"Where's my passport?", asked Mike, at 5:45 am on the day of our departure to London. Our taxi was supposed to come in 15 minutes. I ignored him, because I had only a couple hours of sleep and was busy packing my stuff (and it's fun to ignore him). Kristin was in the other room, getting ready as well, packing up her 17 suitcases. Next thing I notice, all of Mike's clothes are scattered around the living room, and he is checking all of the pockets, compartments, jackets and pants that he can find. "I haven't taken it out since last week when we went to Krakow". There's no panic in his voice, just the sound of a sleepy hangover. So does he really not have his passport? Apparently not. Uh oh. My first thought was that it might still be on the train to Krakow. But we didn't take out our passports, so that wasn't likely. I started looking under couches, rugs, TVs, books, bicycles, basically everywhere a passport would NOT be, but I figured it was better than just standing there watching Mike slowly grow into a panic. The cab was on its way, and he obviously wasn't ready. He checked everywhere. Then he checked everywhere again. Note: HE checked "everywhere". As in only he can confirm that he looked "everywhere", whatever that means. He only had a small roller bag and a small backpack, so there weren't too many places the passport could be hiding.
We brainstormed all the places the passport could be, and he kept repeating in his hungover morning voice "Where is it? I really have no idea" (he's from Quebec so you should say it with a French accent...but a Canadian French accent, because it's different). He got on the phone with his Embassy (Canada, not France) to find out if he could travel without it. Even though we were going to somewhere in the EU, he still needed his passport since he didn't have a European ID. Already 30 minutes late, we decided to go to the airport anyway, to see if there was a way he could travel without it. Kristin and I checked in, but then I realized that if Mike couldn't travel, I would have to stay in Warsaw with him. So the agent at the check-in desk convinced me not to leave my bag yet, and to drop it off later if we decided we would travel. Mike visited the LOT airlines office, then called his Embassy again, before Kristin and I listened to the bad news. He couldn't fly and he'd have to apply for a new visa at the Embassy in Warsaw on Monday (it was Saturday), with the likelihood of getting the new passport a couple days after that. Basically, that was not good news. We were going to England for Trish and Stu's wedding on Thursday, so we might at least make it in time for the wedding, but his "future wife" and 1 year old baby were already on their way to London to meet him that day. They wouldn't be happy.
We suggested that he check the pockets in his bags again, as now that he was a little more awake, and there was different lighting in the airport, maybe he would find it. But he insisted he already checked "everywhere". So, we accepted our fate, and said good-bye to Kristin, as she made her way to the gate, telling her we'd probably see her in a few days. In my head I was thinking about all the fun we'd be missing out on in UK (but secretly I was glad I would have time to finish a bunch of work I had to do). As we walked away, Mike made the inappropriate comment: "wouldn't it be funny if the plane crashed and we were supposed to be on it?". No, actually it wouldn't be funny at all! He wasn't serious. At least I don't think he was. Actually he probably was, but I'm going to pretend he wasn't.
I remembered someone told me that if you don't use your non-refundable flight ticket, it might be possible to at least recover the taxes. So I went to the LOT ticketing desk to cancel the flight, to try to get some money back, and to figure out options to book the next flight. I asked the agent if it was cheaper to book a new flight, or to pay the change fee, and she was looking into it. She said it would be better to just buy a brand new ticket so I was about to tell her to cancel my existing ticket, and we'd just buy new ones when Mike got his passport. Tickets were going to be around $300, which wasn't too bad for last minute flights. Then I heard a soft, embarrassed voice behind me (in a French accent): "Tristan...". I turn around, and standing there, with his dumb Canadian passport in his dumb Canadian hand, is dumb Canadian (French) Mike, with a dumb French-Canadian smile on his face. I wanted to Canadian slap him. If he had found it 5 seconds later, my ticket would have been cancelled, and I would have had to buy another one. But I smiled, turned to the nice lady helping me, said "uhhh, nevermind" and within 2 seconds started running to the check-in counter. It was closing in 10 minutes, and I still had to check my bag! And of course, the line was HUGE. Mike didn't have to check anything, and he already had his boarding pass, so while I was standing in line waiting to drop my bag, dumb Canadian Mike kept asking me "why are you taking so long?" How not-awesome would it have been if he finally found the passport, but then I missed the flight because I couldn't check my bag in time, because the lady told me not to do it the first time? Luckily, I got to the front with about a minute to spare, and the same lady who helped me before welcomed me: "I'm glad you're back, what happened?". I explained that we could fly now because my friend found his passport in the last hour. She didn't understand what I meant by "found his passport", At the airport? How is that possible? Is he a dumb French Canadian? The concept of him finding his passport at the airport didn't make any sense to her. Nor to me, for that matter. Only dumb French Canadian Mike could FIND his passport at the airport, after losing it somewhere else. But anyway, we made our flight, and the week in UK began. And I made him take back his earlier comment about the plane crashing.
