Getting to the Root of It All: The Drive with My Dad

If you can hire a car and manage stickshift on the other side of the road, take a few days to tour around England. There’s more to see on this island than London and I was lucky enough to have my dad here in March to show me. Being that I can’t hire a car, manage stickshift, or drive on the other side of the road, it was a good thing he got here.

My first stop on the tour with the pop was Hereford, about two hours from Oxford. His cousin Tony lives there with wife Sandra, and they showed us a wonderful time. Situated on the River Wye, which seems to wind all along the area, Hereford was a lovely stop on the driving adventure.

We headed a few miles out of town to The Green Man for drinks and dinner. Sitting in a place that pre-dates America certainly brings some historical perspective to the table, as this restaurant/inn dates back to 1485. A few Stowford Press Ciders later our food arrived and tasted of pure perfection. The menu was laden with delicious options, but I’ve got to recommend the chicken kiev.

The next morning we woke up to the best English breakfast I’ve ever had, but unless you know Tony and Sandra, don’t expect to get one. We left the house fairly early to head to York, a few hours away in north Yorkshire.

The Marriott on the edge of town near the racecourse was a welcomed sight, as it had been awhile since I could partake in the plush comforts of a nice hotel. Hitting up hostels is all good fun, but traveling with the rents means better quality, and the Marriott spells quality. In other words, I could leave the shower shoes at home.

York is a truly trendy spot in northern England, with hipster restaurants and pubs dotting the streets of this walled city. We took in a pint at a pub along the river and then found one of many Indian restaurants in the city centre. The Akash Tandoori provided a decent meal and good service, and it was one of the more traditional curry houses opposed to some of the modern establishments in the area that lack charm.

No trip to York is complete without a visit to the York Minister, as it's the largest Gothic cathedral in northern Europe. When my brother was there as a kid, he was sure to apologize to a security guard about the fire that destroyed the place in 741.

From York we took to the road and found ourselves in my dad’s old stomping grounds, a village named Wetwang (seriously). Driving along the Yorkshire Wolds and discovering this village of his past made the trip worthwhile. He escaped to this country landscape to spend the summers with his grandmother as a child.

We then stopped over in Hull so I could meet my great aunt. Molly, my paternal grandfather’s sister, is fantastic. We chatted up a storm about past, present, and future family affairs. We then crossed the Humber Bridge to meet up with another one of his cousins, David, at The Whistle and Flute pub. A cider and a good chat later we set off again.

Our last stop on the journey landed us in Lincoln, a place my mom spent several weeks studying Tennyson as a graduate student at the Tennyson Research Centre. As recommended by my Frommer’s Guide to England, we booked into the White Hart Hotel. Full of history, this hotel saw the likes of Churchill, Eisenhower, and Margaret Thatcher. Of course, history doesn’t always translate to comfort. The halls were like mazes and the beds were like boards. For about 160 pounds, the only redeeming feature of this hotel was the view of the cathedral.

On the very appropriately named Steep Hill Street, you’ll find Browns Pie Shop, a cozy, atmospheric restaurant. Think of a pie filling and it’ll be there, but I’m not talking typical dessert pies, these are proper pies you can only find in northern England. I dove into a fisherman’s pie, stuffed with salmon and halibut, in a creamy parsley sauce, and topped with a layer of mashed potatoes. My dad tried out something different and went for the venison and blackcurrent pie, with a crusty top keeping in the piping hot mixture. And if you need to work off the pie, just hike up the hill back to the cathedral… it’s sure to give you a full cardio work out.

We braved the rain soaked motorway and made it back to London the next day. It was a great trip to connect to my roots and see the country where my roots were planted. Even if you don’t have family in the area, looking beyond London can only bring you a smile, as this land is diverse and charming. Start practicing that stickshift and whole other side of the road thing ASAP.

Stay Tuned: Upcoming Blogs

After a blogging respite, I'll be back in travel action soon. Stay tuned for the following updates, to be completed in the next few weeks after I get back from a Euro adventure!

