I Could Have Told You Vincent the World was Never Meant for One as Beautiful as You

For longer than I can remember I've had a poster print of "Starry night" hanging somewhere in my house, years ago it hung in my bedroom, now it hangs in the hall. I'd love to upgrade it to a nicer quality print but haven't found. Now I'm afraid any print wouldn't do it the justice it deserves.

The highlight of my day in London was seeing a "real Live" Van Gogh up close and personal and I am nearly without words to describe how amazing it was. For as long as I can remember I've loved Vincent Van Gogh there's something about his life and his paintings that speaks to me. Today I came face to face with him in the shape of his masterpiece "Sunflowers".

All I can say is WOW.

I found myself standing 3 feet away from this painting marveling at the paint strokes and the numerous layers and shapes that went into creating a real work of art. There it was hanging in front of me in Room 45 of the National Gallery on a lovely purplish, grayish wall -- I've not quite decided what color the wall was, but even the wall was beautiful. It spoke to my heart and made me happy. Maybe it's because I don't have that particular gift, or maybe it's something entirely different, but there's just something unexplainable about seeing the real deal.

I stood for a few moments watching a young lady sketching the painting in her sketchbook and was more than a little envious of the thought of sitting there long enough to somehow make it my own. It was amazed at the number of people gathered around the painting taking in the strokes and the colors, but I had to wonder for how many of them was it actually an experience as opposed to something to do on a rainy afternoon?

For me, it was an experience.

The only thing missing...my very best friend.

A Lovely day in London Town (or Hanging with my Pepys)

I made finally made it to London today!

We rode the rain in from Stanford -le-Hope, Essex and landed at Fenchurch Street Station. I had conceded already that I likely wouldn't see much with my aged parents in tow (both are in their 70's after all) but had told myself that whatever I saw it would still be more of London than I'd seen before today...so with that Attitude I went.

My cute Auntie and Uncle spent last evening trying to map out the best route that would include as much bus travel as possible to save the parents from having to do too much walking. I had given her a preliminary list of the things I'd like to see, but again, realized it was likely not to happen...but enough of the back story.

Once we landed at Fenchurch station we walked a couple of blocks to "The Monument". If you don't know what "the Monument" is, don't feel bad, neither did I until a few days ago (which here leads to my title tie in). Back in the year 1666 there was a great fire in London and this fellow Samuel Pepys (pronounced Peeps, like the easter treats) wrote an entire history about it (yes,I'm a nerdy English major). The monument was built to commemorate the event. It's very tall -- without digging out my paper I can't tell you the exact dimensions, but let's just say it has a tight, winding staircase that ascends for a celebrated 311 steps (something to do with distance and where the fire started -- like I said I don't have my paper right here.) So for 3 quid I got to climb all 311 steps up to the top where they have a little lookout area where you can get a pretty good view of the city...the Monument was built in the late 1700's so Im sure back then it was a magnificent view! It was pretty cool...although I have to admit by the time I reached the 100th step (yes, Toby I counted them all) I was about ready to die from exhaustion! But it was worth it! When we (my uncle Alan and I) got back to the bottom they gave a a certificate that basically says I survived climbing the monument. What a fun way to start the day!

After the Monument we wandered over to the Tower of London (and yes Norm, the ravens were still there). I saw a few Beefeaters and laughed a bit at their outfits (I seriously thought they were kidding -- um no, that's what they wear everyday!) Next on our agenda was the London Eye, so Mary trotted us off to find the nearest bus heading that way -- this is where we encountered our first hiccup. Mom didn't want to go on the Eye, and Dad had never said one way or another. So we got off the bus at the Festival Hall to use the Loo and discovered Dad did want to go on the Eye after all, but mom's afraid of heights. About that time it started to rain and Mary had checked the queue and it was at least a half hour long or more, and I wasn't about to leave mom sitting in the rain for what could have been 2 hours time (sorry, not happening).

