A Day on the Town

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Saturday was the first day Scott really got a chance to catch his breath, so we took the opportunity to meet Mom at her hotel before having a "day on the town."  It was actually pretty warm (I only needed one sweater, and I even got rid of that later on in the day), so we decided to see what kind of outdoor activities we could do.  Of course, the Market Square market was the obvious choice.  Located right in the center of the downtown area, the market fills up the entire square every day, with vendors selling everything from fresh produce to antiques and crafts, and even some rare Great War memorabilia.  I hadn't eaten breakfast yet, so I naturally headed straight for the bakery stall for a crossaint.  We mostly just looked around and enjoyed the  sunny weather, but Mom did manage to find a pretty cool gift for Lindsay--a backpack hand-made from an old flannel shirt!  I don't have a picture of the actual one she bought, but the one posted is a pretty good representation.  We also enjoyed the renditions of a bluegrass band playing folk tunes in the corner by the church.  I know England is a very multicultural place, but I do have to say that Cambridge, UK, is probably the last place I ever expected to hear bluegrass (and done so well, too!).

Once we'd had our fill of classic American music, we figured we'd better take advantage of being in England to learn a little bit about the history of that country.  But first, it was time for coffee.  We stopped off at my favorite coffeeshop (so far; I haven't tried them all yet): Caffe Nero across from King's College.  Caffeine-laden beverages in hand, we took some seats among the multitudes of people sitting along the wall in front of the college.  Apparently, I just look like a tourist no matter where I am, because we were approached by a student selling tickets to the "Cambridge Alumni Walking Tour."  We were reluctant at first, because there seem to be an infinite number of colleges in Cambridge and we weren't sure how we'd all hold up to walking that much.  Eventually, the student managed to convince us by giving us all the children's priced tickets.

http://online.sfsu.edu

The two-hour tour was definitely worth it.  While I think that the guide must be Scott's long-lost sister (they both are quite partial to taking the most confusing route possible, even when much more direct routes are available), it was nice to finally see the colleges that make Cambridge so famous.  I wish I could say that I remember which one is which, but since I can hardly tell you which of my seven students is which, much less which of 31 difference colleges! I do remember passing by the Cambridge University Library, which is kind of like Britain's equivalent of the Library of Congress--it is required that every published book be housed there.  Of course, not all books have the purest content matter, but the guide assured us that "those kinds" of books are kept away from the others (and from the eager eyes of the thousands of university students), locked in the highest tower.  Yes, you read that correctly; there is a porn tower in Cambridge.  Sadly, that was not part of the tour.

Other highlights of the tour included a visit to the descendant of the tree under which Sir Isaac Newton was sitting when he "discovered" gravity while at Trinity College in 1666; a visit to the courtyard of the oldest college in Cambridge, Peterhouse; a view of the narrowest stretch between two college buildings, between which students used to dare one another to jump across; and the Mathematical Bridge at Queens' College, said to be the most perfectly designed bridge in the world (this is, of course, a source of much debate).  There was plenty more to see, but you know what they say: "a picture is worth a thousand words."  I'll let something else do the talking for once.

Could you make the jump?

The Gravity Tree

The Mathematical Bridge--Perfect?

I took a few (read: hundreds) more photos, but you'll have to check out Facebook for those.  After walking back and forth across the city for two hours on the tour, we were more than ready for a drink!  On the tour we'd passed a pub called "The Eagle."  Now, passing a pub is not any special thing in England, but this one was pretty special--not only is it really old (at least 16th century), it also played a fairly important role in modern science.  It was a favorite place of Francis Crick and James Watson to relax and enjoy a drink as they discussed their theories.  They even celebrated their discovery of DNA there!  It was a natural choice to end the day.  It turned out to be even more of an experience for Mom, who had never even heard of cider before!  She was a little reluctant to try it at first, but upon one taste of mine, she insisted on ordering her own.  We also enjoyed some authentic British pub food--Scott and Mom both had pies, while I had my new standby, fish and chips.  It was a great way to end a lovely day.

