Driving in the Cotswolds

Lower Slaughter

• Good news: After two days of driving through innumerable roundabouts, there is help for Taylor's traumatized heart.
• Bad news: He doesn't have the proper change.

Travel Transitions

March 30, 2014

When travelling, the transitions are challenging.

Our flight to Heathrow Airport, via Madrid, is scheduled to depart Tangier at 11:35, or 12:35 depending on which airline correspondence we read.  Since we like to be early, to deal with any challenges, we told our host, Aziz, that we would like to arrive at the airport at 9:00.  He arranged to have Mohammad pick us up at La Maison Blanche at 8:30.  Since 8:30 is earlier than Aziz feeds his guests, we arranged to have coffee, mint tea and orange juice instead of the full breakfast.  We don’t need food.  We would have plenty of time at the airport to get a snack.  Of course, we forgot that we had traded all our Moroccan money for euros.  We left La Maison Blanche with 31 MAD cents (Moroccan money).

Mohammad got us to the airport without any hitches.  We have now been at the Tangier Airport for about two hours.  We just now got to the gate.  Taylor has been a bundle of nerves, and I have been a bundle of snot.  I have used more Kleenex in the last two weeks with my ongoing allergy attack than I have used in the last 5 years.

Why did it take us two hours to get to the gate?  Well…………………I don’t know.  There are no reader boards here to tell us our gate number, or what time any flights depart.  All the airlines use the same 10 or 12 check in desks, and they change the signs according to which airline has a flight.  We were unable to check in online last night, so we didn’t have seat assignments or boarding passes.  No one speaks English.  This is enough to challenge any one prone to nervous tics, or sneezes.

Given that we knew nothing, we just sat – or rather, Taylor paced and I sneezed.  Finally, about an hour before departure three lovely young women took their boxes of papers and tickets up to three of the check in desks, put up their Iberia signs and started checking people in.  We were first in line, naturally, but the woman we were lined up in front of, ignored us.  Finally, I got in a different line leaving Taylor in front of the woman ignoring us. We eventually got checked in from my line.  By the time Taylor deserted our original line, the woman immediately took the next customer.  I guess she didn’t like Taylor.

After all that, we easily made it through customs and immigration.  We sent our bags through the xray machine and I enjoyed a thorough pat down – they didn’t put a hand on Taylor despite the fact he set off the alarm.  

We are at the gates.  There are three gates and we don’t know which one is ours.  Three planes depart at 5 minutes intervals, and there are no planes.  And we’re hungry.

With our 31 MAD, Taylor was able to buy two croissants and a Snickers bar.  We’ve now had breakfast.  More people are arriving.  There are still no planes. Insallah, our plane will arrive and I will next be writing from England.

A Proper Castle

A few days ago, when we were eating breakfast in York, I discovered that Castle Howard was only 15 minutes away. Upon further research I learned that while it wasn't directly on the way to Keswick, it would be a reasonable side trip for the next part of our journey.  Our hostess and another guest assured us that Castle Howard shouldn't be missed.  So, off we went.

Before leaving Portland I looked into visiting Highclere Castle, the location of Downtown Abbey.  I found that tours of that great estate are booked for a full year.  But, Castle Howard - the location for both versions of Brideshead Revisited - should be a fabulous alternative.

And Castle Howard is stunning from every angle.

I recognized the fountain at once, from Brideshead Revisited.

It is fabulous inside...............

.......and it is fabulous outside.

This estate is a fine example of what lengths a wealthy, landed family will go to keep their estate: they rent the house out for movie productions, weddings and tourists in general.  I was disappointed to only see a handful of rooms especially decorated for public viewing.  It wasn't the Upstairs, Downstairs tour that I was hoping for.

Then, we drove on to Conwy, North Wales.

Finally, a proper castle.

There are no fancy furnishings, and some walls are missing, but it's got all the necessary parts - turrets, a mote, a chapel, fireplaces, a dungeon, skinny slits for shooting arrows, and much, much more.

