gabrieltraian

In the summer of 2003 my wife and I toured UK for 36 days. We had a wonderful trip and this is the trip report for the time we spent in England.

I have posted the trip report for Wales (From Poetry to Nature – My 4 Days in Wales) here

http://fodors.com/forums/threadselec...p;tid=34824413

and the trip report for Scotland (Kilts, haggis and bagpipes – My 7 days in Scotland) here

http://fodors.com/forums/threadselec...p;tid=34822880

We are low budget travelers, don't mind travelling a lot during the day to meet our schedule and plan, eating from the supermarkets, bakeries and the like, we don't deny ourselves the local beer, wine or whisky, but also do not like to cut from our visiting time when in a museum, castle or palace.

In summary we did the following itinerary: Windsor Castle – Plymouth – Chester – Liverpool – Yorkshire Dales – Lake District – York – London, plus a few day trips.

To be continued....

gabrieltraian

Day 1 – July 3

After a flight of almost 8 hours we reached the skies above London, at about 6.20 am. From my seat at the window (I always like to take the window seat, when available), at about 1000m high, I could admire the most representative buildings of Great Britain: Westminster with the Big Ben, The Tower of London, St. Paul’s Cathedral, the Tower Bridge, intertwined with the winding of the Thames.

We landed at Heathrow with a bump, to our surprise, as our previous flights with Royal Brunei the touch downs were smooth. While the plane was taxiing on the track I noticed the plane traffic taking off and landing at very short intervals.

Once in the airport we went to the comfort room to refresh a bit, before going out in the British world. While waiting for my wife, I saw a huge Brit passing by each of those waiting seated and asking them what were they waiting for there.

When he reached me, I told him that I was waiting for my wife. Later, while waiting in line for passport control, I saw that chap again walking through that area asking everyone most likely the same question.

Probably to notice whether there is an intruder or an illegal immigrant. We had some papers to throw away and then I noticed the lack of garbage bins in the airport. We realized that the reason was the elimination of the possibility of a bomb pack to be placed in such a bin inside the airport.

The same lack of garbage bins we were to notice at most of the public places, except parks. In the toilets, however, there were garbage bins.

We passed the passports control and collected our luggage. We started to go through the winding corridors of the airport looking for the tourism office.

We knew that inside the airport was a tourism office where we could buy our British Heritage Pass. This pass gives free entrance, thus skipping the queue, at many attractions throughout the country.

We asked for directions here and there and were sent everywhere, but we still couldn’t find the concerned office. Finally, we found out that it had been closed and no longer existed there.

We had to go to one of the tourism offices in town. We started then to search for the corridor that was supposed to take us to the train for London.

There is a special train between the airport and Paddington Station, starting every 20 minutes and covering the distance in 15 minutes. We took this train and soon we were at the station.

London welcomed us in one of the most English ways possible: clouded sky and a drizzle.

“Welcome to London!” we said to each other. It was 8.45 am on the 3rd July. Another childhood dream was coming true.

To be continued…

gabrieltraian

We had wasted enough time in the airport, but we were still well within our schedule. In our first day we wanted to go to Windsor Castle.

We left our belongings at the baggage office in Paddington Station and took a train to Windsor – Eton. While we were getting near to our destination, we easily recognized from the window of our train the big round tower, a real symbol of Windsor Castle.

We went to the tourism office in town and bought our British Heritage Pass with the duration of one month. By the end of our holiday, this pass spared us many queues and not only did we recover the money, but we saved even more by visiting many places where we didn’t have to pay for tickets.

Near to the entrance to the castle we were welcomed by Queen Victoria’s statue. Windsor Castle is the royal residence that has been lived in the longest in the world, for over 900 years. At the beginning it was only a Norman Fortress, built by William the Conqueror in 1066.

We visited the State Apartments, stepping quietly, mute in admiration and respect for what was displayed in front of our eyes. When we wanted to make a comment regarding what we were seeing, we did it in a whisper.

In the Grand Vestibule we saw Napoleon’s sword, when he was First Consul and the bullet that killed Nelson in the battle of Trafalgar 1805.

On the corridors and in some halls there were complete sets of armours and huge panoplies with swords and fire arms. In bedrooms and living rooms we could admire furniture and objects of art, paintings and sculptures, objects of silver and gold.

In the King’s Living Room were paintings by Rubens and from his school. In the King’s Bedroom the paintings were by Canaletto. In the King’s Wardrobe our eyes were delighted with paintings by Rubens, Rembrandt, Holbein, Durer and van Dyck.

In the Queen’s Ballroom there were paintings by Van Dyck. The chandeliers drew our attention with their richness of crystals, hanging from a beautifully decorated ceiling.

