Sending Regrets

My apologies for the long absence. Last week was a killer with lack of sleep and lots of stress, and surprise, surprise... I wound up catching my husband's flu. So I've been really out of it and didn't have the energy for much of anything. Still not 100% but I am back to work. Will get back to regular posting soon.

A Day in Bath

While we all enjoyed the sights and sounds of the city, I'm pretty sure we all really loved the day we spent outside of London. Before we left for our trip we sent e-mails back and forth debating where we should go, and the two towns we settled on were Cambridge or Bath. After receiving some recommendations from friends, we settled on Bath, and we were not disappointed.

When I visited England in 2002 I spent the majority of my time in Cornwall with my sister and her family. This was a vastly different experience than the one I was having in London, and I thought it was a great idea for the first-time visitors in our group to get a taste of life outside of the city.

There are two main attractions that dominate the tourists in Bath -- the Abbey (at left) and the Roman hot spring baths (the museum at right). They are located in the same square in the center of town, so it made sense to visit both of these places. The thing I've told everyone who I've talked to about this day trip, I really wasn't sure what to expect out of Bath. I didn't know if we'd get there and wind up twiddling our thumbs all day. But I must say I was pleasantly surprised at the amount of things to do there and couldn't even get to: if I ever get back there I will make the effort to go to the Jane Austen Museum and the Museum of Fashion (or Costume, as they say over there).

The Abbey was wonderful. As pretty as the architecture was on the outside, the inside totally blew me away. Our churches at home in Podunk, Pennsylvania just can't compare to the majesty and grandiosity of these houses of worship. The ceilings, the floors, the pews and the pulpit were all incredible in their intricacy and workmanship. Something you also don't see in small town American churches were the memorial plaques and statues on the floors and walls of the church. Everywhere you looked there were tributes to people, everything from a simply worded slab of stone to an intricate work of art. And each one told a story of a life, some hundreds of years old. This church had the main altar, then some side chapels on each side. To the right of the altar was the Gesthemene Chapel, and I loved the altar frontal designed by Jane Lemon. Next to the abbey was the vaults, which had been converted to a museum noting the history of the church. One of the things I couldn't get over in my many experiences in England was just how old everything is. I mean, we're talking 1,000, even 2,000 years old! Where I live it's amazing to have a building still standing from the 1770s, when this region was first populated by settlers. In England that's relatively new stuff.

To really bring this home, just go across the square to the Roman baths. In the Victorian era the ruins of these baths and temple were discovered, and the museum built up around them to preserve and protect them. Not only are you amazed at the age of this find, but also the 2,000 year old technology that still works! Can you imagine our current plumbing and heating systems still working in 4008? We're lucky if we can get a toaster to last five years! The natural hot springs these baths take advantage of maintain a constant temperature of around 80 degrees F, and if you look at the picture closely you can see the steam rising off the water. All kinds of artifacts were discovered around these baths: remnants of a temple dedicated to Minerva; intricate tile work; offerings and curses given to the gods to thank them for their gifts or to seek punishment for those who did them wrong; stone grave markers and coffins; little trinkets, hair implements and other tools the Romans used. It was a great experience, and the hand-held audio tour gadget they give you does an excellent job of explaining everything at your own pace.

After touring both places we worked up an appetite for lunch, and I was the instigator of where we went. At the Bath train stop there was a tourism center and I picked up a pamphlet for Sally Lunn's. One of my goals for my England trip was to get the chance to eat some scones with clotted cream, also called a cream tea. I was introduced to this delicacy on my trip to Cornwall and longed to experience that culinary delight again. Most of the meals we ate in London were at pubs and it appeared our plans to go to a high tea in the city were not going to happen. So when I saw the flyer for this tea room I told my travel companions we had to check it out. What a fantastic experience! The outside of the building was charming enough, but the inside was so quintessentially English that we all fell in love with it. We all tried sandwiches made with the famous Sally Lunn buns, then while the others got a piece of apple pie with clotted cream, I got my Cornish Cream tea and savored every second of it. It was so fun and quaint and really what you would picture in your imagination of a countryside English tea.

On the way home on the train we all talked about the fantastic day we had, got a good laugh at some of the silly photos we had taken (sorry, I didn't show them here!) and our two first-timers said that if they ever come back to the U.K. again, they would seriously consider spending most of their time in Bath. So it's pretty obvious our day in Bath was well worth it!

