More about England

Last week, the UK government discovered a highly contagious virus in some pigs in the southeast (County Essex) called foot and mouth disease. In the past few days, there have been reports of the disease spreading all over the country and even a few in France. This incident has put a ban on all movement of domesticated animals for the next seven days. National parks, zoos, and slaughterhouses are all closed until this mess gets sorted out. There will be no importing or exporting of meat products during this ban. If there is any sort of panic (i.e., people stocking up on meat), the entire country will have a food shortage. Entire generation-spanning farms are going under as many farmers are still struggling to cope after the mad cow outbreak five years ago.

With the prospect of a food (well, meat if that counts as food–many apologies to my non-vegetarian friends) shortage, I realize that I have been experiencing many new situations you would never find at home in the US. For example, there was a “marking action” at the beginning of the semester where union professors refused to give last semester’s results to the students. This Thursday there’s a national, organized student walkout to protest the cost of higher education in the UK (I find it hard to agree with since I’m paying over 1350% more a year for education than they are–but their intentions are good). The atmosphere is definitely electric and with the new elections coming up any time…who knows what’s going to happen.

Anyway, enough about politics–let’s talk fun. This weekend I did more than I should have (meaning I spent more than I should have) and visited Llandudno, Bangor, and Llanberis (near Mt. Snowdon and Dolbadarn Castle) in North Wales; Shrewsbury; Salisbury; Stonehenge; and Bath. Yeah, it’s crazy–I know.

Northern Wales is probably the most beautiful part of Britain I’ve seen so far. It doesn’t rain as much as in the Lake District…the hills and valleys are littered with tourist-free castles in their natural, unspoiled atmosphere…and the pace of life is laid-back and easy-going.

Signs are posted in Welsh and in English. For those of you who aren’t familiar with Welsh, you’ve never seen anything like it. Hearing it spoken on street is a beautiful thing but in writing it tends to look awkward to those who have never seen anything Welsh other than the name Lloyd.

“Prynhawn da. Ydych chi’n siarad saesneg? Beth ydy’ch henw chi? Dydw i ddim yn deall. Da boch chi, hwyl fawr.”

Walking alongside the beach in Llandudno, I saw a sign that had fallen on the ground. It was in Welsh and English. It was about not letting your dog foul on the beach. If it does, clean it up. It’s proudly on display in my room here in Ormskirk if any of you want to see it.

Ble mae’r toiled?

After seeing stunning vistas and having castles in the middle of nowhere all to ourselves explore, we took a train down to Shrewsbury and spent the night. In many ways, the town reminded me of Chester with the half-timbered, half-falling-over Tudor-style houses. After that, we went down to Salisbury, visited the cathedral, accidentally got locked in the cathedral close. All the hostels in Salisbury were full and we finally found a pub with rooms to rent upstairs. That night in the pub we met some very…umm, excited men from Southampton. They were in some sort of band and the singer was anxious to make up ditties about anyone he met. He thought the guy I was with looked like Brad Pitt.

Brad and Ryan,

Brad and Ryan from the USA!

Brad and Ryan from the USA

They came over on a big white plane

If it wasn’t Virgin it’s all the same

Brad and Ryan from the USA!

Then he started singing about his vertically challenged friend:

Although he’s only 4 foot 3

Although he’s only 4 foot 3

He’s a father of a boy and girl, you see.

Ad nauseum. It was great stuff and something I’ll never forget. If you want me to, I can sing it…I doubt the guy even remembered singing in the first place, much less taking out a copyright.

Stonehenge was an experience. I tried hard to ignore the droves of tourists, the two highways that cut right next to the rocks and the giftshop directly next to it selling “Stonehenge tea” and “Rock cakes.” Apparently the government is in the process of allocating funds to move the roads out of sight, move the visitor’s center far, far away, and give tourists access to the 400 acre area. Some much needed ambiance. Although it’s an incredible engineering achievement of early humanity, I don’t think I’ll be going back until some major redesign of the area is completed.

On Sunday and Monday, we visited the ancient town of Bath. It’s called that because early Romans smelled so bad that the original Britons threw them in the hot springs that are under the city. Actually, that’s not true…I just made that up.

In truth, the city is one of the most architecturally perfect cities in the world and the Georgian honey-colored buildings look brilliant in the setting sun. There are terraced waterfalls through the river that flows through town and massive, sprawling buildings that inspired me. I’m not one to usually be inspired by buildings. It was a blessed change from multitudes of ugly, concrete, post-WWII city centers that curse this country in many towns.

Bath is also a thriving music and arts center, so I had a wonderful time taking in the sights and sounds.

And tastes.

We were walking past a big building with a sign outside that said, “Today: Indian Food Tasting Party for Indian Earthquake Relief.” For those of you who don’t know, Indian food is the way to this man’s heart. And it was for a good cause! I was inside a heartbeat. All of the sudden, I was surrounded by a horde of women in bright-colored saris, all putting food on my plate. “You must try this.” “This has been in the family for generations.” “You can’t eat a proper meal without some of this!” When my plate so full that it was about to break in half, I tried to find a place to sit. No luck. A woman saw me struggling for a seat and came and grabbed me, literally pulling me back to the buffet. “You haven’t had enough!” she said and piled more of her own special recipe on my plate. After I ate all that food (which is more than humanly possible), some women gave me two cartons more of food, “for the road.” It was so good that it was all gone two hours later.

If we only had things like this at home there would be no reason to ever leave.

Ryan

Next week: London, as seen through the eyes of a native.

Overheard on a train: “Next stop, Piccadilly Gardens.”

“Daddy, I have a Piccadilly in my sandwich!”

PS I have heard from many of you who didn’t like/understand my “play.” I am terribly sorry about that and terribly sorry for those who did understand but still didn’t get it. I will try to explain my warped sense of humor if the need arises.