England

Because I posted about everything at the Czech airport in real time, I didn't plan to blog about it. People started asking to hear the whole story, though, so I wrote it up and if you want to read it, you can (but it shouldn't import to facebook, if I've got my settings right): http://theopenbottle.blogspot.com/2011/07/deported.html

Some people see their life in stages and seasons, or in film format or the scenes of a play. I've always seen my life as a book. A volume of books. I can't even tell you the criteria, but there are times I feel definitively that a new chapter has started while at other times it's a whole new volume. They don't always make sense, in that were I writing the story I wouldn't place the divisions as they fall. Sometimes it's logical-- such as now, when I may be on the verge of an entirely new volume. But that's all ahead. Right now, since I've landed in Scotland and have some time to write, I want to look back at traveling, which I promised friends I write about at the time. Writing was rare in the moment, but the little writing I did may come into play. So with that maybe more than reasonably lengthy introduction, let me pound out what was clearly the next part in this volume. The part may be called Family Roots or ¾ UK (my being English/Irish/Welsh) or Tea in the Time of Traveling, I don't know. But the chapters are more reasonably titled....

Chapter 1: England.

I always knew I'd like England. Just a hunch, since I'd only ever been to London for four days once upon a time nearly a decade ago. When I entered the UK this time around, my entire sense of adventure was deflated and I was still a bit shaken. It was, therefore, nice to discover in the morning that I'd landed near Kensington Palace and could just wander through the gardens. It was bright and the sun was streaming down through the trees. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and birds were chirping everywhere, but otherwise it was utterly still.

Instead of rushing about the city to see everything, I limited my plans, taking a friend's advice to check out Covent Garden. Here I saw a street performer making pretty good fun of Americans during his act, and Drury Lane, which I assume is the Drury Lane of Muffin Man fame. My big debate was whether to see Les Miserables that night or try something new (my standing rule is to never see the same show twice, but Les Mis will always be the exception). I wasn't sure I wanted to deal with any intensity so I went for something new. That new was Blood Brothers, about twins separated at birth who kill each other accidentally the day they find out they're brothers. Not exactly the lighthearted fare I was aiming for, but it turned out all right.

In Oxford I had no idea what to expect, but found the city beautiful and the history vast. It seems every writer we studied in school had his salad days at Oxford, including two of my favorites, Oscar Wilde and CS Lewis. I have a thing for being where things happened, things I've heard about my whole life, or where people who haunt history books actually walked. My inner history nerd came out and rejoiced at the Eagle and Child, or passing Magdalen College. I also found chai tea lattes everywhere, topping it all off to perfection :)

I stumbled onto an exhibit about the King James Bible, where books dating from 800 AD were on display (this is where I caught sight of Handel's manuscript with his corrections to Messiah). The exhibit went into the history of why the translation was commissioned and the lives of the translators who worked on it. With questions about how the Bible came together and how accurate it is in its current state, I'd done some research on the subject (what I found floored me-- highly recommended if you've ever wondered) and was super excited to read about the translation process and all the forces at work when the King James was produced. I was also amazed how people from the 16^th century took on a work that was difficult and time consuming, but the results of their labor had an impact that resonates even five centuries later.

A museum, the name of which I can't remember, housed all sorts of instruments of science from way back in the day. Old microscopes from their infancy, calculators from centuries before Texas Instruments, telescopes, charts, etc. everywhere. My favorites, of course, were all the instruments for studying the stars and planets. Despite the abundance of inner nerds that I boast, I'm not often filled with wonder-- but the stars never fail me in this respect.

A friend had wished me a patch of grass to relax in, and what I soon got in Oxford was a collection of fields as far as the eye could see, of soft, plush grass, all glowing in the almost-but-not-quite twilight. By the time I finally rose to leave, I wandered at length into the middle of a complex of buildings with no way out. It was like waking up in a weird dream or video game-- I walked for ages, finding insurmountable hedges on every side while the sky stayed in that weird half-light. I knew I'd gotten there somehow, so reason said there had to be a way out, but it took a disconcerting while to figure it out.

I also caught part of a game of cricket, a sport I have absolutely no appreciation for. Even less after trying to watch it. Sorry, cricket fans.

Bristol was fine, but not very interesting to write about (although, given more time, I imagine it would have been). In Manchester a friend met me at the bus station with a little British flag she'd made to catch my attention. I stayed with some friends of hers, a glorious French couple who loved conversation, challenged the way I think and introduced me to French food. Every meal was an event and one night Isabelle made crème caramel for dessert-- I have never tasted anything so divine. Tim gave me a crash course in French cooking and, thus far, I've managed French dressing (though when I made it among friends later I got the response, "That doesn't look like French. In the store it's a different color. That looks Italian.").

I can't really make a call on whether Manchester really is “objectively the greatest city on earth,” as I'd heard it called a few times. But I can say that the people I spent my time with changed my whole mindset as I headed toward the next chapter, which I'll call: Ireland.