when I strap my helmet on I'll be long gone...

I woke this morning, first at six, when Jack and Jan were getting up, and then at eight, which is when I got up. They were just leaving for Jan to go to work, so I got to tell her goodbye, and Jack gave me instructions about the bicycle. Then I got ready, and had breakfast – “malted wheaties,” this time, which are basically very slightly malt flavored wheat chex – and got online for a little bit, and by that time Jack was home. And then at about 9:30 I left for a bike ride.

This was a splendid adventure. Jack said that if I wanted a three mile loop I could just turn right down the main road, then turn right again three times at each of the next main crossroads, and I’d make a square and come back. But I wasn’t confident enough of a new bicycle, or of my skills after not having biked all winter, or of riding on the left side of the road, to want to go too far at first, so I turned left instead and explored Gorefield for a bit.

I found some snowdrops:

I turned down various small roads, exploring – it was bright and sunny and everything was beautiful. I went down one small pretty road:

where I found this place:

that I thought my brother would like to see.

[This is another place on that road. It's the sort of thing you see everywhere in England. Quite ordinary, really.]

I continued down that road until it turned into a more main road and went out of Gorefield, then I turned around to retrace back the way I’d come. I was aiming to go back past St. Marks Road (that’s their little street) and maybe then take the route Jack had recommended, but I took a wrong turning, and went quite a ways down a main road that wasn’t the correct one. When I reached the roses greenhouse I knew that this was not the way I had come, because I would have remembered the greenhouse. So I turned around and went back. Then I came to Fendyke Lane, and I thought I remembered passing it, so I thought if I went down it I would come out in a place I had been.

So I rode down Fendyke Lane for rather a long way, and came out at a main road. I wasn’t sure which way to turn, so I went left because that way is easier (like turning right is easier in the States) and continued on. After about two minutes I reached a sign that said “Leverington,” which meant I of course was no longer in Gorefield, and not going toward home. So I pulled off, and got out my map. The map requires some puzzling to be of any use, because it’s rather zoomed out, and none of the roads are labeled. But I could see from it, at least, that Leverington was east of Gorefield, so I needed to go back west. And as it was nearing eleven by now, the direction of the sun would be about south. So since the sun was currently on my right hand, if I turned around and continued on this main road going the opposite direction, I ought to run into Gorefield eventually. I could see a road on the map that seemed to be the one I was on.

So that’s what I did. It was little scary to be on the main road, because there isn’t enough room to cycle on the shoulder of the road, so you have to just go in the lane and have cars pass you in the other line, as though you were a car yourself. But nobody minds you doing that, because there aren’t very many cars anyway.

In less than five minutes, I came to a sign that said “Gorefield >>” so I turned right, down a road called Wolf Lane. I was very encouraged by the fact that I was now assured of going in the right direction. Wolf Lane has no buildings or trees and the land was dead flat and a stiff north wind was blowing. The cycling was keeping me warm, but pedaling into the wind was rather difficult.

Here is the view on my left:

And on my right:

And the view down the road:

That road took me on in to Gorefield. Once in Gorefield, I found a playground, which seemed a very nice place to stop to rest. While I was at the playground the sky clouded over.

That tunnel of sticks is all pussywillow branches.

This is a marvelously dangerous play structure. See?

So they have useful signs.

Here is Jan's bicycle, which is what I'm riding:

Next to the playground was a pretty little road that was going in what I thought was the right direction, so I went down it.

and to my surprise I came around to the front of the house I had been at the back of!

[You probably can't see it, but that little sign by the garage says "Bramley House".]

As I had stopped and was getting my camera out, a man came out of the house, so I explained.

“Do you mind if I take a picture of your house? I have a brother named Bram, and I think he’d like to see it.” My voice came out in an English accent, so I let it.

I don’t remember what he said, only that it was the English equivalent of, “Sure, go ahead.” So I did.

When I went on to the end of that lane, I found that I had come out back on a road I had been on toward the beginning of my ride, and this time when I came to the turn I had got wrong before, I went a different way, and then, suddenly, there was St. Marks Road, and I was back.

