August 11, 1984 - Day 11
LONDON - FRANCE - BELGIUM
London - Ramsgate - Dunkirk, France : en route
One of the trivia bits I read in some magazine said that the phone number of the Buckingham Palace switchboard was actually listed in the phone book! So, just to verify with my own eyes that it was so, I opened up the phone book on the dresser table and there it was! I took it down in my travel journal notebook, and then set about the process of checking out of our Royal National home.
We left a bag with various assorted London purchases at the concierge's desk, for pick up upon our arrival at the end of the tour. The first people we made acquaintance with were the Fil-Ams from San Diego. Gene N. stuck these San Diego carnation stickers on Ma and I, and introduced us to his group. Jun G. was hoping to find a power pack for his video camera, which was running low on battery power. Nice folk, if a bit full of the bonhomie.
We were scheduled to arrive in Brussels via Dunkirk, on the Channel ferry from Ramsgate. The bus going to Ramsgate had one of the worst PA systems imaginable, and our poor Tour Manager had troubles unending trying to get his voice to be heard through to the back of the bus.
The route from London went through the lovely countryside of Kent, which made up for the noise and general commotion in the bus. We got ourselves loaded onto the ferry with very little fuss, and ended up sitting with Jun and his wife Carmen, more or less. That's because it was a somewhat choppy ride, and I was starting to feel queasy until I learned it was better to walk around on deck instead of sit and watch the dipping of the horizon outside the windows.
I would have gone topside, but then I learned that there were on board slot machines and duty-free shopping. I changed over our leftover pounds into dollars, which were endorsed to Ma. With the 60p left in my hand, I went over to the slot machines, where I won a two-pound jackpot that was spent on a t-shirt and cologne.
When we arrived at Dunkirk, there was no one manning the customs/immigration desks, so Ma and I sailed on through. This, I discovered, entitles us to one extra entry into France, which will come in handy, as the travel agency has only given us a double-entry visa instead of a multiple-entry one. We are fortunate!
Dunkirk, France - Brussels, Belgium
The bus into which we were bundled for the Continental portion of our tour had a good PA system. Light-years away from the other bus, which is a mercy for our Tour Manager. We were finally able to decipher that his name is Earl Younger - an *extremely* good-looking person, he is — most definitely spoken for. After taking care of the "administrative details", he showed that he knows how to take a catnap on the bus; he put his fee up on his briefcase, and was off like a light!
It was raining by the time we arrived at Belgian border, giving me thoughts of espionage movies and border crossings. We had a driver substitution, as Martin's back problems had flared up. He was replaced by Bart Wildenbergh, who will be with us until we get back to Dunkirk again. The rain softened to a slow misting throughout our 2.5 hour drive from the border to the city of Brussels, and it was under overcast skies that I had my first view of the city.
Brussels : Hotel Bedford
Bart guided the bus down old cobblestone streets to the front of the hotel, where Earl checked us in and distributed our room keys so we could freshen up before our walking tour to the Grand Place. After gathering us in the lobby, Earl set off on a route that passed at least half a dozen lace shops on the way, filled with examples of the world-famous Flemish lace. Our last stop was at the Manniken Pis statue (the little boy who peed to put out a beginning fire at the city wall and thus saved the city), and from there, Earl said we could make our own way back to the hotel.
Taking our time, we walked towards the Grand Place, and found a mysterious plaque on the wall of a shop or pub just off the main square, on the lower corner, leading to the street of the Manniken Pis. It showed a reclining man embossed into the brass, with a Latin inscription at the bottom of the plaque indicating a patriot or martyr. We noticed that people passing by would pass their hands over it as if it were a religious icon -- the plaque is very well-rubbed, almost hard to see figure, and the inscription is blurred as well.
In the middle of the Grand Place, a stage was set up for a presentation of modern ballet, and a friendly policeman told us the show began at nine p.m. What a great pity we had to leave the city early the next morning, it would have been nice to see an open-air performance. Instead, I thanked the policeman in halting French and got him to smile and answer back -- in French, as well!
Monday, August 21, 2006
Monday, August 14, 2006
[LONDON LIGHTS 1984] DAY 10
August 10, 1984 - Day 10
Today is the actual start date of the Eurobout tour, according to the brochure. Like all tours, it's basically a free day for the rest of the tour members to check-in at the hotel. Since we decided to fly in a week early (!!) to give allowance for jet lag and exploring London, this we're amply rested and ready for the tour to start.
