Darling Pet Monkey

I’m writing this in hindsight because so much has happened in the last two days.

Click here for all the photos that go along with this post! 

Day 2 was spent in a sweet little village called Cartmel (home of the Village Shop where Madonna has been known to come by personally to pick up their world-famous sticky toffee pudding – which we’re having tonight for dessert), a somewhat cool but semi-scary town called Kendal, blessed with both a beautiful, historic church yet also filled with very angry working-class types, and the Eagle and Child pub in Stavely.

The way to Cartmel was gorgeous – more picturesque than I’ve ever conceived in my brain: emerald green fields, mountains with the shadows of clouds scudding across them, rivers everywhere, thousands of sheep and lambs dotting the hillsides. The villages are quaint and it’s *so* nice to be in a place where one is not assaulted by endless sprawl…

There’s such a timelessness here.

Mary and I drove to Cartmel in the late morning so she could take me to the Priory there. She said she knew I would “recognize it.” Well, she wasn’t wrong. Walked through the door (timewarp) and there I was. I have a recollection that as a child,when I would see an occasional show about certain, specific time periods in UK history, I would experience a “smell remembrance.” That is, different time periods had their own unique odor. Odd, isn’t it? Well, I walked into the Priory and I almost couldn’t breathe, the recognition was so palpable. The smell was older than the oldest old place smell I’ve experienced in the U.S.

On the way back we drove along gorgeous Lake Windermere. Some of the drive reminded me of the Santa Cruz mountains in California. The town of Windermere itself is pretty amazing. Multileveled like San Francisco or parts of Austin.

We arrived in Kendal so that Mary could get her hair done at the Toni & Guy salon (a chain that’s very neo-60s-Carnaby St. – all the beauticians had silver hair and the cuts were very Mia-Farrow-Vidal-Sassoon-ish). She dropped me off in front of Kendal Parish church and I was on my own for 3 hours.

I really wanted to see this church as it was right below the ruins of Kendal Castle, former home of the Parr family (as in Katherine Parr, last wife of Henry the Eighth). I spent a good 45 minutes just hanging out there, breathing it all in and experiencing more “pangs of recognition.” Then it was off to explore the town.

Kendal is the local “big shopping town” but by US standards, it’s a small hamlet! All sorts of interesting shops but I’m not into shopping so I didn’t go in any of them. However, I did want a coffee, so I stopped at Costa Cafe – kind of like a UK version of Starbucks, only with more of an Italian bent. I ordered a latte and an “orange and lemon” muffin and sat down outside the cafe to people watch. Here’s what I wrote:

I’m sitting here in the high street in Kendal, Cumbria, enjoying a coffee and a cake. I’ve just seen a sweet little blonde girl about Hunter’s age walking along with her friend and she has the tag for her new skirt still attached to it. I wonder if this is by accident or is the latest fad, ala Minnie Pearl.

A mom just walked by with a stroller and kids, admonishing her son in no uncertain terms to stop licking the crisps (chip) bag he just picked up off the street because “it may have been spat upon!” Ewwww….

My nostrils are assaulted by the weird combo smell of old buildings, KFC, gas, coffee, and this odd flowery perfume I’ve never smelled before that many of the women here enjoy wearing.

There are all these tween/teen gangs wandering about cussing, very loud and obnoxious and harassing one another. The term uncouth comes to mind. It’s weird though ’cause they’re all “heroin chic meets British Invasion.” I feel like I’ve stepped into an updated version of To Sir With Love.

Speaking of uncouth, I’ve been reading this great book my friend Marcia gifted me with called A World Lit Only By Fire: The Medieval Mind and the Renaissance, Portrait of an Age by William Manchester. Just last night I read about how in the medieval world, the English were generally viewed by the rest of Europe as lewd and generally rude people. Both men and women were known for their foul language and boorish behavior. Well, I think it continued on with many of the working stiffs here!

Also, class disparity is very evident here. There’s a palpable sense of hopelessness among the working classes. You can feel the anger radiating from these folks. Now I get an idea of what it must’ve felt like during Punk’s heyday in London – and if there’s so much anger up here, I can’t even fathom what it must be like in the cities. It manifests itself through major alcoholism and violence, among other things…

Speaking of alcoholism, as we left Kendal we received a call from Nic that the job she had been slaving over for months was completed enough that she could now take a couple of weeks off to actually enjoy and get into their wedding! So we made plans to go out to one of the local pubs, the Eagle and Child, for the evening.

I got myself a pint of Hawkshead Ale, from the local brewary about 50 yards away (I’ll go explore that one day this week), Mary got a Guiness and we got a bottle of wine for Nic. We also ordered some pub food – but this pub is known for how *good* its food is.

