Europe Trip: Eyam

On Day 6, we woke up in Eyam in the Peak District. We were blessed with sunny weather. We were offered full English breakfast, but had cereal and toast instead. I sure ate a lot of toast on our trip.

I went to MOPS with Mary, our hostess, right next door at the church's ministry center centre while Jeremy explored a little. MOPS was a lot of fun...it reflected Mary's personality--warm, welcoming, full of joy and laughter, and definitely not rigid or flashy. I will write about it in more detail on our FCF MOPS blog.

The backside of the Rectory, where the Montgomeries live. I'm not sure why we didn't get a picture of the more welcoming front side.

After MOPS and lunch with Mary and Andrew at Eyam's Tea House (I'm not sure there was another choice...that's how small Eyam was), Mary took me on a little tour of the area around Eyam. Our first stop was Curbar Gap...where we recreated this scene from Pride and Prejudice:





We continued our chick-flick (actually, chick-book) themed tour with a stop at Haddon Hall, which (according to an employee) has played Thornfield Hall in 4 Jane Eyre movies.



Haddon Hall wasn't bigger or fancier than any of the other castles or palaces we saw, but what I loved about it was that everything in it was authentic. Mary, my hostess who lives in a 500-year-old house herself kept admiring how old everything was, so I knew it was special.

The panel says something like, "Drede God and Honor the King"

I just couldn't help picturing Rochester's crazy wife up there!

This is broken but says 1589...it's just so old! The individual panes of glass are tilted to create prisms in the sunlight. Someone offered me a job there...because I knew how to push play on the DVD player (that was playing Jane Eyre, of course).

Back in Eyam, Andrew took Jeremy and I on a tour. Eyam is special because of its plague story. In 1665, the plague was raging in London, but it hadn't spread to the more rural areas of England. A tailor in Eyam ordered fabric from London and, it is believed, fleas came out and he died of the plague within a week. Soon, many villagers were ill, so people began to make plans to leave Eyam. In an act of self-sacrifice and surprising unity, the former rector and current rector of the church (Andrew's church) convinced the villagers to quarantine themselves in order to prevent the spread of the plague to the surrounding areas. People from outside the village brought supplies to certain drop points, and money was left in water or vinegar for payment. Many villagers died, some cottages still have signs in front of them listing how many family members died...one family burying 6 out of 8 of its members, a family of 9 in which all members died. But, the plague did not spread outside the village's boundaries, and the church today is a testimony to the sacrifice of one man's life for another.

This is an 8th-century Saxon cross. Good thing we watched "King Arthur" before we came so I could have an idea who the Saxons were. Accurate, I'm sure.

There was a stained glass window in the church depicting the plague. It showed the tailor getting the fabric, then dying, the leaders meeting to decide what the town should do, and a girl and boy who were courting--she was from Eyam and he was from another village so they are depicted standing across a stream from each other...she died and he did not.

Andrew took Jeremy and I through a partition and into a back area inside the church to go up to the bell tower and roof. We left an old lady tourist standing in the sanctuary clutching her purse and scratching her head, wondering how to sign up for THAT tour.

Jeremy ringing the bells. I guess that's how big he smiles in the dark, because he doesn't usually do that in the light. I should catch him with the flash more often.

We spent such wonderful time with Mary and Andrew (and Harriet, who is 14)...such warm conversation about so many different topics and a comfortable-ness that was such a nice surprise. (I hope they felt the same about us...they're probably reading this :))

Not a great picture, but trying to capture the memory of our fellowship with Mary and Andrew.

The warm glow of these candles represents how I felt at their house :)

After departing from the Montgomeries, we headed north to Durham. It was rainy.

We bought pastries at a bakery and ate them in the rain. I had something called a Flapjack. Not what you would think, but a delicious oat bar dipped in chocolate.

A bridge. In the rain.

Durham Cathedral...you've got it...in the rain.

