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06/02/2007
Thank You For Driving Safely
Hello!!! As Benny so pointedly drew our attention to, I haven't blogged in a while. This is due to various reasons, the main clincher being that I've been sickly the last few days. I'm feeling a bit better today, but I think I contracted my illness when I went hiking in Wales...and as we all know, the sun never shines in Wales. Instead the skies are a perpetual gunmetal gray with no break in sight to reveal the gloriously blue sky. When I was there, of course, the Welsh weather decided to punish me, the girl from California and the land of perpetual sunshine, by raining. So I was hiking through Wales. In the rain. And I didn't have a proper raincoat, so I was damp for most of the walk.
But Wales I hear you say! Why go there?! Why on God's green Earth go there? I know this because DJ uttered those words when I told him I was crossing the border into Wales earlier this week. He's funny that way. I don't think he meant to say it, really. It was just one of those knee-jerk reactions and he blurted it out before he had a chance to think it over carefully.
Well, the answer lies in the fact that I've been a busy girl lately. By busy, of course, I mean that I've been places. Most of you are aware of what I've been up to, but for those of you that don't let me recap.
A week ago this past Monday, Matt and I flew from London to Geneva. Geneva was lovely. The old city especially drew my interest (big surprise there, eh?). We got to sail on Lake Geneva on some boats that are very much like gondolas only motorized and captained by a man who speaks French, not Italian. They were also enclosed, but that's beside the point. The point is that they were long, thin and generally sat low in the water.
I got on pretty well in Geneva since the city is surrounded on three sides by France and the dominant language is French. Whilst there, Matt ate escargot. He offered me some, but I couldn't bring myself to try them. There's just a psychological block in my brain against eating something that I normally banish from my garden for eating my roses and my black irises (that's right, I said black irises...I grow them, you see, and quite successfully so). Of course, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to capture the moment on film. We took a photo of the snails, not to remember it so much as to have proof for my youngest brother, Jeremy, who has an almost unnatural fear and dislike of snails. The photo is to gross him out.
Whilst in Geneva Matt and I also made the acquaintance of Gil (pronounced 'zheel' because he's very French that way). He's a native Genevese man who happened to be staying at our youth hostel. He spoke brilliant English and we met him while checking in. We met him again later on walking by the lake and he gave us an inside scoop into the best places to go and how to get there. In fact, he was the one who pointed out the boats to us and when the docks came up he bid us farewell and went on his merry way.
So that was Monday afternoon/evening/night that we spent in Geneva. The next morning we caught a series of trains that took us deep into the heart of Switzerland. For an idea of where we went, see my 'Ta-Tas In Basel' blog. That recounts the trek we took. What it doesn't do, however, is give an in depth look into the places we stayed. I'm doing that now in this blog.
We didn't do anything exciting in any of the major cities where we had stops on the train. Zurich looked thoroughly scary. It was big and very city-like, which admittedly wouldn't bother me so much if I hadn't been subject to seeing that the train station alone had fifty-four platforms that I could see and count based on my line of vision and on the signs that had connecting trains listed. Chur was less scary. It was still a pretty big city, but is was on the banks of Lake Lucerne so I was distracted by shiny boats in the pretty water. Lake Lucerne, by the way, is absolutely gigantic. We're talking it rivals the size of the bay back home. The only difference is that Lake Lucerne is prettier (but it's a different kind of pretty).
My favorite train station, by far, was Teifencastel. It was small (only three lines running through it and two platforms) and in the middle of a Swiss national park. It was like one of those small train stations in old Western films, only much more European in style and function. Teifencastel was charming. Matt and I spent a day there wandering around. The river that runs through the valley and national park is an odd color (it's chalky because of all the chalk and limestone in it) but despite that I loved my time in Switzerland.