Nigel had made arrangements to meet us at the Leytonstone Tube station for a drive through the English countryside. I had to consult the handy Tube map that had been my constant companion since we started using it. Discovered that Leytonstone Station is on the Central Line of the London Underground, on the boundary of Zones 3 and 4. OK, no problem about that, and Nigel was waiting with a smile on the platform when we arrived.
He handed Ma and I into the car and soon we were heading out to Essex, to the town of Chipping Ongar. It's the home of St. Andrew's Church, Greensted-juxta-Ongar. Historical notes say that recent analysis of the wooded plank walls which indicate that they date from around 1063 AD (rather than the 845 AD date given by an earlier test). It is still acknowledged as the oldest wooden stave built church in the world. In all probability, it was built by Homo Dapifer, the new Norman lord of the manor recorded in the Doomsday Book.
It's a tiny little church, a simple place, with wood darkened by age and the feeling of several generations of worship gathered in a single place. It gives a sense of spiritual comfort, and I found myself saying a prayer for a safe journey and for good things to happen to Nigel for being so nice to someone he'd only just met.
Our next stop was Finchfield, for lunch a short walk. Finchfield is a small residential district in Wolverhampton. It's a lovely place, with shady walks and houses that seem to have been planted there for a very long time. The air was brisk and good for the appetite — I managed to demolish a huge steak and kidney pie!
We popped into the car again, and along the road, Ma and I were admiring the rolling green fields of the countryside, marvelling how fresh everything looked. There were cows in some fields, and then Nigel pulled over at one point, and led us out to meet some horses standing by a roadside fence! They were lovely animals, both brown, and taller than I was — their heads came up to Nigel's shoulders. They seemed happy to see us, and could hear the pleasure in our voices as we said hello, and the one nearest me bent down to snuffle my pockets for sugar or carrots or an apple. Pity I didn't have any on hand, but the horse let me pet it anyway.
Our last stop of the day was Castle Hedingham, dating back to the Norman Conquest. It was primarily a garrison rather than a residence, and is 110 feet high. Built c.1140 by Aubrey de Vere, it is still owned by one of his descendants, The Honourable Thomas Lindsay and his wife Virginia. There are four floors to explore, including a magnificent Banqueting Hall spanned by a remarkable 28 foot arch, one of the largest Norman arches in England. A good view of this splendid room can be obtained from the Minstrels' Gallery, built within the thickness of the 12 foot walls.
What a pity that the place was closed, I would have enjoyed exploring about inside an honest to goodness castle keep. (Just think of the stories I could have spun from that visit!) Still, we had a lovely time strolling about the grounds before Nigel drove us back to Leytonstone to catch the Tube for London.
It was a lovely day, and we got back early to get our bags organized. We'll have to be leaving some stuff with the concierge when we leave, and pick it up when we get back from the Continent.
Tomorrow the tour gets underway!
Today is the actual start date of the Eurobout tour, according to the brochure. Like all tours, it's basically a free day for the rest of the tour members to check-in at the hotel. Since we decided to fly in a week early (!!) to give allowance for jet lag and exploring London, this we're amply rested and ready for the tour to start.
Nigel had made arrangements to meet us at the Leytonstone Tube station for a drive through the English countryside. I had to consult the handy Tube map that had been my constant companion since we started using it. Discovered that Leytonstone Station is on the Central Line of the London Underground, on the boundary of Zones 3 and 4. OK, no problem about that, and Nigel was waiting with a smile on the platform when we arrived.
He handed Ma and I into the car and soon we were heading out to Essex, to the town of Chipping Ongar. It's the home of St. Andrew's Church, Greensted-juxta-Ongar. Historical notes say that recent analysis of the wooded plank walls which indicate that they date from around 1063 AD (rather than the 845 AD date given by an earlier test). It is still acknowledged as the oldest wooden stave built church in the world. In all probability, it was built by Homo Dapifer, the new Norman lord of the manor recorded in the Doomsday Book.
It's a tiny little church, a simple place, with wood darkened by age and the feeling of several generations of worship gathered in a single place. It gives a sense of spiritual comfort, and I found myself saying a prayer for a safe journey and for good things to happen to Nigel for being so nice to someone he'd only just met.
