Conclusion: Take It Easy

Take it easy

Take it easy

Don't let the sound of your own wheels

Drive you crazy

- "Take It Easy" by Eagles

So much for trying to avoid exhaustion by taking a shorter trip! I ended up frazzled from trying to squeeze 4 countries into 23 days (including transit). But meeting S, my "sister", was the best decision ever. Okay, one of the best decisions ever. :P I've made a few excellent decisions in my life, shockingly enough.

What did I learn from this adventure?

1) Country hopping works best if you live in Europe and want to do something on the weekend. Jumping from destination to destination without a break is exhausting. Spend more time in one place.

2) Don't trust the GPS when it keeps trying to get you to take B roads. That's if you want to get from A to B. Scenic routes are acceptable IF you want to take them.

3) Hillforts are not just big hills. Don't believe a word my husband says!

4) Remember to type up your travel journal as soon as you get back. I waited 4 years before attacking this one. I have some regrets. Mostly because I had to type up three other journals as well!

5) Actually learn a few words of the language of your destination. You might end up in Finland and actually look Scandinavian and people will assume you can understand them. *cough*

6) Driving on the opposite side of the road isn't that hard. Just try to avoid ending up on the footpaths, okay?

7) When using self-contained accommodation in the UK, expect to have to buy EVERYTHING, including garbage bags. Things are a little different in Australia!

8) Terrible people don't need statues or monuments marking the place of their death. Yeah, nah. Germany literally puts carparks there instead.

9) Your flight will either be early or late, never on time. I guess planes are like Gandalf the Grey?

10) Meet your Internet friends if you can. Take the risk. You might just get along like a house on fire (or insert another suitable simile here).

Days 22 & 23 - LHR-DXB-SYD

I enjoyed dinner at Pret A Manger at Heathrow Airport, then had dessert at the Pilot Bar with The Husband. I topped it off with what the menu simply listed as “tea” – it turned out to be the most boring (and most unsurprising) brew: English Breakfast!

The mysterious "tea"

We eventually boarded and headed for Dubai, where the plane took on fuel while we waited endlessly at Gate A2. A woman approached security while we were there. I took one look at her and thought of that Taylor Swift lyric - “I knew you were trouble when you walked in”. She just had that look to her.

And I was right. Boy. I’m not sure why she felt that antagonising security (in Dubai, no less) was a good idea. I saw her later on the plane and wondered if I knew her from my supermarket days as an irksome customer. She had a sour, scrunched-up face.

Our seats were right at the back of the plane again (we didn’t mind – it was near the toilets and food stations), then looked over to see a very ill-looking man. He’d been vomiting from London and yet had got back on. After half an hour of us waiting endlessly on the tarmac, he and his wife decided to deplane. Their bags followed. Then, finally, we began the 13-hour leg of our journey.

Instead of watching movies and playing sudoku as I had on the first leg (I think the sudoku nearly caused me to fall asleep – a no-no when trying to get back onto Sydney time!), I curled up in my two seats with two pillows and two blankets. The plane was now even emptier than before and people were happily lying down with three or four seats to themselves. The Husband and I shared a four-seater, staying close to each other.

The flight didn’t feel endless. I liked the idea of us chasing tomorrow the whole time, but in winning we forfeited a day in the calendar.

We touched down at 5:33am, which wasn’t too bad considering the delay at Dubai. We filed out into the relatively quiet immigration area and deserted baggage claim. Only one flight had arrived – we were the first in! – so it was not at all stressful for me.

I declared the fox-fur scarf I’d bought in Finland – the customs guy asked me if I’d bought it because I wrote crime novels lol. I write romance, by the way. He then said “oh, one of these!” and since I hadn’t killed the fox, I could be on my way.

I always try to do the right thing! And I always get greeted by eyerolls.

Still, eyerolls are better than a fine.

Taxi home – where we couldn’t locate my brother-in-law at first, but then we saw him sleeping underneath the dining table!?!? Lol!

Anyway, I’m doing the laundry while The Husband naps. He does not possess my ability to sleep on the plane.

I had fun overseas, but I’m glad to be home!