Apparently, the passport was in a secret pocket in his backpack that even he didn't know about. The passport fairy must have put it there.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I was looking forward to this trip for a long time. Mike and Kristin spent a week in Poland with me, then we were going to meet a bunch of other friends from all over the UK and US for the wedding. We all know each other from our days working together in San Jose, CA and we've been on several trips in different corners of the world together. The plan was to spend a night in London, a few days in the country side, go to the wedding, then visit Megan's family in Wales for the weekend. There were 8 of us travelling together, plus Mike and Pascale's little girl, Amanda. Marcie, Michael, and Marilyn made 8.
We had scheduled out roughly what we were going to do and where we were going to stay for the week, and lucky for me, someone else was in charge. I was pretty busy with work and other stuff that I didn't have much chance to do any planning. Luckily, I was able to just show up, get into Mike's rental car, sleep where people told me to sleep, and everything was taken care of. After lunch on the day we arrived, we spent most of the afternoon taking a nap, since everyone had flown in on red-eyes from North America, and we were going to have to stay up all night to party with Trish and Stu. We joked that it was a combination bachelor/bachelorette party (which they call stag and hen do's in UK), so a combined party would be a "hag party". It was funny at the time, so it's ok for you laugh a little. Our hotel was near Trafalgar Square, which meant easy access to lots of shops, food, bars, and stuff to keep us entertained for the day we were in London. I definitely prefer the "cute" streets of London and not the huge attractions, and we got a little of that. It's always a shock to remember how small Warsaw is compared to these huge cities. My favorite part about it was that we found a Chipotle, and I was able to get a burrito for breakfast on the morning we left. I was their first customer, standing outside their door 10 minutes before they opened, leaning against the door, with my forehead and nose on the glass.
The dinner and party was fun, at a place called Little Italy in Soho. The 8 of us met with Trish and Stu, and another friend who lived in San Jose with us, Cath, also joined. She was visiting her family in UK but lives in San Diego. After dinner the place turned into a dance club with tons of bachelorette parties (so there was a really good ratio), with 70s and 80s music. The only downside was that a shot of vodka was either 10 or 15 GBP, depending on the brand. For 10 GBP you can buy a bottle of vodka in a bar in Warsaw. I guess we weren't in Warsaw anymore. But you do get free water in UK, which we don't get in Poland, so that basically made up for the high prices. No. No, it didn't.
The next day we went back to the airport to pick up rental cars and took off to the Cotswolds. The Cotswolds are an area in England with rolling hills and gorgeous landscapes that is literally classified as an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, according to Wikipedia (seriously, that's a real thing). We stopped in Windsor on the way,to visit the Queen (the flag was up so I guess she was home) on this wet and windy day (but that's not news, it's the UK). The one surprise is the food we ate was really good. Meat pies and, well, meat pies, were what I liked. Amanda the baby had the duck for lunch, as she does (seriously...she eats better than I do). We drove to our cottage in Willersey without any problems driving on the wrong side of the road (thanks Mike!). The buildings don't have house numbers so they give the houses funny names, like Yew Tree Cottage (ours) and Turnpike Terrace (they sound like names from video games). The cottage was really big, with everything we needed. I slept on the sofa bed downstairs, far away from the snoring, coughing and baby noises. So even though I didn't have a proper bed, I probably got the best sleep. We stayed there for 3 nights, playing in iPads, or visiting the village pubs each night ("pubbing", as we call it) - the New Inn and the Bell Inn. When we went in the New Inn, we obviously looked out of place because everyone stopped and looked at us. They were really nice in the end, but we felt a bit like we were intruding. When there are only 2 pubs in the village, and nothing else is open, I guess they get to know everyone. One entertaining thing was that a drunk "regular" asked Mike if he was Needledrop. We were all really confused, thinking he was making some weird English joke (or maybe we didn't understand his accent, since English people don't speak English very well). Turns out Needledrop is a blogger who this guy follows. He pulled up a picture of him and we all laughed for the next 3 days straight.