Of all the big cities I saw and were in, though, I'd have to agree with Matt in that Basel is a fabulous city. It's by far my favorite. Again, I was drawn especially to the old city and the many winding and cobblestone streets. The cathedral there has a huge cobblestone square in front of it where I imagine they would carry out their public floggings and executions in front of large crowds (again, for those of you who don't know me very well, I became an amateur expert on public punishments and executions in the 15th through the 20th centuries in school).
Another aspect of the cathedral that has, thus far, been a marked and singular characteristic of it, is that it sits on a high hill that plunges straight into the river. I trust none of us are surprised that there's a river in Basel considering that most European cities of antiquity have been situated on rivers. No on surprised? No? Excellent. Moving right along then!
The front of the cathedral looks like any other, but after a bit of wandering around, you find that on the backside of it is a courtyard that overlooks the river and the opposite bank of the city. It was in this courtyard that I made Matt kind of nervous by sitting on the very edge of the wall (there's a stone bench built right around the courtyard without any kind of bars above it to spoil the view). I also might have generally leaned over it to get some photos of the carvings in the stone pillars that ran along the wall. He slipped his fingers between my belt and waist and held on to me while I took my photos. He spoils all my fun.
Anyway, Basel is a great town. I highly recommend it to anyone who happens to be in the area, but I also recommend you brush up on your German before you go. Once you're outside Geneva, the country of Switzerland seems to become very German in many ways.
Oh, and before I forget, I would like to add that while staying in Alvaneu I tried Bratwurst for the first time in my life. I'm not a big sausage fan, but this was pretty good. The reason we got the Bratwurst was because the chicken at the local Volg (chain of grocery shops like Safeway, only meant for small towns) was un-identifiable and the German between the two of us was so bad that we couldn't figure out what part of the chicken, if any, it was from. Thus, we decided to pass entirely on the chicken and go for something we did recognize, even if I had never had it before. It was better than risking the chicken lips.
So, from Basel Matt and I flew to Manchester. All the way to Manchester. Why there? Well, Matt's older brother, Martyn, lives about thirty miles outside of Manchester in Chester. This too was an experience since I'd never met Martyn before. I was kind of nervous about it since I'd been told he had a strong aversion to anything American.
You can imagine my surprise when, at the airport, he shook Matt's hand heartily and kissed both my cheeks! It's amazing how much that single act dispelled any anxiety I was feeling. I instantly loved him and the feeling only grew as the week progressed. I thoroughly fell in love with Martyn and his wife, Jay. They're absolutely fantastic people and more importantly, they didn't let us go hungry! The food and wine abounded while we were there and every night was a film night. The last night we were there we also added a game of Risk to the bag and Martyn and I succeeded in making Matt upset by making him lose. I won't say how we managed that since it would require that I perjure myself as to the method by which our success is reliant on. The four of us know how it was done and that's all that matters, really.
I think the love I felt was reciprocated Wednesday night when I was given free reign of Jay's kitchen to make dinner. I decided that since England has a sad and appauling lack of Mexican places (and I'm not talking about Taco Bell here) that I'd make Mexican food, which I did! I made burritos with all the fixin's, including homemade guacamole and Bella's Spanish rice. It was good fun teaching Martyn how to make and eat a burrito, but he and Matt stuffed themselves full of food, which is the best compliment I could get.
Thursday Matt and I came back to Southampton on a jet plane, which surprised both of us since we were both expecting a propeller plane to bring us back. We got back home in time for dinner and bible study that evening, which was good. Yesterday, being Friday, Matt and I went into Winchester to meet up with Russell (another friend of Matt's that I've had the great pleasure of meeting) for lunch. We had a picnic on the grass near the river, which was lovely. We talked about everything...and when I say everything, I mean it. Our conversation went from 'how long have you been waiting' to something called the 'ground effect' with a boat that actually flies by way of pressurizing the air underneath it to make it into a hovercraft that can skim the surface of the water. So yeah...everything.
