Thursday August 22, 2024

GOOD OLDE ENGLAND

So here we are, I don’t remember if four or five years since we were last in England together, but certainly happy to have arrived.

MY TRIP STARTED WITH A RATHER STARTLING IPHONE SCREEN, shown to me by Jintao, my Uber driver: ”I don’t speak English”, he said, and then presented me with a mobile phone where the screen said: Welcome to my vehicle. I have to go downtown. I have to go downstairs to pick up my fare. Welcome”. And then he smiled. I was a little taken aback and tried to tell him that I did not want to go downtown but wanted to go to LAX. No results. He smiled again and started the car in the direction of the 405 where he adroitly and speedily took us to the International Terminal and dropped me off in front of the right entrance, directly next to British Airways, which is not the one marked in the airport signage.

The great British Airways is , alas, no longer great. Although there were seven stations at the counter only one was “womanned” by a nice, elderly clerk , who took 25 minutes to check in a family of four, while everyone else fumed. I got my turn and was processed in one minute flat. The terminal was, as always, too big, too busy , too confusing and too loud. The BA lounge awash with running children. Made it to the plane and boarded via a face recognition screen, no scanning of tickets necessary, just like at the TSA counter, so I was in my seat in no time at all. I asked the flight attendant not to wake me up for breakfast, skipped dinner, and remained sconced in my pod for the next 10 hours.

When we landed we were herded into a bus (click on the photo to the left, to see the inside!), after coming down, laden with heavy carry-ons, via a rickety staircase, for a fast face recognition processing through UK border control and into the arms of a very blonde Saba waiting for mw with the most extraordinary smile and fabulous lemon earrings the envy of all women around, and some bi- I am sure.

After our Heathrow Express train to Paddington and our “de rigueur” lunch at the Mad Bishop and Bear pub (neither one of them to be found there), with Mashers and Bangers and Fish and Chips we jumped into the best cab in the world and arrived at our abode for a week at 12 Old Castle Road Lane to a wonderful one bedroom, sunny, ample, clean and welcoming BandB. A fast trip to Waitrose, a marvelous supermarket a few steps exactly across the road from the flat, allowed us to get our preliminary victuals: Evian bottles (six heavy ones) marmalade, crumpets, cold cuts, cheese, strawberries and grapes, bread and Diet Cokes. Oh! And wine, of course.

ONE OF THE LEAST WELL KEPT SECRETS OF THE BRITISH Establishment are Crumpets. I came upon them in my youth, after a long search, having read about these delicacies in the famous P.G. Wodehouse novels, whose Jeeves, the Butler, used to offer this delicacy to Wooster, what we would now call “ a Trust Fund baby”, after a heavy night out. Since I lived in Mexico and had never traveled to the UK I could only imagine what these mysterious breads were. It was on my first trip to London that I finally saw, in person, this jewel of breads that is now one of my favorite delicacies. For those not in the know,  a crumpet is a small griddle bread made from an unsweetened batter of water or milk, flour and yeast. This griddle bread is outrageously popular in the United Kingdom but this country being a remnant of the Empire, crumpets can be found in Australia, Canada, New Zealand, South Africa, and indeed that old colony, the United States.

We took a walk along High Kensington Street to check out the neighborhood and had a wonderful time visiting The Mortar and Pestle Pharmacy, the Japan House exhibition and store, a fast glance at a Waterstone bookstore, a speedy entry to the Marks and Spencer store and past many more interesting restaurants and shops. We are perfectly located right in front of the Design Museum, worthy of a visit in the next few days. A good night’s rest followed, after a leisurely charcuterie dinner

It's so good to be back in Good Olde England.