The Queen’s Audience Room was decorated with French tapestries. In the Great Drawing Room we admired the decorations on walls and ceiling, all gold plated, tapestries and period furniture.

We came out in one of the courts and headed towards Albert Memorial Chapel, that commemorates Prince Albert, Queen Victoria’s husband. We liked very much the interior decorations and the beams that jutted in bunches from the side walls pillars, some of them joining at the centre with the beams coming from the opposite side.

Then we visited St. George Chapel, whose construction started in 1475 by King Edward IV and finished 50 years later by King Henry VIII. This chapel was specially built for the ceremonies of the Order of the Garter.

This Order was founded in 1348 by King Edward III and it is said that it originates in a fairytale-like happening. At a ball held to celebrate the conquest of Calais in 1387, the garter of a lady fell to the floor.

The king picked it up and seeing his court men smiling he said: “Shame to him who thinks evil about this”. These words have become the Order’s motto and are inscripted on the medal in Latin.

St. George Chapel impressed us with its gothic architecture and inside we could admire very beautiful painted windows, flags of the Knights of the Garter, and superb interior decorations.

In some of the castle courts we could admire small parks and gardens with beautiful flower arrangements and fountains.

To be continued...

gabrieltraian

At a certain moment, towards the end of our visit, we came out at a farther side of one of the castle courts. We didn’t realize fully in what corner of what part of the castle we were, when all of a sudden we heard a slight noise somewhere at about two metres to our left.

A royal guard soldier, dressed in the famous British uniform, black trousers with red braid, red jacket, white belt and busby, was patrolling round the corner. Between us and him was an iron fence.

We recovered quickly from this surprise and admired him how he did his round thoroughly, not coming out a single bit from the pattern, like a metronome.

At the end of the path he would stop by lifting the right knee to the chest, followed immediately by the left knee while turning round to the right, ending the spot turn with another lifting of the right knee, but he made all these steps without trotting, putting his feet down smoothly on the asphalt.

Then he would stop for a brief second and start his way back. Very funny, like a toy soldier in a natural size.

Of course we took pictures!! We were like two hunters, weapon raised for aiming, watching how the game comes nearer without realizing the danger.

I held the camera on the ready at my eye, finger on the shutter, image fixed in the viewfinder, waiting for the soldier to come near, at the ideal distance: “Ready… coming near… just a little more... noooow: Clickkkkkkkk!!!!!”

We took a few pictures and were so happy! We didn’t even expect to see a royal guard soldier till we reached Buckingham Palace. This encounter took us entirely by surprise.

The soldier made his return steps and we cocked our camera for another shot. A real photo session followed. We were waiting quietly and patiently for the soldier to come near, then both I and my wife took turns to take pictures of each other when the soldier came behind us.

We had forgotten of all the wonders and treasures seen only minutes before in the castle halls. In the meantime other tourists noticed us there and the place became crowded already, everyone waiting for the soldier to come near to the fence and take their souvenir photos.

We continued our walk through the castle courts, admiring the gardens and architecture. In the main court we saw another guard in the same uniform, standing in his booth.

After a few minutes this soldier also put himself into motion. He made a few moves with his weapon, stepped out of the booth and began his round from one end to the other on the alley in front of him. The same equal steps, the same stop and turn with the knees lifted to the chest.

These guards were like toys setting themselves into motion, then entering themselves in the box. As expected, we clicked our camera a few more times.

Lots of people gathered along the alley where the soldier did his round. When he took his place back in the booth (following a strict procedure of steps and manoeuvres with his weapon), people started to get near to the guard timidly, one by one, mostly children, for a photo. Among those timid kids were us as well.

After that we went in the castle park, walking on the famous Long Path at Windsor. The great majority of the photos taken at this castle, as you see them in postcards and various books, are taken on this alley guarded by trees, where at the end you can see the castle and the famous tower.

From there we went for a walk in town, quiet, beautiful houses, typical English, with many flowers at the windows, as if taken from the fairy stories.

To be continued...

gabrieltraian

We took the train back to London Paddington, where we reached in time to catch our connection to Plymouth.

At a certain moment while in the train, I took out a cognac filled chocolate and we started to eat it together. The conductor came, I showed him our rail passes and he said “these are all right”, then he checked the tickets of other passengers next to us and he said “all right”.

Then he noticed our cognac filled chocolate on the small table by the window and he said “that’s all right too!”

After we passed Exeter on our way to Plymouth, the landscape started to become more beautiful. We were in the Dartmoor National Park.

On the right there were valleys and hills with sheep grazing, and on the left were eyes of water or bays with boats and sails scattered all over. At a certain moment on the left was a total change of the view.