Often when you think of places in the world that would be "easy" to
visit, you think about countries where they speak English. Naturally
that means it's easier to communicate, read signs and menus, and figure
out what is going on around you. But not really here. I mean, do they
even speak English in England? I'm not sure. They use weird words,
speak in a weird accent, and all of the town names are tongue twisters.
Just a few places we saw along the way: Stow-on-the-Wold, Moreton in
Marsh, Evenlode, Chipping Campden, and Aston Subedge. Like most English
towns or street names, they are probably all pronounced completely
different than they appear. Seriously though, do people actually say
"I'm thinking of stopping for lunch in Moreton in Marsh" or "The Ikea in
Stow-on-the-Wold is really nice"? Why can't they have normal, easy-to-pronounce names
like Kazimierz Dolny and Nowy Dwór Mazowiecki?
In order to find to some smart people to talk to about their so-called English language, we headed to the famous town of Oxford. I didn't realize it, but Oxford is home to many different colleges, not just one main one. And the buildings look like Hogwarts! I felt smart just being there, and found myself muttering "Expelliarmus" from time to time (you're a nerd if you know what that means). We learned a bit about the strange names here, in that the name Oxford (from 1100 years ago), comes from the combination of oxen and ford (river crossing), because that's what used to happen there. Ok, so, that actually makes sense. 1 point for England. Another weird named place we went to is Stratford Upon Avon (the river is called Avon). Of course, this is where Shakespeare was from, born there in 1564. You probably didn't know he was that old, since he married Anne Hathaway, and she still looks pretty good for her age (although I didn't like when she cut her hair short in Les Miserables). Wait a minute, is she French or English? Anyway, we did the "Stratford Town Walk" tour for 5 GBP around the city, with a very funny older British guy. I think all older British guys are funny...something about the accent and the fact you can't understand it, but they speak very confidently, and other people laugh, so it must be funny. I picked up a book they recommended about the origin of the idioms that we use, and how Shakespeare was very influential in those (like something being "Greek to me", tongue tied, or vanishing into thin air).
Another educational tidbit is that the term "shire" basically means an area of small towns. Apparently it was not invited by the Hobbits. So a lot of names in England end with -shire, meaning it's the bigger region of a collection of towns (or villages), like a county. So Worcestershire is actually a shire that includes the town of Worcester, and it's also where Worcestershire sauce is from. And that's why we pronounce it differently than it's spelled (Worchester, instead of Worchestersure), because the English don't speak English!
Stonehenge and Bath were a couple other stops during the week. The Stonehenge audit guide was interesting, but didn't really say much other than "we don't know why or how they built it". It's still pretty amazing to see. In Bath, the group walked around while I worked in a coffee shop (nothing interesting to say about that).
Even after all these adventures, the main attraction was Trish and Stu's
wedding. We checked into our hotel (the Talbot Inn in Somerset), a
nice country inn, with super friendly staff, about an hour before we had
to head out. Living in Poland, I miss places with super friendly staff
who actually make you feel like anything is possible, and they actually
want to help the customer (you know, like do their job). We basically
had 45 minutes to get ready for the wedding, then headed over to
Babington House, a gorgeous place for a ceremony. It looked like
something out of some English movie in the 1900s. And the wedding
itself was great. The speeches had me dying of laughter (after you
figure out what they're saying, those English are so funny!). We looked
at the menu and thought we'd have to choose out of a selection of 3
starters, 3 mains and 3 desserts, but in fact we got all of them. And
not to be outdone by Polish weddings, they also had food and drinks and
dancing until 3am (the only thing missing was Polish vodka). I got a
side ache while dancing because I ate so much...I didn't even know that
was possible. We partied all night, and the happy couple was there with
us til the end. They must have been exhausted, but Trish was able to
do a little Irish jig with her sisters and mom, and hang out with us til
the last person dropped (and most of her 8 siblings stayed til the end
as well - yes, there are 9 of them...an Irish family!). Since we came
from all over the world - England, Canada, East Coast, West Coast,
Australia, and of course Poland, they wanted to spend the time with us.