A Day in London

The day after our bus tour, we had what I would consider our most hectic day. In one day we visited the Tower of London, took the boat down the Thames from the Tower dock to the Westminster dock (where you can find Big Ben, Parliament, etc.), walked through the Victoria Tower Gardens to the Tate Britain museum. We then took another boat that led us directly to the Tate Modern museum and The International Shakespeare Globe Centre (we only toured the Tate Modern). After that we walked across the Milennium Foot Bridge, which led us in the general vicinity of St. Paul's Cathedral, although we got there too late to tour inside. At that point we walked our way back to Picadilly Circus; while our one companion parted ways with us to meet up with an Irish pal, the rest of us headed back to the Tower of London subway stop for a Jack the Ripper walking tour. This is quickly compiled in a paragraph, but let me tell you, this was a hell of a lot of stuff to do in one day. The Tower tour itself took two hours or so to complete.

Unfortunately, it was then that my legs gave up on me and I had to say "uncle." I felt horrible about it, because the other two really wanted to do this walking tour, but I was pretty much at the brink of tears at this point and knew I had to listen to my body screaming at me to quit walking! All I know is, I wish to God I had a pedometer on me that day, because I would love to know how many miles we walked from 8 a.m. to 10 p.m. that day, including all the strolling around inside each museum as well as all the foot travel we did getting too each place and all the wrong turns we made. I'm guessing 10 miles.

They were incredibly kind, however, and we wound up going for Indian food instead, which I must say was fantastic. And they did get to go the next evening, so it wasn't like I cheated them out of their experience, just delayed them 24 hours.

So here's my overview of that crazy day:

The Tower of London was amazing. I don't think it would be right to say I enjoyed it, because a lot of its history is very, very sad. Within the past two weeks I've watched both Elizabeth movies with Cate Blanchett, and in the first one the young princess gets locked up in this building at left, the White Tower. I think the films were all the more moving for me since I recently walked on the very floors she did and experienced the menacing and intimidating might of these big stone prisons. Even more emotional was the statue at right, which is on the spot where Elizabeth's mother, Anne Boleyn --unfortunately only one of several prisoners -- was beheaded. Our audio guide suggested that we imagine walking up to this spot as a person facing their last minutes on earth. Not a happy place, let me tell you. However, behind that statue in the large building was the home of the Crown Jewels, which was quite a sight to behold. I've never seen so much gold and so many jewels in one place in my entire life. Quite impressive.

After we thoroughly explored the Tower of London we hopped on the boat and traveled the Thames. My best picture of that jaunt was this one of the London Eye. That's the closest I got to it; I really had no desire to go that high in the sky. Looking back I probably shouldn't have let my fear of heights let me stay away, but in the end we were so busy doing everything else that the regret isn't that bad. Besides, I have to save something for the next time I go to London!

When we got off the boat we were at Westminster, and my one travel companion got to achieve one of his goals by having his picture taken next to this statue at right. I took photos of this the first time I was in London and could understand why. The woman in the chariot is Boudica, Britain's warrior queen who fought against the Roman occupation of England. Click on the link to read more about her and this statue. Having named my daughter after another ancient British warrior queen, I tend to have a fondness for these strong women of history.

We of course walked past Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, then entered the Victoria Tower Gardens. It wasn't as crowded as the main streets, which made for a more relaxing walk, and I found it lovely, even in January. The weather was nice enough for a group of men to pick up a game of rugby with Parliament in the background (I took a picture but it came out very dark). My favorite landmark in the gardens was this statue, the Buxton Memorial, which commemorates the emancipation of slaves following the British 1833 Slavery Abolition Act.

I must have been dealing with the first wave of exhaustion by this point because I didn't even think of taking any pictures at the Tate Britain. We were hungry, too, because we had lunch first at the museum before looking around. I had a cheddar and ale chutney sandwich which was quite good. I noticed you could buy beer and wine in this museum cafeteria, which I'm pretty sure isn't common in American museums.

My main goal at the Tate Britain was to see this painting, J.W. Waterhouse's The Lady of Shalott. Waterhouse is one of my favorite painters, and this piece in particular has been very dear to me. I've owned a print of this since high school, and it has adorned my walls in college dorms, apartments, and every house I've lived in since. It was amazing to see it in person; just the enormity of the painting (78.8" x 60.28") was awe-inspiring. But to see the actual brush strokes, the level of detail one can't see in my print, made it all the more beautiful. I realized something as I recalled the story; while at first glance this woman seems sad and weak, she actually has a lot in common with Boudica. They both faced impossible odds (Boudica facing the army of the Roman Empire, the Lady a curse that kept her imprisoned in a castle and unable to look at the world directly). Both made heroic but tragic decisions that led to their deaths.