Now, I know the difference between a fine estate home, and a proper castle.

Spring Hiking in the Lake District

People come to Keswick, Cumbria to enjoy nature.  Hiking is very popular. We like to hike at home, so it only stands to reason that we would like to hike here.  We got instructions and maps from our host, Robin, at the Ellergill Guesthouse.  Even though it was a misty morning, with a forecast of steady rain, we are from Oregon, so hiking here should be a piece of cake.  I even brought rain gear, so I felt especially prepared, even though I would wear sneakers instead of hiking boots.  The mountains aren't that high here, after all.

We walked from the B&B to the footpath that would eventually lead us to Castlerigg Stone Circle.  Finding a community race in progress assured us that hiking would be a "walk in the park."

The start of the race. This is also the start of our hike.

Soon the crowds thinned out, and after a "steepish pull" we arrived at Castlerigg Stone Circle.  The misty weather provided drama to the scene, and while I caught my breath I slipped on my rain pants.

Castlerigg Stone Circle.

After enjoying the stone circle, we continued on our way, admiring the sheep in the fields.

That's Walla Crag in the distance - it doesn't seem too far or too high. Total feet of climbing is 1000 feet.

We passed through several kissing gates, and climbed over stiles. This is a kissing gate.

We slipped our way through a muddy farm!  I can't imagine that this would ever be allowed in the U.S.

You can see that it was chilly by the horse wearing his coat.

We couldn't believe that it was okay to walk through a private farm, but this is England, not the U.S.

  

Part way to the top, we starting having spectacular views of Lake Derwent Water.  We continued to get wetter and wetter.

At one soggy moment, we were rewarded with a rainbow!

At last we arrived at the top of the crag.  The views were spectacular but the rain continued to pelt us, and the wind was bitter.  We didn't linger and I gave up trying to take photos.  Going down was more challenging than climbing up.  Shortly after starting our descent, Taylor slipped on some boulders.  Further on, I had a spectacular slip and slide in the mud.  Fortunately I came to a stop before the edge, but by then I was coated in gritty mud.  We both pulled ourselves together, and soldiered on through the muck, the mud, the rocks, the rain, the wind.  If we hadn't run into other rain soaked hikers we would have thought we were out of our minds, and in serious trouble.  As it was, we figured with other crazy people out and about this must be standard for a Lake District hike.

Finally, and not any too soon, we arrived at a road and Ashness Bridge.  It turns out that we were standing on a famous bridge, but the honor escaped us.  You can see that my camera was all steamed up.  What you can't see is the mud caking my backside and both of our legs.

From this point, we walked down a narrow, but real road and finally found the lake.  Normally we would have turned right and hiked on to Keswick - another 3 or so miles.  As it was, we both marched right up onto the boat pier, and waited for the next launch to take us back to civilization.  Thank goodness for the Lady Derwent Water!

Cream tea, laundromat, Doris Day on TV.  That's the way we choose to end this adventure.

Our First Hour in Africa

I am writing this in a very beautiful, refurbished guesthouse at the top of the Casbah (old walled city) in Tangier, Morocco.  The last two days here have been quite amazing, and given some of the events, I'm surprised to find myself sitting on a red velvet sofa in front of a chimney (fireplace) with a green and white tile fountain bubbling away in the entrance hallway to my right.  Taylor is three floors up, relaxing in our gorgeously appointed room.  I can hear our host Aziz talking to the guy who is here to bring us tea, and I think he answers the phone, answers the door and cleans.  He also built the fire.

We arrived yesterday morning on the ferry from Tarifa, Spain.

Here's our ferry.  Notice the ominous sky.  When we got off the ferry in Tangier, it was raining!

I thought the inside of the ferry kind of looked like a casino.  This lady was knitting for most of the trip.

 We understood that Aziz would meet us at the dock with a sign with our name on it.  When we got off the ferry, we had to walk further than I expected to get to the ferry terminal.  This surprised me, as I thought we'd get off the boat, and there would be Aziz.  We wandered through streams of people, both locals and tour groups, and didn't see anyone with a sign for us.  We did see other guides greeting their people.  Finally a man from the tourist department asked if he could help.  I told him we were to meet Aziz.  The man replied, "Oh, Aziz," and walked outside the terminal.  We followed.