So we skipped the Eye and walked in the rain for a bit to find a bus (by this time it was litterally pouring). We waited in the rain for a bit till we caught the bus to Trafalgar Square. And sought sanctuary in the National Gallery (and sanctuary it was). Mary and Alan were going to go the the Cafe for a coffee, and Dad decided to go along (he was thirsty). I had hoped Mom would go too so I could go enjoy the gallery on my own terms...but Mom decided to come along and I have to admit it was nice to have her there. She doesn't get to do a lot of things so she walked along with me and we took in the atmosphere together. It was pretty neat to share that with here. Her Idaho farm girl roots and life as a stay at home mom for the last 40 years haven't given her a whole lot of opportunities. So she got a cultured today -- we even spent time looking at a brilliant painting of a horse just for her (okay, not really just for her -- it really was brilliant!) I think she may have enjoyed herself -- which is saying something, she's more of a homebody than me so this trip has been a real stretch for her---she's way out of her comfort zone. We saw some really beautiful paintings and could have spent days, if not weeks looking at everything in the gallery, but we only had 2 hours and that include gift shop time, so I contented myself with the Impressionists and a few Italian and French artists on the first level -- we saw maybe 9 rooms worth of paintings and there are something like 68, not including the special exhibits! You could spend an entire week just wandering the museum and not see everything! Mom had a smashing time in the Gift shop -- we both bought postcards galore and sundry other trinkets to remember our visit.

By the time we came out of the National Gallery the sun had come out and it was a BEAUTIFUL day (I think I may have got even a little sunburn). It was decided we'd go to McDonald's on "The Strand" for a very late lunch. Mind you it was a posh McDonald's with double decker seating and the Cadbury Flake McFlurry I had was pretty good, but nothing to write home about.

After lunch we wandered towards Covent Garden to take in the atmosphere there and even I decided my back and legs had been used enough for the day and that I'd echo the cries of the parent's and call it a day. (if you're an Art lover and you've ever spent any time in a museum you know what I mean.)

So we tracked down the right bus, after wandering past a few of the grand theaters. We saw where the Lion King, Betty Blue Eyes, Shrek and Legally Blonde were playing. I also saw a couple of adverts for a few I'd never heard of "Love never Dies" which is a sequel to Phantom of the Opera (not sure how that works, but okay) and apparently they've made a musical of the movie "Ghost" (not sure how that works either).

Long story short. We found the right bus and made our way back to the Train Station. We were all pretty worn out. But I have to admit it was a lovely day!

Much to Mom’s Relief we we’re not whisked off to Russia by an Ersatz Cabbie

We arrived at Heathrow!

It was nice to stand up after so long. I have to admit there was something a little magical about seeing the signs for “litter bins” and “toilets” – a sure sign I had actually arrived in the UK. We walked what seemed to be at least 3 more miles (avoiding as many stairs as possible for Mom’s sake – and she doesn’t do escalators either) and arrived at customs (or whatever they call it, you know the place where they check your passport). Two delightful blokes checked my passport; they were ever so funny, there was a short one and a tall one. The short fellow had dark hair and more of a Scottish accent, while the other was a tall, rather gangly fellow who looked like he could have been the long lost brother of my friend Sara – there was something very Griffin about him. They checked us in, gave us the green light and I FINALLY GOT A STAMP IN MY PASSPORT!!!

We worked our way down to Baggage claim and retrieved our luggage and then made our way to the pickup area. We had been told that there would be a man there to pick us up, and just like in the movies he’d be holding a sign with our name on in. Sure enough as we made our way I spotted the fellow (a rather good looking bloke, mind you with a David Tennant type accent). I spotted him first and made my way over to him, he asked if we were the ones he was looking for (more or less) then crumpled up the sign faster than you can say Jack Robinson – I had secretly hoped that I could keep it as a souvenir – or at least snap a picture, but that wasn’t going to happen. We made our way to the “Car park” to his car and along the way saw several old time “London Cabs”. The cabbie made light work of our suitcases and we hopped in the car and started our journey to Corringham. We soon found ourselves on “Europe’s Largest Car Park” – the local’s term for the M25 – lucky we were headed in the right direction, the opposite side of the road was stopped for what had to have been miles!

We arrived at Auntie’s at about 1:30. She was “ever so pleased” to see us and greeted us each with a kiss on the cheek. Once we were all in, introduced to our rooms, we settled in on the couch in the lounge. We had a abit of supper (at least I think that’s which meal it was) or ham sandwiches (bread, butter and ham) and fresh tomatoes from Alan’s garden, along with some “Victoria Sandwich” cake. From that moment on, pretty much we sat about fighting off sleep so as to stave off the jet lag. A little later we had dinner—we had some delicious pork with fresh green beans and carrots from the garden, new potatoes, all slathered by gravy. We also had a sliced of homemade apple pie with a bit of ice cream (yum!)

The rest of the evening was spent in the lounge listening to Mary and Dad chatting.