We had all scattered after finishing work in San Jose (3-5 years ago),
and it just goes to show how much we wanted to be there with them,
because they're an amazing couple - the nicest and most accommodating
people. One thing I appreciated about their wedding is that it was on a
Thursday, which is a great idea. After the wedding, you still have the
whole weekend to recover! It's great!
On hangover Friday we packed up our stuff and headed to Megan's family in Wales (in Rhoose, a village close to the capital of Cardiff). When we crossed the border into Wales (it's a different country, you know), all of the signs started having even more funny, more unpronounceable words on them. It was like we just went into a strange alien planet, with subtitles. Her parents were lovely and accommodating to let all 8 and a half of us stay there. Her mom even granted our wish by cooking cottage pie (the beef version of shepherd's pie) and beef cobbler for dinner. It was so awesome I couldn't sleep because my stomach was too full. Sitting next to Marcie I was always tempted to help her eat her leftovers. Bad idea! But also a great idea.
The next day, Megan's dad took us on a tour of Cardiff, first to St. Fagan's castle, next to the open air Welsh History Museum. One of the guys who used to live in the castle was named Other. I thought it was that one, but it was the Other one. I laughed for about 5 minutes, until the security guard-slash-tour guide told me that you don't pronounce it like that. We thought he was the security guard (he was dressed like one), because he was just standing there staring at nothing. But once I started giggling at the guy named Other, he corrected me and made a 10 minute speech about the history of the house and the family that lived there. It was actually pretty interesting, but then I started laughing again. Sorry to anyone named Other. The "house" itself was just like Downton Abbey, with sitting rooms that they didn't need, huge bedrooms on display, servants areas with bells that ring when someone needs something, a big kitchen where all the cooks and helpers made the feasts, and on the wall was posted a list of duties for Mr Carson the butler, Mr Bates the valet, Mrs Patmore the cook, and all the maids and footmen. I guess it used to be like that in real life (and maybe still is in some places). The open air museum was also really cool, with different buildings and styles to show different parts of history, farming, and infrastructure. Definitely more interesting than walking through a building seeing small scale models and pictures. In this museum, we actually got to go inside all of the exhibits.
We also took a walk around Cardiff Harbor, which is very modern, and the city center, which is more old-style traditional, with an 11th century castle in the middle of it. We had a good lunch at the harbor, but an even better Indian dinner at Raj Kinara with Megan's parents and Aunt/Uncle, near their house. They were all super friendly and the food was fantastic. The United Kingdom's national dish is actually Chicken Tikka Masala, so I'm not surprised that the Indian food is good. Even the power outage while we were waiting for our food didn't dampen the mood. It was out for entire meal, and it got a bit hot and stuffy, but generally everything went on like nothing happened. Nobody in the restaurant complained, nobody left, even those waiting to be seated continued to wait. The servers worked extra hard to make everything work, and in the end, we enjoyed the meal by candlelight. I had some lamb and potatoes in a tomato-based minced lamb sauce (lots of lamb in Wales), with rice, salad and naan. I could eat that every day. Every day until my heart stopped I guess. It was our last big meal in the UK, as the next morning we headed back to London to head home. It was a great 8 days, and a great way to see more of the UK countryside. I'm glad that the trip that almost didn't happen, ended up happening without any major hitches. There's still a lot more of the UK to see outside of London, and I hope to get to more in the future.
