Part 1 – The DAY

I was feeling a bit of melancholy on this morning’s wander. Today is the final day of the British Open. It is the most prestigious golf tournament in the world. This is particularly so if you view from any place other than the US. Most simply refer to it as The Open. Well, this years tournament is the 150th playing and it is at St Andrews – The Home of Golf. The Olde Course is the venue and appropriately so.

Back in 2009 I and seven of my bestest buddies traveled to the UK for some golf. We had postponed the trip originally scheduled for the fall of 2008 due to my cancer diagnosis and treatment. We rescheduled for the last two weeks of April. One of my travel mates, Dave Schnapp, has made numerous trips to golf most all parts of the UK. Dave, a wonderful golfer, has it all figured out. So, we relied on Dave’s wisdom to great benefit. We would be spending two weeks in three locations; in and around Edinburgh, in and around St. Andrews and in and around northeast England. AND it just so happens, were our cards to play right, we’d be playing the Olde Course on April 24, 2009, my 51st birthday.

To play the Olde Course at St. Andrews you enter a lottery. Of course Dave has this figured out. Much like another dearest buddy Mike Quillin and the lottery for passes to hike Half Dome (another story for another day!). Well we were fortunate to get two tee times for the early afternoon – perfect. And leave it to my buddies, they made my day so special. While at St. Andrews we stayed at the Dunvegan Inn. It is owned by a Scottish lass (Sheena) and her American husband and Texas A&M alum and booster (won’t hold that against him!). It is a pub on the bottom with 6 to 8 “double rooms” upstairs. Close your eyes, think of a 17th century pub and inn and the vision in your mind will only do it 50% of the justice it deserves. The morning of my birthday my buddies with Sheena’s assistance had arranged a private tour for me, and only me in the Royal & Ancient and a private viewing of the Claret Jug. What a special start to the day. We made our way over to the Olde Course, a full sand iron’s distance from the Dunvegan. After taking care of the formalities, we made our way the 50 feet or so to the first tee. One of the very unique features of the Olde Course, there are many, is that the 1st and 18th sit side by side with the 18th green being right next to the 1st tee. It is a bit of a lovely St. Andrews golfer traffic jam as golfers make their way this way and that. As we were on the tee, the starter came on the PA and announced “Now on the 1st tee, celebrating his 51st birthday, Glen Thomas”. I received a wonderful ovation from all those around. I was so nervous I could barely get my peg in the ground to tee up my ball. After a couple of practice swings I proceeded to hit one down the middle. I was incredibly grateful for having that 80 yard wide fairway to try to hit. I proceeded to play the next 5 or 6 holes in a euphoric fog, weeping with joy.

The Olde Course is an “out & in” setup. That means you have an outward 9 and an inward 9. This is not particularly unique, especially for links golf. The unique part of the Olde Course is the “spin” it takes for holes 8 through 11. As we came down the 18th fairway we walked across the Swilken Bridge. There are so many iconic photos (Jack Niklaus, Tome Watson, etc.) of famous golfers walking, for the final time of competitive golf, across that bridge. Tiger made the walk on Friday. I could feel and relate to his emotions that clearly were overtaking him. The day before my birthday, my buddies had made arrangements for a professional photographer to take a group photo of us on the Swilken Bridge. (I don’t have it on my phone. If I did I would post. Maybe one of them reading this would post the photo in a comment?) And then to wrap it all up, I noticed something different as we approached the green. Sheena had attached ribbons and balloons to the flag stick.

I’m not certain I know what I shot that day, it really is unimportant.

That evening we had dinner in the pub. And again I was surprised. Sheena got everyones’ attention in the pub, it seemed there were nearly 100 people, and announced to the diners / drinkers that I was celebrating my 51st birthday. Again cheers and toasts and way too many scotches.

Out front of the Dunvegan is a lovely bench. At half two or so, I sat there, by myself, reflecting on such a special day. I cried my eyes out. Tears of gratitude and joy. It was still my birthday in the US, so I called Joyce. I shared the events of the day and we laughed and cried together.

Part 2 – Other Days

I’m not certain if it was the day before or the day after golf on my 51st. We were nearly a week into the UK journey and I needed to do laundry. Most simply use the hotel, or some other similar service. NOT ME! You see, I love to do my laundry. It somehow makes me feel close to Mom. I get the same warm, embraced feeling when I cook and spend the time to be thoughtful. There is something for me while I am traveling, particularly internationally that makes me want to do my laundry. I’ve done laundry in Dublin with Jim in 2004. I did emergency laundry with Blair in 2006 in Rome. I found a laundry service in St. Andrews with Steve in 2009. I did laundry with Todd in West London in 2018. And finally below, I’m doing my laundry here in Canterbury. I love the part of doing the laundry. Of figuring it all out. Of the neighborhoods it often takes me that I would not otherwise visit. Of the people I come across and often engage in conversation. I absolutely adore these days.

