Photos for this post
We set out to cover all the places we missed yesterday, with the bare bones of a plan which was continually upset by Ramadan practices. Moral: don’t ever travel in a Muslim country during Ramadan unless you have your own transportation, carry petrol and food with you and can go easily with the flow … We were travelling light, on a budget, and we had train connections to make.
We sought out busses again, but to no avail. I stopped in a local shop to ask directions and best way of getting to the places on our agenda, and we were told that taxi was our best - really only - option. The shop employee was only too happy to negotiate a “fair” price with a very unhappy, very unwilling taxi driver who spoke no english or French and apparently only a smattering of Arabic. For this price, the driver would take us to each place and allow an “appropriate” amount of time for us to visit each place before moving along.
We asked to be taken to the Necropolis de sultan Merinides, thinking that would be the best place to begin, high on the hill before the noon day sun, also the location furthest from our hotel. The driver had no idea which place we meant, so we had to point … up there on the hill! INauspicious beginnings... The ruins are large monumental tombs, believed to date from the 14th century when the Merenides dynasty ruled over Fes, but it is not known who is buried in these particular tombs! They provide a spectacular view of the historic city, and an excellent place to hear the call to prayer broadcast simultaneously from the 400+ mosques in the medina. The taxi driver wound his way up the hill, parked alongside the monuments and indicated gruffly that we had 5 minutes! Just enough time to wander and snap a couple of photos. He then determined that our next stop should be the Royal palace which you can’t actually visit, but you can jump out of the taxi and snap another quick photo under the watchful eyes of many armed security guards. The royal palace, Dar Al Makhzen, was built in the 13th century during the Merindes dynasty. Its 80 hectares encompass a madrasa (school), mosque, parade ground and gardens. There is a large square in front of the palace - the place of Alawites - but we were the only people there.
We drove past the Bab Sammarine - the Sammarine gate, one of 14 ornate gates to the medina - on our way to Le Jardin Jnan Sbil et la place Boujloud. But, Ramadan …the gardens were closed until later that day. The driver agreed to take us on to Le Musee Dar el batha. But, Ramadan … the museum was closed. The friendly young guard, who spoke impeccable English, French and Arabic, helped us deal with the increasingly agitated taxi driver. It was agreed that he would take us to, and leave us at, the Bab Boujloud entry to the medina where we would probably find food. From that point on we would be on our own. But, the museum and gardens should be open by the time we walked back.
We drove through the Andalusiyya quarter, the oldest part of the medina, to see the Spanish style wooden balconies that my aunt remembered from previous visits. Then had a dismal lunch just outside the medina. So few places were serving food that we were just happy to sit, eat and regroup in the intense heat.
We walked back to Le Musee Dar el batha, following the blue dots on my phone as we had in so many other situations. The beautiful museum, which showcases art and cultural traditions of Morocco, was a 19th century palace and a summer residence, built by Sultan Moulay Hassan I, who was committed to modernization and reform. We stayed there for hours wandering through the various rooms, each with a different yet ornate door, and lush gardens. Jacaranda trees!I first saw Jacarandas when I went to Guatemala and thought they were the most beautiful tree I’d ever seen; the flowers almost transparent. I was thrilled when I moved to Florida and watched them bloom each spring, and here they were in this garden. It was a delightful surprise and began to make up for the stress of dealing with the taxi driver in the morning.
The guard at the museum told us that we really should visit Le Jardin Jnan Sbil, gave us directions and sent us on our way. The garden is a far cry from the hustle and bustle, frenetic pace of the medina. It is peaceful, quiet, calm …. it is where the locals visit to picnic, and stroll. Rose beds, reminded me of England, jacarandas and avenues of palm trees recalled my home in Venice, Florida. It was the perfect continuation of the day, but we still had other places on our list ... we had to pick up our luggage from the riad and be at the train station for our journey to Meknes.
We left the gardens and tried to hail a taxi cab., thinking that we could possibly fit in the Medersa abou inania and the castle. The Medersa is part of the Kairaouine University, an architectural masterpiece built in 1350 and, unbelievably, open to the public. We couldn’t get a taxi cab to stop for us. No matter where we stood they just whizzed right by us. In desperation we asked a passing trio of armed guards were we could get a taxi. Their response was to step into the street and wave one down for us! It’s amazing how quickly a taxi driver will stop for armed guards …
Taxis in Morocco have an odd system; if they already have a fare, they will stop to pick up additional fares, and the burden of paying for the entire ride - not just their portion - falls to the new fare. We requested the castle as it was relatively close by, but found ourselves being taken back to the Necropolis de Sultan Merinides. Producing maps didn’t help, neither the driver nor additional passenger seemed to know where or what we meant by the castle and we drove back and forth and around and around the town, with the fare ratcheting up and the driver becoming more and more irate … Ramadan; it was getting closer and closer to the time to break the fast, and all the drivers on the road were showing signs of road rage exacerbated by the heat. It really was a comedy of errors. So, time being of the essence, we asked to be taken to Medersa abou inania. Then, with traffic against us, resigned ourselves to returning to the riad.
We made it back to the riad, thanked Isham for his hospitality and began our walk back to the taxi rank for yet another round of bartering over the fare as the drivers all want to be close to home when it is time to break their fast - and the fares are increased because … Ramadan! Although we had walked back and forth from the riad many times during our stay, my aunt decided that now was the time to try out a new route, after all didn’t have anywhere special to be - just the train station for a soon to be departing train. Some times on this trip I have been patient with my aunt and she with me. Today had not been one of those days, for either of us. Now we were being severely tested.
We made it to the train station on time, taken by possibly the only driver in Fes who charged a decent rate. He must be new to the business! Soon we were on our way to Meknes. We hailed a taxi at the station and were told somewhat solemnly that it was in the old part of the medina, no-one goes there, the driver wouldn’t be able to take us to the door and wasn’t actually sure of the exact location, and he wanted to be home soon for Ramadan. To be honest, I had spent 23 years in Dearborn, Michigan, and had enjoyed the feasting and celebrating that goes along with Ramadan in the Arabic capital of America. But now it was just getting on my nerves. My blood pressure rising with each mention of the word!
The driver dropped us off at what he hoped was the closest location to the riad and, once again, we trusted our direction to the little blue dots on the map on my phone. Some boys in the street saw us and offered to show us the way …The medina in Essaouria is spacious and open, Fes is frenetic. Meknes just seemed dodgy., back alleys with dubious types. It appeared to have no redeeming qualities. For the first time on this trip I had my doubts. Following both my phone and the young men we walked up a steep hill through alleys with little going on and finally found ourselves outside the Riad Idrissi.
We were welcomed into the riad where we would be the only guests that night and, I thought later, for many nights both before and after. We were asked if we would like to join the family for dinner that evening and if we would like to see “an exhibition” that the owner gives of rugs, jewellery and fossils, on travels around the world. Excitedly we agreed to both…. and were then led to our rooms in what could only be described as the penthouse suite. The riad was gorgeous, our room was cosy with a large patio overlooking the medina.
We settled in and were called for the “exhibition,” where the owner showed us beautiful rugs and silver jewellery, but grew more and more surly and displeased as we oohed and aahed with our wallets remaining closed. My aunt did purchase one small rug - I’m sure she felt under no duress! Dinner was served at a separate table from that of the “family.” They were sullen, surly, ignored us and made no attempt to interact with us. It was all very strange - but the food was delicious.
In no mood for any more tramping around strange places, we retired to our room to watch the sun set over the medina. We had been told to keep the plug in the shower closed until we were running water, otherwise the smell from the sewer rose through the drain. I asked my aunt if she knew how to open and close the plug before she had her shower and received a very terse (I’m not a child) “yes!” … scant minutes before the bathroom flooded. Sometimes you just laugh at the silly things that happen, sometimes you cry. That night I cried. I was being worn down very slowly by the travel and the heat, by trying to accommodate my aunt who was doing her best to accomodate me, by the constant language interpretation issues; this trip to Fes & Meknes was beginning to look like a mistake. We fell into our beds with terse, but hesitant, goodnights - and then a gecko ran across the wall by my bed! I smiled. Wearily. But I smiled. Tomorrow is another day.