I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I gestured towards my wife to turn her head towards the window. Her face shined suddenly, like that of a child: there was nothing else than the unending stretch of the sea.

The train was passing right on the shores of the Atlantic. The view was superb. On the right we could see the greenery on the hills and valleys, sheep grazing lazily, and on the left the blue, calm immensity of the ocean. It was so beautiful.

We reached Plymouth, took a taxi and went to our B&B where we stayed the following two nights. It was about 9.30 pm. After we left our luggage at our hosts, we asked for guidance regarding the surroundings and the distance to the ocean shore.

The night was beautiful and we went out for a walk. After about two minutes walking, in front of us we had a superb view: a bay guarded both sides by high shores, some hills extending out into the sea, like two peninsulas.

Not far out at sea there were the lights of the ships and a few boats were scattered like toys on the bay’s water. There were no waves and the silence surrounded us from everywhere.

Sir Francis Drake’s statue scanned the horizon, as if the same like in 1588 when the famous Spanish Armada came up. They say that the moment he was informed of the fact that they were approaching the English shores, Drake was playing a game of bowls and he said: “let’s finish this game and then we’ll beat the Spanish”.

A little further away from the statue is the Smeaton Lighthouse, built in 1759. It is from there that Sir Francis Drake left in 1577 on his journey around the globe, returning to Plymouth in 1580, laden with riches captured from the Spanish ships.

We descended the hill down to the shore and stuck our hands into the water to refresh ourselves with a little Atlantic. We walked on the promenade and took in the views.

The high relief of the two small peninsulas guarding the bay was covered with groups of trees and vegetation, like some small groves. A beautiful setting for a pirates movie.

To be continued...

caroline_edinburgh

Thank you for another very thoughtful report, Gabriel - keep it coming.

I hope that when in Plymouth you managed to sample one of my favourite tipples - Plymouth Gin !

gabrieltraian

Oh, Caroline... we didn't sample the Plymouth Gin, sorry! We're not much into gins, we tried the local ales everywhere to see how warm they really are, and a few whiskies while in Scotland. Talisker was quite a novelty and I still ask for it sometimes in bars.

gabrieltraian

Day 2 – July 4

We came down for breakfast early morning.
It was for the first time ever that we had toast, beans and tomatoes for breakfast. Of course, there were fried eggs and mushrooms as well, but the beans and tomatoes were simply smashing!

We really enjoyed that kind of breakfast, and we looked forward every morning throughout the rest of our holiday to having the traditional English breakfast.

After breakfast we went again to the promenade on the sea shore, to rejoice once more at the wonderful views that were offered there. We then walked along the shore till we reached the port, where a lot of motor boats and sails were crammed, giving the city a beautiful colour and look.

One of the most famous sea voyages that started in Plymouth, except the journey around the globe undertaken by Sir Francis Drake, was the one of the first English immigrants to the New World in 1620, aboard the ship Mayflower.

Symbolically, the steps that descend to the port are called Mayflower. We reached the city centre – clean, with lots of shops and greenery – then we left for the station. We wanted to go to Penzance and St. Ives.

The journey from Plymouth to Penzance was beautiful, with green hills and valleys on either side of the railway, animals, especially round fat woolly sheep, grazing without any worries.

Many times on the routes we took around UK, we felt like giving up to all our scheduled trips and just sprawl on the grass and admire the views, the sheep, the tranquility.

We reached Penzance, a small and nice town spread over some hills, with very narrow streets, on which two cars hardly have enough space to pass by each other.

The town in general looks like time hasn’t passed by from previous centuries. In fact, most of the places at the end of Cornwall peninsula look like time stopped there. There is a special charm about it.

From Penzance we took a bus to the village of Marazion, 5km away. From there, looking towards the ocean you can see St. Michael’s Mount. This mountain is in fact an island at about 300 metres from the shore, and at the top of it is a castle with the same name.

During its long history, starting from 1135, this castle was a church, monastery, fortress and private house. We made the 300 metres distance to the island on foot, as the tide was low.

It was a pebbled path leading to the island, and when the tide is high, you can reach the island by boat. The views that we had were amazing: a strip of sand and pebbles leading to the foot of the mountain island, then the mountain and the castle on top of it. Romantic!

Each side of this area with sand, stones, rocks and algae, were the ocean waves, and all around the mountain were gardens and wild vegetation. The height of this mountain is about 200 metres.

Visiting the castle we found out about stories of pirates and ships caught in storms and shipwrecked near the island in the past. Otherwise, there are many stories and legends with and about pirates and robbers in and around Penzance.

After visiting the castle we took a bus and went to St. Ives. The roads took us through a few villages and all along the way the streets were so narrow, that it was hard for two cars to pass by one another.