We went to Evensong service at this cathedral. It was an interesting experience. The Hunchback of Durham looking very regal in his robes and carrying his sceptor (what for? Jeremy asks) with his three teeth, solemnly invited us to join the others in the quire (the area in the center of the cathedral where the nobility or monks or somebody used to sit). It was sort of cartoon-y and haunted house-y at the same time. Evensong had a worshipfulness about it at times, but at other times, it seemed a mockery. I thought it was strange to say "God save the queen" in church. One of us was definitely being checked out and it wasn't me. I was mostly concerned with not having a coughing fit in a huge echoey cathedral.

In medieval times, if someone committed a crime, they could come to the church and knock on the door with this knocker and they were given shelter and had 37 days to get their business together...to make restitution or to flee.

Bridge. Rain.

Double rainbow! What does it MEAN???

After Evensong, we headed on to Newcastle-Upon-Tyne and got a room at a reasonable but slightly strange hotel. We asked the friendly but eccentric girl at the front desk for a recommendation for a nice place to eat dinner, but when she enthusiastically suggested the Chinese Buffet at the mall ("It's lovely. It's really very lovely"), we decided to find something on our own. We ended up at a cool little pub eating pizza and listening to the coolest live band called "The Moochers" playing covers of The Specials and Johnny Cash.

Next Stop: British Heritage Blitz, Edinburgh (on a lovely Saturday night)

Europe Trip: Oxford to Eyam

On day 4, we were off to Oxford, this time without any mishaps. We stored our bags at a hostel (for a couple of pounds) and set off to steal some free wifi and explore. We released some things from our itenerary, because we needed to relax, and I was mostly okay with that decision. It was a rare, non-rainy day, and there were people everywhere...yet it didn't feel crowded, just enjoyed. We looked at buildings like this one:

(it's Christchurch College) but didn't go in because prices reflect the increased tourist interest due to it's role as Hogwart's in the Harry Potter films. Incidentally, there was a film crew set up to start filming a movie while we were there, but the security guards were tight-lipped about what it was.


We saw more evidence of gruesomely killed Reformers (click to make picture bigger if needed:


And this is the spot where they were burned:

Well-behaved tour participants standing in a semi-circle like Christmas carolers as if they are aware I am photographing them

We passed by kiosks advertising walking tours of one kind and another, and went into a bookstore and bought a Tolkien/Lewis literary walking tour guide for 3 pounds (aren't we savvy?).

As cliche as it seems, my favorite spot was seeing the Eagle and Child Pub (or as C.S. Lewis and his friends called it, the Bird and the Baby). This is where Lewis and Tolkien and some other equally brilliant-yet-less-famous men met weekly (or more) to discuss their writings, new ideas, old ideas, and the like. They called themselves the Inklings. I was reading Lewis' book, Surprised By Joy, while we were traveling, and he speaks often about his good friends and their discussions and his love for meeting at the pub. I wonder if his analogies are so fine-tuned or Tolkien's characters so complex because of the sharpening of their ideas as they talked in the pub.

The "Rabbit Room"--if you click on the picture, you can see a black and white photo of C.S. Lewis on the wall, otherwise, I was surprised at how non-gimmicky it was

I had a little bit of difficulty relaxing because I knew that at the end of our afternoon, we would be beginning the adventurous portion of our trip: renting a car and navigating England's confusing roads and roundabouts on the WRONG side of the road (I know, not wrong, just different, whatever). We got the car and talked Jeremy through the first few left hand turns and roundabouts (they really are EVERYWHERE!) and began to relax. We ventured into the Cotswolds, where everything was just so...perfect! I mean literally, we were wondering if the people there just love to have every square inch of their property look picturesque or if there are strict rules and laws requiring it for the sake of the tourism industry. Probably a mixture of both. Somehow, I didn't really take any pictures, but it is hard to take a picture of the essence of somewhere...somewhere that felt so like the Shire in Middle Earth. I did take some pictures of pretty plants:

We inquired at numerous B&Bs, feeling relaxed and holding out for the lowest price, but as the sun began setting, we felt a little pressure to make a decision. Suddenly, out of a perfectly manicured hedge, a slightly disheveled woman appeared and waved nervously for us to stop. We did, and agreed to give her a ride to a nearby town. On the way, she said she was from a little town that we had been trying to find (these little towns are just a mile or two apart and all have quaint names like Stow-on-the-Wold, Bourton-on-the-Water, and Chipping Camden) and we said, "Oh, great, could you take us there?" She agreed, but then started making excuses for why she was hitchhiking, and slinking down and ducking in her seat and didn't take us there. We put it together afterward, after she made us swear that we wouldn't tell anyone that we had seen her or given her a ride, that she is the local...black sheep. We think she was (often) drunk and couldn't drive but still managed to sneak around by hitchhiking with tourists but was the shame of this small cluster of well-bahaved, perfect little towns. Must kind of stink to be her...she probably needs to get out of the Cotswolds and move to London.

But, after giving her a ride, we stumbled upon our favorite hotel of the trip...the Redesdale Arms in Moreton-in-Marsh. The price was great, the breakfast was amazing, the building historic, and the guy at the desk was a little too tall to be a hobbit, but still looked like a distant cousin of Samwise Gamgee.


Another British-ism:

There's actually a picture of a steaming pile of doggy doo on there

Flagstaff friends can understand our confusion here (click to make bigger to read sign):

In the morning, we went to Blenheim Palace. We really enjoyed it and heard some interesting stories, which I could tell you here, but I think you just need to go there! Winston Churchill spent a lot of time here as a child and there is an exhibit about him. What an interesting and inspiring man...struggled in school, was always late, was rejected from the army 3 times before getting in, saved the free world from the Nazis, and, oh yes, created art that graced the cover of many Hallmark Cards.

Dum...dum dum dum.......dum-dum dudumdum dum...clip clop clip clop

Self-portrait #17

It rained hard most of the afternoon, so we ended up skipping the most castle-y of castles (according to Flower Darby). I'm a little sad about that one still. Next time, next time.

We headed towards our next destination, a random contact that I had made through MOPS International...she is the leader of a MOPS group in a small village in the Peak District called Eyam, and when I inquired about visiting their meeting, she and her husband invited us to stay with them. We didn't know much about them except that he is the vicar of the church, they live in the Rectory, and they are carnivores. That could be really good or really bad.

On the way, the rain stopped for a few minutes, so we took a detour, tried to sneak into a castle, and took a few pictures.

We arrived at the Montgomeries' home (er, The Rectory--that was literally the address..."Eyam, Church Street, The Rectory". Actually, it seemed that most homes in rural England have names, Padmore's Thatch, Cobblestone Cottage, etc. We decided that ours would be Snuggle Den--get it, like snuggled in, but like a den because I live with a bunch of bear cubs. Okay, I might have come up with it on my own but it's CUTE). We found warm and friendly people waiting for us and supper that was still hot. We realized rather quickly that it was going to be really good. And, we had Yorkshire Puddings, which were biscuits made out of pancake batter...or something. Whatever they actually were, they were not what I expected, but they were delicious.

Next Stop: More about Eyam because it was just that good.

Europe Trip: Cambridge

**Note: There may be references to previous posts because this is an ongoing story. If you feel confused, it might help to look back at the rest of the story.**

One part of traveling that Jeremy and I really enjoy is making fun of observing the cultural stereotypes that seem to be based on at least some truth (because they all are, in our humble but accurate opinion). Thank you, cultures of the world, for providing some entertainment for my husband and I. "Cheerio!" "Mind the gap!" and "Lovely" seem so stereotypical...like how I would talk if I was pretending to be British, but we heard them a lot. Instead of "Yield", you are to "Give Way", and instead of "Exit", the signs say "Way Out." On the screen at an ATM, Jeremy was asked (the machine talks with a British accent in my imagination), "Do you require an advice slip?" and out came a receipt. One of the displays at the British Museum was closed "For the cause of refurbishment." I said "bummer" (in disappointment) to a British person and got an embarrassed reaction...I won't offer a further explanation of that here. I heard a mother say about her daughter "she just had a wee" and a sign for disabled vehicles on the road said "Free Recovery/Await Rescue" (it sounds so chivalrous!). Many people quoted Winston Churchill who (might have) said that America and England were "two countries separated by a common language." I don't know, but we sure made a lot of Monty-Python-style jokes while we were there.