Days 20 & 21 - Heathrow

Day Twenty

Breakfast was a little later than we expected. The Husband had a “full Cornish breakfast” and I opted for continental, though was surprised when food started arriving at our table – breads, pastries, cheeses, meats! All very yummy stuff.

We encountered difficulty with rolling our suitcases to the carpark because the wind was so strong – it felt like I was ramming my suitcase against a brick wall!

We bid adieu to this grand view

We stopped at two Services on our way to Heathrow (Troll GPS took us there via Bristol!), though these breaks didn’t seem to stop my butt from going number and then aching – in that order. I’m not sure how that works either!

At the first Services, I bought water and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Our cashier loved my “I can’t adult today” shirt.

“Some days I can’t,” I told her honestly.

The second Services provided us with lunch – The Husband had Burger King and I optsed for Starbucks (a chilli beef/rice thing!). We then encountered dismal (but not world-ending) traffic. It seems that just like other airports, Heathrow is difficult to drive to, especially on a Saturday.

But at least we left the motorway, seeking petrol. We found it and ditched our car at the rental place. Within minutes, we were on the company’s shuttlebus to Terminal 5 (with two employees), where we were able to snag a taxi.

The hotel near the airport was a sight for sore eyes. This will be the first time I’ve stayed a night here! I usually only use their day room feature.

We asked for late check-out, purchased breakfast and then went upstairs. Somehow The Husband coaxed me into a nap and now I’m looking forward to room service.

***

Day Twenty-One

The waiting for our flights tonight has begun. We woke after 8am, then went down to the breakfast buffet which was pretty decent.

I edited photos, queued them up on DeviantArt and managed to nap for a bit. Lunch in the bar area followed – I had some crumbed chicken and tasty spring rolls. The food was delayed by a cold grill and the cleaning up of breakfast.

More napping!! It’s now approaching 4pm and I’m a ball of nerves about this 24-hour transfit.

Wish me luck. :)

Day 19 - Port Isaac & Tintagel

We packed up to leave Coram Tower but hit a snag; we wanted to take the rubbish out, as there was a fair bit of it. But no garbage bags had been supplied! Welcome to self-contained accomodation in the UK.

I mean, honestly, I get why there was only one roll of toilet paper, but no garbage bags? Who brings those on a holiday? And why should we buy a pack of 50 when we only need one!?

Ugh. So we opted to leave the rubbish where it was. We dropped off the keys at Wessex House (a very tight carpark – the couple pulling up behind us to do the same definitely wasn’t good for my nerves). And then we were off, heading from Dorset to Cornwall!

We intended to stop at a Services, but oddly we didn’t find one for 40 minutes – so unusual for England! I had a brownie and a deluxe hot chocolate. Our cashier commented on the amount of chocolate I would be consuming.

Our bellies and fuel tank full, we again hit the road – and rolled our eyes at the many Services we were now encountering. At least 3 in 20 minutes!

I thought of Jon as we drove past signs for Castle Drogo, Britain’s youngest castle and featured in my 2013 travel journal. Troll GPS, unsurprisingly, took us down an awful, tiny B road lined with moss-covered walls – as opposed to another B road that had plenty of room to spare. Eek!

I had wanted to go to a certain carpark at Port Isaac. Troll GPS decided to take us there via its sister port, Port Gaverne. Good God, that road was tiny, tense and terrifying. I felt as angry and out of sorts as Doc Martin did in the first season of his TV show – and, well, that show was the reason we came here.

Port Isaac doubles as Portwenn in the series Doc Martin. It looked lovely on my TV screen at home. I had no idea how gorgeous the place is in real life.

Parked the car, paid for the privilege, braved the 20p toilets – and then just gawped at the Atlantic Coast. The excellent weather magnified the natural beauty before us. It looked like someone had tossed wooden park benches all over the coast in this part of Cornwall – incentive to trek out to them, I wonder?

Whoa

We ambled down the tiny, crooked streets of Port Isaac. Navigating them on foot was difficult for us, but even more so for the cars and vans sharing the same space. The road we followed bent and sloped down towards the beach, taking us past the Old School Hotel and Restaurant, which acts as a primary school in the TV show. Here there were takeaway shops and an exquisite view of the cove beneath us. There were stone breaks keeping the boats safe from the ocean waves.