Many times the car coming from the front had to find a lay-by to allow the bus to pass. St. Ives is a resort with a nice beach guarded by hills and rocks.

The houses are like small jewels gathered together on the side of the hills on which the town is built. The streets are narrow, some of them have quite a steep slope, and tight angle bends.

For pedestrians and tourists this adds a special charm to the town, but as a bus driver for example, one has to be very skillful behind the wheel in order to be able to maneouvre on such tight spaces.

We walked on the promenade, the beach and the sea to our right, houses, shops and restaurants to our left. We bought ourselves something to eat and sat on a bench. The seagulls flew freely among the tourists, begging for food.

If you’re not attentive in such situations, the seagull can grab the food from your hand in one move. We went for a local beer to a pub called Life Boat Inn, or something like this.

We watched amused the bustle in the pub and the people on the street. We returned to Penzance and took the train back to Plymouth. When we reached there, at about 11pm, we went for another walk on the city promenade by the ocean.

It was too beautiful not to take advantage of the views while we were there.

To be continued...

gabrieltraian

Day 3 – July 5

On Saturday morning we took the bus to Lydford Gorge, in Dartmoor National Park. At the entrance we took a map with the route to cover.

It was a deep steep valley, river Lyd flowing at the bottom. This is the deepest gorge in south-west England. We walked for about 20 minutes on a winding path descending to the bottom.

After about 10 more minutes we reached a 30 metres-high waterfall, falling slim and wavy over some rocks. The waterfall is called The Lady in White. Looking at it, we noticed the resemblance with a lady dressed in a long white dress.

The route that we had to cover was along the river and in some places was difficult: narrow paths along a rocky wall at a few metres high above the river, eroded slippery steps dug in granite, making the climb more difficult in the respective area, and not the least, an extremely rich vegetation.

The trees were very tall and the sunrays rarely protruded down to us. We couldn’t hear anything else but the river flowing and birds chirruping. Civilization has not reached there but only through the few bridges that crossed the river here and there and a few tourists, among which were us as well.

At one point we reached a place surrounded by rocks in which the river was whirling loudly. The access was over a bridge passing along a rocky wall, reaching above a pool in which the river flowed like a waterfall in stairs, and the water in the pool was like boiling.

This was the Devil’s Cauldron and the rocks forming it were black. Even the noise made by the whirling water was very loud. All the route was very interesting, with beautiful views at every bend of the river.

After about two and a half hours hiking in the gorge, over a distance of approx. 5km, we reached the end of the route and came out on a winding path through the forest.

At the edge of the forest was a house restaurant, with a clearing all around, tables outside on a terrace. We had our lunch in the middle of the nature, in an idyllic landscape, watching the rabbits playing in the grass only a few metres away from us.

After taking in greedily more of the clean fresh air of the forest, we took the bus and went to Tavistock, a clean nice town, purely English, at the western side of Dartmoor National Park.

Probably it was a festival day there, as above the streets were thousands of little coloured flags, hanging by threads bound by the houses eaves, from one side to another of the streets.

We entered one of the pubs there and had one of the local beers, trying to take in some of the local atmosphere. The streets were narrow, with houses and villas almost stuck to each other.

Most of them were white colour, but here and there was a yellow house, a grey one or a reddish one, which enlivened a little the look of this town.

When we finished our walk through Tavistock, we took the bus and returned to Plymouth. We still had about two hours until our train to Cardiff, our next destination, so we walked some more through the city.

We went back to the ocean promenade and once there and near Drake’s statue, we noticed on a sports ground around 20 men dressed in long white trousers, white shirts, all divided in four groups, disposed two by two, face to face at about 40 metres in front of each other.

Each member of the two teams threw some balls rolling, slightly smaller than the bowling ones, towards the team in front. Was this the bowls game, which Sir Francis Drake used to play as well, when the Spanish Armada was seen at the horizon?

The rolling of the ball was slow and after all balls were thrown, the teams facing each other changed places. Upon seeing the moves of the players, and even on the way they walked when the place change was made, I thought that this had to be an elegant game, for the higher social classes.

We couldn’t make out the purpose of the game, but the time that we spent on the bench watching the game behind the fence surrounding the ground, was a pleasant experience.

Watching the game, I was thinking of how it must have been 415 years before, when Drake played bowls maybe even on the same field. We admired once more the views offered by Plymouth promenade, and left to the station to catch our train to Bristol, where we had a connection to Cardiff.

Our train took us again a part of the way on the shores of the Atlantic. This time however, the sheep on the hills of the Dartmoor National Park weren’t grazing anymore, but they were lying thoughtful or dozing in the grass.

In Bristol we changed trains to go to Cardiff. It was in the same time a total change of atmosphere. At the station were all sorts of odd looking guys, which made us become more circumspect.