Jack was just about to go off to “the tip” to throw out some things from the garage (they pronounce it with the accent on the first syllable and with both “a”s short), which they’re going through as they prepare to move. So after we had tea, we left.

Here is "the tip":

Each of the bins is for a different sort of rubbish.

Jack was throwing out a panda bear that his father made. I was sad. He had thrown it away, and I couldn’t bear it, and I went up and the worker got it out for me, and so now I have a panda. His foot is coming off and needs fixing.

Then we went to get the car washed. It was quite exciting.

The soap comes out in three different colors!

This is what we had to drive through to get to and from the car wash:

Then we went into Wisbech for Jack to show me around. It was so fun, and everything was lovely.

Through this opening in a door:

I could see this:
Some views of Wisbech:

They call construction "works" in England.

Jack and I ate lunch at a charming little pub:

I found something very special in the middle of Wisbech - can you find it?

Here is Jack in front of Wisbech Castle:

The back garden of the castle:

A room full of dishes, inside the castle:
Part of the inside of the big stone church:

Best graffiti ever:

(the small handwritten writing says "dinosaurs", in case you can't read it.)

Part of the way back to the car:

After that we stopped at Boots, which is the chemists - a sort of CVS equivalent - so I could buy chapstick. They have a strawberry kind that is still white instead of colored pink. It's nice.

Then we went home, and I read for a while and worked on this blog while Jack went to get Jan, and then we watched the weakest link, and had amazing pizza for dinner. Ham, bacon, and mushroom. Mmmmm. And now we're playing Sorry on the Wii, and I'm finally done with this very long and very picture-heavy blog post!

running into the dark underground, all the subways around created great sound; to my motion fatigue, farewell

From the time I stepped off the plane in London, things never stopped happening until I arrived at Jack and Jan’s home.

First, off the plane, and down a long hallway to customs, stopping at a restroom on the way to freshen up. Then the customs adventure. Then finding my bag, which had been moved off the carousel because I took so long to get there. Then getting my money changed into pounds. It was a 3£ fee for getting up to 200£ changed, so I decided to go ahead and change that much. I asked how much it was in dollars, and counted out the amount.

“200 pounds twopence,” he said, and handed it to me. I tucked the pound notes into my envelope, and then stared in awed delight at the copper coin in my hand. Tuppence, really and truly!

The next thing was getting upstairs to the travel information center, stopping before I got there in order to consolidate my luggage (which meant putting my pillow into my suitcase and attaching my coat and jacket to my suitcase with a handy loop strap). The travel information lady gave me a map of the London tube system, and told me where the terminal station was.Happily for me, the Picadilly line, which is the one that starts at Heathrow airport, is also the line that Kings Cross station is on, which is where I needed to go.

So I went to the terminal station – which was right through a set of doors – and figured out how to buy the ticket I needed from the self-service kiosk without any trouble. I did have trouble, however, getting through the gates – I felt dumb when a man had to show me how to insert my ticket so they would open, since it worked just the same as getting on the subway in Greece – or into Disneyworld (except not with the fingerprint thing).

Starting out on the tube was embarrassing because my luggage seemed so dreadfully bulky and I didn’t know whether I was supposed to take it with me by my seat or leave it in the luggage place and sit down – I couldn’t sit next to the luggage place because the seats were taken. So I ended up standing in the luggage place with it. Fortunately at the first stop someone left an end seat so I could put my suitcase in the luggage area and sit by it. After that I saw lots of people put their luggage in the spot and sit anywhere in the row, so I felt a bit silly.

After about 20-30 minutes, we arrived at Kings Cross, and I got off. I was glad there were lots of signs to tell me how to get to the rail part of the station. But then there was a split, and platforms 1-12 were on one side and 13-20something on the other, and it didn’t say which cities went with which platforms! I was standing there, looking around for a sign or a map or something, when a man asked if I needed help.

“I’m trying to figure out which way to go for getting to Peterborough,” I explained. He pointed me the right way, and I went.

I couldn’t use the self-service kiosk because it didn’t take cash and wouldn’t take my debit card, so I went to the ticket counter. The nice thing about all the delays was that it was now off-peak hours, which saved me a lot of money on my ticket.