• Hereford, York, Lincoln
• Budapest
• Munich
• Black Forest/Bavaria
  

Cancellation Chaos: AA's Struggle

An early morning phone call beckoned me back to New Mexico last week. A bit of bad news (that could have been a lot worse) forced me to forgo convenience and find the first flight out of London. A quick scan of lastminute.com led me to American Airlines, where I purchased a return flight for under a grand.

Little did I know when I turned the corner at customs in Dallas I’d be greeted by a slew of flight cancellations. That’s right… I got caught in the middle of the worst string of airline delays and cancellations in the past decade. So I did what any other delayed passenger would do: ran up to a service desk and demanded I get on the next flight out of there.

Typical, that I would come all the way from London and couldn’t even get to the other side of the state— as I was shooting for El Paso for the final destination. The line started to bulk up, but luckily I made it to the front of the queue before the hoards of angry travelers could trample me.

Amid a few tears and desperate pleas, I explained my situation. Two ardent customer service reps worked to get me on a flight to El Paso that evening, via Phoenix. American Airlines has been getting a lot of flack these past weeks, as well they should, what with the cancellation of over 1,000 flights and the displacement of 250,000 passengers. But I want to extend a thank you to AA for getting me where I needed to go. I’m sure had I been traveling the next day, I would be raging right now instead of applauding, but as luck will have it, I made it to El Paso.

I would suggest, for future reference, American Airlines should inspect their planes when told to do so. Also, they should inform passengers why their flights were canceled; it wasn't until a day later while watching CNN did I discover AA's entire fleet of MD-80s were grounded— and I’m guessing not for bad behavior.

It seems to be a bad time to travel, between the terminal 5 chaos at Heathrow and this recent burst of incompetence. There’s not much I can recommend for those flying these days, except to expect delays, confusion, and frustration. Bring a good book when you fly, because you’re in for a long wait and I’m not talking about the flight.

Take a Walk: Adventure in the Cotswolds

Need to restore your faith in humanity? Walk the Cotswolds Way. Not only will you gain a new appreciation for nature, yourself, and your travel companions, but it will help to reassure that at the core of it all, people are kindhearted and helpful by nature.

I woke up a few weeks ago with a bizarre desire to walk through the English countryside to Bath. Explaining this objective to people elicited a range of responses, mostly declarations of my insanity. There were two daring souls, however, who were not only willing, but excited by the notion of a walking adventure: Miriam and Sarah.

OXFORD TO BROADWAY

We started at the college equivalent to the crack of dawn (i.e. 10 a.m.) and met up in the Gloucester Green in Oxford for a hearty breakfast at Combibos. After a sufficient caff up, we headed to the train station and caught a 1 p.m. train to Moreton-in-Marsh (£6.40). We wandered through the village, missed a bus, and ended up taking a taxi to our real starting point: Broadway. The Cotswolds Way is a 104-mile route across Southwest England that typically takes up to eight days to complete, so with only a four day weekend, we had to cut a few corners by rocking modern transport. Don’t hold it against us.

You’ll soon learn how to spot footpath signs when you venture through the Cotswolds; cue the hallelujah choir and light from above when you see those wooden sticks point you in the right direction. Maps can only tell you so much when you’re wandering through a sheep laden field sans compass.

BROADWAY TO CHELTENHAM

Our first trail was not an easy introduction to the whole walking thing—and when I say walking, it implies straight lines and concrete ground, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. I don’t want to say it was hiking either, because that suggests equipment and being semi-professional. No, this was a trek. And it all started with the second steepest “hill” in all the Cotswolds.

Can’t say the view was completely worth the struggle up the hill, but it was definitely magnificent. A few hours later, after a sufficient amount of panting, gasping, and swearing, we made our way to Cheltenham. As soon as we made it to the city centre, we found a bookstore and popped in to get some phone numbers to local hostels and hotels. We got some great advice from the clerk, who gave us directions to the YMCA. They had vacancy and for £17.50 each we secured a room to ourselves.