We brainstormed all the places the passport could be, and he kept repeating in his hungover morning voice "Where is it? I really have no idea" (he's from Quebec so you should say it with a French accent...but a Canadian French accent, because it's different). He got on the phone with his Embassy (Canada, not France) to find out if he could travel without it. Even though we were going to somewhere in the EU, he still needed his passport since he didn't have a European ID. Already 30 minutes late, we decided to go to the airport anyway, to see if there was a way he could travel without it. Kristin and I checked in, but then I realized that if Mike couldn't travel, I would have to stay in Warsaw with him. So the agent at the check-in desk convinced me not to leave my bag yet, and to drop it off later if we decided we would travel. Mike visited the LOT airlines office, then called his Embassy again, before Kristin and I listened to the bad news. He couldn't fly and he'd have to apply for a new visa at the Embassy in Warsaw on Monday (it was Saturday), with the likelihood of getting the new passport a couple days after that. Basically, that was not good news. We were going to England for Trish and Stu's wedding on Thursday, so we might at least make it in time for the wedding, but his "future wife" and 1 year old baby were already on their way to London to meet him that day. They wouldn't be happy.
We suggested that he check the pockets in his bags again, as now that he was a little more awake, and there was different lighting in the airport, maybe he would find it. But he insisted he already checked "everywhere". So, we accepted our fate, and said good-bye to Kristin, as she made her way to the gate, telling her we'd probably see her in a few days. In my head I was thinking about all the fun we'd be missing out on in UK (but secretly I was glad I would have time to finish a bunch of work I had to do). As we walked away, Mike made the inappropriate comment: "wouldn't it be funny if the plane crashed and we were supposed to be on it?". No, actually it wouldn't be funny at all! He wasn't serious. At least I don't think he was. Actually he probably was, but I'm going to pretend he wasn't.
I remembered someone told me that if you don't use your non-refundable flight ticket, it might be possible to at least recover the taxes. So I went to the LOT ticketing desk to cancel the flight, to try to get some money back, and to figure out options to book the next flight. I asked the agent if it was cheaper to book a new flight, or to pay the change fee, and she was looking into it. She said it would be better to just buy a brand new ticket so I was about to tell her to cancel my existing ticket, and we'd just buy new ones when Mike got his passport. Tickets were going to be around $300, which wasn't too bad for last minute flights. Then I heard a soft, embarrassed voice behind me (in a French accent): "Tristan...". I turn around, and standing there, with his dumb Canadian passport in his dumb Canadian hand, is dumb Canadian (French) Mike, with a dumb French-Canadian smile on his face. I wanted to Canadian slap him. If he had found it 5 seconds later, my ticket would have been cancelled, and I would have had to buy another one. But I smiled, turned to the nice lady helping me, said "uhhh, nevermind" and within 2 seconds started running to the check-in counter. It was closing in 10 minutes, and I still had to check my bag! And of course, the line was HUGE. Mike didn't have to check anything, and he already had his boarding pass, so while I was standing in line waiting to drop my bag, dumb Canadian Mike kept asking me "why are you taking so long?" How not-awesome would it have been if he finally found the passport, but then I missed the flight because I couldn't check my bag in time, because the lady told me not to do it the first time? Luckily, I got to the front with about a minute to spare, and the same lady who helped me before welcomed me: "I'm glad you're back, what happened?". I explained that we could fly now because my friend found his passport in the last hour. She didn't understand what I meant by "found his passport", At the airport? How is that possible? Is he a dumb French Canadian? The concept of him finding his passport at the airport didn't make any sense to her. Nor to me, for that matter. Only dumb French Canadian Mike could FIND his passport at the airport, after losing it somewhere else. But anyway, we made our flight, and the week in UK began. And I made him take back his earlier comment about the plane crashing.
Apparently, the passport was in a secret pocket in his backpack that even he didn't know about. The passport fairy must have put it there.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I was looking forward to this trip for a long time. Mike and Kristin spent a week in Poland with me, then we were going to meet a bunch of other friends from all over the UK and US for the wedding. We all know each other from our days working together in San Jose, CA and we've been on several trips in different corners of the world together. The plan was to spend a night in London, a few days in the country side, go to the wedding, then visit Megan's family in Wales for the weekend. There were 8 of us travelling together, plus Mike and Pascale's little girl, Amanda. Marcie, Michael, and Marilyn made 8.