I am eternally grateful for special days like that day in St. Andrews. I have truly been blessed to have had many of those days. And for some “weirdo” reason I really am compelled to take great joy in those common days. Those normal days. Those other days.

Enjoy all your days!

As promised, I went back to St. Martin’s when it was open so that I could go inside. If possible, it’s an even lovelier day than when I was there a few days ago.

St. Martin’s is a UNESCO SITE and is said to be the oldest church in continuous use in all of the English-speaking world. It is thought to have been built by the Romans, dating to the 4th century. Services are still held on Sundays and I think I’ll go this weekend. If you know me, you know that I’m not a religious person, but the experience of spirituality, especially connected to history, always fills me with emotion. My son says that my behavior around religion and church confuses him. I confuse myself, too.

The original church was built by a pagans. King Ethelberht of Kent renovated it (c 580) for his French wife from Tours who was Christian. St. Martin was a bishop from Tours so that must be the naming connection. It is thought that the pope in Rome sent the missionary Augustine to the north following the marriage of the two countries. King Ethelberht converted to Christianity and was baptized in the church. He later donated land that eventually became the site of Canterbury Cathedral and thus, wide-scale conversion to Christianity began. King Ethelberht was sainted for his contribution to the establishment of Christianity among the Anglo-Saxons. His wife, Queen Bertha, continued to travel the short distance to St. Martin’s to worship throughout her life and is buried at St. Augustine’s Abbey. It seems like a real love story between the queen and king!

The monks that were sent to St. Martin’s to begin converting the Anglo-Saxons to Catholicism found the church too small so they extended it. Later, the Puritans changed some of the windows and doors. It has mostly been restored to its form during the time of the original king and queen.

In 1844, a hoard of gold coins, likely from the 6th century was found in one of the graves. There is no information about the person who was wearing the necklace for his/her internment. Such a mystery!

Wandering the graveyard is lovely. It’s very peaceful with some peek-a-boo views of the cathedral and St. Augustine Abbey. Sadly, the Victorians planted trees that obscure the view today.

At the risk of being a nosy neighbor or a voyeur…

8:00 am on a Friday:

mom with 4 kids walking toward town center – 6 year old in school uniform leading the group, followed by mom pushing a stroller with an infant AND carrying a 3 year old on her shoulders, with a 4 year old trailing behind

man heading away from town with his beer in hand – a bit early or maybe late?

painter – based on the paint on his clothing and backpack – heading to work

So many!!!! All the uniformed students heading to the school near the abbey – girls in plaid pleated skirts, white shirts with the school crest, many girls with skirts rolled up at the waist to shorten them (but not all), many wearing dark tights or white socks, some with navy blue blazers, boys in navy slacks, white shirts and ties, some with blazers, with school crests on the pocket, most with white socks and some sort of loafer or sneaker, traveling in small groups, a few walking individually with earpods, all with heavy backpacks/bookbags, some with lunch bags, lots of phones in hand, a few riding or pushing bikes

An aside – “public” school means something different here – it means that anyone can attend…if they can afford the tuition. The “ruling” class comes through the public school system here which as David says, contributes to the continued class-based, closed society. He offers that England’s ruling class has little connection to the majority of the people of England because they don’t ever interact or engage with them. There are also tuition-free schools termed “state” schools which receive funding from the government and follow national curriculum. Within the “state” schools there are a variety of other names, formats or focus.

younger children heading to school toward town center – they are wearing blue shorts or pants and white or light blue polo shirts – they are all with an adult

group of 8 men heading toward the carpark or bus with their weekend duffle bags (two with rollers)

family of four heading to the carpark or bus with their massive suitcases

father and young son with a suitcase and an ice chest heading to the carpark or bus

lots of city workers, shopkeepers, etc. carrying plastic shopping bags – maybe with lunch? heading into town

plenty of tourists heading to town center – not sure why so early – coffee?

modes of transportation – foot, scooter, electric scooter, skateboard, bike, car (though there’s no where for the cars to go so I’m not sure where they end up. There is a hotel with a small parking lot and business office at the end of the street. And to clarify – our street is a dead end. It stops where the pedestrian tunnels to go under the roundabout road and into the town center which is why we have so much foot traffic.