Tuesday, August 28, 2018
Thursday, August 23, 2018
June 7th: Fes
Photos for this post
Well rested, we sat on the rooftop terrace and enjoyed our breakfast of olives, laughing cow cheese triangles, apricot jam, an assortment of breads, and coffee. Surveying the vast medina in front of us, we planned our stay in Fes: the medina, obviously; the Necropolis de sultan merinides; the royal palace; le Jardins de boujeloud; Le Musee Dar el batha; the Medersa abou inania; and The castle. We should be able to ft all of that in in a day and a half…
We stopped at the bank on the way to the Place R’cif .. and that’s where the fun began. The medina is easier to navigate from Bab Boujeloud - the opposite side of the medina from where we were -, so we looked for a bus to take us there. Apparently taxis are a greater stimulus to the economy so we were told continuously that no busses run around the perimeter of the medina. I’m sure this can’t be true, but people were adamant. So, we hired a taxi to Bab Boujeloud. On departing the taxi we were instantly accosted by guides - all wearing “official” badges. We talked to one guide, and instant a fight broke out between him and other guide, each insisting the other was not “official.” It was not pleasant, and a far cry from Essaouira. Welcome to Fes! While I dealt with both of them - more with looks , gestures and tone of voice - telling them that neither one of them was required, my aunt had picked up another companion. Walking quietly beside her and telling her what sights to look for in the medina was Abdullah. He remained our guide for the day, patiently explaining the history, architecture and culture of the medina. He had been a science teacher and was delighted to answer all of my questions. He led us to all the monuments, as well as the artisans with whom he obviously had agreements. We watched tanners dyeing skins, weavers at work (agave silk!), craftsmen engaged at their various skills. This is a given with guides, and it would be naive to think otherwise, but he was well known - and obviously respected - throughout the medina.
The medina really is labyrinthine, and there is so much to see. Oh gosh, if I had money... the craftsmanship was astounding and, realistically, very inexpensive. We watched silver, copper and bronze smiths at forges, saw breathtaking displays of Berber rugs, saw them them chisel ceramics and visited the tannery ... would that I could afford something from each place. My aunt surprised me with a gift of a gorgeous leather jacket from the tannery. I chose a style and colour, they measured me and delivered it to our riad that evening. One could get used to this lifestyle! A stop at an antique store netted a marriage proposal from the owner, Hush Hush … my future wife is sitting next to me now, inshallah. Um no. That was the signal to leave! Again, I’m not naive enough to believe this doesn’t happen every hour, at least!
We meandered through the medina entering the Bab Boujloud, the western entrance to the old medina. We traced the narrow alleys, suddenly and unexpectedly running into donkey trains making deliveries. Thanks to Abdullah we were given entry to Glaoui Palace - The Old Palace, the Pasha of Marrakesh’s second home. Once very grand, but poorly maintained and in need of repair since Morocco's independence from France in 1956. It was still a treat to see the opulence that once was. We stopped to peek into El Karaouiyne Mosque and library, open only to Muslims. The mosque was founded by Fatima al-Fihri in 859 with an associated school, or madrasa, which became one of the leading spiritual and educational centers of the historic Muslim world. It is said to be oldest existing, continually operating and the first degree awarding educational institution in the world. We visited the Tomb of Idriss II, founder of Fes, but again were only allowed to peek inside. The day was hot, the medina crowded, the sights and scents overpowering. There was only so much we could do. We conceded defeat after visiting the ceramic factory and were brought back to Place R’cif by a taxi driver with a penchant for the Barcelona soccer team. The Necropolis de sultan merinides, the royal palace, le Jardins de boujeloud, Le Musee Dar el batha, the Medersa abou inania, and The castle, they would all have to wait for the morrow … with an earlier start and a better plan.
We returned to the riad, where Isham was waiting for us. Shortly thereafter my jacket was delivered but the credit card machine was having problems and cash would be a better alternative. My aunt left with the man from the tannery … and neither Isham nor I were sure if either would be seen again!
Well rested, we sat on the rooftop terrace and enjoyed our breakfast of olives, laughing cow cheese triangles, apricot jam, an assortment of breads, and coffee. Surveying the vast medina in front of us, we planned our stay in Fes: the medina, obviously; the Necropolis de sultan merinides; the royal palace; le Jardins de boujeloud; Le Musee Dar el batha; the Medersa abou inania; and The castle. We should be able to ft all of that in in a day and a half…
We stopped at the bank on the way to the Place R’cif .. and that’s where the fun began. The medina is easier to navigate from Bab Boujeloud - the opposite side of the medina from where we were -, so we looked for a bus to take us there. Apparently taxis are a greater stimulus to the economy so we were told continuously that no busses run around the perimeter of the medina. I’m sure this can’t be true, but people were adamant. So, we hired a taxi to Bab Boujeloud. On departing the taxi we were instantly accosted by guides - all wearing “official” badges. We talked to one guide, and instant a fight broke out between him and other guide, each insisting the other was not “official.” It was not pleasant, and a far cry from Essaouira. Welcome to Fes! While I dealt with both of them - more with looks , gestures and tone of voice - telling them that neither one of them was required, my aunt had picked up another companion. Walking quietly beside her and telling her what sights to look for in the medina was Abdullah. He remained our guide for the day, patiently explaining the history, architecture and culture of the medina. He had been a science teacher and was delighted to answer all of my questions. He led us to all the monuments, as well as the artisans with whom he obviously had agreements. We watched tanners dyeing skins, weavers at work (agave silk!), craftsmen engaged at their various skills. This is a given with guides, and it would be naive to think otherwise, but he was well known - and obviously respected - throughout the medina.
The medina really is labyrinthine, and there is so much to see. Oh gosh, if I had money... the craftsmanship was astounding and, realistically, very inexpensive. We watched silver, copper and bronze smiths at forges, saw breathtaking displays of Berber rugs, saw them them chisel ceramics and visited the tannery ... would that I could afford something from each place. My aunt surprised me with a gift of a gorgeous leather jacket from the tannery. I chose a style and colour, they measured me and delivered it to our riad that evening. One could get used to this lifestyle! A stop at an antique store netted a marriage proposal from the owner, Hush Hush … my future wife is sitting next to me now, inshallah. Um no. That was the signal to leave! Again, I’m not naive enough to believe this doesn’t happen every hour, at least!
We meandered through the medina entering the Bab Boujloud, the western entrance to the old medina. We traced the narrow alleys, suddenly and unexpectedly running into donkey trains making deliveries. Thanks to Abdullah we were given entry to Glaoui Palace - The Old Palace, the Pasha of Marrakesh’s second home. Once very grand, but poorly maintained and in need of repair since Morocco's independence from France in 1956. It was still a treat to see the opulence that once was. We stopped to peek into El Karaouiyne Mosque and library, open only to Muslims. The mosque was founded by Fatima al-Fihri in 859 with an associated school, or madrasa, which became one of the leading spiritual and educational centers of the historic Muslim world. It is said to be oldest existing, continually operating and the first degree awarding educational institution in the world. We visited the Tomb of Idriss II, founder of Fes, but again were only allowed to peek inside. The day was hot, the medina crowded, the sights and scents overpowering. There was only so much we could do. We conceded defeat after visiting the ceramic factory and were brought back to Place R’cif by a taxi driver with a penchant for the Barcelona soccer team. The Necropolis de sultan merinides, the royal palace, le Jardins de boujeloud, Le Musee Dar el batha, the Medersa abou inania, and The castle, they would all have to wait for the morrow … with an earlier start and a better plan.