Our train came and we got on. We were already on another train company’s route, and we noticed it immediately as we went aboard. Inside the cars it wasn’t clean, the chairs were dirty and ill maintained.

A trip report about the four days we spent in Wales is here (From Poetry to Nature – My 4 Days in Wales)

http://fodors.com/forums/threadselec...p;tid=34824413

To be continued...

gabrieltraian

Day 4 – July 9

We arrived in Chester in the evening at about 7.30 pm, coming from Llandudno. This is one of the cities that we liked best in UK.

After we settled in our B&B, even though we were tired after a day full of tourism, we decided to check out the city. We went out for a walk down town.

Chester was already looking different compared to the cities visited until then. In the year 70 here was based the 20th Roman Legion, Valeria Victrix.

The houses and buildings have a different architecture, different colours, the streets, pubs, shops have a different character. We liked what we saw.

On a few streets in the centre we noticed houses with one or two stories, stuck to one another, white walls and black beams criss-crossing the front.

We knew that in one of the next days we would be going our for an exploration of the city, so we didn’t stay out long that evening.

Day 5 – July 10

In the morning of 10th July we had a day trip to North Wales scheduled with Busybus in Chester. A happy looking minibus picked us up from our B&B. We were welcomed by Peter Rosenfeld, manager of the company, who was both driver and guide that day.

Immediately we were swept away by the happy atmosphere within our group of tourists. Peter had a great influence in making this trip one of our nicest memories in Britain. He was very sociable, had a good sense of humour, he kept us entertained all through the trip with his stories and contests.

Our itinerary included the Cape of Great Orme near Llandudno. The name "Orme" comes from the old Norwegian language, meaning Sea Snake.

It was a clouded cold morning, the wind was blowing strongly, a mist was floating over the sea and the hilly country. The sea was stretching endlessly in front of us, guarded by the two capes, The Great and the Small Orme.

From there we went a little up north on the hillside to the 12th century St. Tudno church. This was a small house, with just the ground floor. One of the long sides is facing the sea, while on the other side, facing the hill, is the yard, which is in fact a turf area with benches.

There the service is held during summer. Near the church is the local cemetery. Looking towards the sea from this church I could easily notice jutting into the sea a big stone snake head. That was the Great Orme where we had been earlier.

We went inside the church and admired the few painted windows and the simplicity of the interior. The walls are white, the medieval paintings being lost when restorations took place in 1855 and 1906.

The furniture is of wood and doesn't have many decorations. We continued to Llandudno, where we stopped at the Grand Hotel for a coffee and a cake. There was a contest organized there, named "Xatch the Phrase" about British proverbs and phrases.

On a screen they put a few clues, like letters, images or gestures, and we had to guess the phrase or the proverb. All our group participated, and they hailed from England, Scotland or Australia.

However, I was so happy to find out in the end that I was the winner, with 11 correct answers out of 15! Well, the prize was a couple of fudge boxes, which I didn't like (I don't like fudge), but the fun was fun and this is the main thing.

To be continued...

gabrieltraian

We had a walk through Llandudno, a beautiful, picturesque and well known resort, guarded by the Irish Sea and hills, and then we left for Conwy, not far away from there.

In Conwy we visited the castle, built between 1283-1289 by King Edward I. This is one of the most impressive castles in Wales. We climbed the towers and walls and looked around us, took in the views of the town and surroundings. There is nothing inside the castle, just a few boards presenting the history of the castle.

During our trip around Wales the previous 4 days, we had heard that in Llandudno there is a street named after the former Queen Elisabeth of Romania (1843-1916), a writer and poet whose pseudonym was Carmen Sylva.

She wrote extensively and with almost equal facility in German, French, English and Romanian. Carmen Sylva stayed in Llandudno for five weeks in 1890 and on taking her leave she described Wales as "a beautiful haven of peace".

Translated into Welsh is "Hardd, Hafan, Hedd", which became the town's official motto. She also participated at the National Eisteddfod (the premier artistic event in Wales and one of Europe's largest and oldest cultural festivals) at Bangor, in 1890.

We asked our guide to help us find the street. He agreed and after a short walk through Conwy (which we had visited the day before when we ended our 4 days tour of Wales), we left back for Llandudno, while the rest of the group remained to visit the castle and the town.

Peter had a GPS and found the street quickly. We went there and were happy to see the big sign "Carmen Sylva Road" and took a picture. We felt proud that a street in Wales was named after a Romanian queen.

The Busybus took us then to the shores of Ogwen Lake, where we had a superb view. The lake is not that big and is surrounded by hills over which fog was floating. It was a deep mysterious silence. Nobody else was there, except our small group of 10-12 people.