I don't know how Mike left this little one to come to Poland for a week
We had scheduled out roughly what we were going to do and where we were going to stay for the week, and lucky for me, someone else was in charge. I was pretty busy with work and other stuff that I didn't have much chance to do any planning. Luckily, I was able to just show up, get into Mike's rental car, sleep where people told me to sleep, and everything was taken care of. After lunch on the day we arrived, we spent most of the afternoon taking a nap, since everyone had flown in on red-eyes from North America, and we were going to have to stay up all night to party with Trish and Stu. We joked that it was a combination bachelor/bachelorette party (which they call stag and hen do's in UK), so a combined party would be a "hag party". It was funny at the time, so it's ok for you laugh a little. Our hotel was near Trafalgar Square, which meant easy access to lots of shops, food, bars, and stuff to keep us entertained for the day we were in London. I definitely prefer the "cute" streets of London and not the huge attractions, and we got a little of that. It's always a shock to remember how small Warsaw is compared to these huge cities. My favorite part about it was that we found a Chipotle, and I was able to get a burrito for breakfast on the morning we left. I was their first customer, standing outside their door 10 minutes before they opened, leaning against the door, with my forehead and nose on the glass.
The dinner and party was fun, at a place called Little Italy in Soho. The 8 of us met with Trish and Stu, and another friend who lived in San Jose with us, Cath, also joined. She was visiting her family in UK but lives in San Diego. After dinner the place turned into a dance club with tons of bachelorette parties (so there was a really good ratio), with 70s and 80s music. The only downside was that a shot of vodka was either 10 or 15 GBP, depending on the brand. For 10 GBP you can buy a bottle of vodka in a bar in Warsaw. I guess we weren't in Warsaw anymore. But you do get free water in UK, which we don't get in Poland, so that basically made up for the high prices. No. No, it didn't.
I still don't know what I'm supposed to do with this
The next day we went back to the airport to pick up rental cars and took off to the Cotswolds. The Cotswolds are an area in England with rolling hills and gorgeous landscapes that is literally classified as an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, according to Wikipedia (seriously, that's a real thing). We stopped in Windsor on the way,to visit the Queen (the flag was up so I guess she was home) on this wet and windy day (but that's not news, it's the UK). The one surprise is the food we ate was really good. Meat pies and, well, meat pies, were what I liked. Amanda the baby had the duck for lunch, as she does (seriously...she eats better than I do). We drove to our cottage in Willersey without any problems driving on the wrong side of the road (thanks Mike!). The buildings don't have house numbers so they give the houses funny names, like Yew Tree Cottage (ours) and Turnpike Terrace (they sound like names from video games). The cottage was really big, with everything we needed. I slept on the sofa bed downstairs, far away from the snoring, coughing and baby noises. So even though I didn't have a proper bed, I probably got the best sleep. We stayed there for 3 nights, playing in iPads, or visiting the village pubs each night ("pubbing", as we call it) - the New Inn and the Bell Inn. When we went in the New Inn, we obviously looked out of place because everyone stopped and looked at us. They were really nice in the end, but we felt a bit like we were intruding. When there are only 2 pubs in the village, and nothing else is open, I guess they get to know everyone. One entertaining thing was that a drunk "regular" asked Mike if he was Needledrop. We were all really confused, thinking he was making some weird English joke (or maybe we didn't understand his accent, since English people don't speak English very well). Turns out Needledrop is a blogger who this guy follows. He pulled up a picture of him and we all laughed for the next 3 days straight.
The Bell Inn, in Willersey
Pascale and Needledrop
Mike
In order to find to some smart people to talk to about their so-called English language, we headed to the famous town of Oxford. I didn't realize it, but Oxford is home to many different colleges, not just one main one. And the buildings look like Hogwarts! I felt smart just being there, and found myself muttering "Expelliarmus" from time to time (you're a nerd if you know what that means). We learned a bit about the strange names here, in that the name Oxford (from 1100 years ago), comes from the combination of oxen and ford (river crossing), because that's what used to happen there. Ok, so, that actually makes sense. 1 point for England. Another weird named place we went to is Stratford Upon Avon (the river is called Avon). Of course, this is where Shakespeare was from, born there in 1564. You probably didn't know he was that old, since he married Anne Hathaway, and she still looks pretty good for her age (although I didn't like when she cut her hair short in Les Miserables). Wait a minute, is she French or English? Anyway, we did the "Stratford Town Walk" tour for 5 GBP around the city, with a very funny older British guy. I think all older British guys are funny...something about the accent and the fact you can't understand it, but they speak very confidently, and other people laugh, so it must be funny. I picked up a book they recommended about the origin of the idioms that we use, and how Shakespeare was very influential in those (like something being "Greek to me", tongue tied, or vanishing into thin air).