The cliffs standing over the startlingly blue/green water just made it all the more jaw-dropping – and, of course, we could see Doc Martin’s house all the way across the cove. It looked like it stood an eternity away from us!

I spy a grumpy doctor's house!

It wasn’t that far, though. The roads we followed weren’t very long in the end. I did feel like we were being squeezed by the tall buildings on either side of the street, but soon enough we could see down to the (sandy!) beach. Again a great view. The Port Isaac Lifeboat Station was nothing special, though it was offering basic refreshments and proudly bore a sign proclaiming that it was in Portwenn.

We slipped through the narrow opening that had been the basis of me cancelling our rental of Doc Martin’s house – I’d feared I wouldn’t be able to get the car through the gap, but in person (i.e. not on Google Street View) it didn’t seem so bad. There were nearby 20p toilets.

Up we walked (it was a gentle incline) to the house made famous by television. It’s smaller than the large house beside it, but the stone exterior makes it look so friendly. Happily, there were very few people around (one woman apologised and quickly darted past while I was lining up a shot – nice of her), so we were able to pose for photos and just generally enjoy the two-punch of the house and its great view.

We almost rented this house!

Finally, we left. The deed was done. One item on the bucket list crossed off.

We passed a pack of enthusiastic tourists on the way down – whew, I love our timing!

The pasty shops we came across had nothing as exciting what we had in Lyme Regis (it seems Dorset makes better Cornish pasties than the Cornish!), so we settled on chips and nuggets at a place near the Old School. We then lingered on a coastal path leading back to the carpark, eating chips while we admired the beauty of Port Isaac (taking one last look at Doc Martin’s house, of course).

The Husband observed that he likes Lyme Regis more. I’m not sure. Port Isaac may have scary roads but it’s hills aren’t so steep. Plus it is waaay prettier.

We were stalked by an opportunistic seagull (passers-by kept remarking, in amused voices, about our feathered friend – I got sick of it after the fifth person commented!) until I ran at it with a shout. Thus freed of the interloper, we returned to the car.

BUT it was still way too early to head for Tintagel, so we went to a nearby café for drinks. The café sold a multitude of Doc Martin keyrings and postcards. It seems the townsfolk like to make a buck off the popularity of their town. I don’t blame them! And they are nice people.

Finally, time to go to Tintagel!

The roads weren’t terrible – and we avoided the worst of them by ignoring our deranged B-road-loving Troll GPS. Some careful driving later and we were at Tintagel. We found our B&B easily enough. And I managed to get the car through the tiny entrance (bordered by posts) to the driveway – only to discover that there were no freaking spots left!

Sigh. Finally, in a nearby carpark I struck gold – 3 pounds for a whole day, which isn’t too bad.

We tried to find our way to Tintagel Castle, first walking east on Atlantic Road, but then we found two English Heritage signs.

“Castle this way,” Sign #1 informed us.

“Yes, really,” insisted Sign #2. Lol!

These signs successfully turned us back in the right direction. Before we descended to the castle, we paid for our tickets and I was given old 5-pound notes as change (at 12pm today, you could no longer spend them – damn it, now we have two!).

Down, down, down we went…to a picturesque meeting of the land and sea.

More magnificence – Cornwall really knows how to put on a show! The wind threw water in our faces: an undignified welcome. We didn’t dare attempt Merlin’s Cove – the tide was more assuredly in.

Cornwall is gorgeous

I looked up, up, up at the ruins on the great cliff above us and was awestruck. This was a place of legend.

We began the treacherous climb, passing by the staffed gate, then continued on. With a handbag and camera out, it. was a struggle for me – especially with people coming down the narrow steps. Finally, we made it to the lower section of the castle. The jagged rocks revealed the age of the ruins, but they weren’t old enough to have been here during King Arthur’s time (and both time and man are disputed by historians).

Open wide, you're still outside

This section was ordered built in the 13^th century by the Earl of Cornwall – he knew of the Arthurian legends tethered to this mammoth seaside rock and, I suppose, wanted to some of that shine to rub off on him (side note: Arthur was supposedly conceived here).

The castle fell to ruin. And no one lives there now. Well, the earl lived on and ruled Germany. So maybe the legends did empower him in some way.