We enjoyed it there and took a few pictures. Then we went to Conwy Falls, hidden in a forest. We found ourselves in a very beautiful spot in the middle of that forest.

It was difficult to reach the water, as it was down in a steep gorge, so we only looked at it from a few meters above.

We continued our journey through the mountains and reached a quiet village, Pentrefoelas.

We went to the Chocolate House, open by a Swiss in 2001. All the products there are prepared by the owner himself, who is a master in preparation of chocolate.

As we entered we saw him bent over a big bowl, hand-mixing a chocolate cream. The cream looked very well and it brought back childhood memories when my mom used to prepare the cream for some cake and I was waiting eagerly for her to finish and give me the empty bowl to lick the cream from its walls.

I made an effort not to make this request to the chocolate maker there. We bought a few cakes, liquor filled chocolates and a mug of hot chocolate. Eeexcellent!

The cakes and chocolates were melting in our eyes, what more when they reached our mouths. The hot chocolate was extremely delicious and thick. The fairly high prices made us stop regretfully from buying any more of that good stuff.

We then went to Pontcysyllte Aqueduct, built in 1795. It is 35 metres high and 1km long. We walked over it admiring a large valley and hills covered with forests.

We were about midway on the aqueduct when a narrow barge, beautiful writing on its hull and fitting exactly the width of the canal, passed by us. We were quick to take a photo, a memorable image of a barge going over this aqueduct same like more than 200 years before. The minibus was waiting for us at the other end.

We had fun all the way with our guide. All the time he found a story to tell us or to engage us in a contest while the minibus was running happily on the road.

After a short trip from the aqueduct, we were passing through a grove and saw a small narrow bridge. The view was too beautiful and we asked Peter to stop for a photo. He agreed and said "Here, I'm offering you a Kodak moment!"

This day trip to North Wales was beautiful and merry. Peter was a good guide, succeeding to alternate the fun moments with the more serious ones of general interest.
We reached Chester in the evening at about 5.45 and fixed a meeting with Peter for next day to go to the races.

To be continued...

MissPrism

Bowls isn't an upper class game, all classes play it.
I suppose that it's mainly a game for older people.
My late father-in-law was blind, but still managed to play.
This is a very nice report. I'm glad you had a good time.

gabrieltraian

MissPrism,

Glad you like my report.

Thank you for clarifying about the bowls game.
That was my impression when I saw it. I had only heard it mentioned once or twice before, but had never seen it played or described.

And the way I saw those men moving around the pitch, such elegant moves and clean white outfits with long trousers and actual shirts, gave me the impression of an upper class game.

gabrieltraian

Day 6 – July 11

During the day we explored the city. We visited the Roman fortress, walking on ancient Roman streets at 3 metres under the city pavement. After this visit we walked through the long galleries in the city centre, a shopping mall called The Rows.

This is the most distinct medieval feature of Chester. The Rows are some galleries on two levels, with a continuous row of balconies and shops at ground floor and first floor. The shops are inside the traditional old black & white houses.

The Rows give Chester a unique character. Not far from the Rows we saw the medieval East Gate, the most important gate of the city at the time.

We knew that at 12 o'clock the Town Crier would make his appearance in the centre, at the High Cross, where King Charles I was declared a traitor in 1646.

The mayor of Chester named David and Julie Mitchell the first husband and wife town criers pair in the world. A few minutes before 12, David Mitchell came.

He was dressed in his traditional Town Crier red costume, with his roll and bell, a red mantle, black collar, tight knee high pants, white stockings and black buckled shoes. He wore a traditional curly white wig and a black triple horned hat.

He came to my wife and me and asked us about our names and where we came from. We spoke for a few minutes and asked us how to say "Welcome" in our language (Romanian). At 12 o'clock sharp he took his place in the middle of the square.

He shook his big bell once and cried out loud: "Ooooooooyeeeeeeez!!!”, after which he kept silent for a few seconds. He repeated the call two more times, each time ringing his bell: “Ooooooooyeeeeeeez!!!”

Indeed, a lot of people gathered there in the meantime. Some knew already what was about to happen, ourselves among them, some just happened to be there at that time.

Then the town crier started to make his announcements: “Today we have important news to give! There are guests in our city from many countries of the world, among which Gabriel and Maria from Romaniaaa!! ‘Bine ati venit!’ (Romanian for "Welcome&quot to Chester!!! Let's give a big hand to Gabriel and Maria!”

We heard cheers from the crowd and the people applauded and we waved hands. Then he continued: “Is there anyone from our colony, America?” This was funny and people laughed and clapped their hands.