Local Goodness

oncoffeemakers.com

Having Mom visit was actually really nice, because it gave me an excuse to do all the "touristy" things that Cambridge has to offer.  Scott and I have attempted a couple times to see Cambridge, but since Scott has been here about 8 months longer than I have, and lived in the city proper for nearly a month of that time, he's already "been there, done that" with most of the attractions.  Plus, the weather has been so horrendous that when we go into town we usually spend most of the time scouting coffee shops to warm up in!  So, while I can proudly say that I can direct you to just about any coffee shop you wish to visit in the downtown area, I'm still not all that familiar with the things Cambridge is really famous for, like the museums and colleges. 

Mom arrived on the Wednesday of the first week back to school for Scott. Going back to school after a break is always a bit hectic, but the new term had brought with it 15 new students and 6 additional weekly classes, so it's fairly safe to say that Scott was essentially out of action for anything else during the week.  While we appreciated the mother-daughter time, I think Scott appreciated the alone time!  Exploring Cambridge with Mom also gave me the opportunity to actually learn where things were for myself.  Again, I pretty much just followed Scott around and trusted that he knew where he was going.  Being there myself, I learned that Cambridge is actually quite a bit smaller than I had perceived, and that Scott's preferred method of getting around town is to zig-zag back and forth between areas, making what is typically a 10-minute walk into three-quarters of an hour.   It's a great technique for site-seeing, but does end up being slightly confusing for one who is trying to learn her way around.

www.hotelscambridge.org

So for the next couple days, I caught an "early" (9:00 a.m.) bus into town to meet Mom and do some leisurely exploring.  It was really nice because the bus picks up directly across from  my house, and it dropped off right across from her hotel.  Oh, speaking of hotels, I bet you're wondering how she held up in the oh-so-lovely Travelodge.  She didn't, actually.  She was so concerned about having to stay there even one more night that on our first exploration of the city, she saw a bed and breakfast (The Centennial) along the route and stopped right in to ask if they had any availability.  She was in luck; they had a single room available through the weekend.  Without thinking twice, she booked it.  We were even lucky enough to be able to cancel the second night at the Travelodge.  It was a little bit more expensive, but definitely worth it. I can assure you that it was at least 325,436,098 times better than her previous accommodations.

It was nice to be able to take things slow (usually Scott and I go into town with a specific goal in mind and have to rush around to get everything done so that we don't miss the bus home), so we spent the time window shopping, visiting the market, and of course, drinking coffee at the many coffee shops.  During our explorations, we came up St. Bene't's Church, the oldest in Cambridge, and decided to have a look inside.  It was quite an interesting place--the architecture was, of course, very old (with periodic updating), but the technology was about as new as you could get.  There was an electronic chandelier that could be placed in various positions, and even floating speakers placed strategically around the church.  I'm really not quite sure why they needed so many speakers, because the church itself isn't all that large, but it was cool to see the juxtaposition of the old and new.  In the center of the church, there was a remembrance tree where members and visitors alike were encouraged to write the names of loved ones on leaves and tie them to the tree.  The tree was already overflowing with leaves, but we left a few of our own as well.

Surprise!

It was a quite Sunday afternoon and we'd just gotten back from traveling "the island" (aka England) during our two week break, and were settling back to the reality that it would be back off to work tomorrow when I got a Skype call.  It was from my Mom--not too surprising, yet; we talk at least a few times a week on Skype anyway.  She asked me how I was, and what my plans were for the week.  I told her I didn't really have anything too exciting planned.  "Good, " she said, "because I just found a great deal on flights to London, and I'm leaving Tuesday!"

Oh.  Ok.  That definitely was a surprise that I wasn't expecting in about a million and a half years!  At first I was a little concerned about how to prepare on such sort notice (imagine how Mom felt, having to prepare to go overseas for two weeks in such a sort amount of time)!  Since she would be here over two weekends, I first tried to find a short trip that Scott could also do, but unfortunately on such sort notice, the prices were sky-high.  Instead, I started to look for a mid-week break that Mom and I could take together, and give Scott some alone time to catch up on schoolwork.  As it turns out, all of those were pretty expensive too.  I put those plans on the back burner and set about figuring out how I was going to go pick Mom up in London on Wednesday morning.