We climbed up more stairs, battling increasing winds, to view the clumps of stones that heralded Dark Age ruins. There wasn’t much to see. I wondered how hard it would have been for people to move about outside the buildings up here – the wind shoved at me, knocking me aside. Thank goodness I wasn’t pushed in the direction of the “sheer cliff”!!

It was literally a breathtaking view. I struggled to breathe.

Forget the castle - how about that view!

We took selfies, but my wild, knotted hair covered my face and transformed me into Cousin Itt! We descended shortly after this, taking note of the Great Hall which had a sign promising us that it had been much larger once, before erosion gobbled up some of it. The main keep, too, is thought to have met the same fate. Superb views and defensible positions are great and all, but this is a major flaw for a building site.

I sat inside the cosy shelter made for Florence Nightingale Richards, who was the gatekeeper and guide in the 19^th century (also named after a certain woman, it seems!). No lick of wind dared to enter her shelter.

After this bracing adventure, and the climb back down the stairs, we settled in at the Beach Café. I was in dire need of tea! We had to break a larger note, as our old 5-pound notes would not be accepted.

We could have 2 quid each for a Land Rover ride to the top of the hill, but decided to walk since the weather was so fine.

We found our rooms at the B&B without hassle, though we had to carry the suitcases up two flights of stairs. It was 4pm and I’d spent some time sitting in the sun in the garden, waiting until someone would appear to check us in. Obviously that someone did show up. I wasn’t too bothered; the sun had revived me.

Sea view – lovely. Room – far too hot, thanks to the radiator! We had to turn it off and keep the window open all night.

We sought dinner at a nearby pub. I ordered the curry of the day (a child handed me cutlery and sauces lol). The Husband had a local pale ale and I a piña colada.

We made it back to our room at the B&B and watched Sailor Moon.

Days 17 & 18 - Lyme Regis

Day Seventeen

The day began slowly. We stayed on the couch for a while, then managed to get ready after 10am and plod our way down to the Cobb, an artificial harbour constructed in the 19^th century.

The Cobb has stone-built piers either side of an opening that warns boats to be “DEAD SLOW”. It has been repaired and improved since Jane Austen visited this place, but a lot of it she would have found familiar. Once we descended the steep hill and negotiated some traffic, we saw it for ourselves.

It was very windy this morning, so my hair went everywhere and The Husband pointed out the sign cautioning us not to go onto highest part of the Cobb (it sloped, could get quite slippery and had no railing between pier and undulating sea).

Take a stroll into the Regency era

The view, though, was lovely so I had to get up there, however briefly – and briefly it was, as I do not like to worry The Husband (he is not a strong swimmer).

Clouds smeared the horizon, but it was still pleasant and I must have uttered the word “beautiful” at least 6 times.

Lyme Regis isn’t that different from any other English seaside town I’ve visited; however, it has its place in literary history. Much like Whitby in that respect, I suppose. Whitby was made famous by Bram Stoker; here it was Jane Austen.

I looked at some stairs on the pier and fancied that they were the ones that Louisa fell down in Persuasion. Unlikely, though, and “Granny’s Teeth” certainly didn’t qualify either – these steps had the appearance of rotted, jagged teeth worn to the gum – for they came after Jane Austen’s visit to Lyme (Regis). They were probably added because of her book.

Granny's Teeth

We walked along the beach (sand was divided from pebbles by a cement break) and then headed back up the hill towards our home, albeit on a different road than the one we’d used on our way down to the water earlier.

We passed by Pyne House, 10 Broad Street, where Jane Austen is said to have stayed. It was much smaller than I expected. But beside it was a similarly small shop boasting that it was “bigger on the inside”. That, and Pyne House’s blue door, made me exclaim, “It’s a TARDIS!”

Fancy that, Jane Austen in a TARDIS.

For lunch, we went to a pasty shop (there were three of them on the same stretch of road!). Good food – and a large hot chocolate – revived me.

In my clutches, from earlier browsing, I had fudge and gemstone jewellery. I can’t help it! They are my vices! And I like quaint shops in quaint towns. Plus, I needed that pendant to match two sets of earrings I own. And as for the earrings I bought – I do not have any that are blue goldstone! Well, I do now.

Back “home” to relax.

PS: Tesco is still closed! They looked to be dismantling the whole shop.