I chose the slow train because it was about 5£ cheaper and only arrived about twenty minutes later, and I had no objection to spending more time on the train. It was to leave in only a couple minutes, so I made a dash for the pay phone and made a quick call to Jan to tell her I’d be at thePeterborough station at 2 o’clock, then ran for the train.

Except it wasn’t the right train, so I had to ask the man where to go. It was platform 9B (:D), so I ran to get there. There was a train there for Peterborough – I didn’t know if it was the slow one or the fast one, or how to find out, so I decided to just get on and hope for the best. I found a seat fairly near a luggage spot.

That train ride was so wonderful. I took a few movies and pictures out the window, but they don’t really capture how beautiful everything was.

A bit of English village:

The stones under the tracks - what are they called, Bram? - were blue and pink granite, like the Benjamin Islands.

The station name "Biggleswade" made me think of Marshwiggles.

This station name, on the other hand, made me think of getting married.

Now a couple movies:

Just some English countryside:

One neat thing with the movies is that when we go through a tunnel you can see inside the train because of the reflection on the glass.

More countryside, and a bit of city:

I arrived at Peterborough at two, so I must have gotten on the right train. Getting out of the station was difficult because I had to go up and over the tracks via (in England they say it vi–uh not vee–uh ) the walkway, and there wasn’t a lift, and my suitcase is heavy.

As I was coming to the last flight up, a redhaired girl just a little younger than me asked, in a voice just exactly like the girl who plays Susan in LWW, if I wanted help. She asked me in a very English phrase, but I can’t remember what it was now. I accepted, and we carried it up together, and I thanked her. I wish I could have talked with her, because she seemed like a friend.

Someone else, a man, helped me get it down the steps, and then I went through some doors, and then there were Jan and Jack! (Jan is, incidentally, prettier than her facebook picture makes her look.) We greeted each other as though we had known each other forever. And that’s how it’s been ever since. They treat me – and I treat them – as though they’re an aunt and uncle I’ve grown up with since I was a baby. There’s no strangeness. They feel like family, not friends, and certainly not like acquaintances I only met yesterday.

When we got into their car, Jan told me to sit in the front, and I went to the door, and Jack said, laughing,

“I don’t think you want that side – unless you’re driving!” I burst out laughing and went around to the correct side. I know that the English drive on the left side, but I’d forgotten that the steering wheel is on the left as well!

The drive was as lovely as the train ride – better, because I could see out the front window, and because I was chatting with Jan and Jack, about all kinds of things about England and about me and about them. And everything so incredibly beautiful. What possesses us to build such ugly buildings in the States? In England all the buildings are brick, and the grass is so green already...

We came into Gorefield, and turned down their street, and – but you can see for yourself.

Never mind - you can't. Blogger won't upload my video. Grr. Oh well, I'll try it again tomorrow. At any rate, the house is beautiful (and tiny), and so is the back garden, and my room is lovely. It is yellow, and it has a queen size wooden bed with white bedding, and I have my own little closet and three drawers for me. I love my room.

Then we chatted for a little in the living room, and then I went and unpacked everything and got it all put where I wanted it. In the middle of that we had dinner – oh my, but Jack can cook. Mashed potatoes and a sort of pot roast except made with turkey, and cauliflower cooked perfectly. And, to my surprise, Jack asked me if I’d like a glass of wine with my meal. I accepted, since I liked the wine we had at Shayna’s house once, but unfortunately I didn’t like this one. This made me feel a little awkward at dinner but Jack wasn’t offended.

After dinner I wrote the post I put up yesterday, and then took a shower. It took forever for me to get to bed because I had a hard time with uploading the pictures and getting them where I wanted them.

Then, when I did get to bed, I was too excited to sleep even though I was so tired, and I don’t think I fell asleep until about 1am.

[In case you’d like to know what I’m doing at the moment – Jack has come home and we’re going to have lunch. I’m heating carrot and coriander soup on the stove, and he’s gone out to get some other ingredient – he didn’t tell me what it was. Very mysterious.]