We returned to the riad, where Isham was waiting for us. Shortly thereafter my jacket was delivered but the credit card machine was having problems and cash would be a better alternative. My aunt left with the man from the tannery … and neither Isham nor I were sure if either would be seen again!
May 21st: Goodbye Norwich
Photos for this post
Packed and ready for the next phase of this adventure; leaving Norwich for a few weeks in Essaouira. Robert walked me to the bus station where I caught the inordinately inexpensive Megabus, to be met in Stratford by Alex. I hadn’t seen Alex in about a decade, and this was a lovely chance for us to gad about the streets of London together.
We travelled to Liverpool St. Station where, I had been ‘reliably’ informed that I could leave my luggage. I would have been better off leaving it at Victoria Coach station. Sometimes this information is difficult to find, even for someone like me! We walked past Trafalgar Square, Chinatown, old familiar haunts, and sauntered in to the British museum. Entrance to the museum is free / donation, which makes it the perfect place to visit whenever the mood strikes. Such an enormous place it can only be consumed in small bite sized pieces. And crowded! I’d forgotten about the crowds in London. We decided to tackle a small part of Greek history and then escaped the crowds for a tasty lunch of falafel & schnitzel at Maoz in Soho.
We walked back to Trafalgar Square for evensong at St. Martin in the Fields, possibly my favourite church in the whole of London. It dates back to 1222, but the present church is Georgian. The simple interior is in sharp contrast to the imposing exterior. It’s a wonderful City church, fully involved in the lives of the citizens, and the citizens involved in the church which has been at the forefront of religious broadcasting, peace and social justice movements, activism … It is the home of the world renowned Academy of St Martin-in-the-Fields chamber orchestra, who have taken to touring South West Florida in the winter! There are frequent concerts, even the sing along type, seminars, jazz evenings, and a cafe in the crypt. When I was young I loved the architecture of the church - inspired by Christopher Wren, but designed by James Gibbs. As a teenager I learned about Dick Sheppard, founder of the Peace Pledge Union - and with whom I share my birthday, and became more interested in the church outside of the religious aspect. Nowadays they do a lot of work with the homeless - just as they have throughout the centuries. As their website states, “St Martin-in-the-Fields is a unique configuration of cultural, charitable and commercial initiatives rooted in the life of a vibrant Church of England congregation.” When I miss home, London, this is one of the places I miss.
Evensong was peaceful, a nice place to relax … Alex in a pew, and me in one of the boxes … until we were interrupted by the world outside; a homeless person ran in and up to the choir. He was removed by one of the vergers, built like a security guard, but one of the singers was visibly shaken. The vicar carried on with the service, a sign that this was not an unusual occurrence. The swift removal made me wonder how much the charity work truly impacts the life of those immediately outside the church.
We had some time to spare before my next appointment, so we walked around the corner to the Halfway to Heaven pub for a quick drink. Alex kindly walked me to 6-9 Carlton House Terrace, otherwise known as the home of The Royal Society - “The independent scientific academy of the UK and the Commonwealth... a Fellowship of many of the world's most eminent scientists … the oldest scientific academy in continuous existence.” They hold many events and lectures open to the public, tonight’s lecture was “Why philosophy of science matters to science.” One of my favourite topics. The lecture hall was full to bursting. Oh, I do miss things like this.
I picked up my luggage and caught a late coach to Luton airport where I planned to spend the night in readiness for my early morning plane to Morocco.
The coach ride and my time at Luton gave me a chance to think of all that I had done and seen so far on this trip, and of all the adventures to come. It had been a brilliant day with Alex, I really shouldn’t leave so much time between visits. I even came away with a lovely gift, a signed copy of his new book of poetry.
Packed and ready for the next phase of this adventure; leaving Norwich for a few weeks in Essaouira. Robert walked me to the bus station where I caught the inordinately inexpensive Megabus, to be met in Stratford by Alex. I hadn’t seen Alex in about a decade, and this was a lovely chance for us to gad about the streets of London together.
We travelled to Liverpool St. Station where, I had been ‘reliably’ informed that I could leave my luggage. I would have been better off leaving it at Victoria Coach station. Sometimes this information is difficult to find, even for someone like me! We walked past Trafalgar Square, Chinatown, old familiar haunts, and sauntered in to the British museum. Entrance to the museum is free / donation, which makes it the perfect place to visit whenever the mood strikes. Such an enormous place it can only be consumed in small bite sized pieces. And crowded! I’d forgotten about the crowds in London. We decided to tackle a small part of Greek history and then escaped the crowds for a tasty lunch of falafel & schnitzel at Maoz in Soho.
We walked back to Trafalgar Square for evensong at St. Martin in the Fields, possibly my favourite church in the whole of London. It dates back to 1222, but the present church is Georgian. The simple interior is in sharp contrast to the imposing exterior. It’s a wonderful City church, fully involved in the lives of the citizens, and the citizens involved in the church which has been at the forefront of religious broadcasting, peace and social justice movements, activism … It is the home of the world renowned Academy of St Martin-in-the-Fields chamber orchestra, who have taken to touring South West Florida in the winter! There are frequent concerts, even the sing along type, seminars, jazz evenings, and a cafe in the crypt. When I was young I loved the architecture of the church - inspired by Christopher Wren, but designed by James Gibbs. As a teenager I learned about Dick Sheppard, founder of the Peace Pledge Union - and with whom I share my birthday, and became more interested in the church outside of the religious aspect. Nowadays they do a lot of work with the homeless - just as they have throughout the centuries. As their website states, “St Martin-in-the-Fields is a unique configuration of cultural, charitable and commercial initiatives rooted in the life of a vibrant Church of England congregation.” When I miss home, London, this is one of the places I miss.
Evensong was peaceful, a nice place to relax … Alex in a pew, and me in one of the boxes … until we were interrupted by the world outside; a homeless person ran in and up to the choir. He was removed by one of the vergers, built like a security guard, but one of the singers was visibly shaken. The vicar carried on with the service, a sign that this was not an unusual occurrence. The swift removal made me wonder how much the charity work truly impacts the life of those immediately outside the church.
We had some time to spare before my next appointment, so we walked around the corner to the Halfway to Heaven pub for a quick drink. Alex kindly walked me to 6-9 Carlton House Terrace, otherwise known as the home of The Royal Society - “The independent scientific academy of the UK and the Commonwealth... a Fellowship of many of the world's most eminent scientists … the oldest scientific academy in continuous existence.” They hold many events and lectures open to the public, tonight’s lecture was “Why philosophy of science matters to science.” One of my favourite topics. The lecture hall was full to bursting. Oh, I do miss things like this.
I picked up my luggage and caught a late coach to Luton airport where I planned to spend the night in readiness for my early morning plane to Morocco.
The coach ride and my time at Luton gave me a chance to think of all that I had done and seen so far on this trip, and of all the adventures to come. It had been a brilliant day with Alex, I really shouldn’t leave so much time between visits. I even came away with a lovely gift, a signed copy of his new book of poetry.
May 18th: Birthday Celebrations
Photos for this post
Today was a special day - Robert’s birthday. I set the alarm so that I could run down to the market as soon as it opened and be back in time to do a nice breakfast for him when he woke up. The Norwich market website gives opening times for the stalls - don’t believe a word of it! I hung out, in the rain, wandering around, getting to be on first name terms with the stall holders and learning how to make gluten free bread, while waiting to buy a couple of quail eggs… I had seen them on previous days, I knew which Butcher stall sold them, so this was no flight of fancy. But today, of all days, this particular butcher showed up late… and when he did he had no quail eggs. Only duck eggs. There were no signs of stirring from Robert’s room when I arrived home, so I was able to surprise him with baked avocado stuffed with duck eggs, shrimp and tomato … he opened his birthday cards from friends and family, and we decided to return to the castle for a tour of the dungeon and a chance to see the museum and art galleries properly.