Oxford
Shakespeare's house
Stratford upon Avon
One cool chick
Another educational tidbit is that the term "shire" basically means an area of small towns. Apparently it was not invited by the Hobbits. So a lot of names in England end with -shire, meaning it's the bigger region of a collection of towns (or villages), like a county. So Worcestershire is actually a shire that includes the town of Worcester, and it's also where Worcestershire sauce is from. And that's why we pronounce it differently than it's spelled (Worchester, instead of Worchestersure), because the English don't speak English!
Stonehenge and Bath were a couple other stops during the week. The Stonehenge audit guide was interesting, but didn't really say much other than "we don't know why or how they built it". It's still pretty amazing to see. In Bath, the group walked around while I worked in a coffee shop (nothing interesting to say about that).
Amanda loves Stonehenge
Talbot Inn
Are you kidding me with that wedding chapel?
Trish getting jiggy
On hangover Friday we packed up our stuff and headed to Megan's family in Wales (in Rhoose, a village close to the capital of Cardiff). When we crossed the border into Wales (it's a different country, you know), all of the signs started having even more funny, more unpronounceable words on them. It was like we just went into a strange alien planet, with subtitles. Her parents were lovely and accommodating to let all 8 and a half of us stay there. Her mom even granted our wish by cooking cottage pie (the beef version of shepherd's pie) and beef cobbler for dinner. It was so awesome I couldn't sleep because my stomach was too full. Sitting next to Marcie I was always tempted to help her eat her leftovers. Bad idea! But also a great idea.
English hangover breakfast, minus the beans
What?
Someone's cat was walking on the keyboard again
The next day, Megan's dad took us on a tour of Cardiff, first to St. Fagan's castle, next to the open air Welsh History Museum. One of the guys who used to live in the castle was named Other. I thought it was that one, but it was the Other one. I laughed for about 5 minutes, until the security guard-slash-tour guide told me that you don't pronounce it like that. We thought he was the security guard (he was dressed like one), because he was just standing there staring at nothing. But once I started giggling at the guy named Other, he corrected me and made a 10 minute speech about the history of the house and the family that lived there. It was actually pretty interesting, but then I started laughing again. Sorry to anyone named Other. The "house" itself was just like Downton Abbey, with sitting rooms that they didn't need, huge bedrooms on display, servants areas with bells that ring when someone needs something, a big kitchen where all the cooks and helpers made the feasts, and on the wall was posted a list of duties for Mr Carson the butler, Mr Bates the valet, Mrs Patmore the cook, and all the maids and footmen. I guess it used to be like that in real life (and maybe still is in some places). The open air museum was also really cool, with different buildings and styles to show different parts of history, farming, and infrastructure. Definitely more interesting than walking through a building seeing small scale models and pictures. In this museum, we actually got to go inside all of the exhibits.
St. Fagan's castle
We also took a walk around Cardiff Harbor, which is very modern, and the city center, which is more old-style traditional, with an 11th century castle in the middle of it. We had a good lunch at the harbor, but an even better Indian dinner at Raj Kinara with Megan's parents and Aunt/Uncle, near their house. They were all super friendly and the food was fantastic. The United Kingdom's national dish is actually Chicken Tikka Masala, so I'm not surprised that the Indian food is good. Even the power outage while we were waiting for our food didn't dampen the mood. It was out for entire meal, and it got a bit hot and stuffy, but generally everything went on like nothing happened. Nobody in the restaurant complained, nobody left, even those waiting to be seated continued to wait. The servers worked extra hard to make everything work, and in the end, we enjoyed the meal by candlelight. I had some lamb and potatoes in a tomato-based minced lamb sauce (lots of lamb in Wales), with rice, salad and naan. I could eat that every day. Every day until my heart stopped I guess. It was our last big meal in the UK, as the next morning we headed back to London to head home. It was a great 8 days, and a great way to see more of the UK countryside. I'm glad that the trip that almost didn't happen, ended up happening without any major hitches. There's still a lot more of the UK to see outside of London, and I hope to get to more in the future.
Cardiff Harbor
Dining in the dark
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