I found so many paintings here that I loved. I'm a big fan of the Pre-Raphaelite and Victorian era art, and this place was jam-packed with it. And the sculptures were fantastic, too.

We then traveled by boat to the Tate Modern. Other than getting to see Claude Monet's Water Lilies (After 1916) I have to admit I wasn't too impressed by the majority of the art I saw there. I guess I'm an old fogey at heart and can't get into "modern" art. I found myself looking at several pieces and thinking my 9 year-old daughter could do a much better job. It didn't help that I was seriously hurting by this point and was much more interested in finding a seat to rest my feet and legs than being inspired by modern artists.

The biggest feat my one travel companion had was traversing the length of the Millenium Bridge, called the "Wibbly Wobbly Bridge" when it first opened to the public because something was wrong with the fortifications and the first people to walk across it were bounced around like a fun house attraction. This has been fixed and it's perfectly safe now. When I first heard about the bridge and saw it from afar I was a little leery, but once we were facing it I wasn't scared at all. While it looks narrow in this picture it seemed much wider when we were actually on it. If I had been forced to look down at the Thames River below the entire time I probably would have gotten vertigo and filled with anxiety. My friend wasn't so lucky. The other two travel companions and I literally surrounded him as we went across, a cocoon of safety for him as he sweated and fretted. This photo of his victorious finish on the other side was a testament to his bravery. And unlike Queen Boudica or the Lady of Shalott, his heroic choice didn't end in death!

Wow, it took me two days to post this blog of my one day's adventures! Just proof of how much we crammed into our schedule.

Expectations

On the second day of our trip we did the typical tourist experience by taking the double decker bus tour. I recommended this to my travel companions because in my past trip to London, I felt it was a great way to see a general overview of the city, and we could then figure out what we would like to see in more detail the rest of the week. There are lots of positives to the bus tour: you listen to an entertaining and informative recording; you can get off at any of the stops to investigate a particular area in more depth, then hop back on when you're ready; you can buy tickets for other London events at a reduced price; and the cost of the bus trip includes a boat ride on the Thames.

We started out trying to ride in the back of the upper deck. I know, you're thinking, "In January?" But January weather in London was much warmer than what we had been dealing with in the mid-Atlantic of the United States. The day I left Pennsylvania it had been 5 degrees F that morning. I don't think it ever went below freezing during our stay in England. But it did get a little chilly in the wind after a while, and we moved forward to the covered section of the top level of the bus. The pictures weren't as nice (as you can see at right), but at least we warmed up a little!

My friends and I decided to get off the bus at Westminster Abbey. We took some pictures, drank some coffee, and I had to run into the gift shop and buy more batteries! At left is a photo of me and one of my fellow travelers. Here's an odd thing: when I look at this picture and the one I posted here a few days ago of me and my friends at Piccadilly Circus, I actually look smaller than I expected. I by no means think I look skinny, but knowing how much weight I've gained over the last six months, I thought I should look so much worse. In fact, ever since I've regained this weight, I haven't looked in the mirror or any of my pictures and seen a horror looking back at me. I know from the scale and the fit of my clothes that I've changed, but otherwise, I kind of feel pretty much the same. Is my self-image so distorted? Or am I actually beginning to find some of the grace, peace and concord that this engraving on the side of the abbey wishes for us?

Even so, I've got a long way to go. That evening we were supposed to meet up with some British friends of one of my companions, and I was a little nervous about this. I can get so self-conscious and uncomfortable when put in situations with new people, especially ones who I think are more cultured, sophisticated, intelligent or classier than I am. And let's face it: I figured they'd be thin and gorgeous and make it all the more obvious that I'm anything but these descriptions I've just listed.

We went to a pizzeria in Soho (I know, pizza in England) and I got to order an individual pizza with courgette and aubergine (what they call zuchinni squash and eggplant!) which was quite delicious. And guess what: when the Londoners arrived, they were normal, funny, charming people who were incredibly welcoming and wonderful to talk to. The one female in the group was round and lovely, had great hair and wore her clothes in a way that flattered and showed off her curves. And she urged me to order the chocolate cake for dessert because she knew I'd love it. It was a great evening and for once I didn't feel awkward, uncomfortable, dumb and hokey. We were a group of friends connecting, eating and making fantastic memories.

Learning to Be Happy

One of my favorite things to do on my vacation was to take pictures of things that struck my fancy. I love art in all its forms: sculpture, painting, stained glass, metal work, architecture, etc., not to mention the written word or music.

We passed the sculpture of the horses above many times when we orbited the Picadilly Circus area. The detail and movement captured in this piece was awesome to me. Plus, my mom's a horse fanatic, so I wanted to show these pictures to her, too.