Today was another busy day. I went on a church outing with Matt and his church to Olney, which is a little city about forty miles north of London. There's a poet and hymn writer named William Cowper that lived there. He was good friends with John Newton (who also lived and preached in Olney). Together the two men produced an entire hymnal, which Richard bought today. We had a tour of Cowper's house, his gardens and then we went on the the Olney parish where Newton preached and saw his grave (he wasn't originally buried there, but when the Underground was being built, the remains of Newton and his wife were moved to Olney where they had spent so many years whilst alive).
After the tour, we all headed over to some countryside and had ourselves a picnic. Fiona made a egg and bacon pie, which was fantastic along with some potato salad, pasta salad, scones with strawberries and cream and a fruit bread with tons of raisins in it. As you can see, in the Turner households I never go hungry.
After lunch, most people joined in a game of Rounders, which I declined to play seeing as I'd never heard about it until today. I can't say I understand any of it either. It's like baseball in that you have a bat and you try to hit a ball. It differs greatly, however, in that even if you don't manage to hit the ball, you still run the bases. I say 'bases' because that's what I likened them to. There were three sticks stuck into the ground that symbolized the places you had to run to. You don't even hold the bat like you would a baseball bat. It's just a thoroughly odd game.
Which now brings me to the title of my post! I shall explain.
In every little town in England, as you approach them on country lanes, there are signs telling you to reduce your speed. Drivers normally concede to this request and slow down while they're driving through the town. What's interesting to me, though, is that at the other side of town, as you're leaving it, there's a big sign that says 'thank you for driving safely' alongside a speed limit sign that tells you your speed can once again approach that of sound.
Surely it's a charming thought, since it gives you the impression that the entire town/village is thanking you personally for reducing your speed, but what I want to know is how the sign knows you drove safely. Could you not, in theory, drive the speed limit in towns and still manage to drive unsafely? Have we not learned from the evidence presented to us by the people who were killed trying to ghostride? It escapes me.
Of course, this question of how the sign knows goes alongside those other questions I have such as:
If soap falls on the floor, does it still get dirty considering we use soap to clean the dirt off us? What would one use to clean soap?
If a person who is legally blind is the recipient of a miracle in which they recieve their sight, are they breaking the law by not being blind anymore?
If someone is dyslexic, shouldn't the disease be called slexdysia so the person knows what they have?
Something for you all to ponder now, eh?
I continue to be a busy girl in the upcoming week, but it's a different kind of busy. This kind of busy doesn't require massive amounts of forced calm whilst traveling (I tend to be a nervous traveler on planes). Instead, tomorrow will be lovely, I reckon. Russell is coming over for tea, so we'll get to spend another afternoon with him. With any luck the weather will be nice enough to play some badminton in the back garden.
Monday is an easy day. Nothing is planned.
Tuesday I'll be getting on a train that takes me to the big, bad city of London. I go there not because I like the city (although I quite like the city of London, I just have alternative reasons for going on Tuesday), but because I'm going with Matt to meet DJ and Helen in person! Woo! I kind of excite for Tuesday. It should be a fun day. That said, DJ and Helen, get into contact with me so we can suss somewhere to meet and a time at which to do it! You can email me at your convenience and we'll plan something.
Wednesday will be a fairly laid back day, which I'm sure we'll need after going around London the day before. Wednesday evening Matt and I are going to Jonathan and Diyana's house for dinner. The last time I was in England they had us over for dinner and that was good fun. Since then they've had a daughter, who I'm eager to meet.
Thursday is another fairly laid back day with bible study in the evening.
Friday, Matt and I are plotting/scheming on getting together with Steve, Jamie and their girlfriends for a picnic somewhere. After I post this blog, in fact, I'm going in search of whether or not Netley (another city down south here) allows bonfires on their beaches. If so, Matt and I are gonna do Mexican food again, only with a bonfire I have the added advantage of being able to roast the peppers by sticking them into the fire and letting them sit a while. The prospect of Mexican food again pleases me greatly, but we'll see what happens. If all else fails I'll just cook it here at home for Fiona and Zack while Richard has a curry or something.