The dungeon tour was quite interesting, with all manner of instruments of torture through the ages, and plaster-cast heads of executed criminals. We toured the castle exhibits and extensive galleries - a great place to spend a rainy day, perhaps many a rainy day. The castle may be small, but the galleries are so extensive we still didn’t make our way through all of them. Glorious artwork and fascinating exhibits to linger over. And a study center! He’s very lucky to have this amazing resource within walking distance. Again, it just made me love Norwich all the more.
We left the castle and walked across town to his birthday present - Afternoon tea at The Assembly Hall. The Assembly Hall is an elegant Georgian home in the City, and holds English Country dances occasionally. The room was beautiful, stately, a piano played softly in the background … and the food … who knew that you could simply smile at the wait staff and say “ooh yes please” when refills of the teapots and tea trays were offered. We dined on dainty sandwiches of Norfolk ham, smoked salmon, egg and cress - all cut into little triangles. Added to that were cheese toasties and tomato chutney, brioche rolls filled with goodies, and, of course, both sweet and savory scones … with an assortment of pastries and cakes. With such a tea, there ought not be need for food for the remainder of the day. We looked in disbelief at the menu for Christmas dinner; it would take a couple of days to get through, and a gym membership should come as part of the deal!
We walked back to the castle to see more of the exhibits and then retired home… for a dinner of delicious Cromer crab. I think the birthday boy enjoyed his special day.
Today was a special day - Robert’s birthday. I set the alarm so that I could run down to the market as soon as it opened and be back in time to do a nice breakfast for him when he woke up. The Norwich market website gives opening times for the stalls - don’t believe a word of it! I hung out, in the rain, wandering around, getting to be on first name terms with the stall holders and learning how to make gluten free bread, while waiting to buy a couple of quail eggs… I had seen them on previous days, I knew which Butcher stall sold them, so this was no flight of fancy. But today, of all days, this particular butcher showed up late… and when he did he had no quail eggs. Only duck eggs. There were no signs of stirring from Robert’s room when I arrived home, so I was able to surprise him with baked avocado stuffed with duck eggs, shrimp and tomato … he opened his birthday cards from friends and family, and we decided to return to the castle for a tour of the dungeon and a chance to see the museum and art galleries properly.
The dungeon tour was quite interesting, with all manner of instruments of torture through the ages, and plaster-cast heads of executed criminals. We toured the castle exhibits and extensive galleries - a great place to spend a rainy day, perhaps many a rainy day. The castle may be small, but the galleries are so extensive we still didn’t make our way through all of them. Glorious artwork and fascinating exhibits to linger over. And a study center! He’s very lucky to have this amazing resource within walking distance. Again, it just made me love Norwich all the more.
We left the castle and walked across town to his birthday present - Afternoon tea at The Assembly Hall. The Assembly Hall is an elegant Georgian home in the City, and holds English Country dances occasionally. The room was beautiful, stately, a piano played softly in the background … and the food … who knew that you could simply smile at the wait staff and say “ooh yes please” when refills of the teapots and tea trays were offered. We dined on dainty sandwiches of Norfolk ham, smoked salmon, egg and cress - all cut into little triangles. Added to that were cheese toasties and tomato chutney, brioche rolls filled with goodies, and, of course, both sweet and savory scones … with an assortment of pastries and cakes. With such a tea, there ought not be need for food for the remainder of the day. We looked in disbelief at the menu for Christmas dinner; it would take a couple of days to get through, and a gym membership should come as part of the deal!
We walked back to the castle to see more of the exhibits and then retired home… for a dinner of delicious Cromer crab. I think the birthday boy enjoyed his special day.
May 17th: Norwich Castle (part 2)
Photos for this post
Norwich castle called, again. We were used to the path there by now, and all the plaques and artwork along the way. But today we gained entry to the castle itself. The castle is 900 years old, built by the Normans. It is very much a part of the City, not just a tourist attraction. The castle isn’t as big as it appears, but we wandered the exhibits, stopping at the games section to play Nine Men’s Morris, or mills or merels as is sometimes called. Mills is “an abstract strategy game that dates back to the Roman Empire.” This and Boggle were my favourite childhood games … and I’m still up for a challenge against a worthy adversary. I’ll be kind and won’t name the winner of our games … We didn’t have time to do the dungeon tour, and ran through the art galleries. Walking back home through the alleys and into the city center yielded shop windows full of bunting - everyone preparing for the upcoming Royal wedding. The Bridal shops had put masks of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle on all of the mannequins. It was all quite amusing, but lovely to see - very British.
In the evening we went to see Shift, playing as part of the Norwich festival. An acrobatic display, fittingly performed by the Barely Methodical Troupe in the circus like Spiegeltent.
Norwich castle called, again. We were used to the path there by now, and all the plaques and artwork along the way. But today we gained entry to the castle itself. The castle is 900 years old, built by the Normans. It is very much a part of the City, not just a tourist attraction. The castle isn’t as big as it appears, but we wandered the exhibits, stopping at the games section to play Nine Men’s Morris, or mills or merels as is sometimes called. Mills is “an abstract strategy game that dates back to the Roman Empire.” This and Boggle were my favourite childhood games … and I’m still up for a challenge against a worthy adversary. I’ll be kind and won’t name the winner of our games … We didn’t have time to do the dungeon tour, and ran through the art galleries. Walking back home through the alleys and into the city center yielded shop windows full of bunting - everyone preparing for the upcoming Royal wedding. The Bridal shops had put masks of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle on all of the mannequins. It was all quite amusing, but lovely to see - very British.
In the evening we went to see Shift, playing as part of the Norwich festival. An acrobatic display, fittingly performed by the Barely Methodical Troupe in the circus like Spiegeltent.
May 16th: The scenic route to Sutton Hoo
Photos for this post
Robert booked the car from his car club and we had Sutton Hoo, and possibly tea with my school friend Liz, in our sights. Of course nothing goes quite as planned, does it? Noticing a sign for ”the lost city” of Dunwich - the early medieval capital of East Anglia, now all but lost to coastal erosion - this floodplain manager had to request a quick detour. Coming to an intersection with signs to Dunwich one way and Walberswick the other, Robert suggested we see Walberswick first. Walberswick is Britain's secret celebrity enclave on the coast, and remembered fondly by Robert from childhood visits. Dunwich could wait.
At the entrance to the village we screeched to a halt and jumped out of the car to roam the unannounced 15th century ruins in the grounds of St. Andrews church. There was a bitter chill and biting wind that was to accompany us for the day, and I was dressed for the unusually hot weather we had been enjoying. The ruins are large and and indicate the former size and prosperity of the village. They were astounding to wander through. We were unable to venture into the modern church as a service was in progress. We took a quick run down to the beach to see the coastal erosion and flood defences, and noted the warning signs for adders; the only poisonous snake in the UK. The Parish Lantern Tea Room in the village beckoned us in from the cold and wind, enticing us with hot chocolate and hot buttered crumpets. It would have been impolite to refuse. For the uninitiated, crumpets are cooked in similar fashion to pancakes, but the batter includes yeast. They are scrumptious ...
Sated, and warmed, we retrieved our car which was parked by the village sign, stolen in 1984 and donated to the village by the new ‘owners.’ We pointed the car towards Dunwich. It is hard to believe that the small sleepy village of Dunwich was once a bustling port to rival London. Most of that town, listed in the Domesday book, was largely destroyed by storms in 1286 and 1347 and by ongoing coastal erosion. The village is all that remains… We toured the museum with low expectations, but were pleasantly surprised. Dunwich takes pride in its former glory and acknowledges the effects that climate change and sea level rise have had on the city. They take flood and coastal defence very seriously. I could happily return to the museum. We took a quick drive to the beach but it was too windy to do more than say “I’ve been to Dunwich beach.” Unfortunately, we didn’t see the 123-ft long scroll, painted in the 1930s by a local artist. The scroll depicts every house in the village, including animals and notices on notice boards. Exiting the town we passed the ruins of the Greyfriars’ Monastery, but they didn’t appear as impressive as those we had seen at Walberswick, the day was getting on, and Sutton Hoo was still many miles away.