Our next stop was Finchfield, for lunch a short walk. Finchfield is a small residential district in Wolverhampton. It's a lovely place, with shady walks and houses that seem to have been planted there for a very long time. The air was brisk and good for the appetite — I managed to demolish a huge steak and kidney pie!
We popped into the car again, and along the road, Ma and I were admiring the rolling green fields of the countryside, marvelling how fresh everything looked. There were cows in some fields, and then Nigel pulled over at one point, and led us out to meet some horses standing by a roadside fence! They were lovely animals, both brown, and taller than I was — their heads came up to Nigel's shoulders. They seemed happy to see us, and could hear the pleasure in our voices as we said hello, and the one nearest me bent down to snuffle my pockets for sugar or carrots or an apple. Pity I didn't have any on hand, but the horse let me pet it anyway.
Our last stop of the day was Castle Hedingham, dating back to the Norman Conquest. It was primarily a garrison rather than a residence, and is 110 feet high. Built c.1140 by Aubrey de Vere, it is still owned by one of his descendants, The Honourable Thomas Lindsay and his wife Virginia. There are four floors to explore, including a magnificent Banqueting Hall spanned by a remarkable 28 foot arch, one of the largest Norman arches in England. A good view of this splendid room can be obtained from the Minstrels' Gallery, built within the thickness of the 12 foot walls.
What a pity that the place was closed, I would have enjoyed exploring about inside an honest to goodness castle keep. (Just think of the stories I could have spun from that visit!) Still, we had a lovely time strolling about the grounds before Nigel drove us back to Leytonstone to catch the Tube for London.
It was a lovely day, and we got back early to get our bags organized. We'll have to be leaving some stuff with the concierge when we leave, and pick it up when we get back from the Continent.
Tomorrow the tour gets underway!
EUROBOUT CONTINENTAL CAROUSEL 1984 - PASSENGER LIST
EUROBOUT 808-04 CONTINENTAL CAROUSEL
10 August- 2 September 1984
United States
Frank and Bertha, Angie, Lois
Fil-Americans
Gene and Puring, Truding, Josefina, Jun and Carmen
Taiwan
Francy, Sylvia, Gremy, Diana
Philippines
Shirley and Evelyn, Eduardo, Cora and Cindy, Teodoro and Thelma
Trinidad and Tobago
Basil and Rita, Yolande, Betty Ann, Choy Lee
Jamaica
Keith and Sonia
India
Joe and Maria
Eurobout Staff
Keith Totilo - owner/manager
Earl Younger - Tour Manager
Drivers
Martin - Dunkirk to Belgian border
Bart Wildenbergh - Belgian Border, across the Continent, back to Dunkirk
City Guides
Vienna : Christina (city tour) and Uwe (Vienna Woods and Illuminations)
Rome : Gabriella
Venice : Paolo
Barcelona : Nuria
Paris : Christine Vignot
10 August- 2 September 1984
United States
Frank and Bertha, Angie, Lois
Fil-Americans
Gene and Puring, Truding, Josefina, Jun and Carmen
Taiwan
Francy, Sylvia, Gremy, Diana
Philippines
Shirley and Evelyn, Eduardo, Cora and Cindy, Teodoro and Thelma
Trinidad and Tobago
Basil and Rita, Yolande, Betty Ann, Choy Lee
Jamaica
Keith and Sonia
India
Joe and Maria
Eurobout Staff
Keith Totilo - owner/manager
Earl Younger - Tour Manager
Drivers
Martin - Dunkirk to Belgian border
Bart Wildenbergh - Belgian Border, across the Continent, back to Dunkirk
City Guides
Vienna : Christina (city tour) and Uwe (Vienna Woods and Illuminations)
Rome : Gabriella
Venice : Paolo
Barcelona : Nuria
Paris : Christine Vignot
Sunday, August 6, 2006
[LONDON LIGHTS 1984] DAY 9
August 8, 1984
Today on our "must-see" list was Harrods, which, according to all the heraldic devices on its store frontage, is official purveyor to Her Majesty the Queen Mother, Her Majesty the Queen, HRH the Duke of Edinburgh, and HRH the Prince of Wales. Mercy on us, but it is a bastion of the aristocracy, rather like Rustan's back home. Only of course, Harrod's dates back quite a few years before Rustan's...you can almost feel the spirits of ancient shoppers checking you out.