In the morning from our house to central London, it usually takes about 3 hours (first the bus, then the train).  But to collect Mom, I also had to factor in the almost hour-long ride on the underground from King's Cross to Heathrow.  The meeting was also complicated by the fact that she would have no usable phone, and that her plane was schedule to arrive before 8:00 a.m.  We decided that she would just have to wait near the meeting area until I got there, because the rural buses that come to my house aren't the most reliable.

myfavehotel.com

I got up at 5:00 a.m. on Wednesday morning, hoping to catch the first commuter bus.  I was starting to get pretty nervous, because this was my first time to London by myself.  This meant I would actually have to figure out where things were instead of just following Scott everywhere!  I'm happy to announce that I caught the first bus (which was only about 2 minutes late), and managed to get on the express train into King's Cross.  I even found the correct underground train on the first try!  All in all, I'd say it was a success, and I arrived around 10:30 a.m.  While her plane had been delayed slightly, Mom should have arrived by that time.  I didn't see her in the waiting area, so I took a quick bathroom break and figured that maybe the line at customs was long or something.

When I returned, I saw Mom entering the terminal from outside--I guess the weather has been so  horrible in Wisconsin that she couldn't wait another second to get out and enjoy the "nice" English weather (as in it was not raining at that particular moment).  We hugged each other and then set off on the business of getting back to Cambridge.  I only got lost once trying to find the Underground again.  The ride back into town was uneventful (but full of gossip, of course!).  We stopped at King's Cross for a sandwich, and managed to catch another express train back into Cambridge.

www.hotelscambridge.org

Luckily, once we were in Cambridge, we just had to walk over the railway bridge to get to Mom's hotel.  Not so luckily, the hotel (Travelodge Cambridge Central) was the last one available at such sort notice, and we saw why upon entering the room.  We got to the check-in counter about half an hour before official check-in opened.  Of course, after traveling for more than a day, Mom just wanted to be able to relax, so she asked if the room was ready yet.  The clerk told her that yes, it was ready, but she would have to pay 10 pounds if she wanted to occupy it before check-in.  Shocked but too tired to care, we agreed to pay it.  The room was on the third floor, and we finally managed to reach it after having to use our key card to get through at least three access doors into hallways. 

The room itself was fairly large, but incredibly bare.  It had a large bed and a TV.  The rest was open space that looked like it used to have furniture, but not any more.  One wall was painted bright orange, and the others were a dirty white.  Not "dirty white" as a color of its own, but white that had become dirty by what seemed like a very talented person walking sideways up the wall and onto the ceiling, while simultaneously drawing chalk figures behind them.  The one painted wall was faded in areas that presumably once held pictures, but now just had holes.  At least the shower had running water!

We decided to ignore the displeasing aesthetics, hope for a more pleasant clerk at the desk, and take a rest before heading out to explore Cambridge for a while.

Gardening with a Historian and an Anthropologist...

... makes for very slow work, it turns out!

Even though it was cold and windy out, I managed to convince Scott to help me dig up the garden (with the promise of a homemade dinner afterwards).  Theoretically, it should be pretty quick work, especially with two people going at it.  All you have to do is cut the sod into strips, roll it up, and cart it away.  This went well for the first strip--I was pleased to see that the soil had a good consistency and that there were plenty of worms and grubs to help turn over the soil.  This gardening stuff might turn out to be a good idea, after all!

When I started to pull up the next strip, however, I noticed a small white and blue object.  Upon further inspection, I realized that it was a piece of painted ceramic!  Of course now that I knew there were interesting objects in the ground, this meant that I had to painstakingly comb every strip before taking it away.  Scott laughed at my enthusiasm at first, but once I started pulling out more pieces, he started looking too!  We ended up finding pieces from at least two or three different objects.  I'm a little rusty with my ceramics knowledge (not that I had much to begin with), so I really don't have any idea if they're all that interesting or not.  If anyone has any inklings, let me know!

We managed to get about three-quarters of the yard stripped off, except for bits near the fencel ine that were difficult to cut into.  I tried to dig into one area only to discover a row of bricks buried just below the surface.  The outside edge of the garden it lined with bricks, since the sidewalk is slightly beneath the soil line.  I figured that this row was just from an older garden perimeter that was eventually forgotten and let to grow over.  They would have to be pulled out before we could start planting, so I grabbed the spade and starting digging.  I pulled up about three intact bricks, and went to try to find the next one in line.