***

Day Eighteen

A day of relaxation. We did nothing until lunchtime, when we again sought sustenance in The Cornish Bakery. I love pasties! Oh how I will miss munching through one before attacking a frothy hot chocolate.

Most of the day has been spent watching Sailor Moon. Lol. I am really enjoying it.

Idle hands lead to relaxation

Day 16 - Maiden Castle & West Bay

Woke up at 7:17am very suddenly and with a gasp – I’d forgotten where I was and I’d been sprung from a strange dream in which ships full of zombies circulated the globe. No one took this fleet seriously, despite my warnings, and soon there were very few governments left in the world. They soon all fell. And I had to hide from the entire human race.

Our adventure began at about 9am, when we set out on narrow roads (well, mostly safe A roads, but the last stretch was hairy) to find Maiden Castle. I’d neglected to tell The Husband that it was an abandoned hillfort, not a castle of the stone variety.

“It’s just a big hill!” he exclaimed, disappointed and thoroughly unimpressed.

But to me it was pure gold. An ancient settlement! Immense defensive earthworks! Seeing the hillfort on foot doesn’t do it justice, I think – aerial photos I’d looked at earlier revealed how amazingly big it is and how much work went into this thing.

It was a bit of a hike up to the western entrance, but so worth it. We encountered confusing paths and deep ditches that were supposed to stymie attackers. Sadly, these impressive earthworks could not keep the Romans at bay. They defeated the inhabitants and moved the main settlement to where Dorchester is now (“chester”, of course, indicates that it was the site of a Roman fort).

The hillfort was covered in sheep and shit. Signs with useful information were sparse and, at this time of day, humans were sparse too. 

We traipsed up onto a “wall” (one of the many impressive ridges surrounding the enclosure, which would have been full of people) and enjoyed the epic view. Wow! You could see any army coming at you from there. We could also see a nearby burial mound.

Not just a big hill

We left, bound for West Bay and hopefully some public toilets!

A spot for the car was easy enough to find – West Bay wasn’t busy yet at 11am and we were able to make use of the parking on Station Road, on pebbles that revealed just how close we were to the beach. That and the dune at the end of the carpark!

After using the (frankly scary) toilets, we walked down to the water’s edge. The Husband stopped many times to shake stones out of his shoes, a somewhat comical sight. It was hard to slough through the stones, though they were smaller near the waves.

The Jurassic cliffs have such a different look to other parts of the country we’ve seen and they are beautiful, if scruffy looking (and they do lose chunks at times, so we were careful!).

I posed for a photo there, at the foot of the cliffs, as many others were doing. Of course, this is where Danny’s body lay in the first episode of Broadchurch.

Paging David Tennant

I had a hankering for ice cream, so I bought too many scoops (“Serious Chocolate” was the name of my choice) and beamed, licking my treat, as I explored the town I’d come to know as “Broadchurch” on the TV. While we ate fatty lunch food from a vendor (she saw me with the ice cream and laughingly asked if I was having my pudding before my tea!), I rang Mum who was very jealous as she likes Broadchurch too.

I found the show’s “police station” – just apartments in real life. How amusing. Though The Husband did say he could see how it doubled as a police station, because of the concrete stairs in front of it.

The Husband finished his own ice cream as we navigated our way “home”. We spent the afternoon watching Doctor Who and occasionally enjoyed the view we have of the bay from our rental.

I think I’m finally relaxing. :)

Day 15: AMS-LCY

Woke early again. The neighbours were a little noisy last night, but they quietened down after midnight. Breakfast was ready when we went down. Again, I availed myself of the sprinkles and bread. Then it was time to go.

We waved off the front desk’s offer to get a taxi (apparently they can make it up the street) and instead made for the taxi rank. A good choice – vans were unloading in the street, thus blocking any taxi that would have tried to go to the hotel. The drive wasn’t too bad, even in peak, and we were at Amsterdam Airport Schiphol super early.

Check in went well. Bag drop went well. Boarding passes let us into the security area. All kept going well.

Then disaster struck.

We bookended a seething queue of people, a mob that seemed to stretch into infinity. My anxiety began to gnaw at me. The pain in my shoulders and back from my heavy bag compounded the problem.

