"This is the day we have been waiting a long time for. Our day was full with errands to run, travelers checks to get, odds and ends shopping, packing and re-packing. Finally arrived at the airport [Salt Lake City]. Lorraine and Ruth Ann and Susan came to see us off. Also, Aunt Valois and Uncle Paul, all the South's and Scott. Frank is nervous and getting a bit scatterbrained. He has asked everything, twice! Boarded the plane, a United Airlines Jet. Karen and Dale came rushing on[to] the plane, handed me a package and asked me to unwrap it. Darling, yellow nightie!"
It was a rough ride to Denver--made dinner service difficult to balance, between bumps--and raining. Changed planes in Chicago, arriving in Baltimore at 2:30 in the morning. Despite ear pressure and headache, we took turns sleeping on a bench in the airport until we could claim a rental car at 7:00. By 8:00 AM, the agency had not received the car reservation from our travel agent so we took a bus into Washington, then set out on foot to see what D.C. was all about. My first impression? GRAY, but that changed as we closed in on the historic sites I'd only read or heard about--the White House and the Capitol Building, Lincoln and Washington Memorials, and the Natural History Museum at the Smithsonian. What a way to break in new shoes! By day's end, our feet were shot! I had worn a girdle and hose all day. It was the 60's but I hadn't been liberated, yet!
The plane out of NYC was crowded, every seat filled by tour group old ladies whose loud chattering was endless and crying kids. I had a window seat. The pilot flew along the coast before turning and heading out over the Atlantic. That was the strangest feeling, watching the landmass get smaller, the coastline disappear from sight, then just water, as far as I could see in any direction. Dinner was served about midnight.
See Europe on five dollars a day? That's what the travel guidebook claimed and we were sure we could do it by: Renting a room in homes of a few listed as willing (cheaper and more interesting than hotels), Using Eurail for travel while sleeping, Eating cheaply, Limiting souvenir purchases. Saving what we could, after bills were paid, from my salon tips and paycheck and Frank's wages, the entire trip was paid for before we left the US to fulfill Frank's dream of seeing friends from his mission days. Pretty impressive for two kids in their first year married, I'd say.
My watch said it was 4:00 am. Through my window, sea and land were coming together again. The pilot announced that it was actually 9:00 o'clock, as we landed in Shannon, with immigration cards already complete. Even without any hitch through customs, the 9:15 flight to Dublin left without us. It was cold and damp when we arrived there, an hour behind schedule. Customs? Again? "Flying in from the US? Any cigarettes or spirits?" If we'd had any spirits, a good, stiff drink might have warmed us up a bit.
Dublin was so GREEN. Fields were divided by rows of trees. Everything looked miniature. Houses constructed of rough cement were soot-stained from many chimney-burnings. Every window was dressed in beautiful, Irish lace curtains. Mrs. Tyrrell made us feel at home almost immediately. She ran a boarding house for students in winter months, tourists in summer. Figuring out the phone system to let her know we'd arrived was a challenge, then getting there by taxi was a thrills-a-minute event and...wait a minute...weren't we driving on the "wrong" side of the road? Offering us cream crackers and hot milk, she then suggested we take a rest. So in the middle of our first day abroad, we put on our PJ's--much too cold for that sexy, yellow nightie gifted me as we prepared for takeoff in SLC--and climbed into bed with the hot water bottle she provided. Stampeding, wild horses could not have awakened us until, in the early evening, we dressed to go out, caught a bus into downtown for some sightseeing and ate what the natives called a hamburger. It was more like a sausage but a nice ending to our first day away from home.
The call to breakfast came early. It was not the Continental meal described in the handbook but healthy portions of juice, oatmeal, bacon and sausage, eggs, two kinds of bread and milk! Delicious! About in the city, I loved hearing the brogue roll off the tongues of locals but the traffic was pure pandemonium. No one paid any mind to anything. It was just one big, bumper-car amusement-park ride! Air travel had its own problems. During the flight to Scotland, there was much groaning and creaking and the door of that rickety, bucket of bolts popped ajar repeatedly.
