Cruising around the U.K. July, 2005

July, 2005
Travelin' the British Isles...
A sea of brightly dyed and gelled hair concoctions, tattoos and eyebrow rings proliferates the wide and busy street mall that cuts through the city centre...a sharp contrast to the medieval flavor of this historic, formerly walled town. This disjointed mix truly defines the essence of Southampton!
After unceremoniously dumping our bags in the hotel, and intent on getting our time sequence in whack after various plane, tube, train, bus venues to get here, we set out to scout the town. Remnants of heavily reinforced rock walls intercept modern apartments around the port area...peering through the Westgate archway, we can just imagine Henry V at this very spot fearlessly riding alongside his entourage as he collected his thoughts, contemplating the long voyage to the battlefield of Agincourt in 1415. ("We few, we happy few, we band of brothers...") And here, two hundred years later, our venerated pilgrims, perhaps not quite so fearlessly, boarded the Mayflower on their way to what must have been a vastly terrifying adventure. We strolled alongside the varied sections, climbing up to a lookout with a
tremendous view of the water...and envisioned how beautifully stunning the Titanic must have looked to the excited onlookers as it cruised out of the harbor. This town is a history addict's dream!
Back to the room for a deliciously cold glass of wine, dexterously smuggled into our carryons by our friendly neighborhood Hawaiian Air flight attendants on our flight to Los Angeles. The next morning we boarded a bus to Stonehenge...somehow not quite as wondrous as we had anticipated.
Having no sacrifice to make at the slaughter stone (although several suggestions came quickly to mind and were just as quickly suppressed...) we jumped a bus heading to Salisbury. What a magnificent cathedral!
Built in a comparatively short period of time for that 13th century era, its gothic elegance compliments the surrounding vast greenery of the close. A chorale group from Texas happened to be performing during our visit, successfully showing off its all encompassing acoustics. Interesting to note were the numerous pet dogs wandering among the pews and cloisters with their owners. The highlight, though, had to be the display of one of the four remaining copies of the Magna Carta in one of the vestibules...from a calligrapher's point of view an exquisite piece, and from that of an historian, equally amazing. What a coup for them barons...carefully articulating in print the rights that have so painstakingly been reiterated in our own declaration/constitution (we resist here, with much difficulty, the urge to comment on our present American political state...).Back to Southampton on a double decker bus, sitting upstairs, front row, branches from huge, adjacent trees whipping at the window as the driver barrelled down the road at what seemed like 90 miles an hour, lurching through stop signs and making seemingly impossible tight turns through small alleyways in ensuing towns. Between holding onto our seats for dear life, a wondrous landscape of rolling green hills dotted with sheep, horses, the occasional manorial home, and dark green trees. All quite an adventure, to say the least. Our jaunt ended with a clipped "Good day, love" coming from the eyebrow ringed, Jeb Bush lookalike bus driver.
It’s Friday; after enjoying our requisite Starbucks coffee, we're eager to board the ship. Next stop, Dublin!

