days at Viva (Heidi Daus and Alexis Bittar). The £10 million Egyptian Escalator is worth a ride, although we successfully managed to avoid the statue of Dodi and Diana that was erected somewhere in the store.
Finally, it was time to make our way toward Mayfair, to The Audley, a pub where we were meeting my friends at 5PM. Jackie and I had no problem finding each other in the busy bar, in spite of the fact that we had never met before in person. Scott and Noel were on the same bus so they all arrived together. What a fantastic reunion! We didn’t leave the pub until after 10PM after 5 or 6 rounds of drinks and dinner (Rob, the voice of reason, made us all eat something). It was a long and tiring day but one I will never, ever forget.
* When Scott and I worked together at Viva, he got a strange long distance phone call one day from a man named Jim in England, who insisted that someone had given him a thimble from our store. We never sold thimbles – we were a designer jewellery and accessory store – but someone must have bought this guy a thimble in Mexico and gifted it to him in one of our bags. The story is hilarious because the guy just went on and on and on about his thimble from Mexico and desperately wanting one from “Jalisco” (pronouncing the word with a hard “J” sound instead of the soft Spanish “H” sound) in his thick English accent. When he found out Scott’s family name, he insisted Scott was English (he’s actually American, from Seattle) and beseeched him to go out and find him a thimble with “Jalisco” on it. It took forever to get the guy off the phone but only after Scott promised to look for a thimble. Funny thing is, Scott actually caught himself looking for thimbles and when Jim called back two weeks later, Scott gave him the bad news (no thimbles in Vallarta), along with the number of the British High Commission in Mexico City. Hopefully, Jim got the help he needed there … tee hee.
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