The call to breakfast came early. It was not the Continental meal described in the handbook but healthy portions of juice, oatmeal, bacon and sausage, eggs, two kinds of bread and milk! Delicious! About in the city, I loved hearing the brogue roll off the tongues of locals but the traffic was pure pandemonium. No one paid any mind to anything. It was just one big, bumper-car amusement-park ride! Air travel had its own problems. During the flight to Scotland, there was much groaning and creaking and the door of that rickety, bucket of bolts popped ajar repeatedly.
Frank was looking like a pro by now, stepping right out into the street to whistle for a cab in Glasgow. Mrs. MacCullum showed us to the room I described as: "Darling, large, and comfy but cold--they all seem to be--with a large bathroom, the best I've seen in Europe so far! I can hardly wait for my first bath in four days!" Our window on the second story overlooked the chimneys of all of Scotland or so it seemed. The breakfast/sitting room, its period furnishings and white fireplace, looked out on expertly, manicured gardens. I was relieved that I could understand our host. Though said to be English-speaking, Scots were hard to understand. There was also a "charming" Pomeranian puppy in residence.
On Buchanan St., lawn bowlers asked to explain their game said they couldn't explain it to themselves, let alone to us! Gothic architecture, lawns covered in tiny, white daises, this was part of a huge park that surrounded Glasgow University, an art gallery and museum. Observing that drinks were not automatically served with ice, I ordered mine with ice, at lunch. It was served with ice cream in it, and quizzical expressions from the server. Perhaps the idea of floating ice cream in one's drink caught on once I'd introduced it! We had not seen the SUN since leaving US shores.
After Sunday morning breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, and milk--both milk and bacon had an unfamiliar flavor--and I'd commented on the unique toaster with heating coils exposed on two sides, we took the Underground to catch a train to Edinburgh. Another bus ride took us to the base of an old castle built on a massive mountain of rock providing an incredible view to anyone willing to make the climb. We made the climb to the top, through cobblestone streets, passing Scottie dogs and men in kilts. Wow! I really was in Scotland! Along the way, beside the shrine to those lost in battle, was a dog cemetery, honoring Yum-Yum, Major, Gyp and other dogs of soldiers. The Royal Mile, with a lot to see along the way, ended at the Palace of Holyroadhouse. The twists-and-turns design of huge, heavy wrought iron gates gave them a lacy and light appearance. Surrounding fields divided by rocks piled without mortar presented a landscape different from Ireland. Oops, not the right place to exit the bus. We simply rode back to the castle and walked into town. I wanted pictures of the gardens. Frank was focused on history and architecture. Taxi's here were plush, like riding in a stateside limo. Men were required to pay three cents to use the bathroom; I was charged only one penny. Well, I think that's what it cost. Changing money every few days, I often just held out my hand with coins in it.
On Buchanan St., lawn bowlers asked to explain their game said they couldn't explain it to themselves, let alone to us! Gothic architecture, lawns covered in tiny, white daises, this was part of a huge park that surrounded Glasgow University, an art gallery and museum. Observing that drinks were not automatically served with ice, I ordered mine with ice, at lunch. It was served with ice cream in it, and quizzical expressions from the server. Perhaps the idea of floating ice cream in one's drink caught on once I'd introduced it! We had not seen the SUN since leaving US shores.
After Sunday morning breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, and milk--both milk and bacon had an unfamiliar flavor--and I'd commented on the unique toaster with heating coils exposed on two sides, we took the Underground to catch a train to Edinburgh. Another bus ride took us to the base of an old castle built on a massive mountain of rock providing an incredible view to anyone willing to make the climb. We made the climb to the top, through cobblestone streets, passing Scottie dogs and men in kilts. Wow! I really was in Scotland! Along the way, beside the shrine to those lost in battle, was a dog cemetery, honoring Yum-Yum, Major, Gyp and other dogs of soldiers. The Royal Mile, with a lot to see along the way, ended at the Palace of Holyroadhouse. The twists-and-turns design of huge, heavy wrought iron gates gave them a lacy and light appearance. Surrounding fields divided by rocks piled without mortar presented a landscape different from Ireland. Oops, not the right place to exit the bus. We simply rode back to the castle and walked into town. I wanted pictures of the gardens. Frank was focused on history and architecture. Taxi's here were plush, like riding in a stateside limo. Men were required to pay three cents to use the bathroom; I was charged only one penny. Well, I think that's what it cost. Changing money every few days, I often just held out my hand with coins in it.