The tiny caterpillar, showing off a brilliant shade of green, dropped onto Fred's hand from his salad plate. He laughingly handed it to a waiter, who then passed it along to the chef... A beautiful array of chocolated dipped strawberries appeared in our cabin later than evening, with an obsequious apology from said chef. Hmmm...what kind of "incident" might prompt a free cruise...
Ireland's landscape sparkles in a similar luminescent shade of caterpillar green... disembarking in Dublin we headed straight for Trinity college and the Book of Kells. The detailed artistry of both the lettering and illustrations is breathtaking.... beyond awesome. Gotta give it to those monks, and acknowledge what years of boredom helped them develop!
On to St. Patrick's Cathedral, which amazingly survived the Reformation, and into Dublin Castle. This city is incredibly easy to explore, with myriad cobblestone streets leading to pubs, parks, pubs, churches, pubs, castles, museums ...and pubs. 10,000 of 'em in the city. Ruddy cheeks and red hair abound, and a brogue that at times is REALLY hard to understand, so we do a lot of nodding and sincere eye contact that belie our lack of comprehension. sigh.
Our Guinness Brewery tour reminded us of our excursion to the Heineken counterpart years ago... the free beer flowed on the top floor bar, with a panoramic view of the city. The lovely, embossed glass somehow ended up in Fred's backpack on our way out.
We tried to stay away from politically hot topics, but ended up in a fascinating conversation with a fellow bus rider on our way to Temple Garden (to a pub...) He explained the significance of the occasional placard we observed on several street lamps: 26 + 6 = 1. The 'one' stands for Ireland...then we got it. He spoke of the Troubles matter of factly, an understandable position with the country's bottom 26 independence assured. We're eager to involve ourselves in Protestant POV 101, second semester once we reach Belfast, one of the "6".
Our last two stops in Dublin: Kilmainham Gaol and Malahide Castle. The latter not too interesting... the jail, however, fascinating. Dark and damp, this must have been a horrific experience for its interred prisoners, many on political charges. Hangings in the center quad ended when the gov't realized that this was fomenting far more resentment than serving to deter protest against the UK powers that be.

Here a sheep, there a sheep, everywhere a sheep sheep. Rolling hills and dark green foliage define most of the environs of Holyhead, Wales. Off to Beaumaris, one of the finest of Edwardian castles, perfect in design. Seagulls floated everywhere, the water fronting most of the edges of the fortress. The English monarchy proved once again its ability to defend.From here to Caernorfon Castle to stroll its battlements and climb its many towers. This, where Charles was invested as Prince of Wales in 1969, is the most magnificent of all the castles we've seen. On the way back to port, a quick photo op stop at llanfairpwllgwngyllgogerychwymdrobwlllantysiliogogogoch. Seriously. Now you know why this town is a photo opp stop.
And a quick note regarding the jovial cabbie we hired. As we entered the cab, Welsh chorale music filled the air... nice, for a while... four...long...hours...later... we agreed (silently, of course) that we had found the perfect sacrificial offering for the slaughter stone back at Stonehenge.
And the cabbie was one of the singers.
More when we reach Belfast.

We're riveted to the TV, both selfishly wondering how the explosion that ripped the top off of a bus near Russel Square this morning is going to affect our time in London after the cruise...and angrily trying to comprehend how these ***holes can rationalize damaging the lives of innocent people. While in Glasgow yesterday, lines and lines of mostly young people boarded bus after bus at George Square in the center of town heading for Edinburgh to protest the G-8 summit in nearby Stirling... that morning there had already been some damage done to a Burger King in the area; blame is being funneled towards an anarchist group from Italy (who apparently show up at all G-8, IMF, World Bank, and such meetings to create chaos.) One of the guides on the hop on hop off bus we were riding predicted that there would be trouble in London rather than Edinburgh due to the extensive blanketing security in the latter. She also slipped in a comment about the famous jail in Stirling, quite big enough, really, to house both Blair and Bush. Above all, She was a Scot. What a world we live in... and somehow our penchant for being in the thick of things during our travels still holding true...
And speaking of conflict... thoughts on the tensions surrounding the tenuous peace agreement in Belfast unfolded before us as we enmeshed ourselves in a heavy duty conversation with a cabbie who drove us around the area of the Peace Wall. (The irony here being that this corrugated/wired barrier actually exists to separate the Protestant area of Shankill Rd. with the Catholic area of Falls Rd....and the gate in the middle is locked at night...)
Our cabbie lives on the Shankill side with his wife and five children (he laughed raucously when we chided him that he mut be a closet Catholic with his brood...) He carried a rather raw point of view about the "Troubles" in Ireland... there are murals everywhere, on both sides, painted on the sides of the apartment buildings. Those on the Shankill side lauding the paramilitaries who are trying to keep the union together. Interestingly enough, our cabbie explained that most of the killings in recent years have been committed by opposing groups on the same side. Sigh. Once we drove to the Falls Road side the slant turns to martyrdom, i.e. paintings extolling the virtues of the likes of Bobby Sands and other hunger strikers who died in jail. On this Republican/ Catholic side we observed several "Free Sean Kelly" signs, to which our cabbie explained that the IRA and other Catholic groups want the convictions of Sean Kelly and others jailed for activities resisting the unionist government (often through bombings) changed from the nomer terrorists to political prisoners, but, he added, "any way you look at it, they're f**king terrorists." So there's this resentment and frustration bubbling right below the surface on both sides...i.e. a fellow passenger bought a poster at the Sinn Fein headquarters (the political arm of the IRA) and was advised to keep it rolled up until he returned to the ship. We did not see any 26 + 6 = 1 posters here...we assume the Catholics in Dublin who compose the vast majority in Ireland feel less threatened to make polarized statements than the C's in Belfast, where the ratio evens out in
favor of the Protestants. A caveat here: most will say that this is not about religion, but about politics.
At the end of the day we went to our cabbie's favorite pub where he expanded on his views concerning the Peace Agreement of '98... his main thrust: let go of the past, cover the murals with neutral paint, and bring up the children from both sides with less bias. Taking sides, albeit a sad reality, can certainly be tempered through education. Let's hope.