This time when I went to pull out the brick with my shovel, I noticed that it wasn't quite as heavy as the other bricks.  I figured that perhaps it was broken, or maybe it was just a stone that got placed instead of a brick.  When I finally did manage to pull it out, it turned out not to be a brick at all!  It was a bottle neck, with the cork still intact (very rotted, but still there).  Our garden is right next to the sidewalk that leads to and from the neighboring villages, so I just figured that it was litter that had been thrown over by a passerby some years ago (although it was strange that they would have left the cork in!).  I put the fragment to the side and continued digging.

My spade hit upon another hard object, so I reached down to pull it out.  It was another fragment of a bottle, but it was a different color than the bottle neck I had just pulled out.  I looked more closely at the hole I had dug and realized that there were dozens of fragments of bottles of all sorts of different colors!  The archaeologist in me started to get excited, and I expressed this excitement to Scott.  Again, he laughed at my enthusiasm, took his obligatory glance at the fragments I'd pulled up, and continued working on his patch of the garden.  I was so excited, though, that I continued to make celebratory noises with each new fragment I pulled out.

Finally, Scott couldn't take it anymore and came over to see what all the fuss was about.  Of course, he insisted that his excavation skills were far superior to mine, took the hand shovel from me, and proceeded to start digging himself.  Turns out he's a natural--he pulled up a large can (maybe a small paint can?), with a small, intact glass bottle inside of it.  This discovery convinced him of the archaeological significance of the site, so he put away his large tools and sat down to excavate with me.  Our gardening plans all but forgotten, we spent the next half hour or so pulling up more objects from the ground.  Once I realized that it was more than just a few pieces of litter, I even started try to map the locations of the objects!

By the time we were forced inside by rain, we'd pulled up an entire bucket full of bottle fragments, four cans, a small intact bottle, a large intact bottle, five bottle necks with corks still inserted, and two more pieces of ceramic.  Scott said we should recycle them, but right now they're sitting in the kitchen waiting for me to clean and date them, just in case they are something to get excited about.  I found a website that might help--it's for dating American bottles, but maybe I can find some good references there to give me an approximate age of the bottles.  It's still really strange that so many of them were unopened, and in the same place.  Someone's forgotten secret stash?

The answer to this mystery must remain for the moment, because the sun has returned (for the moment), which means its time to get back to the garden!

Endeavours in Gardening

So a few weeks ago, whilst staring out the window at the falling snow (in a place where I was assured that it rarely snowed--no, I am not going to let that go!), I decided that it would be a good idea to start a vegetable garden in the back yard.  I do have some experience with gardening, if you count helping my dad with his when I was about 12 years old.  Other than that, I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing.

Luckily, there are perks to living in the old servant's house on an estate--there is a groundskeeper for the whole estate who knows a thing or two about tending to a garden.  I actually met the groundskeeper, Bob, during my first week here when a package meant for Hildersham Hall (the estate owners' home) was accidentally delivered to our house.  I wasn't quite sure what to do, but I just happened to look out the window and see a man clearing the snow on the driveway.  Since I hadn't met our landlord, I assumed that that was who it was.  Turns out I was wrong, but luckily Bob is really awesome and agreed to give the package to the landlord when he saw him.  We ended up talking for over an hour, even though I was standing outside with only my slippers and sweatshirt.  Bob is a really interesting guy, and seems to know a little bit about everything!

A few weeks later when I told him that I wanted to start a garden, Bob helped me scout out the best location in the yard, and even agreed to put down some weedkiller so that I wouldn't have to pull up all the grass.  He came over on a warm, sunny day to spray it.  He finished within about 15 minutes, but once again he ended up staying and chatting for over an hour.  In fact, the only reason he ended up leaving was because I got stung by a bee!  It figures that would happen on the first warm day of the year!  Very strange circumstance, too--I put my hands inside the pocket of my sweatshirt, and was stung on my palm by the bee that had apparently been napping in there!  It's been about a week, and I'm proud to say that my hand is healing quite nicely.  It was starting to itch quite a bit, but it turns out that a nice rubbing of mud really helps with that!