As far as I can tell, that's as much advance-planning I have at the moment. I'm sure by next weekend I'll have an idea of what my last full week in England will look like. That said, I think I'm off for some supper with Matt. He bought some French cheese yesterday at an open-air market in Winchester along with some grapes, so I think we're off to partake of that and if you'll be so good as to excuse me, I'll be off for that.
Until next time, then, kids! And thank you for driving safely!
Later Days,
Arty
12:31 Posted in Blog | Permalink | Comments (13) | Email this
Comments
Aww Arty, I hope you feel better soon! It's probably the water here and in fairness Wales is well, a nice place to leave. Have you killed DJ yet, he's quite a cute boy, no? I nearly bought him on eBay but couldn't aford the million quid necessary. Rubbish!
Posted by: Benny | 06/02/2007
Thank you for your wonderfully long blog! That sounds sarcastic and it's really not meant to. I really enjoyed reading it - I feel well travelled, and also rather exhausted at the thought of partaking so much activity all at once!
On Tuesday it depends what time you and Matt want to get into London for really, I have the whole day booked out just for you guys (because I'm so busy and important, obviously..) so... I'm easy!
Posted by: Helen | 06/02/2007
Arty, my dear girl the only good thing in Wales is the road out of it lol yes it always rains in Wales and no sane person comes from there. Enjoy the rest of your visit.
Posted by: Revelation | 06/02/2007
so when will i get to meet u?
Posted by: morety | 06/02/2007
We are much more honest with signs that say "reduce speed ahead" and "resume speed." lol And "Welcome to Maine--buckle up, it's the law!" :p Of course we're stupid with our construction zone signs saying, "give 'em a break" lol :p
Egg and bacon pie? Mmmmmm I make one that's full of yellow onions, bacon, and an egg/sour cream mixture.
Posted by: Margo | 06/02/2007
PS I also really liked this blog lol It's neat to read about all those places you are going. :)
It rained on me while I was hiking in Scotland ... and did I flippin just hear THUNDER?!?!?!
*goes ecstatic!!!* :D
Posted by: Margo | 06/02/2007
It always rains in Wales. That said, I'm going there on holiday next week—so it had better not rain on me!
And I agree that no sane person comes from Wales: my dad's sister lives there and she is, quite frankly, just weird!
Posted by: Nossie | 06/02/2007
OI!! Excuse me!! I'm half-welsh and lived there for the first 7 years of my life!!
There is nothing wrong with wales!!
It's you poncey namby pamby southerners can't put up with a bit of rain!!
There is nothing like standing at the top of Machan Mountain looking over the valleys in S Wales. Nothing.
*is proud to be half-welsh*
:p
*and half irish for that matter*
Posted by: Jm | 06/03/2007
JM as you well know I am no southern softy !!!!
Posted by: Revelation | 06/03/2007
I happen to like Wales too. JM, you are not alone :P
Posted by: Helen | 06/03/2007
... you tell 'em Hobbs!!!
Posted by: Teebs | 06/03/2007
I'm not quite sure why I haven't commented on this blog, seeing as I read it ages ago.
Benny, for your information, I sold for 10 million at the end of the day, to one lucky bloke in manchester... mind you, this could be the basis for some sort of dating scheme on ebay - "buy a spouse" - obviously, you wouldnt actually be buying anyone in reality, just paying ebay to list yourself. hmm. Interesting. Oh, and thanks for the cute comments. Yes, I don't mind, though I'm more accustomed to such comments coming from the opposite sex, rather than someone who sports as much bristle and testosterone as you.
anyway. Arty. There shall be no thames pushings (unless i'm doing it). There shall be no killings. You're not jack the ripper. Just rememeber that (though there are theories which say the ripper did move to America).
Posted by: dj | 06/04/2007
oh, and as to those wales comments on your blog, i did say "good god, whatever for?!" - but in jest. i assure you all. wales is very nice.
Posted by: dj | 06/04/2007