We sat across from the pub on their outdoor area along the River Kent and enjoyed some good conversation whilst I soaked in the local atmosphere. Then our food arrived. I had ordered this amazing (local) lamb stew with a pastry crust (Oh.My.God) and we shared some chips. Heaven.

After dins we went into the Pub proper and chatted up the locals. It was great. I then blew Nic away with the fact that I knew all the words to “Jerusalem.” She asked how I knew it and I answered, “because of the imported sickness that is Monty Python.” A wondrous time was had by all and yes, everyone *does* address you as “Luv.”

I’m in bliss…

More tomorrow….

Well, I finally made it to the UK with not to much chaos involved. Although if I were another sort of person, I’m sure I’d've flipped out a bit due to some of my experiences. Let me outline it for you.

The trip from Austin to Dulles was completely uneventful. But when I arrived on the concourse, it was a major madhouse! I mean packed! Not only that, every nationality you could possibly image was there, so it all had a very Blade Runner-esque melange/feel to it. Thank God my dad got me good tickets and because of it, I got to stay in a United lounge with my feet up, sipping wine, eating crab cocktail, and losing it all when Bush came on CNN to insist that we need to “stay the course.”

Whilst in the lounge, a “supercell” thunderstorm overtook Dulles and the DC area – in fact, the National Mall was evacuated for awhile as a tornado warning was in effect – and my flight was delayed. I didn’t mind so much, I was just hoping I’d arrive in time to catch the flight from London to Manchester.

The flight over the Atlantic was amazing. I was the only one in my section of the plane, so I had a steward all to myself. He was a handsome, strapping German lad I’ll call “Rolf” who kept winking at me and tending to my every need. I could get used to this! Food was great, got a little sleep and the flight was only 6.5 hours long.

When I got to Heathrow, I was the first one out of the plane and was met by a (very nice) guy who looked like Uncle Monty from Withnail and I (also plays Harry Potter’s uncle) who said he was there to personally escort me to my connecting flight. Good thing he did – Heathrow is INSANE. I will never, ever complain about Dallas-Ft. Worth again!

A bus drove us about 30 miles (it felt like) through a labyrinthine system of tunnels, construction and security checkpoints. Once he got me to the connecting terminal, he politely shoved people out of the way so I could get through security rapidly. I got right up to customs and he bid me a good flight and lovely holiday.

Now, I know you may not believe this, but I made it through customs in a minute and a half. That’s it! Caught me flight to Manchester on a rickety econo plane but was lucky to sit in the first row. I loved hearing the patina of many different UK dialects around me. The stewardess was Irish.

In Manchester, Nic and Mary weren’t there to meet me and the place was crawling with police and military. I witnessed many, many military guys patrolling with automatic weapons (how un-British). Nic didn’t show up until an hour after my flight but enjoyed the time people watching and acclimating. Pulled some British pounds out of the ATM, got a latte and I was good to go.

When Nic arrived, she told me she was unable to come to the curb because the airport was not allowing pickups or drop offs – actually had to park! Poor Nic!

But off we took, heading east, bypassing most of Manchester and into the lush Lancashire rolling farmland. I love how in the UK you can have shops and housing but bisecting everything are pastures upon pastures of sheep.

When we got to the Lakes, my breath was taken away. Have almost never seen anything as stunning. The mountains here are amazing. All the pictures do not do it justice! It’s beyond magical here. I feel like I’m “home!”

The village of Stavely is so perfectly English it’s just amazing. People are out and about constantly, chatting, sitting at one of the pubs or outside the tea/coffee houses. The river Gowan runs right outside Nic and Mary’s home – a slate chapel built in the mid-1800s. An old church tower is across the street from my room and chimes on the hour in the way that only an old bell sounds. We went and had lunch on a deck along the river Weir on the other side across the street!

Last night Nic and I took a walk in the rain to walk their dog Rascal. I saw bats in the church belfry and it was quiz night at one of the pubs, the Eagle and Child Inn (I thought immediately of the quiz night episode of The Office). At the Eagle and Child you can take your dog, so when Nic and Mary are on their 2-day getaway following the wedding, I know where Rascal and I are going to end up.

So much to tell already! This village is just like the “sustainable neighborhood” I envision, just needs a little updating.

On Monday we’re heading up to Carlisle where there’s like a brazillion excavated Roman forts along Hadrian’s wall, then we’ll toodle on up to Edinburgh. Today Mary and I are headed into Cartmel where she will run errands and I will hang out. One of the places I’m checking out is an old falling-apart castle, but it has the distinction of being one of the homes of the Parr family. Catherine Parr was the last wife of Henry VIII and the only one to outlive him. There’s also a priory I want to check out.

Finally, the weather is awesome – foggy, misty and very English! (Mark, are you jealous yet?)
More later, in the meantime, check out a few pix I took in my jetlag stupor yesterday: http://www.flickr.com/photos/revmags/sets/72157600665962150/