We didn't go to this restaurant (also in the Picadilly area), but I just loved the stained glass in the entrance. In fact, the whole building was interesting, with interesting sculptures all over it. You just don't see buildings like this where I live, so I'm always spellbound by the history and grandness of them when I'm given the opportunity. Not only because the U.S. is so much younger than the U.K., but in my rural, sparsely populated area, my ancestors just didn't have the money and resources to construct a lot of works of art like this.

Even the taxis were works of art in London! We got to ride in one of these famous black cabs during our stay, and I must say it was one of the most comfortable and stress-free rides I've ever paid for. Unlike other cities and countries I've been in, the driver didn't scare the bejesus out of me with his erratic, nerve-rattling driving. The vehicle was clean and roomy and the seats weren't lumpy and nasty. On a side note, I must say the National Rail train ride was also a wonderful experience, and Amtrak could really take some hints from them.

A few days before I left for this trip I visited my therapist Dr. K., and we came to a real eye-opening realization for me. She asked me how excited I was about my upcoming vacation, and I had to admit that for a number of reasons I wasn't really feeling it. Some of it was not feeling well, but a goodly portion of it was guilt: guilty that I was leaving my husband and daughter to fend for themselves; guilty that I was able to take the time and spend the money to do this frivolous, indulgent thing when so many people can't. And the flak I took months ago definitely put a damper on my anticipation, too.

I then realized that throughout my life I've often had trouble enjoying, anticipating or being happy about the good things in my life. Whether it was good grades in school, graduating college with honors, buying a house, adopting my child or falling in love, there was always something inside of me that kept me from feeling unbridled joy, or that I even deserved it. Some of it goes back to my childhood. Every Christmas I can remember being sat down by my grandmother and instructed not to "brag" about what presents I received that year. I was told other kids might not have been as fortunate as me and that I shouldn't make them feel bad. So I always downplayed or didn't say a word about what I got for Christmas, which bled over to birthdays or other times I might have received something special. Even now -- this very day -- when someone asks me how my England trip was, I get gripped with that rule in my head to not brag and rub people's noses in my good fortune, and I find myself fighting the urge to downplay my enjoyment.

But some of it definitely comes from my self esteem and weight issues. Every day in this society we are bombarded by the demonization, minimalization and ridicule of fat people. Fat people get inadequate medical care, get paid less in their jobs, and have often been the victim of bullies throughout their lives. We're stereotyped as lazy, slovenly, low-class and stupid. For years we didn't deserve decent clothing, and heaven forbid someone fall in love with a fat person, lest they be called a Chubby Chaser and suspected to have some ulterior motive.

This has all evolved into the dysfunctional, messed up way of thinking that I have. The biggest "aha" moment during my therapy session was that because I wouldn't let myself enjoy these material or emotional things in my life, I wound up turning to food to find those feelings of enjoyment and satisfaction. But of course, the sad truth was that the more I turned to food, the lower my self-esteem became and harder it became to enjoy the rest of my life.

The important thing my therapist told me was that even though I have been surrounded by these fattist attitudes and taught by my family to feel guilty about the good things in my life, I'm a free-thinking adult now. I don't have to follow the old rules and agree with the negative ideas anymore. I do deserve to be happy. And I deserve to feel good about myself.

An instance of this skewed thinking came up on our London trip. We stopped at a coffee shop with Internet access, and while my one travel companion got online to track down a British friend's phone number, the rest of us ordered coffee. I was the last one to order, and when I asked for a Mocha, the guy behind the counter seemed to smirk at me. When he walked away I looked over at my fellow female companion and she smiled and said, "He thinks you're cute."

"No," I scoffed. "He must have thought I sounded ridiculous with my hillbilly American accent."

A minute later he came back with our coffees, and when he handed me my mocha, he said, "Here's your coffee, darling."

We walked out of the shop and my friend immediately jumped on me. "He was into you! He didn't call me darling!"

We then got into a discussion how we both tend to dismiss flirtations and deny someone could actually be attracted to us. Funnily enough, when our Internet surfer returned and joined in our conversation, he said he was the exact opposite; he tends to think people are hitting on him when they actually aren't! I guess that just goes to show how differently our self-image can affect our perceptions of the world around us.

More pictures and England recollections are on their way. And in between some more morsels of wisdom -- if I can muster them up!

I Have Returned

After several days of recovery and catching up at home and work, I'm finally finding the time to report in on my incredible trip to England.