Anyways, after Bob sprayed the yard to kill the grass, he told me that if the weather stayed dry, everything should be gone within a week or so.  Of course, it has rained and/or snowed pretty much every day since he said that.  So, unfortunately, the grass and weeds are still very alive and I now get the oh-so-fun task of pulling them all out.  Luckily, Bob has started a little bit of it for me, because he had to dig up one side to put in the new fence that he graciously offered to install around the perimeter of the vegetable garden to keep out the rabbits.  He even put in a nice gate and painted everything, too!  Have I said that I think Bob is pretty much the most awesome person ever?

www.leevalley.com

After a week of watching the rain fall and nourish the grass that I was attempting to kill, I finally gave in and decided to pull up the grass myself.  This doesn't seem like that big of a deal, but it turns out that a plot of 25 by 15 feet is actually pretty big.  Also, I only had a spade to work with.  I started to dig up a bit with that, but after an hour of work I'd only managed to sort of move the dirt around in about a 4 by 4 area.  Luckily, Bob tends to also have great timing, and he showed up just in time to see me ready to give up in my attempts.  He showed me how to use my spade to cut the sod into strips, and even lent me his antique sod lifter to make rolling it up even easier!  With this new tool, I was able to remove about a third of the grass in just about an hour!  Even still, I definitely got my work out and can assure you that I'll get a good night's sleep tonight!

My progress so far.  I'm pretty proud of myself!

Now, I think I'm going to wait until Scott can help this weekend to pull up the rest of it.  Turns out that dirt and grass can be quite heavy, so he also gets the honorable task of moving the rolls of sod that I've created.  He'll be so excited to hear the news!

Escape to Portugal

www.guardian.co.uk

Because we stayed so close to the airport, we "slept in" until 5:00 a.m.  We actually managed to get up and going fairly efficiently, considering the hour.  We were checked out and ready to go just a little past 6:00.  Unfortunately, the snow hadn't let up all night and there was a nice covering of the stuff all the way up to the airport.  I really wasn't too excited about sitting on a cold airplane with wet feet, so I went into the bathroom and snagged some of the extra garbage bags from the corner.  I tied them around my feet over my sneakers to prevent some of the water from getting in.  And to make a fashion statement, obviously.  Scott commented that it was an improvement over my normal attire, although the other people we passed by didn't quite seem to have the same opinion.

Regardless of their fashion, the bags served their purpose and my feet were only slightly damp by the time  arrived at the terminal.  As I peeled the bags off, Scott did some reconnaissance to see where we needed to go to get our tickets.  We'd already checked in and were only bringing carry-on baggage, but we would still have to wait in line because we don't have a printer at home to print the tickets.  I'm actually almost tempted to buy a printer just to avoid the hassle of waiting in line at airports!  It would totally be worth it.  Especially because just as we got into the hideously long line, we heard an announcement over the loudspeaker saying that it was the last call for our flight!  Granted, it was an international flight so we probably should have arrived more than an hour before boarding, but last call at 6:20?!

www.freedomsphoenix.com

There was no way we were going to get to the front of the line anytime soon, so Scott left the line to go ask for help at the ticket counter.  Luckily, the staff are apparently used to lots of traveler arriving late and having similar panic situations.  In fact, there was a special check-in line designed especially for those travelers.  We rushed to join that line, willing it to move quickly as we heard the repeated "last call" for our flight.  As soon as the agent gave us our tickets, we ran to security and were once again faced with a mile-long line.  This time, there wasn't any "fast-track" service, so we just had to grit our teeth and hope we made it.  As we stood in line we started to organize the things that needed to be taken out or put in bags (electronics and liquids).  As we did, Scott reaching into the bottom of his bag and realized that he had forgotten to take out his multi-tool before packing for the trip!  For those of you unacquainted, a multi-tool is basically just a bunch of knives and other sharp objects all tacked together.  Not such a good thing to try to bring into an airport, especially if you're planning on getting anywhere fast.