I squirmed, unhappy, miserable, unable to break out of my exponential panic. We were never going to get out! The people were pressing in around me! We merged with yet another queue, then finally we go through security. A woman gave me a pat-down, which sparked my dislike of being touched.

A whole hour had passed since we’d joined the queue. And now it was time for passport control. Ugh – none of the chip-reading gates were open, so hundreds of people from multiple outgoing flights were squished through a handful of staffed gates. We got into the fast-moving EU queue (British passports at the ready) and watched many people get turned away from the “premium” queue before they desperately joined our queue instead – I’m sure some people missed their flights!

I started having the stirrings of an anxiety attack. I must have looked awful because a security guard came over to ask if I was okay!

Finally, we made it out, with much less time to kill than usual. But I still had an hour to drink a hot chocolate and eat something sweet. I’m glad we always arrive at airports 3 hours before our international flights, even in Europe. What a disaster that could have been.

The flight to London City Airport was as packed as the Heathrow one. I couldn’t fit any of my hand luggage overhead due to too many people bringing on those bulky mini suitcases. Squished all my stuff under the seat in front of me.

Though we left late, we landed a whole minute early – which made it feel like we’d never left Schiphol, because London is one hour behind Amsterdam and the flight time is less than 60 minutes!

We escaped with our suitcases to the car rental place, where it take agggges for them to release a car to us (they had a newbie on the front desk who looked like he had no idea what he was doing). I’m glad we booked ahead – a group of men beside me, who’d only booked that morning, wanted a small car and ended up with a minibus!

The woman overseeing the newbie was concerned that we had a lot of luggage, but we wanted a small car (and managed to fit everything) to get through tiny country lanes.

After some mishaps (the GPS was stuck in French and I didn’t know where the parking brake was), we got on our way, hoping to go around the city.

Our Troll GPS had other ideas.

It started okay. But then I looked out the left window and saw the Tower of London!?! Oh shit! We got tangled in the streets of downtown London and the GPS tried to make us drive down The Mall, even though it was closed. Mayhem!

Somehow we ended up free in Hammersmith. I worried about the congestion tax, but later discovered that it’s a bank holiday, so no tax was required (and that’s why The Mall was shut!).

Whew.

We recovered in a Services on the road to Salisbury. It looked very familiar – I realised I’d been there 4 years ago on a tour to Stonehenge.

And I saw Stonehenge again.

It looks oddly small as you drive past it, though the stones are actually quite large in person. I was reminded of my trip in 2013 and smiled. I am so fond of those times Cazy and I shared together.

A huge traffic jam was outside the Neolithic monument (coming from our direction), but it was not there because people wanted to see Stonehenge. No, it was the end of a long weekend and everyone was queueing to go home.

Troll GPS returned to take us down questionable B roads. We came across families with prams and they crossly told me to slow down – I was bemused to see them in the middle of nowhere. I’d rather people didn’t cover an entire road when they’re walking in a pack, since there would have been ample room for the car if they’d kept to the sides. It wasn’t my intention to annoy folk; I had kept to the signposted speed until they appeared.

The GPS then nearly killed us on a route that took us across the A road we needed. I was honked, narrowly avoiding disaster, but how could I have seen any cars coming around that blind turn? Ugh. Driving in England is…harrowing, to say the least.

But at last we came to Lyme Regis. Yay for narrow lanes that induce heart attacks!

Having just read on the plane the bit were Jane Austen’s characters in Persuasion enter Lyme (the Regis came later), I felt like I was walking – er, driving – in the footsteps of fiction and history.

Picked up the rental keys and fumbled our way to Coram Tower, a historic building with a fucktonne of stairs. Why oh why did I rent the apartment with a view? In such an old building, no less!?

Coram Tower - starring STAIRS

A trip to Tesco revealed the bank holiday that had been chasing us from London. The shelves were a bit bare (the Tesco will be closed tomorrow in lieu of today – we were grateful!) but we managed to get what we needed, including toilet paper!

Then we settled in for the night, watching Top Gear on BBC iPlayer (this place has a TV, so we assume it has a TV licence!). The apartment is quite draughty, owing to gaps between the glass windows and the stone sills, but radiators help with that.

Not a bad place to stay.