I woke up very happy. Jan had already gone to work, and I didn’t hear Jack. I got myself all dressed and ready – making along the way the happy discovery that the headphone I brought for the mp3 player is loud enough that I can use it as a speaker – and when I emerged from my room Jack was just coming down the hall, about to leave for an appointment. He showed me where the cereal and bowls and spoons were before he left.

I had Oatabies (same thing as “Weetabies” but made with oats) with honey for breakfast, and read The Enchanted Castle. Then I went online, wrote a short note to Papa and sent him my blog post, and started writing this. And it’s taking me a dreadfully long time, it seems, as it’s now a quarter past two. We’ve had lunch now – the extra ingredient was “single cream” – it’s 30% cream – it was supposed to be “double” but they didn’t have any at the shop.

And so now, I am going to post this, and then Jack and I are going to have a cup of tea, and I am going for a walk around the village while a lady comes to see how much they should charge to rent out this house, if they decide to, while they are in Greece.

Well, I didn’t end up taking a walk because I was uploading the pictures and videos and it took until time to go pick up Jan from work and take her to her physio (PT) appointment, and I went along so as to see Wisbech. (Incidentally, it’s Wis-beach, not Wis-beck. Oops.)

I took pictures of the front garden of the house next to the physio office because it was so pretty, but I accidentally deleted them, so I can’t show them to you…

While she was at her appointment, John and I went into Wisbech and bought some antibiotic ointment (antiseptic cream is what it’s called here) for me because for some reason while traveling I got hangnails and they got infected. Then we bought buns, but they didn’t have the kind with cream in them, so we bought cream from a store. They call it “double cream” and “single cream” instead of heavy and light cream.

The market in Wisbech is so nice. You have to park in a separate car park and then you walk to all the shops. So it feels very nice and old fashioned. In Wisbech there’s a roundabout where rabbits used to live in the middle of it. There was a great debate between those who loved them and those who hated them, and they planted plants that rabbits don’t eat so that they could stay if they wanted but they wouldn’t keep destroying the plants, and they painted the names of the rabbits from Watership down on the boats that are there for decoration, but then the rabbits all caught some kind of disease and died. Which is too bad. I should have liked to see them. Jack says people would throw carrots and cabbages out the window for them.

All the houses and nearly all the buildings here are brick, and so pretty. Even little ones. And even run down places still look beautiful because the brick is all crumbly and ivy covered. And moss grows over everything. It’s very green here in general. Everywhere you go looks like something out of a book, really and truly. It’s even better than I imagined.

Jack says he wants to take me up to Norfolk sometime because it’s beautiful, and we can go hiking.

A couple things Jack and Jan say are “That’s a good job” (about anything that’s good, not just something someone did) and “Steady on.” There’s more but I can’t think of them at the moment.

They don’t have tea-time, but sometimes they call supper “tea,” and they drink tea all day long. It’s a good job that I learned to like it before coming, or I’d be sadly out of things.

I asked them what an American accent sounds like to them. Jack said that my accent sounds very polite, and that I have very clear diction, but that southern accents sound slangy. Jan said that my accent was mild for an American accent. I think that’s because I’m picking up the English accent. It’s nice that it comes across as that I have a mild American accent rather than as though I’m trying to speak with an English accent.

Really, all the things that they said might just be how I personally talk rather than how an American accent sounds, so it didn’t really answer my question, but all the things were complimentary, so that’s nice.

I haven’t gotten comfortable enough to talk a lot yet, or to do much about the house on my own initiative. I can only talk what I think, and when driving that’s mostly just repeatedly “how beautiful everything is!” which doesn’t make good conversation more than once or twice. Fortunately, Jack is a good talker, so we don’t have uncomfortable silences. And really, silences haven’t been uncomfortable anyhow. I do wish I could stop feeling slightly nervous – I’m just trying so hard to do things nicely and the right way and not bump things about or do anything bothersome, and it’s not because of them, either, they’re very relaxed, it’s just me wanting to be perfect… but I’m always like this in any new situation until I figure things out. By the time four or five days have gone by I’ll feel perfectly normal.