This is me on the left with two of my travel companions on our first day in London. We are standing in front of the fountain at Picadilly Circus, which over the course of our week became our hub and reference point. From here we could walk to Soho, Leicester Square and Trafalgar Square, to name a few. There were lots of shops, restaurants and theaters and of course, plenty of people! Although I've been told the crowds we encountered were paltry in comparison to the throngs that appear in the summer tourist season.

We stayed at a bed and breakfast on Lillie Road, Fulham, although we were very close to the Earl's Court expo centers, and our closest Underground station was West Brompton. The four of us stayed in a basement "flat" that was quite roomy. This was my bedroom for the week. I have to admit I found it odd that my bed didn't have a top sheet, just a bottom sheet and a duvet (what they call comforters over there). I also wasn't thrilled with my feather pillows and was fortunate that I brought my allergy medication along to reduce my reaction to them.

The picture at right was our little kitchen, but from what I gather it's fairly typical of an English kitchen. Compared to us Americans, they have tiny little refrigerators, which was fine for us since we weren't doing much eating there. Also located in the kitchen (behind the cupboard door between the sink and the white water heater) was a small front loading washing machine. But this was very similar to the one my sister had when she lived in the U.K. When I showed this picture to my sister she looked at the stove and recalled fondly having a similar small broiler section in the middle of the stove. In a little coincidence, our kitchen had a plug-in tea kettle that was very similar to the one my husband bought me recently, and it felt a little bit like home.

I won't get to all my journeys in England in today's post, but I will get to them in the next few days, with accompanying photographs. I have so many pictures from my trip! I borrowed my daughter's new digital camera which can hold up to 1500 photos, and I wound up using more than 500 of them! There's no way I can post them all, nor would anyone want me to, because I took a lot of extra shots of plaques and displays at museums to help me remember what certain buildings or items were once I got home. However, if you would be interested in seeing them, send me your e-mail address and I can invite you to see the entire album at Snapfish.

Being a Gemini, I always seem to have two opposing opinions or feelings on most things, and this trip had them, too. There were things I loved about England: the pop culture, the interesting foods, all the museums and historical sites, even just hearing the British accents and their colloquialisms. But there were things I missed, too: my American bathroom, my electrical hair gadgets (we couldn't get them to work), and of course missing my husband and daughter.

Having said that, there were things I didn't miss back home: all the endless housekeeping; chasing after my husband and daughter and reminding them of all the things they forget to do; being covered in dog hair 24 hours a day; and the crappy, wintry Appalachian weather which seemed to come full force while I was away.

As for England, my biggest problem was in the end my own fault, so I have no one to blame but myself. We had so much we wanted to see in a limited amount of time, so we crammed in as many activities and events as possible. This meant a LOT of walking, and I just couldn't keep up with my fast-walking travel companions. I don't blame them; I admit I'm out of shape because of my recent weight gain and falling woefully behind on my exercise. I had all these plans of getting back on track in December and January, busting hump on the treadmill and having myself ready to trek all over England, but then I got sick -- twice -- and I found myself barely able to get my daily chores done, let alone exercise.

I wound up spending the majority of the week in some kind of pain, whether it was my feet, knees, ankles or hips. My body just couldn't handle being on the run from 8 in the morning until 10 at night. My friends didn't have these problems, but let's face it, I weigh a lot more than they do. Perhaps if I had strapped on big, heavy backpacks on them and had them walk 12-14 hours a day they may have had a similar experience.

But, in true Gemini fashion, I did find a positive to all that walking! For the first time ever I didn't gain any weight on vacation, despite eating heavy meals like fish and chips or roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, drinking pints of cider and treating myself to desserts like a Cornish high tea (scones with clotted cream and strawberry preserves) or British biscuits (cookies). Being on the run all the time meant I didn't have time to mindlessly snack, and I pretty much stuck to three meals a day and maybe one snack.

This reminds me of a restaurant advertising campaign I saw everywhere in London and had to take a picture of it to share with you. If you can't read the caption, it says, "DIETS ARE SAD. Instead, enjoy proper food, three times a day. (Not too much, not too little.) Eat With Your Head." I saw this on the very first day in London, and I actually wound up practicing it while I was there. And the great thing was, I've been pretty much continuing it here now that I'm home. I realized on this trip that so much of my overeating has to do with boredom, filling up time, procrastinating, and of course the old attempt at comforting myself. And whether it was the busy schedule, the change of location or removal of my home triggers, it just didn't happen. As proof, I had taken a bag of candy bars along on the trip and I wound up bringing it back untouched. In addition, I brought home some British candy, biscuits and crisps (potato chips), but so far I've barely touched them. So far this "Eat With Your Head" plan is working, and I'll do my best to keep it going.