I know that some airports have last minute mail services near security, so I was hoping that we might just be able to mail it home.  I did a quick scan, but didn't see anything in the vicinity.  We showed it to the guard in the corner of the room.  He let us keep it for the moment, but warned us that it probably wasn't going to be able to go much further.  When we got to the x-ray, Scott showed it to the security agent to see what options he might have.  He didn't have any, so was forced to hand it over before going through the machine.  But at least we got to leave our shoes on!

news.bbcimg.co.uk

We got through security by about 7:10, which is the time that our tickets said that the gate was closing.  Hoping that my watch was a little fast, we ran as fast as we could to our gate.  We were welcomed by a massive gathering of about 100 other people who probably had also made a mad dash to the gate after hearing the "last call."  Apparently those calls they'd been giving out for the past half hour had merely been a suggestion, because the door to the waiting area for the gate hadn't even been opened yet.  So glad we nearly ran down an old crippled lady in our quest to get there on time.  It actually turned out pretty well that we were at the back of the line, because the waiting area was no more than a covered area right next to the runway--not the most comfortable place to stand around and wait when it's snowing.  Because of our tardiness, we were some of the last people ushered in and only had to endure it for about 15 minutes.

www.etravelblog.com

Not to say that I was too excited about those 15 minutes, either, but I suppose I'm glad it wasn't any longer. When we finally did make it to the airplane (around 8:00, 20 minutes after the scheduled departure time), we looked at our tickets to see that we would be seated towards the back of the plane.  And by "towards the back" I mean "the absolute last row right next to the bathrooms."  And of course we were in the window and middle seat.  I'm usually pretty OK with small places, but the one exception to that is on airplanes, where I always insist on being in the aisle.  I usually manage to reserve one but if not, the plane often has extra seats that I can move to once we're in the air.  Not today.  At least the person sitting next to me was very respectful and even offered to let me use the armrest!  Now that is chivalry at 30,000 feet!

Luckily for our seatmate, he got to have the armrest and even a little bit extra butt room, because I leaned over and slept on Scott's shoulder for nearly the whole trip.  Except for the last half hour or so, during which time I decided to try a new game on my iPod called "Temple Run."  It is the most addictive game ever; you've been warned!  It was a little difficult to catch on to the rules (because reading the instructions would have been too easy), and of course just as I figured it out was when the captain made the landing announcement and we had to power down all electronics.

www.guardian.co.uk

The landing was much more efficient than boarding and take-off, and we headed right inside to customs.  Usually, being the foreigner means longer lines and more questioning at the border, but this time it was actually an advantage being a non-EU citizen!  There was one line for EU and UK passport holders, and one line for "everyone else."  Luckily for us, it was only us and one other couple that qualified as "everyone else," so we got right to the front of the line.  The lady barely even looked at our passport before stamping it and waving us through.  I was so excited to have my first European stamp in this passport!  I am a little disappointed that all the European stamps are now basically the same since becoming part of the EU but, oh well.  I'll continue collecting anyway.

After getting through the border, we headed straight out to the transportation area.  I hadn't really researched the best way to get to our hotel, but I did know that it was supposed to be fairly close to a metro stop.  We decided to find a map and try to find our way to the nearest metro, hoping that there wouldn't be too many busy roads to cross to get there.  Luckily for us, it turns out they had just built a new metro stop right inside the airport!  Plus, the tickets were electronic so we could buy a reusable card that could be used all on modes of transportation during our entire stay.  We did have a little trouble buying the ticket from the electronic kiosk, until we discovered that there was a button to translate everything into English.  Amazing how much easier that made things!

rouxinoldepomares.blogs.sapo.pt

The airport was at the far north of the city, while our hotel was at the southernmost end.  We also had to transfer lines once, so it took us about 45 minutes to get to our stop.  Luckily, we got to have our pick of seats since we had gotten on at the first stop of the line.  We got off at metro Baixa-Chiado (easy to remember, since the name of our hotel was "Borges Chiado").  After going up what seemed an infinite number of floors--thank goodness for escalators--we finally emerged into a large, bustling square.  The directions I had gotten to our hotel weren't very specific, so we walked around to the other side of the exit to see if we could find a map with a more precise location.  Unfortunately, the dispaly that we had believed to be a map was empty.  So, like the confused tourists that we are, we just looked around like deer in the headlights.  This actually turned out to be quite a good strategy, as it turned out that our hotel was just across the square!