There were two American ladies right there in front. Then he made a quiz, asking a few questions and giving away postcards with him and his wife as Chester Town Criers. When all this finished, we went to visit the Chester Military Museum.

We found out about the military history of the Chester Regiment. Really interesting. This regiment saw major battles at Waterloo, Crimea, and the two World Wars.

We then went to Grosvenor Museum, which shows the history of Chester as a city and the life of people there. Later that afternoon we met Peter to go to the races.

The Chester horse races is a special event and is of great interest throughout England. We were told that the race track in Chester is the oldest in the world. The dress code was elegant for those who had the high end tickets, and casual for the likes of us, poor(-ly paid) tourists.

It was like a holiday. People gave all their respect to this event. We bought the cheap tickets that gave us access on the field. Lots of people were there, ready for the picnic.

The stands were full as well. It was as if all the population of the city came to that event. There were specially arranged stalls where we could buy food and drinks. Some other stalls were there for betting.

Everyone was happy, it was an incredible atmosphere. Blankets were laid all over the place, people enjoying their time already. Peter explained to us the "how to" of the betting. He gave us a tip or two and there we went to place our bets.

I bet a few pounds and had the beginners luck. I won at a rate of over 6 to 1!! After that I won a few more very small amounts, but it was enough to have the beers and tickets covered for both my wife and myself.

At the end of the day I even found a few more coins in my pockets! The race itself ends up very fast. It's a series of six 1 or 2 minutes runs and then half an hour break. You just have to have fun and enjoy your time there.

But when the horses were racing by us it was really exciting, marvellous. We had a great time at the races in Chester.

To be continued...

kamahinaohoku

A wonderful report. I'm anxiously waiting for more!

annhig

love the report- it's great to read about things we see every day with "foreign" eyes.
I'm really not being picky, but the water you could see from the train on your way to Plymouth [and all the way along the south coast to Land's end] is actually the English Channel. It only really becomes the atlantic when you are on the north Cornish coast - eg at St. Ives. Not sure the water knows this thought"!

gabrieltraian

Kamahinaohoku and Ann, thank you for your appreciation.

Day 7 – July 12

On 12th July we took a train to Buxton in the Peak District. This is a quiet little town in the hills. We visited Poole's Cave, 5000 years old. Then we walked on the hills and through a small forest nearby.

We went to the top of a hill where there's a 3-4 meters high tower: Solomon's Temple. We had a superb view from there: all around us were only green hills, distant groups of houses scattered here and there.

We were surrounded by grass and wild flowers. There was a carnival starting at 2pm, so we went back to town to watch it.

Big colourful crowds, all waiting for the parade. People and kids were even in the trees, trying to get the best viewing spot. It was a nice parade, music, orchestras, characters, cars, heavy vehicles belonging to various companies in and around town, but shining as if they were in a showroom.

You could even do your hair combing looking at the truck wheels and fuel tankers! In front of us paraded people dressed in carnival costumes, fanfares playing various tunes, on some vehicles there were decks set up with music systems and a few youngsters dancing to the rhythms, the atmosphere was merry.

There was also a military fanfare band and Scottish bagpipers. All the procession lasted for about one hour, after which we walked through town.

Here and there there were various events organized, where people were invited to make donations for various causes, or even for the artists offering various entertainment programs.

In the evening we took the train back to Chester and went straight to bed.

To be continued...

gabrieltraian

Day 8

On 13th July early morning we took our farewell from our host in Chester, Mark and his cat Smokey, and then we took a train to Liverpool. We reached there after 45 minutes, left our luggage at the station and set out to visit the city.

Right near the station is the Walker Art Museum. A very good collection of paintings, sculpture and decorative arts: Rubens, Rembrandt, Poussin, Degas, Cezanne, Matisse, Degas, Monet, Gainsborough, Turner, etc.

From there we went to Albert Dock, the old port, now the most crowded and cosmopolitan area of Liverpool. From there, in the 1840s, thousands of immigrants left to start a new life in America, making Liverpool be also known as "The Gate to the New World".

Among former storage areas and warehouses we started to search for the Beatles Museum. After passing by it a few times without noticing it, we found a metallic arch showing the entrance to the museum. Under it was a stair leading underground to the museum.

The moment we entered we felt the vibes of the sixties, the Beatles, the city of Liverpool, the rhythm. The museum presents the ascension of the four Beatles through photographs, newspaper articles, video footage, personal objects, musical instruments, everything creating a live image of the entire history of this famous band.

The entire atmosphere of the 60s is recreated, starting with 1962, then Beatlemania and flower power, until the 70s. On various screens we saw images with their fans on the streets or at Beatles concerts.

Besides the aspects in their musical career, the museum presents details referring to the life of every member of the band. Thus we could know John, Paul, George and Ringo better.