It was past lunchtime so we stopped first at one pub, then another, then another … Sorry, we stopped serving lunch x minutes ago… so we pulled into a local Co-Op grocery store that had a cafe. Yes, food! Oh, and look … a few snacks to help us on our way; walnut whips, salt and vinegar chips, Club biscuits, ooh, greengage jam; we haven’t seen that in a while… Pure decadence!
Continuing on to Sutton Hoo, but realising it might be out of our reach, we saw a sign for Orford Castle. Robert had been advised that Orford was a better trip than Sutton Hoo, so … Parking was easy, the castle didn’t appear too big. This could be fun. On entering the castle - which is actually the keep - the most protected part of a castle, and all that remains of the original structure - we were offered samples of the local wines. Yes, let’s get the tourists tipsy before sending them up and down countless flights of narrow, steep, winding, steps! The keep is a polygonal tower, built by Henry II in 1165. Henry II was the one who quarrelled with Thomas à Becket. The castle was built, strategically, by the River Alde, also known as the River Ore in Orford. It is a lovely building to explore and contains a really good museum which includes details of the Wild Man of Orford; a mysterious ‘merman’ who was caught, imprisoned, and swam to freedom. Our blustery view from the top was of the river, the lighthouse, and Orford Ness - nature reserve, and the birthplace of radar. We explored the keep fully, and I think they locked the doors behind us as we left!
We departed Orford, once considered “a Town of good account,” described by Daniel Defoe in 1722 as “once a good Town, but now decayed” and now considered “a quiet backwater away from the the hustle and bustle of modern life.” Sutton Hoo was out of the question, so we were homeward bound. Except … it was still quite light, and Robert mentioned an offshore wind farm at Leiston, only marginally out of our way. But our journey took us almost, sort, of past the Ship Inn in Blaxhall, known for its folk events and frequented by Robert in is younger days as a Morris Man, so of course we had another detour. Continuing homeward we drove through Snape, sometime home of Benjamin Britten, and stopped to stretch our legs on the coastal path at Snape Maltings. Finally we reached Leiston, but there was no wind farm in sight, only the Sizewell Pressurised Water Reactor and most modern nuclear power station in the UK. Unfortunately, we were too late to visit the visitor’s centre.
Homeward bound, for the upteenth time, and hungry, we began to look for a quaint village pub. But we couldn’t pass by Leiston Abbey ruins, spied towards the rear of a roadside field. Neither of us had ever heard of Leiston Abbey, but the ruins are mainly 14th-century remains of an abbey considered “among Suffolk’s most impressive monastic ruins, with some spectacular architectural features.” The ruins are adjacent to Georgian buildings, and both are in current use as a retreat center.
The sun had set and we were hungry, yet the pretty villages yielded no restaurants. until we came across The Crown Inn in the pretty little village of Westleton where the waitress had us in fits of giggles as she sounded like Sybil from Fawlty Towers.
We arrived home very late, learning en route how to add time and money to the car booking on the car’s on board system.We had also learned how to manipulate the sat nav system, adding stops along our journey, enabling voice directions - good things for Robert to know. All in all, today really had been a journey of discovery. But we still hadn’t been to Sutton Hoo.
Robert booked the car from his car club and we had Sutton Hoo, and possibly tea with my school friend Liz, in our sights. Of course nothing goes quite as planned, does it? Noticing a sign for ”the lost city” of Dunwich - the early medieval capital of East Anglia, now all but lost to coastal erosion - this floodplain manager had to request a quick detour. Coming to an intersection with signs to Dunwich one way and Walberswick the other, Robert suggested we see Walberswick first. Walberswick is Britain's secret celebrity enclave on the coast, and remembered fondly by Robert from childhood visits. Dunwich could wait.
At the entrance to the village we screeched to a halt and jumped out of the car to roam the unannounced 15th century ruins in the grounds of St. Andrews church. There was a bitter chill and biting wind that was to accompany us for the day, and I was dressed for the unusually hot weather we had been enjoying. The ruins are large and and indicate the former size and prosperity of the village. They were astounding to wander through. We were unable to venture into the modern church as a service was in progress. We took a quick run down to the beach to see the coastal erosion and flood defences, and noted the warning signs for adders; the only poisonous snake in the UK. The Parish Lantern Tea Room in the village beckoned us in from the cold and wind, enticing us with hot chocolate and hot buttered crumpets. It would have been impolite to refuse. For the uninitiated, crumpets are cooked in similar fashion to pancakes, but the batter includes yeast. They are scrumptious ...
Sated, and warmed, we retrieved our car which was parked by the village sign, stolen in 1984 and donated to the village by the new ‘owners.’ We pointed the car towards Dunwich. It is hard to believe that the small sleepy village of Dunwich was once a bustling port to rival London. Most of that town, listed in the Domesday book, was largely destroyed by storms in 1286 and 1347 and by ongoing coastal erosion. The village is all that remains… We toured the museum with low expectations, but were pleasantly surprised. Dunwich takes pride in its former glory and acknowledges the effects that climate change and sea level rise have had on the city. They take flood and coastal defence very seriously. I could happily return to the museum. We took a quick drive to the beach but it was too windy to do more than say “I’ve been to Dunwich beach.” Unfortunately, we didn’t see the 123-ft long scroll, painted in the 1930s by a local artist. The scroll depicts every house in the village, including animals and notices on notice boards. Exiting the town we passed the ruins of the Greyfriars’ Monastery, but they didn’t appear as impressive as those we had seen at Walberswick, the day was getting on, and Sutton Hoo was still many miles away.
It was past lunchtime so we stopped first at one pub, then another, then another … Sorry, we stopped serving lunch x minutes ago… so we pulled into a local Co-Op grocery store that had a cafe. Yes, food! Oh, and look … a few snacks to help us on our way; walnut whips, salt and vinegar chips, Club biscuits, ooh, greengage jam; we haven’t seen that in a while… Pure decadence!
Continuing on to Sutton Hoo, but realising it might be out of our reach, we saw a sign for Orford Castle. Robert had been advised that Orford was a better trip than Sutton Hoo, so … Parking was easy, the castle didn’t appear too big. This could be fun. On entering the castle - which is actually the keep - the most protected part of a castle, and all that remains of the original structure - we were offered samples of the local wines. Yes, let’s get the tourists tipsy before sending them up and down countless flights of narrow, steep, winding, steps! The keep is a polygonal tower, built by Henry II in 1165. Henry II was the one who quarrelled with Thomas à Becket. The castle was built, strategically, by the River Alde, also known as the River Ore in Orford. It is a lovely building to explore and contains a really good museum which includes details of the Wild Man of Orford; a mysterious ‘merman’ who was caught, imprisoned, and swam to freedom. Our blustery view from the top was of the river, the lighthouse, and Orford Ness - nature reserve, and the birthplace of radar. We explored the keep fully, and I think they locked the doors behind us as we left!
We departed Orford, once considered “a Town of good account,” described by Daniel Defoe in 1722 as “once a good Town, but now decayed” and now considered “a quiet backwater away from the the hustle and bustle of modern life.” Sutton Hoo was out of the question, so we were homeward bound. Except … it was still quite light, and Robert mentioned an offshore wind farm at Leiston, only marginally out of our way. But our journey took us almost, sort, of past the Ship Inn in Blaxhall, known for its folk events and frequented by Robert in is younger days as a Morris Man, so of course we had another detour. Continuing homeward we drove through Snape, sometime home of Benjamin Britten, and stopped to stretch our legs on the coastal path at Snape Maltings. Finally we reached Leiston, but there was no wind farm in sight, only the Sizewell Pressurised Water Reactor and most modern nuclear power station in the UK. Unfortunately, we were too late to visit the visitor’s centre.