Houston, We Need a New Suitcase (Make that Dallas)

On the first leg of the journey I told my parents that they needed to be to my house by 9:30, they pulled up at about 10 minutes to 10…luckily I had asked our ride to be there at 10, knowing that whatever time I told my parents they’d be late. But everything worked out well. The Salt Lake airport was a breeze, nobody got stopped and we made it to our gate with plenty of time. After much debate I decided that I would bring my laptop and my Canon which added a bit of weight to my luggage.

At gate #1 mom soothed her frustration by rolling my second skein of yarn into a ball. We grabbed some lunch, waited a little while longer and boarded our flight…on Leg 1 we found ourselves on the very last row of the plane and all I could think was “it’s a good thing I’m not claustrophobic “ though I think that plane may have turned me into one! It was a good flight though as far as flights go, but the view from my window seat was terrible—all I could see was the engine. It was rather like I imagine it would be to fly in a sardine can!

We arrived in Dallas on time and found ourselves walking into stifling heat (108 degrees!). We walked for what seemed like ages and then found the Skylink (looked a bit like the Monorail at Disneyland) and hitched a 10 minute ride to the other terminal for our next flight – I hadn’t been told there was a free roller coaster ride included with the price of admission!

It became evident about halfway through the Dallas airport (after the roller coaster ride on the Skylink) that the backpack I was carrying was far too heavy to carry any further. So once we found a spot to sit for our layover I ventured over to the overpriced luggage store in the terminal and found myself buying a small rolly-bag to stash some of the heavier stuff in so’s I could manage the rest of the journey. (I knew I should have listened to that little something that said – TAKE THE ROLLY-BAG!” but I didn’t).

Once the new bag was bought (along with a new luggage tag and souvenir #2) life was a little better. We had a 3 hour layover in Dallas and it’s funny to think how fast the time flew by. I paid a visit to the money changers and got a handful of pounds and then we ventured to the MickeyD’s for happy Meals with about 10 minutes to spare (lesson learned—Daddy does not like apple dippers---no real surprise there.) Once we were on the plane we found ourselves seated on row 30—the first row of the cheap seats with a big screen TV (hereafter known as a life sucker) and nowhere to put our carry on bags (except in the overhead bin).

Mom spent the whole flight (mind you this was an overnight flight when most people choose to sleep) watching the overhead screen showing the progress of the flight. She got a real kick out of it. The flight had individual screens for each passenger that popped up from the arm rests…I quickly discovered that I could play Tetris (!!!!) and then I they had the new version of Jane Eyre on the new releases. I tried to convince Mom to take a nap, but she was as keyed up as ever…so I got through the film mostly undisturbed, no worries, I think it was definitely watching again. I snoozed for a few minutes off and on, but I’ve always had a hard time sleeping while I travel. One would think that on a flight of 9 hours you could get a little reading, napping or crocheting done, but a certain travel companion of mine is rather chatty…she can’t sit still or be quiet…even the 18 month old behind me was far less high-maintenance than she is. (Even as I type this she is talking my ear off!)

London Calling...

Those of you who know me well know that traveling stresses me out...mostly its the getting there and back again that stresses me out. Not quite a month ago my dad called and asked me if I still wanted to go to England with him. I was a bit in shock...my dad has talked about going back to England for the past several years and I've always said I'd love to go along...but I never thought it would actually happen, because as we all know life has a tendency to get in the way of even the best laid plans (and our family has never been very good at plans!)

Long story short, In 4 days I leave on the adventure of a lifetime (at least so far as my lifetime is concerned!) I'm heading to England to spend 15 days with my parents and my Auntie and Uncle who live in Essex. There are presently no plans set in stone besides getting there and getting back but I'm hoping for some memorable moments. I hope to see London with all the interesting thing she has to offer -- The British Museum (and the Cat mummies), London Eye (are you kidding me!), I may even try talking my dad into going to the Doctor Who Experience. London itself has a lot to offer, so I'm sure I'll have to make a return trip one day.

However, the thing I am most looking forward to is getting to know my dad, on his home turf. I think it will be interesting to see where he came from. I think it will also be grand getting to know my Auntie and her family (I've only met her once, very briefly). So for me this truly is the opportunity of a lifetime. After all the health problems my dad has had over the past year I have come to realize that he's not going to be around forever and I have learned to appreciate every moment spent with him more than I ever have before. So even if we all we do is learn more about each other I think it will be well worth the trip.