Ever since I was in a production of Oliver Twist when I was a girl, I have loved Cockney English. One of my goals (besides Morris Dancing and Bagpipes) was to hear people speaking it. Can you imagine my delight upon arriving in Cambridge and going into the public water closet (hee hee), I mean the loo (hee), at the train station and seeing these words etched on the door:

Arriving in Cambridge wasn't without some sweat...we pulled the same Amazing Race FAIL at the train station as we had done at the airport--we left my train tickets in the automatic ticket dispenser because we walked away with Jeremy's TWO tickets not realizing we would each get 2. We missed our train and had some stress...and then some more relational stress (to Starbucks or not to Starbucks, that was the question). I guess we were pretty stressed. But someone did tell Jeremy that he looked like Prince Harry.

Cambridge was rainy. I was teary. It was a little hard to enjoy at first. We passed these charming little boats that you could rent to punt in the river, but we didn't...because of the rain...and the tears (and the British book salesman in Flagstaff had warned us they were more work than fun). We had heard of a house near the University called Tyndale House where a lot of American theology students live and study, and Jeremy had an acquaintance there, so we happened upon it and someone happened to invite us in and we spent the next 3 charming hours there with interesting people talking about interesting things.



We left and walked back to the city center centre for some doner (I was thankful for the Middle Eastern food, at least) and then caught a bus out to an American Military Cemetery on the edge of town (my idea, but Jeremy supportively agreed to go). A lady told us not to get off at our stop but to wait for the next one which caused us to sail past the cemetery in the rain on a rural road in the opposite direction. This is when I wished we didn't speak the same language.

We tried to hitchhike back to the cemetery but those proper Brits (who also like to speed on rural roads) wouldn't have it, so we walked probably over a mile...and Jeremy was wearing his one pair of shoes--Doc Martens--that were not fully broken in. The cemetery was closing, but we happened to catch some kind American retired military personnel who gave us a lovely tour. It was touching and inspiring to think of the sacrifice that so many Americans gave for freedom, not even in their own country. Many of the fallen were pilots and air crews because of the bombing raids into Nazi territory at the end part of WWII.

There are 25 of these cemeteries in Europe

3,812 American graves, 5, 127 American names recorded on the Tablets of the Missing

Door to the chapel with military vehicles and ships on it

Chapel with mosaic representing airmen and crews flying to their heavenly home

Replicas of aircraft and bombing missions

We successfully caught our bus back to the centre and had more stress, this time about dinner/ice cream, managed to find Jeremy a new pair of shoes at TJ Maxx (yes we were in an amazing city full of historic buildings and we were shopping at TJ Maxx. But it was IN a historic building.). Cambridge (and Oxford) are both so full of interesting buildings because they weren't bombed in WWII--many Nazi soldiers had graduated from the universities and Hitler was enamored with the Oxbridge area and wanted to set up his capitol in Oxford when he took over. Thankfully that didn't happen!

I was impacted by the stories of brave Reformers in all the cities we visited who were killed for trying to bring the Bible to the people in their own languages. If you click on this picture, you can read the sign.

There were bikes with wicker baskets everywhere! I guess it's the most common mode of transportation for the students. We knew we were in a prestigious university town when we heard students chatting about physics, the Nephilim, and whistling Mozart while casually walking around town. Also, only university fellows are allowed to walk on the grass (there are signs everywhere)...because "that's how it's been done for 400 years."

More stress. Money. Food. Schedule. Mostly my fault, I think. We're one flesh...sometimes that means glorious union and reading each others' thoughts and finishing each others' sentences. Sometimes it means going where you don't want to go or eating when you're not hungry or walking 2 miles in the rain in blistering shoes because your other heart is set on seeing an American Military Cemetery. Thanks for putting up with me.

Oh, and we returned to our attic room hotel to find that they had moved all of our stuff to another room without telling us. We were too tired to care.

Next stop: Oxford, Hitchhiker, Cotswolds, Palace, and Yorkshire Pudding