Homeward bound, for the upteenth time, and hungry, we began to look for a quaint village pub. But we couldn’t pass by Leiston Abbey ruins, spied towards the rear of a roadside field. Neither of us had ever heard of Leiston Abbey, but the ruins are mainly 14th-century remains of an abbey considered “among Suffolk’s most impressive monastic ruins, with some spectacular architectural features.” The ruins are adjacent to Georgian buildings, and both are in current use as a retreat center.
The sun had set and we were hungry, yet the pretty villages yielded no restaurants. until we came across The Crown Inn in the pretty little village of Westleton where the waitress had us in fits of giggles as she sounded like Sybil from Fawlty Towers.
We arrived home very late, learning en route how to add time and money to the car booking on the car’s on board system.We had also learned how to manipulate the sat nav system, adding stops along our journey, enabling voice directions - good things for Robert to know. All in all, today really had been a journey of discovery. But we still hadn’t been to Sutton Hoo.
Monday, August 13, 2018
May 15th: Here be dragons
Click for photos for this post
Click for photos of the stone carvings in the Cathedral
My cousin Kookee was back in town, so we had lunch together in the market. He was always my favourite cousin - I don’t think that’s changed.
Norwich is special - it doesn’t just have one cathedral. No, it has two. One for the protestants, the other for the Catholics. And they’re both beautiful buildings. St. John the Baptist Cathedral is the Catholic cathedral, built in 1910, and is situated on the outskirts of the City center. It has few statues, but it does have a Lampedusa cross - made from pieces of a boat that was wrecked off the coast of Lampedusa, Italy, taking the lives of 311 Eritrean and Somali refugees fleeing from Libya to Europe. 155 refugees were saved by the people of Lampedusa. The Cathedral is sleek and bright, with pillars and other decorative features of Frosterley marble which is studded with fossils. Robert and I spent ages gazing at each pillar, each slab, picking out our favourite fossils. Each pillar has a number of stone faces, and dragons, near the base. We discovered one face that was upside down but, when we asked about it, no-one else realised it was there! We also spent time trying to discern which of the faces were of the stonemasons who built the cathedral. I don’t think we found them. Oh, and the Cathedral has a tower, with 280 steps up a spiral staircase. You can climb the tower on select dates ... you know we’re going to do that as soon as we can!
We left the Cathedral for a stroll around the nearby Plantation Garden. Norwich is full of wonderful surprises like this. The garden was originally a chalk pit, but was transformed as part of the vision of Henry Trevor, a local businessman. It is well hidden, and one stumbles upon it. A well kept secret containing a fountain, terraces, rockworks, woodlands, shrubberies, lots of garden beds - all in bloom, serpentine paths through both the gardens and the woods. Although it is hidden there were many young people sitting around reading books, sketching, and just enjoying each others’ company. It was pleasant place to be on such a pleasant day.
We left as the gardens were closing, and walked back to the Cathedral for vespers, sung in Latin. It’s funny - neither Robert nor I are church goers, but we seem to be visiting every church and Cathedral in Norfolk!
We had time to walk around the Cathedral gardens, all in bloom and very pretty, and chat to one of the men who volunteers at the church. Then it was time for Vespers. They even sang The Magnificat - but not the Gumley House version. Gumley was my senior school, The Magnificat was our school song.
Click for photos of the stone carvings in the Cathedral
My cousin Kookee was back in town, so we had lunch together in the market. He was always my favourite cousin - I don’t think that’s changed.
Norwich is special - it doesn’t just have one cathedral. No, it has two. One for the protestants, the other for the Catholics. And they’re both beautiful buildings. St. John the Baptist Cathedral is the Catholic cathedral, built in 1910, and is situated on the outskirts of the City center. It has few statues, but it does have a Lampedusa cross - made from pieces of a boat that was wrecked off the coast of Lampedusa, Italy, taking the lives of 311 Eritrean and Somali refugees fleeing from Libya to Europe. 155 refugees were saved by the people of Lampedusa. The Cathedral is sleek and bright, with pillars and other decorative features of Frosterley marble which is studded with fossils. Robert and I spent ages gazing at each pillar, each slab, picking out our favourite fossils. Each pillar has a number of stone faces, and dragons, near the base. We discovered one face that was upside down but, when we asked about it, no-one else realised it was there! We also spent time trying to discern which of the faces were of the stonemasons who built the cathedral. I don’t think we found them. Oh, and the Cathedral has a tower, with 280 steps up a spiral staircase. You can climb the tower on select dates ... you know we’re going to do that as soon as we can!
We left the Cathedral for a stroll around the nearby Plantation Garden. Norwich is full of wonderful surprises like this. The garden was originally a chalk pit, but was transformed as part of the vision of Henry Trevor, a local businessman. It is well hidden, and one stumbles upon it. A well kept secret containing a fountain, terraces, rockworks, woodlands, shrubberies, lots of garden beds - all in bloom, serpentine paths through both the gardens and the woods. Although it is hidden there were many young people sitting around reading books, sketching, and just enjoying each others’ company. It was pleasant place to be on such a pleasant day.
We left as the gardens were closing, and walked back to the Cathedral for vespers, sung in Latin. It’s funny - neither Robert nor I are church goers, but we seem to be visiting every church and Cathedral in Norfolk!
We had time to walk around the Cathedral gardens, all in bloom and very pretty, and chat to one of the men who volunteers at the church. Then it was time for Vespers. They even sang The Magnificat - but not the Gumley House version. Gumley was my senior school, The Magnificat was our school song.
Sunday, August 12, 2018
May 13th - 14th: Strangers and Cousins
Click for photos for May 13th
Click for photos for May 14th
May 13th: Strangers’ Hall and Kemps’ Leap
We visited Strangers Hall, a lovely Tudor house from the 13th century, and home to many former persons of prestige in the life of the City. This time we checked the schedules and went when it was open! That always helps! The original ‘strangers’ were Dutch, Walloon and Flemish refugee weavers fleeing religious persecution. It’s odd to contemplate, given the politics surrounding refugees throughout the world today. Strangers hall appears small from the outside, but it is deceptive. Rooms lead into other rooms and each time we thought we had seen it all, another room or floor presented itself to us. The views of the garden were beautiful. We walked back past the maddermarket theatre which is a permanent recreation of an Elizabethan Theatre, and stopped at the wall which William Kemp leaped over at the end of his nine day morris dance from London to Norwich in 1599. Thankfully, there’s a plaque commemorating this event, otherwise unsuspecting non dancers might not understand its significance!
May 14th: Catching up with cousins
A quiet day at home, washing windows, laundry - all the mundane stuff, and trying to reach a decision about where, or even whether, to watch the Royal wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle. Our options were the Cathedral - with organ accompaniment, or the pub. But which pub? None seemed to be advertising anything special, and we really didn’t want to watch it at home as neither us could be considered a royalist. But, we did want to celebrate with people who want to celebrate joyous occasions in life - and a wedding qualifies.
We took a walk down to the Cathedral to see what exactly they were offering, as we weren’t sure if we could take a picnic into the nave, and we were really hesitant about the organ accompaniment. Our fears about the later were confirmed; we were told about it with a grimace and a shudder.
While at the Cathedral we sought out Edith Cavell’s graves, yes it appears she has two as well as a couple of monuments, and Nelson’s monument. I do like the quote inscribed on one of Edith Cavell's monuments; "Patriotism is not enough. I must have no hatred or bitterness for anyone."