"...and you, my dear, need a facelift...." This uttered in wonderful brogue by a young Scot in response to being called 'fatso' by an incensed Golda Maier lookalike. The woman's obvious umbrage and subsequent name calling stemmed from being roughly pushed aside by the young man's bike as he plunged contra flow through the thick crowd, maneuvering his way frustratingly up the path in an attempt to reach the soon-to-depart Edinburgh train from which we had all just disembarked.Watching the altercation unfold from about 20 feet away (off to one side like good boys and girls..) we couldn't help but shake our heads as Golda and her bevy of botoxed, bleached blonde buddies (all American, unfortunately...) continued to walk on obliviously, four abreast, husbands in tow, blocking once again any access to the train platform.
He missed the train. And as he resignedly peered over the railing at all of us below, we caught his eye and smiled in empathy, and gave him a thumb's up. He shrugged and smiled back. Whew. Score one for the CARAT brigade (Countering Actions of Rude American Tourists).
Backing up here a bit... we arrived that morning at the quaint, seaside town of South Queensferry, door to Edinburgh. We cruised under a bridge partially shrouded in mist, giving it a Brigadoon-esque quality; surely at any moment, if we believed strongly enough, Gene Kelly was going to appear tap dancing and singing his way across ...

Once firmly docked we raced to Edinburgh, a quick 20 minute train ride, discovering quickly enough that this fabulous city deserves a great deal more time than a day. Edinburgh castle sits majestically at one end of the Royal Mile, seemingly growing out of the cliffs. Old Town is filled with cars and pedestrians weaving their way along cobblestone streets graced with classically gothic buildings, archways and monuments, and a massive number of pubs. All of this in the midst of a set of rolling hills. Unbelievable. We ended the day with a visit to the Writer's Museum... carved in the doorway: "Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive!" Mark Twain had a similar refrain... tell the truth and you won't have to remember anything... did he know Sir Walter?! This was a wonderful look see into the lives of Robert Burns, Scott and Robert Louis Stevenson.
Backtracing once more... the previous day we explored Kirkwall in the Oarkney Islands...way, way north in Scotland. There were more shades of green here than we had ever seen, with fields studded with animals and an occasional house. Its claim to fame: a neolithic 5,000 year old, recently discovered village, a quaint chapel built by Italian prisoners of war during WWII, and a lake filled with self scuttled German ships.And now we are in London... life seems to be going on for these resilient Brits... traffic in a complete gridlock the day we arrived due to the distrust in the public transport system (no *&#@*), with everyone driving their own vehicles. By the second day, the Tube and buses seemed to be filled. We timorously boarded a double decker, then settled in for the long haul. A quick visit to Kew Gardens, with an amazing Chihooly exhibit.
Cruising Trafalgar and several plays...we will be ready for home in a few days.