IT IS DIFFICULT TO DECIDE WHAT TRANSPORTATION to use when going to visit Arya, Nilly and Kaan. We decided to buy two Oyster Passes for the Metropolitan Transportation District and took the tube first to Notting Hill and then to Epping. It is quite a long ride, over one hour and twenty minutes, with many stops and, fortunately, with wonderful views above ground once we were out of the City, in fabulous Essex, with delicious fields full of wheat and grass and orchards. We arrived at the Terminal of the Central Line in Epping and Kaan promptly picked us up in his fabulous 49 year-old Lincoln Town Car, 20 feet long and almost as wide, with a cushiony ride down the beautiful (and narrow) country roads. He is so proud of his car - “the only one of its kind in all of England” - drives it so well and enjoys it so thoroughly that it really was a treat riding with him. We arrived at their home, a wonderful two-story house in a newer development. Ample living and dining rooms, huge kitchen, three bedrooms on the first floor, wonderful light and, of course with a beautiful, smiling Nilly to greet us and a human tornado disguised as Arya to invite us in. It is always wonderful to see this new family but now, of course, with Arya three and a half, it’s quite a show.

The whole visit was splendid. Not only were we made to feel totally comfortable and welcome but celebrated as well. Arya, once again, stole my heart, as she had done in Palm Desert, but this time with her conversation, her delight in reading, her interest in everything, her playful nature, her tenderness, her laughter, her picaresque eyes, her gorgeous smile and her inexhaustible energy. She climbs the stairs as the best Sherpa in the Everest, she sings like a happy little bird, she enjoys reading and pointing out all the things she knows about her books , which she kept bringing from her room; she turned around in her bicycle like a Formula 1 Driver; she played ball and hide and seek; she played “tickle me”; she behaved perfectly and she was a joy to behold and celebrate.

We are still in awe on Nilly’s wonderful puff pastry appetizer with the gorgeous creamy cheese on a bed of deliciously caramelized onions; and of Kaan’s lamb chops with those broccoli spears and cauliflower pods, divinely roasted, all on the bed of the creamy mashed potatoes. And Oh! What can we say about the delightful crumble we had for dessert? Really fabulous texture, not too sweet with the perfect apples. My goodness, what a meal! A joy for the palate and a feast for the eyes. But most of all their warm welcome, their generosity and kindness left a fabulous feeling in our souls. Seeing a happy family made it worth all the long hours of travel across the ocean. We hope there is a next time soon and, certainly, we are eagerly waiting for a confirmation of your trip to LA and Palm Desert this coming December.

IT'S GOOD TO BE BACK IN LONDON. I don’t clearly remember the last time we were here. I suspect it was when Emma and Sabâ spent time together and Xavier and I did a trip in the English countryside, maybe six years ago? But London is always full of energy and interesting things to do. We have walked a lot around Regent Street and Oxford Circus and Piccadilly and Trafalgar Square where we dashed in and out of the National Gallery to see a show about Miss La La and Degas. Miss La La was an acrobat in the Cirque Fernando, in the middle of the 19th century, that fascinated the painter Degas because she could, among other things, hang from her mouth with a rope at a considerable height. He was taken by her ability and made many sketches and studies until he was able to pain her in all her glory. And also for his glory, since the painting became well known and has been a treasure of the National Gallery. There was also a micro exhibition of Hockney, with two paintings only. But the most memorable part of the visit is the size of the hordes of people inside the National Gallery. I know that we read about the enormity of the crowds around the world visiting, walking, poking, spitting and shouting but our brief encounter was more than we could stand. It was a “Día de mercado en la Merced” so we left to walk around the area.

We went to Waterstone’s, our favorite bookstore in all the world – and spent more than an hour and a considerable amount of pounds (as in Sterling) buying books for, at least, the next year. A great advantage is that we can ship the books so we don’t have to carry them. We sent them to Yasemin, who generously offered to take them to Palm Desert on their next visit there. We did keep a couple for our delight reading them during the next two weeks. Of course we can also buy them online but we try to buy books in bookstores to keep them open. We can never buy books with the delight we get from a bookstore if we do it online. Sorry, Mr. Bezos!