Armed with our new-found knowledge of the Tube, we hopped on it at Russell Square station and landed in Knightsbridge in no time. We popped out of the station and took a good look around us to orient ourselves, and then, like pilgrims entering a shrine, popped ourselves inside.
It's a lovely place. Never mind that one feels like a country bumpkin for never having been there before — it is a lovely place. Exclusive merchandise everywhere, the sales personnel keep an eye on you without making you feel like they think you'll run off with the display items; neither do they hover about you like circling vultures. I felt my jaw drop inside the Wedgewood section, which wasn't so bad after being afraid to breathe through the entire lead crystal display. Gawds! Ma and I picked up two Wedgewood saucers as souvenirs. One is pink and one is blue, and both of them have those Grecian cameo figures.
We returned by Tube to the hotel for an afternoon nap, in preparation for our first theatre showing. At three p.m., we presented (or rather, rushed) ourselves past the doorman of the Garrick Theatre, and were shown to marvelous seats for the matinee of No Sex, Please...We're British. Apparently, this is the world's longest running comedy, about a bank manager's wife who thinks she's being hired to distribute Swedish crystal.
Unfortunately, the crystal is actually a shipment of X-rated movies, and the disposal of the blue films is what drives the play. It doesn't help matters that the bank manager is trying to ingratiate himself with his boss, who has consented to have dinner at his subordinate's house, as a sign of grace and favor, if you will.
I couldn't stop laughing. It was good thing everyone around me was laughing as well — the dialogue was sharp and witty, full of wordplays and double-entendres. The acting was marvelous! Some of the facial expressions were priceless. Two marvelous hours of fine acting by a wonderful cast, and I begin to understand why there are those who consider the theatre the only venue for actors who wish to be called actors in the truest sense of the world.
Back to the hotel for an early dinner and a last minute check of our things. Tomorrow is the start of our tour!
Today on our "must-see" list was Harrods, which, according to all the heraldic devices on its store frontage, is official purveyor to Her Majesty the Queen Mother, Her Majesty the Queen, HRH the Duke of Edinburgh, and HRH the Prince of Wales. Mercy on us, but it is a bastion of the aristocracy, rather like Rustan's back home. Only of course, Harrod's dates back quite a few years before Rustan's...you can almost feel the spirits of ancient shoppers checking you out.
Armed with our new-found knowledge of the Tube, we hopped on it at Russell Square station and landed in Knightsbridge in no time. We popped out of the station and took a good look around us to orient ourselves, and then, like pilgrims entering a shrine, popped ourselves inside.
It's a lovely place. Never mind that one feels like a country bumpkin for never having been there before — it is a lovely place. Exclusive merchandise everywhere, the sales personnel keep an eye on you without making you feel like they think you'll run off with the display items; neither do they hover about you like circling vultures. I felt my jaw drop inside the Wedgewood section, which wasn't so bad after being afraid to breathe through the entire lead crystal display. Gawds! Ma and I picked up two Wedgewood saucers as souvenirs. One is pink and one is blue, and both of them have those Grecian cameo figures.
We returned by Tube to the hotel for an afternoon nap, in preparation for our first theatre showing. At three p.m., we presented (or rather, rushed) ourselves past the doorman of the Garrick Theatre, and were shown to marvelous seats for the matinee of No Sex, Please...We're British. Apparently, this is the world's longest running comedy, about a bank manager's wife who thinks she's being hired to distribute Swedish crystal.
Unfortunately, the crystal is actually a shipment of X-rated movies, and the disposal of the blue films is what drives the play. It doesn't help matters that the bank manager is trying to ingratiate himself with his boss, who has consented to have dinner at his subordinate's house, as a sign of grace and favor, if you will.
I couldn't stop laughing. It was good thing everyone around me was laughing as well — the dialogue was sharp and witty, full of wordplays and double-entendres. The acting was marvelous! Some of the facial expressions were priceless. Two marvelous hours of fine acting by a wonderful cast, and I begin to understand why there are those who consider the theatre the only venue for actors who wish to be called actors in the truest sense of the world.
Back to the hotel for an early dinner and a last minute check of our things. Tomorrow is the start of our tour!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)