I am hoping to turn in early tonight and “wake up like an early birdie” tomorrow. And take my walk around Gorefield. I don’t know what their plans for tomorrow are yet, although I do know that they want to go over my schedule and figure out when to do things sometime soon.

We’re working on that now - the results of which are that I now have a ticket to the Owl City concert the night before I leave, and a hotel in London for that night. Jan is now trying to find the cheapest way for me to get to John O'Groats.

Things are going rather well, I'd say.

to depart, and to follow the dreams of my heart

I want to write a nice long post about all the million things that have happened, but I’ve slept very little and the room keeps tilting like a sailboat that’s tacking every thirty seconds (or a plane circling an airport…) so I’m just going to type out some of what I wrote in my journal.

On the plane to Detroit

So, then, here I go. My backpack is four or five rows away, jammed in the overhead compartment, due to an insistent flight attendant who I didn’t feel like arguing with. But I got moved to a first class window seat, so I’m not really complaining. A rather agitated middle-aged man – grey-haired athletic build sophisticated businessman type – wanted to switch with me so that he and his son could sit together. On reflection, he rather spoke to me as though I was a peasant. He asked if I’d like to sit in first class, then when I said “sure,” he said something that I wish I could remember. If it was a long time ago he would have said, “Well, go along then, girl.”That was the sort of tone it was.

Oh! The plane is moving! I’m not nervous this time, the way I was when we flew for Greece, only very excited. This begins the adventures of Joanna, Lumpy, and a very small dragon named Wyvner. Wyvner is one of the two main reasons that I am annoyed by the absence of my backpack, the second being that my proper journal is in it as well, so I’m having to write in the tiny notebook I had in my purse. However, first class has distinct advantages – such as peanuts and really good cinnamon cookies.

At first my mind couldn’t perceive how high we were, as we were going up. So all the houses and trees and rivers looked miniature. It was a shock to realize that what I first thought was a field of furzy weeds was a wood! Now that we’re all the way up I have my perspective again.

Everything below is shades of brown and white, as though it was an old movie.

On the plane [which is supposed to be going] to New York

We are delayed.

“Joanna! I want to come out of this container!”

“Okay, okay. But nothing’s happening.” [That was Wyvner.]

The stewardess said that “the plane arrived with a small mechanical problem.” I do not find this especially comforting. I also am afraid I am going to be sitting in this plane not moving for ages.

They told us when we were waiting to board that it would be an hour delay. So far they’re sticking with that estimate. It’s going to be a little tight to make my London flight, but the reaccommodations desk gave me information for the next flight just in case.

[This is Wyvner on the windowsill. Outside the window is the plane that we were waiting to board.]

I got rather sick of walking around the Detroit airport and my stuff seems very heavy. I thought maybe I had to get my checked luggage (I’ve never done this before, you know) but I didn’t’ and then I had to go back through security. And I could have just ridden the skytram or whatever it’s called.

There was a bird inside the airport, a sparrow. I wondered how it got in and how it will get out. If I didn’t have so much to carry, I’d have gone back after I got my food to find it and feed it.

There were three men talking in the same row of chairs as me while we waited. Businessmen, but not self-important. One had an English accent. He told me about how there used to be a direct flight from Detroit to London once a day. I loved hearing the way he said “London”.

They just said it would be an additional 40 minutes. It’s going to be cutting it awfully close.

I’m so glad I’m flying out of New York instead of Atlanta. “New York to London” is the most fun thing to say.

Wyvner is missing an ear, a toe, and the end of his tail. He says he doesn’t mind the ear and the toe, but he wants me to glue is tail when we get to England.

And now we have to switch planes.

“I don’t like it in that case.”

“I know, I know. But I can’t just leave you out. Do you want to lose another ear?”

Now I’m on the new plane. Planned departure 5:10pm, two hours late. My mother called to say that the airline called and I’m now moved to the 8:55 out of New York. She’s messaged Jan to let her know.

I met a woman who is travelling to Egypt for two weeks. She looks the sort of person to be going there – tallish, slim, dark-haired, with a narrow nose and pointed chin, dark eyes, and a makeupless but not inelegant face.