The plane from Glasgow to Manchester, England was another old crate that rattled and bounced along. Hearing that one went down just two days before, five or six miles away, didn't ease my mind, any. Yet, I was a bit intrigued by England. Both my mother and my father were of English and Wales ancestry. Baggage handlers were on strike when we landed. Shuttling our luggage from place to place was an ever-present issue. Here in Manchester, with little more than a toothbrush and a change of clothes with us, we put our bags in storage. That was something we continued to do, along the way. Phone service was as unpredictable in Manchester as we'd found it in Ireland and Scotland. A cell phone would have come in handy!
Ed Fox, a South cousin, who was serving a mission in the area, arranged a night's stay for us at his boarding house. It was a small place with a tiny kitchen yet Sister Kerr fed her family, the missionaries, and about seven other boarders, cooking on a little, two-burner stove. She stacked her pans and served every one a hot meal at the same time! That was amazing to me. She was just as amazed to learn that I had modern conveniences, at home in the US. Her Yorkshire pudding and her sponge cake...DIVINE! She prepared the sponge, carried in a large metal bowl on her hip for what seemed like a long time, beating air into the batter with a wooden spoon. Should anyone venture past the kitchen, she would hand over the bowl and spoon, expecting a little help while she gave her arm a rest.
One of the boarders was studying hairdressing. He asked a lot of questions. Once he'd heard that I'd been licensed and was working in a salon with just one year of study, he was convinced that America was the place for him, compared to the five-year apprenticeship he'd have to complete to earn only a 10% commission wage. Mr. Kerr jokingly said he was ready to go home to the US with us, too. He supported his wife in her care of the missionaries, was a bit more reserved than his Mrs., had great personality and a dry sense of humor, something you might expect of an Englishman. We enjoyed this family a lot, Sister and Mr. Kerr and their young son, Peter. "Come stay another night with us before you go on to London."
The sun was SHINING in Harrogate, the air warm enough to enjoy "Ice Lollies"--ice cream in square cones--at the mission home. Ruth McComber, another South cousin, was going with us to York! While I was awed by that building's history as part of a great estate, still surrounded by Victorian Era-styled gardens with finely crafted furnishings--carved ceilings and woodwork--my personal favorite was the Steinway grand piano.
Ed Fox, a South cousin, who was serving a mission in the area, arranged a night's stay for us at his boarding house. It was a small place with a tiny kitchen yet Sister Kerr fed her family, the missionaries, and about seven other boarders, cooking on a little, two-burner stove. She stacked her pans and served every one a hot meal at the same time! That was amazing to me. She was just as amazed to learn that I had modern conveniences, at home in the US. Her Yorkshire pudding and her sponge cake...DIVINE! She prepared the sponge, carried in a large metal bowl on her hip for what seemed like a long time, beating air into the batter with a wooden spoon. Should anyone venture past the kitchen, she would hand over the bowl and spoon, expecting a little help while she gave her arm a rest.
One of the boarders was studying hairdressing. He asked a lot of questions. Once he'd heard that I'd been licensed and was working in a salon with just one year of study, he was convinced that America was the place for him, compared to the five-year apprenticeship he'd have to complete to earn only a 10% commission wage. Mr. Kerr jokingly said he was ready to go home to the US with us, too. He supported his wife in her care of the missionaries, was a bit more reserved than his Mrs., had great personality and a dry sense of humor, something you might expect of an Englishman. We enjoyed this family a lot, Sister and Mr. Kerr and their young son, Peter. "Come stay another night with us before you go on to London."
The sun was SHINING in Harrogate, the air warm enough to enjoy "Ice Lollies"--ice cream in square cones--at the mission home. Ruth McComber, another South cousin, was going with us to York! While I was awed by that building's history as part of a great estate, still surrounded by Victorian Era-styled gardens with finely crafted furnishings--carved ceilings and woodwork--my personal favorite was the Steinway grand piano.