A few days earlier I had decided to call my cousin Kookee and let him know I was in the country. Surprisingly, he was working in Norwich all week. In fact, just around the corner! So we arranged to meet up for dinner. It was fabulous. It had been such a long time since I’d seen either Kooke or his wife Larraine. We had so much fun over drinks, walking past the fully laden wisteria at St. Giles church, and settling in for a rather delicious Indian meal.
Click for photos for May 14th
May 13th: Strangers’ Hall and Kemps’ Leap
We visited Strangers Hall, a lovely Tudor house from the 13th century, and home to many former persons of prestige in the life of the City. This time we checked the schedules and went when it was open! That always helps! The original ‘strangers’ were Dutch, Walloon and Flemish refugee weavers fleeing religious persecution. It’s odd to contemplate, given the politics surrounding refugees throughout the world today. Strangers hall appears small from the outside, but it is deceptive. Rooms lead into other rooms and each time we thought we had seen it all, another room or floor presented itself to us. The views of the garden were beautiful. We walked back past the maddermarket theatre which is a permanent recreation of an Elizabethan Theatre, and stopped at the wall which William Kemp leaped over at the end of his nine day morris dance from London to Norwich in 1599. Thankfully, there’s a plaque commemorating this event, otherwise unsuspecting non dancers might not understand its significance!
May 14th: Catching up with cousins
A quiet day at home, washing windows, laundry - all the mundane stuff, and trying to reach a decision about where, or even whether, to watch the Royal wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle. Our options were the Cathedral - with organ accompaniment, or the pub. But which pub? None seemed to be advertising anything special, and we really didn’t want to watch it at home as neither us could be considered a royalist. But, we did want to celebrate with people who want to celebrate joyous occasions in life - and a wedding qualifies.
We took a walk down to the Cathedral to see what exactly they were offering, as we weren’t sure if we could take a picnic into the nave, and we were really hesitant about the organ accompaniment. Our fears about the later were confirmed; we were told about it with a grimace and a shudder.
While at the Cathedral we sought out Edith Cavell’s graves, yes it appears she has two as well as a couple of monuments, and Nelson’s monument. I do like the quote inscribed on one of Edith Cavell's monuments; "Patriotism is not enough. I must have no hatred or bitterness for anyone."
A few days earlier I had decided to call my cousin Kookee and let him know I was in the country. Surprisingly, he was working in Norwich all week. In fact, just around the corner! So we arranged to meet up for dinner. It was fabulous. It had been such a long time since I’d seen either Kooke or his wife Larraine. We had so much fun over drinks, walking past the fully laden wisteria at St. Giles church, and settling in for a rather delicious Indian meal.
Saturday, August 11, 2018
May 11th - 12th: Norwich Festival
Photos for this post
May 11th: Festival Launch
We heard drumming again in the early afternoon and thought we knew just where to go, and what to expect. How mistaken we were! We followed the sound of the drums all the way to the library just in time to witness a full rehearsal of the festival launch. Wow! Wow!! The drummers become part of a mobile hanging from a giant crane - they float over and around the library, with a trapeze at the very top. It was stunning. The festival launch should be very exciting.
We had tickets for ‘Passionate Machine’ by Rosy Carrick, which was a wonderful one-woman show about building a time machine; “Everyone writes instructions to their future selves. But what happens if the future starts writing back?” It was a terrific concept with some amazing lines. Now I have to add “Volodya: Selected Works of Vladimir Mayakovsky” to my reading list!
Robert decided that he wanted to be a part of the festival parade from the Cathedral grounds to the library. I’m lazy - I wanted a good vantage point from the library. It was amazing. The crowd was huge - it seemed that all of Norwich was there to watch. The performance was exhilarating - there’s something about drums, and of course a trapeze artist performing high above the building tops. Well, it was quite spectacular.
May 12th: Hackspace
Robert had a doctors appointment in the morning, so I thought I’d explore the Hackspace open day. It’s not as subversive as it sounds! It’s really just a group people who “enjoy making and recreating things, inventing, investigating, collaborating and generally tinkering.” Writing code and making small things go. In other words, my tribe… one of my tribes? They were offering an Arduino workshop, which is something I am interested in. Although I think I’m leaning more towards Raspberry pi. Robert decided to walk down to jin me but, naturally, we took different paths. So I arrived home as he arrived at Hackspace. Communication. Ain’t it great! He did, however, explore the facility and got the guided tour as part of their open day.
Chips and Cornish pasties for dinner. I’m returning to the USA the size of an elephant…
In the evening we lined up successfully for tickets to see Kumkum Malhotra performed in the Castle Meadow. The play is based on Preti Taneja’s award-winning novella set in New Delhi. It is about the plight of women, and the repercussions of one misunderstanding. It was interesting that the play processed through the castle grounds, with the audience following.
My big surprise of the day was an email from Dave. No, you don’t understand this … Dave does not email. He’s a wizz at fixing appliances but, otherwise, a bit of luddite! I’m really good with modern technology - but it’s currently failing me and my computer is still not working! I’m thankful I can use my phone as a computer.
Friday, August 10, 2018
May 10th: Day out at the University of East Anglia (UEA)
Photos for this post
A lazing morning but, just before lunch, we heard drumming in the distance, but getting closer. Where could it be? What could it be for? We raced down the stairs, out the door, paused to listen, then ran straight into Transe Express drumming up enthusiasm for the upcoming Norwich Festival. It looked as though the opening of the festival will be fun.
We caught a double decker bus - my first since I’ve been home! - to the University of East Anglia (UEA). We picnicked on the grounds and were joined by magpies as we surveyed the Beasts sculpture by Lynn Chadwick. The “three 'Beasts' (Crouching Beast II, Lion I and Beast Alerted I) are monumental animals captured in various states of action, made of welded stainless-steel sheets.” We were unimpressed.
We took a guided tour of the "Superstructures: The New Architecture 1960-1990" exhibit at the Sainsbury Centre, which we both found fascinating. The exhibit marks the 40th anniversary of the opening of The Sainsbury Center - the first public building designed by Norman Foster - and had wonderful models of the Pompidou Centre by Richard Rogers and Renzo Piano; the International Terminal Waterloo by Nicholas Grimshaw, the Hopkins House by Michael and Patty Hopkins, and a three-metre-long model of the Sainsbury Centre. Overall, the exhibit explored “architecture's fascination in the post-World War Two decades with new technology, lightweight structures, pioneering building techniques and innovative engineering solutions.” We were fortunate that we were two of three people on the tour - the other being a professor at the university, so our many questions were answered thoughtfully and precisely, and we were given plenty of time to explore the various models on display.
Remaining at the UEA, we walked over to the Thomas Paine Center for a lecture by Professor Steven Vertovec on "Global Britain: Super diversity," part of the Global Britain: Beyond Brexit series. The panel discussion afterwards was chilling. It’s is painful to consider the changing situation of immigrants - not refugees - in many countries across the world. It feels that the world is changing, borders are going up and countries opting for isolation.Being an immigrant, it is difficult to contemplate the ramifications.
A lazing morning but, just before lunch, we heard drumming in the distance, but getting closer. Where could it be? What could it be for? We raced down the stairs, out the door, paused to listen, then ran straight into Transe Express drumming up enthusiasm for the upcoming Norwich Festival. It looked as though the opening of the festival will be fun.
We caught a double decker bus - my first since I’ve been home! - to the University of East Anglia (UEA). We picnicked on the grounds and were joined by magpies as we surveyed the Beasts sculpture by Lynn Chadwick. The “three 'Beasts' (Crouching Beast II, Lion I and Beast Alerted I) are monumental animals captured in various states of action, made of welded stainless-steel sheets.” We were unimpressed.