Another small delay. The wrong paperwork is on the plane and someone has to go get the right papers.

Two people are playing craps. I like the sound of the rattle and roll. I picture the dice being brightly coloured even though I can’t see them.

I’m thankful that I had the bright idea of putting the things I actually wanted for the flight into my Tinkerbelle bag, so my backpack can be stored above but I still have the things I need handy. Wyvner is pleased that he is one of the things I need. He smiles that same pleased smile that Bram does.

On the flight to London

I’m in such a fog. I expect because I’m sleepy, starving, listening to a constant loud roar, and am in an entirely new situation. I didn’t have any time to get my bearings – or eat – in New York. I had just time to use the bathroom, figure out where to go (gate 5), get there, and board the plane.

Waiting for the shuttle, I met a lovely couple from Lebanon who spoke French. They were in their late fifties/early sixties. The wife was so funny. It kept making me laugh to hear her complain in an indignant French accent,

“Thee plane, it smells terreeble. Like urine! They do not clean it – no! That is why thee people get sick when they travel – it is thee viruses on thee plane! He [her husband] tells me, ‘Do not talk to her [the flight attendant],” but I do talk to her – I tell her! It is not clean!”

I am going to meet the sun – it is going around the other side of the world. “You go that way, I’ll go this way.”

I saw the three men again, waiting for the shuttle. “Hey, I remember you!” said the one with the British accent. He wished me “Bon voyage” when I got off the shuttle.

[Here is the inside of the plane.]

Still on the flight to London, four hours later

“So many sights to see, so wake up like an early birdie, and we’ll get a head start on the day…”

I woke up, and I could see half a moon, and just make out that there was something below us. As the sun came up, I could see that it was cloud – so far down! And to think, the ocean even farther below that! Like the mountains beyond the sun in The Silver Chair, except that we were the height of the cirrus clouds, not way above them.

The sun rose, and the field of wrinkly-swirly clouds all lit up pink.

Land ho! Oh, I can see Ireland!

I saw it, realized it was Ireland, and started to cry.

On the tube in London

The seeing England from the air, and the coming down, down, and to the ground, and being in London – it was just right.

I spent several terrifying minutes at the border entrance. It really should have occurred to me that what sounds daft to my friends and acquaintances is going to sound even more daft to a customs officer. I endeavored to focus on the soothingness of his British accent and stay calm while he asked me about two dozen suspicious questions. “Who are Jan and Jack?” “Have you met these people in person?” “Is your mom coming later?” “Do they have any children?” “Are they expecting you at work when you go back?” “Who is your family – your mom, your dad…?” This situation was not helped at all by the fact that I’ve lost my itinerary printout. I should have brought printouts of our Disney reservations to prove I have plans upon my return. It’s a really good thing I brought a printout of my messages with Jan, because he spent ages poring over them, asked me whether I was planning to leave the UK and come back in while on the trip, and then suddenly, without saying a word, stamped my passport and handed it to me. I wanted to run away fast before he changed his mind.

-------------------

This ends my journal excerpts. Lots more things happened after that, but, like I said, the room is tilting, and it turns out that the journal entries have made this quite long enough. I have just one more thing to add, and I’ll write the rest of things tomorrow…

You know how you picture something or someplace, and you imagine what it’s like and how it looks and all, but then when you get there or when it happens it’s just not as wonderful or not like you thought it would be? I was afraid that that would happen. That England would just look like here, and not be anything in particular.

But it doesn’t and it isn’t. It looks like England, and it is, decidedly, indisputably, England. Just exactly like I’ve imagined England my whole entire life.

Sometimes, back home, while driving or riding in a car, I would catch sight of a beautiful place – sometimes it was a section of a field, or it might be a little valley of trees, or a hillside full of ivy, or a stream with a perfect curve, or a just-right old tree, or a building that struck me as very beautiful. Not especially often, but once in a while, I would see these things, whether big views or tiny places, the ones that would make me say, “Oh! How lovely!’ softly to myself. There was some quality that these places had that made them very beautiful to me, and all in a sort of similar way.

All of England has that quality.