On our way to dinner, we noticed the majority of the older Cheltenham residents hurrying to the Town Hall. I stand by a theory I deduced while there— that they were escaping the teens of Cheltenham who roam the streets come nightfall. Seriously… the kids were taking over the streets of this city. Besides the fact Cheltenham lacked any charm whatsoever, I’d never want to spend more than a night there for the simple reason the underage population is vast, loud, and stupidly drunk.

CHELTENHAM TO PAINSWICK

In the a.m. we sought out the bus station and asked one of the nicest bus drivers I’ve ever encountered how to get to Birdlip, a small town that was site to our starting point for the day’s walk. He dropped us off within three miles of Birdlip and directed us where to walk from there. Clinging to the shoulder, we walked along the curvaceous roads that I had once been worried to drive on, let along walk along.

We passed through a golf course, got the evil stare down from annoyed golfers in funny pants, and escaped over a fence. Once we passed the Air Balloon Inn, a landmark on The Cotswolds Way, we were finally on the correct route. Climbed a giant hill to see a wonderful view of Gloucester and then the trail took us through beech woods to Cooper’s Hill. We followed woodland tracks and eventually made it to another golf course, signaling our proximity to Painswick. We descended into the village and found St. Annes B&B, where we had a reservation, straight away.

We were greeted by Iris McCormick and had a beyond lovely stay at this organic bed and breakfast. We first enjoyed a cup of tea and an amazingly sweet creation in the form of a biscuity-cake, had a shower, and then fought utter fatigue and went into town for a meal at The Royal Oak Inn. Plates cost upwards of £10 and if you catch them on fish night, you’ll be in for a treat.

Painswick is considered one of the most beautiful villages in the Cotswolds and it lived up to the title. In the morning we had a great breakfast, cooked to perfection by Iris and family, and then wandered around the city to the sound of church bells.

PAINSWICK TO BATH

A three-mile walk landed us in Stroud, where we found a market in full swing. We retired for the afternoon at a local pub to appease Sarah’s love of Ireland and rugby (Ireland vs. Wales). The weather turned on us Saturday and changed from blaring sun to drizzling rain, so we decided on a bus to Bath. For £5.00 we hopped on a terrifyingly old 10-seater that screamed up every hill and shook around every corner.

The riskiest bit of our trip wasn’t going into the woods without a compass or a map, but instead entering Bath on a Saturday night without hotel reservations. When we were coming into the city I noticed The Belvedere out the rain soaked window, so we gave them a call and they magically had a family room available for £95. Jumping on that opportunity, we took a taxi there and settled into a grand ensuite room on the top floor. Score one for playing it by ear!

A long list of rave reviews helped us decide on The Eastern Eye for dinner and so we made a reservation. The huge Georgian style room was packed to the max with chattering people diving into Indian food like their lives depended on it. When you walk into this place, ignore the crowd of people and just look up… the ceilings are amazing. After taking in your surroundings, watch out for scurrying waiters with rolling decks of plates passing by. The wait was long, the food a bit overrated, but the experience overall was an enjoyable one.

Bath itself is an odd tourist trap—you may feel like you’re stuck in an even cornier version of Disneyland when you check out the local landmarks. We got a joint student ticket for £14 for the baths and the Fashion Museum. The Fashion Museum is brilliant in theory, but fell short of my expectations. Interesting costumes and fashion, but you’d think the builder and organizer would have been inspired by the design surrounding them when constructing the museum. It was just a plain experience, with the bookstore being the most colorful part. And don’t get too psyched for the punk rock display, it’s about 20 framed black and whites that I could have used Google Images to see.