We took a guided tour of the "Superstructures: The New Architecture 1960-1990" exhibit at the Sainsbury Centre, which we both found fascinating. The exhibit marks the 40th anniversary of the opening of The Sainsbury Center - the first public building designed by Norman Foster - and had wonderful models of the Pompidou Centre by Richard Rogers and Renzo Piano; the International Terminal Waterloo by Nicholas Grimshaw, the Hopkins House by Michael and Patty Hopkins, and a three-metre-long model of the Sainsbury Centre. Overall, the exhibit explored “architecture's fascination in the post-World War Two decades with new technology, lightweight structures, pioneering building techniques and innovative engineering solutions.” We were fortunate that we were two of three people on the tour - the other being a professor at the university, so our many questions were answered thoughtfully and precisely, and we were given plenty of time to explore the various models on display.
Remaining at the UEA, we walked over to the Thomas Paine Center for a lecture by Professor Steven Vertovec on "Global Britain: Super diversity," part of the Global Britain: Beyond Brexit series. The panel discussion afterwards was chilling. It’s is painful to consider the changing situation of immigrants - not refugees - in many countries across the world. It feels that the world is changing, borders are going up and countries opting for isolation.Being an immigrant, it is difficult to contemplate the ramifications.
Thursday, August 9, 2018
May 9th: Norwich Cathedral
Photos for this post
In the afternoon we walked to Norwich Cathedral; we had passed it so many times but planned our visit to coincide with evensong. It is a beautiful Norman Cathedral, and has a labyrinth, cloisters, two memorials to Edith Cavell -a British nurse celebrated for saving the lives of soldiers from both sides without discrimination, and executed for helping allied soldiers escape, a few green men lurking if you look carefully, and a font that was a chocolate vat in a former life. Really! It was a gift from the confectionary company, Rowntree Mackintosh, when they closed their Norwich factory in 1994. The Cathedral is also home to a pair of Peregrine falcons and their recent babies. The hawk and owl trust has a tent outside with information on the birds, and telescopes and live video for those that want to watch them. We walked the labyrinth while waiting for evensong to begin. As non believers we were hesitant to go into the chapel where evensong was being held, especially as the procession passed us by and the priest at the front welcomed others to join him … we felt as though we had some kind of distinguishing mark calling us out as non believers, but the kindly priest at the back of the procession gestured for us to walk behind him. So we did, and what a lovely thing to witness. It really is lovely hearing a choir in a Cathedral.
We walked home through the grounds of The Great Hospital, founded in 1249 and used as a nursing home today. It’s a beautiful building, with gorgeous flower beds. Apparently Norwich residents can apply to live in the (non nursing home) residential buildings. I wonder how long that waiting list is!
Dinner was pork pies with Stilton, washed down with ginger beer. I’m definitely returning home several sizes larger - even with all this walking up and down hills! This was not the diet plan I had in mind!
In the evening we walked to The Reindeer pub where Robert’s friend Tony and his band have a regular gig playing folk music and singing folk songs. Yes, we even waltzed.
In the afternoon we walked to Norwich Cathedral; we had passed it so many times but planned our visit to coincide with evensong. It is a beautiful Norman Cathedral, and has a labyrinth, cloisters, two memorials to Edith Cavell -a British nurse celebrated for saving the lives of soldiers from both sides without discrimination, and executed for helping allied soldiers escape, a few green men lurking if you look carefully, and a font that was a chocolate vat in a former life. Really! It was a gift from the confectionary company, Rowntree Mackintosh, when they closed their Norwich factory in 1994. The Cathedral is also home to a pair of Peregrine falcons and their recent babies. The hawk and owl trust has a tent outside with information on the birds, and telescopes and live video for those that want to watch them. We walked the labyrinth while waiting for evensong to begin. As non believers we were hesitant to go into the chapel where evensong was being held, especially as the procession passed us by and the priest at the front welcomed others to join him … we felt as though we had some kind of distinguishing mark calling us out as non believers, but the kindly priest at the back of the procession gestured for us to walk behind him. So we did, and what a lovely thing to witness. It really is lovely hearing a choir in a Cathedral.
We walked home through the grounds of The Great Hospital, founded in 1249 and used as a nursing home today. It’s a beautiful building, with gorgeous flower beds. Apparently Norwich residents can apply to live in the (non nursing home) residential buildings. I wonder how long that waiting list is!
Dinner was pork pies with Stilton, washed down with ginger beer. I’m definitely returning home several sizes larger - even with all this walking up and down hills! This was not the diet plan I had in mind!
In the evening we walked to The Reindeer pub where Robert’s friend Tony and his band have a regular gig playing folk music and singing folk songs. Yes, we even waltzed.
Wednesday, August 8, 2018
May 30th: Nomads in training
My aunt was up bright and early - packed and dressed for a trip up the amazon … but our CTM coach wasn't leaving from Essaouira until 1.15pm… Me, I woke with a blinding migraine. This was an auspicious start, but the ticket had been bought and I was looking forward to seeing some of the country outside the medina of Essaouira.
At noon we walked to Bab Sbaa and caught a taxi to the CTM station and caught the 13.15 to Agadir, but nit before my aunt had found the French bakery she had been looking for. We had planned our buses, but not our hotels and had not taken Ramadan into consideration. This, we came to find out, was a huge mistake!
I would like to say I have photos of the drive from Essaouira, through the Anti-Atlas (or mid range Atlas) mountains… but the combination of winding road, lurching bus, migraine and impending cold took its toll. A young French girl two seats behind looked as though she might keep me company, but no. I was alone in increasing the discomfort of my fellow passengers! Periodically I was able to look up, and through the window I saw camels, donkeys, hills, mountains. I'm sure it would normally be a pleasant drive.
We had planned a 3 hour layover in Agadir, time enough for dinner in the city because even the government website states there’s nothing of interest there! The City was decimated by an earthquake in the 60’s and has been rebuilt … there’s little but hotels there now. However, I was sick and didn't want to move, much less think of food! We opted to wait out our stay in the bus station; clean, not unfriendly, but not welcoming either. We sought the toilets… and discovered that they were, as my aunt explained so disdainfully, “Turkish style,” - a hole in the floor. The first time I encountered toilets like this was many years ago when our families camped together in France. They were an affront to my sensibilities then but now, as an adult, just a different way of doing things. However, we opted out.
We walked upstairs to the restaurant area and asked a young man if there were other toilets in the restaurants. He kindly volunteered to run to the third floor and find out, so that the “Old lady” wouldn't have to tire herself. I don't think my aunt realised who he meant! No other toilets being available, he asked if he could sit with us to practice his language skills. His name is Salah and he has his own business called Afolky Excursions. His facebook page is “Nomadic Berber.” He is Berber - similar to a first nations people; native Americans in the US or aborigines in Australia; the original people of Morocco. His home was the dessert. He has been working ad a guide since he was 22. He is now 28. He told us that all the restaurants would be closed until 7.30 because of Ramadan. So we stayed and talked, and wandered in and out if the building - the cold and wind increasing as the day wore on. I don't think I've ever felt such a biting wind, or felt so miserable.
Our bus to Tiznit finally arrived but, instead of allowing us to board, the drover informed us he was going for dinner. We could do nothing but sit in the wind, awaiting his return! Note: do not travel in a Muslim country during Ramadan!!! The bus departed for Tiznit 40 mins behind schedule, and in the dark. I can now say I can make a bus pullover for me in the middle of nowhere! I need Excedrin migraine! Theraflu! … and no more lurching buses!
We arrived in Tiznit and a fellow passenger helped us find a reasonably priced hotel, not far from the CTM bus stop. Too late for dinner, and the “breakfast included” would not be forthcoming because of Ramadan … However, the kind receptionist at the Hotel Assaka sent someone to the pharmacy, and a tube of paracetamol was duly delivered to our room. Drugged, cold, chilled to the marrow, I fell asleep. I'm sure my aunt was thrilled with her choice of travel companion.
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