In this museum the Abbey Road in London was recreated as well, where the recording studio used by Beatles is. The image on the cover of the Abbey Road record shows the four Beatles crossing the respective street.

One of the objects that impressed us more is the white piano placed in a white room, at which John Lennon composed the song “Imagine”.

On one of the darker hallways is the Cavern pub, where Beatles history began. Behind some windows are shadows of the customers sitting at tables or standing and drinking beer. From inside a murmur and glass knocking could be heard.

The visit to this museum was indeed one of the most enjoyable experiences that we had in Liverpool and UK in general.

A little farther away from this museum there was an exhibition called “Fingerprints of Elvis”. We did not miss the opportunity and went in... On a TV screen was Elvis singing and on walls were posters from his movies and concerts. Among the exhibits were photographs, costumes worn in concerts, a Mercedes and a Harley Davidson that belonged to him.

It was just an exhibition, so it was not presented his entire life and career. However, the exhibition was a nice surprise, especially that we had not known about it.

At Beatles Museum we had taken the address where the Cavern was and we were decided to find it in town. Right at the exit from Albert Dock, however, our attention was drawn by a big and rather odd object standing there on the side of the boulevard.

We went closer and... it was the Yellow Submarine! It was stranded at the edge of a park, probably forgotten there from the times of the famous song... We were happy to take a picture next to it.

We had some difficulties in finding the Cavern pub, being on a side street. We had a map with us, which eased our search and we finally found it. On the neighbouring buildings were statues of the four Beatles.

We descended two levels under ground: dim light, air hard to breathe, even though there were only a few people inside at that time of the day. We felt like in a cellar. Well, that's what it was. We had a beer and left.

We reached Windermere later that evening. We had a booking made for accommodation and on arrival I had to call the host from the station to tell me how to reach the house or to be picked up by someone.

We knew that our accommodation was somewhere near the station, but didn’t know the way. I had the number ready so I went to a phone booth and dialed. A woman with a strange accent answered.

Three or four months before, when I had booked the accommodation, I had the correspondence with an Englishwoman named Susan, so I asked to talk to her. The voice said that she was Susan and that her husband would come to the station to pick us up.

I started to have some doubts regarding that lady as being Susan, as the accent was oriental, but I couldn’t figure out from what country. We waited for quite a few minutes until a car came by from which a Japanese man came out in a jovial mood, apologizing continuously for keeping us waiting.

We reached our accommodation, a house in the centre of the town. To our surprise, the hosts were Japanese, Hiro and Yoko. They had recently bought the business from the former English owners.

Until then they had lived in London for 20 years working in a restaurant. We made friends quickly with them and found out that they were from Yokohama. Our room was not too big, but very clean and nice at the first floor.

To be continued...

flanneruk

Nice report. The Yellow Submarine has a slightly different story.

The reference in the song is to nothing at all, except whatever one of the Fab Four had been smoking recently. And things stayed that way (the song came out in 1969) till the early 1980s. The Yellow Submarine was just a song.

Meanwhile, Liverpool's economy went down the drain, partly because Britain stopped shipping things to and from the Commonwealth and US, but trucked them to and from Europe, and partly because the city developed spectacularly self-destructive habits (like forever going on strike, except on days you'd taken a sickie). Unsurprisingly, this led to massive youth unemployment and a weekend of horrendous riots in 1982.

A quirky government minister under Margaret Thatcher, Michael Heseltine, decided that garden festivals had revitalised German cities after the war, and would do the same for Liverpool. So the liverpool International Garden Festival - a bizarre, one-off, collection of themed gardens along the river, south of the Albert Dock. In a city with practically zero gardening culture (though New York's Central Park is modelled on Birkenhead Park, just over hte river).

One of those gardens had a Yellow Submarine theme, for which the creators designed a model Yellow Submarine as its centrepiece. You coud actually go inside it, as I recall.

The Festival achieved virtually nothing, except for most unThatcherian throwing of public money at a problem. The site's still there, off most visitors' routes, occasionally patrolled by security guards, and broken into by courting couples. But otherwise practically useless, and almost everything built there's rusting away inside the site, has been nicked (the local hobby) or just chucked away.

Except for the Yellow Submarine, which got moved to somewhere people could still see it.

Entirely the product of the Thatcher government. Most Liverpudlians have forgotten this, and Mrs T remains probably the most hated woman in the city. She'd probably have a heart attack if she ever twigged she's commemorated by a tax-funded Yellow Submarine in the middle of Liverpool.

Sort of Ozymandias in reverse, really.

gabrieltraian

Thank you for your clarifications and interesting details, flanneruk!

And moreover, very interesting how you made the connection with P.B. Shelley's character.