It was just a few minutes until noon, so we figured that it would be the perfect time to check in and start exploring.  Of course, the first thing on our mind was lunch.  Being the "economical" travelers that we are, we hadn't eaten breakfast because it wasn't free at the hotel, and there also weren't any snack provided on the airplane.  There was quite a crowd in the lobby, so we ended up waiting about 15 minutes before we managed to grab anyone's attention.  When we finally did, we were told that check-in time actually wasn't until 1:00 p.m., so we would have to do something else until that time.  They did let us leave our bags in a locked closet so that we didn't have to much to carry, at least.  

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We decided to use the time to go out in search of something to quench our appetites.  There were a few cafes right next to the hotel, but we wanted to be a bit more adventurous so we headed up the big hill to our right and down a small cobblestone street on our first Portuguese adventure.  There were quite a few tourists at the plaza from where we'd come, but as we moved further down the narrow street, we noticed a change in the ambiance.  There were decidedly fewer foreigner accents, and many more "regular" people just going about their daily activities.  We walked past a small restaurant with all sorts of fresh fish on display in the window.  Scott was a little unsure at first, but we took a quick glance at the menu and, with our elementary grasp of Portuguese combined with some educated guessing, we surmised that there were at least a few non-fish options and that the prices were fairly reasonable.

We ventured inside and used hand gestures to indicate that we wanted a table for two.  That was our first indication that this was going to be a good meal--no one spoke English! We muddled through the menu for a few minutes before the waiter realized our difficulties and brought us an international menu.  He tried to speak to us in German, but when that didn't work out, he reverted back to handle signals.  Apparently, we don't look very American, because this was only the first of many instances in which someone would first attempt to speak to us in German.  Maybe I should have chosen a different language in high school!

gonegluten-free.com

Although some of the translations on the English menu were a bit strange, we cross-referenced between the Portuguese and Spanish translations to get the best idea of what it was we were ordering.  Scott ending up getting a meat platter with pork and liver, while I got a traditional Portuguese dish made with corvina.  I wasn't really sure what that was, but I knew I wanted something Portuguese and the waiter assured me that that was a good choice.  Good thing I was really hungry, because corvina is apparently a giant fish (the best translation in English is "seabass," although I don't think it's exactly the same).  The dish I got was a stew of sorts made of potatoes and vegetables in a tomato sauce, with a huge slab of this giant fish plunked right on top.  It was served in something similar to a casserole dish, with a bowl on the side to dish the portions into.  I was told that it was a single-serving portion, but I'm pretty sure that this "single" they're talking about is a 300-pound Portuguese fisherman.  Normally, Scott helps me finish any extra portions of food that I can't get to, but he is really anti-fish.  He did brave one (very tiny) bite, declared it "very fishy," and refused to look at it anymore.  I'm proud to say that I ate the whole thing but two potatoes all by myself!  I'd forgotten my camera at the hotel, but this picture from another website gives you an idea of what the dish was.  Just multiply that by about 6 servings.  Yum!

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After lunch, we waddled back to our hotel to check in.  The receptionists were much more attentive this time, and we were sent up to our room in no time.  We were on the third floor, and after walking down what seemed like endless corridors, we found our room towards the back of the hotel.  Apparently, the hotel was made by combining four or five different buildings all into one giant one, so some of the halls were somewhat labyrinthine.  We did eventually find our room, though, and were pleasantly surprised to see a large window that could let in the warm sunshine.  Upon opening it, we realized that we had a wonderful view of... the wall of the other side of the building.  This ended up working to our advantage, though, because the outside rooms all faced right onto the busy street and were quite noisy at all hours of the night.  While we didn't get our beautiful view, we did get quite a bit of sunshine and definitely appreciated the peace and quiet at night.  We unpacked our stuff and relaxed for a few minutes before heading out into the "warm" weather (50° F!) to explore our surroundings.

Half Term Travels

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So after about three days in "sunny" England, I decided that was just about enough of that and it was time to start looking for a more temperate climate.  Luckily, Scott's school was letting out for half term during the second week of February, so I didn't have to wait long.  The only problem was that there are so many awesome places to visit so nearby, we didn't know how to narrow it down!  Scott graciously let me have the honors of finding the ideal location, so the first thing I did was sign up for as many discount travel sites as possible.  This only served to magnify the conundrum, as I was now receiving almost hourly updates on the new *amazing* deals to some exotic location, but only if I bought the tickets right now!  So, I did the most logical thing in this situation: I randomly clicked on a link to see where it would take me.