Roman stone walls still surrounded the city of York. Frank, the history/anthropology major/minor was in his element. While observing repairs being done at The Minster Cathedral, largest of its kind in Northern Europe, a clergyman explained much about the building and its history to us. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/York_Minster ) We walked along The Shambles where the buildings lean in so roof tops almost touch each other. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Shambles ) After spending a great day seeing as much of York and its history as we could in the time we had, getting back to Manchester, our bus driver stopped to pick up a woman, very obese and totally wasted. She could not navigate the bus steps on her own so the driver squeezed himself around her. Once outside the door, he got behind her to push and get her the rest of the way into the bus. At her stop, instead of getting off, she sat down on the steps, tilting the whole bus at quite an angle. I was thinking, "How often do these double-deckers flip over?" No amount of coaxing could get her to move. Our driver, poor man, had to pick up as much of her as he could muster and physically move her off those steps. The Kerrs were waiting up for us with sandwiches and sweets. We talked until after midnight. Next morning, after breakfast and pictures together, we were off to catch our flight to London.
Approaching the city, the pilot circled the whole of it, giving his passengers a magnificent view. London seemed to stretch on just about forever! Once on the ground, we took the wrong subway and had a nice ride back and forth, this time, underground! Then, Tower of London where so many heads had rolled before it became the home of the Crown Jewels, Parliament, Big Ben, and Westminster Abby, the final resting place for the likes of Charles Dickens, Handel, Tennyson, Elliott, and others, a small mention of things to see. We sat in on a session in the House of Commons. As we were leaving St. Paul's Cathedral, a wedding party was exiting through a side door, men in tailed coats and top hats, ladies in fancy, after-five attire. Our guide commented, "They would have to be very wealthy to afford a wedding at St. Paul's!" Most men appeared quite dapper on the streets of London, many walking with a cane in the crook of an arm. Was this a movie set? Unless they were wearing a mini-mini--and some were--women drew less attention. "Duck", "Love", "Dear", "Cheerio", "Ta", "Jolly good", or "Smashing", all common expressions heard. Baths had been few and far between but London included that bit of heaven, though good drinking water and milk were sometimes hard to find. Tea was the drink of choice of locals. Food was greasy and mostly unremarkable. Hard rolls were the only thing I found eatable in the city. We had been totally spoiled by Sister Kerr's marvelous cooking.
The clock alarm--set to Off instead of On--was the reason we missed a tour and breakfast we'd paid for. There was still time to watch the ceremonial Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace. The band was playing. Mother would have loved the many rose gardens. Swans, pelicans, and ducks shared space on the lake. Horses on site were skillfully groomed and trained. I thought my bothers would appreciate that. A crowd had gathered for the ceremony, also hoping to catch a glimpse of the Queen. Frank had to hold his camera above his head to shoot film, the crowd was so large. Then, from behind me, a woman grabbed a handful of my hair and gave it quite a hard yank!
So this was Norway. We loved it from the start. We knew not one word of Norwegian, could read no signs or make sense of the money, but Oslo had cold milk and clean air, a welcome change from London's coal burning, smoking chimneys and blokes blowing smoke that changed my white blouses to something gray and smoky by day's end! Flying in over the Fjords was quite a sight. From grassy countryside, forested hills rose straight up out of the water. There were massively HUGE ships in the harbor. Frank said the SS France that would take us home was even larger. I couldn't imagine it. The people were friendly and helpful. We got caught in a downpour, the first one of that day, but dried out quickly. In the early morning, sitting on the dock as the shrimp boats came into the harbor, we had all we could eat for about 50 cents. Being so far north, it didn't get dark until 11 o'clock in the evening, Time enough to ferry across to the Viking Museum to see ships, once used by royalty, reconstructed from thousands of pieces found at burial sites beneath the water. We also visited the Kon-Tiki memorial, got caught in the rain again, and thought we'd lost our passports. After anxious moments, the lost were found at the hotel desk.That wasn't the only thing that made me anxious. Our plane to Gotenburg, Sweden was a tiny, two-engine flying machine with seats for about six people! The runway began and ended at the water's edge but once in the air, the view was breathtakingly beautiful, once again above the Fjords, much forested area and very little flat land. Sweden was also a part of whom I am.
Yikes! You were so brave flying all around. I can't imagine I could ever do it. :)
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