Eventually another man came up to me and said, "Are you looking for Aziz?  Are you Taylor Dennen?"  I said, "Yes," and told Taylor this was our man, and we began to follow.   Taylor hadn't heard my brief conversation and wasn't sure what we were doing.  I asked the man if he was Aziz and he said "No, I'm the driver."  "Where is Aziz?"  He replied "We'll see Aziz," and he led us to his mini van and we got in. By now, both Taylor and I were wondering if we had made a huge mistake by jumping in a vehicle with a stranger in a strange country, but we were stuck, with our luggage in the back.

This man started driving through town, giving us his tour speech and we just listened and observed.

He took us to a mosque, and told us about it and asked if we wanted to take pictures.  We didn't know what else to do so we got out and I snapped pictures, wondering if the car, with our worldly possessions would disappear.

I was as interested in the people as I was in the mosque.

 We eventually got back in the car and continued driving. About 45 minutes into his tour, our driver stopped the car on the side of the road and we just sat. This naturally made us a little nervous, but it was a nice neighborhood, so we held tight  Eventually, another man, wearing a bright blue sweater, opened the sliding door and stuck his hand in to shake ours, saying, "Welcome to Morocco.  I'm Aziz."  He then jumped into the front seat and asked if Mohammad had done a good job.  So now we knew:  Mohammad was our driver, and Aziz was finally with us.

I will write more about this amazing day later, but know, the day ended with Taylor and me sitting on the rooftop patio of La Maison Blanche at the top of the Casba, sipping Moroccan mint tea.

All is well with the world, for this day and moment.

Granada

Hotel Anacapri in Granada.

Here we are in Granada, at the Hotel Anacapri.  This room is by far my favorite of all our hotels.  I even think it will be quiet so I can sleep.

Granada is an amazing city.  It has a wonderful combination of old and new.  I am especially charmed by the old Moor, and Gypsy - or Roma- communities that march right up the hillsides.  Unfortunately for me, my camera battery died so I didn't take as many photos as I could have.

Taylor and I wandered through the main part of town, exploring the squares, cathedral and alleys. It turns out that Queen Isabelle and King Ferdinand built a huge cathedral here to celebrate their good fortune in running the Moors out of town back in 1492.  The cathedral was worth exploration. Then we followed the Dorro River up the hills into the heart the winding streets of the original Moor and Gypsy areas.  We got lost, but always found ourselves again.  It was a wonderful day.

Shopping outside the cathedral.

More shopping near the cathedral.

You can pick up fresh spices after going to church.

The Dorro River.  It is the source of the water up at the Alhambra.

Looking up toward the Gypsy homes.

 I took this photo and the following two at a bathhouse.  Apparently you can take a bath, smoke a hookah and have a snack with tea - all at the same place.

Alhambra

It is hard to describe the Alhambra.  It is the last stronghold of the Moors in Spain.  They lost it in 1492, when the Catholics took over.  It is an amazing fort, with palaces, gardens, baths, fountains, mosques, churches all within one huge walled city.  I tried to get good photos, but  I realized I can't do it. There are books dedicated to capturing the magic of the place.  Why would my pictures, or any of those taken by the other 8000 visitors each day, be anything special?  With a camera a person can manage to irritate those around him and actually miss the sights, sounds and smells of Alhambra.  I took plenty, but tried to put the camera away much of the time.  My pictures are only meant to spark my memory of this amazing place.

Here we are, taking a rest break at 5 in the afternoon: cafe con leche for me and Coke Zero for Taylor.  We're in the courtyard of a hotel right in the Alhambra.  I insisted we take a break before finishing our tour.  The second wind made a huge difference.

A few random memories of Alhambra:

A view of Granada from Alhambra.  We walked all over these hills the previous day.