This particular link took me a to a deal with for a week in Portugal.  I didn't know much of Portugal and never really had too much of an interest to learn more, but the price was good (and the weather was forecast to be pretty nice), so I asked Scott what he thought about going.  To my surprise, he was very enthusiastic; apparently, he had always wanted to go to there!  So, I booked the deal and got to daydreaming about the nice, warm weather.

www.dipity.com

Because we got the tickets for such a good price, they departure flight was from a different airport than the return flight.  The return flight came in to Gatwick, one of the two major London airports, so I wasn't too worried about finding transportation from there.  The outgoing flight, however, left from "Luton Airport," which neither Scott nor I had ever heard of.  Luckily, we found a company that runs shuttles from Cambridge to all the London area airports.  At £15 per person for the ride, I thought the fare was a bit steep, but Scott told me that the U.K. is known for having expensive transportation because it is not run or subsidized by the government as it is most countries.  This has been somewhat of an adjustment from me, coming from Chile where I could travel halfway across the country for $30, moving to the U.K. where that money might get me as far as London (if I can find a discount fare).

Our flight to Lisbon was schedule to leave Luton at 7:40 on Monday morning., so to avoid the hassle of getting lost and possibly missing the infrequent early morning buses from our house, we booked a room at the airport hotel.  The website said it was only a ten minute walk away from the terminals, so we could get some extra sleep and just head over by foot in the morning.  Theoretically, this was a good plan.  We relaxed and got some household chores done on Sunday, and went into Cambridge around 5:00 to catch the shuttle.  We found the bus stop easily enough, but had some trouble finding the right bus to get on.  We tried to ask one of the bus drivers, but she looked confused and told us "that bus doesn't usually leave from here," and suggested we go to the main terminal.  We were fairly certain that our tickets were for the stop that we were at, so we went to look at the route map just to make sure.  Sure enough, Luton was on the list.  We figured that maybe the driver was new to this route or something, so we went to ask another driver.

He too gave us an odd look and told us that we should probably go to the other terminal.  Confused, we pulled out the electronic text message we had received as out ticket and showed it to him.  After wading through the garbled mess that occurs when you use a standard phone to receive smartphone messages, he finally found the actual message, and a light bulb went on in his head.  "Oh," he said, "you're going to Luton!" Scott and I looked at each other, befuddled--isn't that what we'd been saying all along?!  We expressed this to the driver, who told us that we had been asking for London!  Apparently, Luton should be pronounced with a long "u" sound, whereas we had been using a short "u" sound.  This, combined with our highly exotic American accents, produced some confusion. 

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With the help of the second driver, we eventually figured things out.  He helped us decipher the text message tickets and told us that we had actually purchased a later trip, scheduled to leave at 8:30 p.m.  It was only just 6:00 at the time, and we really weren't looking forward to waiting outside in the cold for another two and a half hours.  Luckily, the driver was very accommodating, and agreed to let us on to his earlier shuttle.  We were especially grateful for his generosity when we looked out the window ten minutes later and saw that it had begun to snow significantly!  By the time we got near the airport about an hour later, there was a good couple inches of snow on the ground.  Turns out, a ten minute walk seems significantly longer when you're wearing "breathable" sneakers.  It also didn't help that we started out on the other side of the road and walked halfway to the hotel before we realized we wouldn't be able to cross the street and had to backtrack back to the airport again.

But we finally made it to the hotel and got checked it.   We were very grateful for the fact that each room had its own heater, and took full advantage.  We settled into the room, got out of our wet clothes, and just huddled up next to the heater for a while.  Eventually, hunger won out so we went to the lobby restaurant to grab a quick dinner.  Scott had an authentic English pie and I had some (probably also English) fish.  We also shared some cider (yes, we're lightweights and can only handle one pint between the two of us).  We then headed up to our room to get some rest and hope that the snow would let up before our flight the next morning.