The Roman Baths were laughably rudimentary, with distracting children audio tour signs covering every inch of the building. They seemed to have ruined the experience with construction around all the important parts, along with unappealing tarp with fake columns painted adorning no-go areas. Tourists were moving slower than slugs and wouldn’t hear you try to pass by above the roar of their audio tours. So don’t believe the brochure when it tells you it’s “the best 90 minutes…spent in Europe.” A 90 minute nap would beat that. But you can’t go to Bath without seeing its namesake landmark, so relax by the pool of water and watch the steam rise.

Overall I got a good vibe from the city of Bath, with its balanced mix of charm and practicality. As a tourist, you could easily do it justice in a day, but spending a few days there exploring the city life is certainly feasible.

BATH TO OXFORD

Calling it a day around 2, we bought £13 train tickets home to Oxford. A four-day walking adventure may have ended on a train, but we certainly got our trek on in between. The cheese will ooze from this next sentiment, but I honestly learned a lot about myself during this random experience—a few days walking in the woods with a couple of friends has the tendency to do that to a person.

Can’t say I’d rock the whole walking tour again, but it feels like a major accomplishment over 30 trekked miles later. I recommend this jaunt for those who need a breath of fresh air and a reassessment of mankind, because we met the most helpful, kind souls while on this trip. Goes to show that in the end, it’s the journey, not the destination, that matters*.

*I apologize for the cliché journey/destination combo line at the end, but it was just irresistible.

A Long Way for a Sarnie: A Sunday Drive to Gloucestershire

Taking random road trips are becoming our specialty here in Oxford. Sunday is the perfect day to jump in the car and roll out to unknown parts of England. Our lovely driver this weekend, Rhianna, wanted Miriam, Viki, and I to see the beauties of Gloucestershire, a nearby county in South West England.

Driving through the winding roads and seeing the brilliant countryside brought back memories of growing up upstate. Long rock walls lined the main motorways and rolling hills were endless. We saw a sign for a Roman Villa and decided to check it out; apparently there are whole tours in the UK based around the exploration of these villas. Of course, being poor grad students, we didn’t quite get into the villas, as much as a wander around the giftshop. A £5.50 admission fee suppressed any desire for historical education.

We tumbled through the tight road back to the main route, not without a few near-heart attacks rounding the blind corners. I don’t know how these Brits drive; first off, with the whole other side of the road situation, and then with the obvious one-way streets being used as if they were four-lane highways. Anyone who can navigate these paths in a vehicle gets major props, though I have a feeling there might be an upcoming entry about how I learned to drive in England… so stay tuned.

Up the road, we decided to pull off to a random village and grab a pint and a sandwich. The town of choice was Newnham on Severn, about ten miles outside of Gloucester proper. Surrounded by the Royal Forest of Dean, this place was your typical village, with plenty of pubs and even more oldsters.

We walked into a pub with one of the best selections of cider in the country, only to remember it was Mother’s Day in Great Britain (shout out to the J-Money). It was packed, so we hiked up the hill to see some other options. We were attracted/intrigued by a bright blue building, which we came to discover was the friendliest pub in all the land. Seriously…

The Ship Inn was beyond fantastic, we chatted with who I presume were the owners about grabbing a bite, but they said they were done serving food. The woman called up the street to a rival pub to see if they were still dealing out a bite, but alas, they weren’t. In the meantime, the other owner must have cut a deal with the kitchen, and he offered us a last-minute roast dinner. Yet again, our poor student wallets wouldn’t allow for a £12 lunch, so as we were about to leave, he came back with a negotiated offer: a beef or pork sandwich, with a salad, for a fiver. Sold.

It was a supreme sarnie and with a pint of Guinness to wash it down, lunch was a memorable one. Here’s a major PS about some dramz going down at The Ship Inn: the town council is making them paint over their distinct blue with a far more dull white or an even duller cream, so it will match up with the other boring buildings around the centre. Can’t say the blue color was an extremely attractive one, but it certainly caught our eye and is the primary reason we walked into this little gem of a pub. So if you’re ever in Newnham, drop by what will inevitably be a white building named The Ship Inn for a quality experience. It will make you love England, I swear to it.