David dressed in his navy slacks (patched on the bum), brown loafers, textured navy blue sweater, maroon scarf, cap and maybe no hearing aid as he didn’t hear me call out to him and only a few short minutes later he came back the same way

older man (white hair) wearing shorts walking his two large dogs – or being walked by his two large dogs

group of four 15 year old boys (dressed in gym shorts so not heading to school) standing at the Love Lane sign (with the gin sign) for a selfie

pub owners taking their 3 young girls out the door (they must live above the pub) – at least one to school based on how she was dressed – they just came back. Mom ran upstairs and came back down with a tiny pair of crocs and her car keys in hand. Dad starting the work day putting out the sandwich board adverts (“gin” with an arrow pointing to the pub sign is a favorite) and washing the window sills (he even came and washed our sill which is right above one of his signs. Mom just returned and parked the “Two Sawyers” family car on the sidewalk next to the pub door. Cleaning out the car in preparation for…? They seem to have a coordinated work day. Oooh…delivery of supplies coming in on a pushcart. Dad jumped in the car and is heading out…more supplies? Yesterday there must have been a “Costco” run in the morning because they came home and unloaded a car full of restaurant supplies (food, paper products, cleaning products, etc.)

Those are a few highlights from my hour or window watching. Time to head out for my walk and become a part of the flow!

Good morning!

I don’t know where to start so I’ll start at the beginning. (Isn’t that a song from The Sound of Music?). As Glen said, we’ve been here in Canterbury since Friday and it already feels like an old friend. And by old, I mean olde!

Canterbury is a mid-sized city so it’s really manageable to figure out and get around. It has a large (at least larger than I expected) cobblestoned, medieval olde town that’s just a hop skip and a jump away from our dwelling. The narrow streets full of cafés and shops provide plenty of opportunity for people watching, shopping and just generally enjoying the vibe. The river Stour runs through town so I think there is a punting experience in my future (or at least a river “cruise”)!

I took a walking tour yesterday so I learned a bit about the history of the town and especially the cathedral. It’s graduation week for the University of Kent so the cathedral itself is closed for services. I’ll go inside next week. One thing that I found unique about Canterbury is that you can’t even get on the cathedral grounds without a ticket. I can’t think of another cathedral I’ve visited where you can’t go right up to it, if not even in it…for free. Now I understand. It was built at the center of the town with gates and buildings surrounding it that closed at 9:00 pm every night. If you were a villager and you weren’t inside the gates and home by 9:00, tough luck. So today they are able to keep the cathedral isolated from the rest of the town and monitor its access. I guess all those fees help pay for the ongoing restoration.

Canterbury has 3 UNESCO sites – The cathedral, St. Augustin Abbey which is a stone’s throw away from our house, and St. Martin’s Church and cemetery. I happened upon St. Martin’s church on a morning wander. I later learned of its status. More on that church in a future post.

There are larger medieval (even back to Roman) walls around the wider section of the city that are evident in places throughout town and even a section that you can walk along. There are also 11 or so gates remaining. As I’ve walked around town, I’ve seen several of the gates, including the one with the jail. Yesterday I learned the origins of the phrase “living on a shoestring”. In medieval times, debtors were considered to be breaking the law and were thrown in jail with the murderers, etc. The only way to get out of jail was to pay your debt which was hard since you were stuck in jail. To remedy the problem, they put debtors in cages and wheeled them into town where they took off their shoes and tied them to the outside of their cage hoping that passersby would take pity on them and drop some coins in their shoes…thus “living on a shoestring”.

The old Canterbury castle is just a ruins, but there are plenty of other VERY old buildings in town. Most of the buildings are timber, though many have been covered in tiles to make them look like brick. One wouldn’t want to be considered poor by having a wooden house so they covered the wood with tiles to look expensive.

Canterbury was hit by the Nazis, but due to the quick thinking of the community and a “holy wind” that blew the missiles north of the cathedral, most of the town was saved. It was rebuilt, but not in the architecture of surrounding buildings so eventually they tore down the post WWII modern and utilitarian buildings and rebuilt the section of town to look like the original buildings. Good move.

Our little street, Ivy Lane is crossed by Love Lane and our house literally sits at the corner of the two. We see this view out our living room window. The oldest house on the street is dated 1627. I’ve already written about Two Sawyers pub (1779) and coffee shop across the street.

AND here’s the real story I want to tell…we met David, our next door neighbor, the other day when he came by to invite us over for a drink. Today we joined David in his home, built in 1631, for a glass of wine and conversation. David is 82 years old and an academic. His house is FULL of books, just like you’d imagine an 82 year old academic’s house to look. Literally floor to ceiling books. Our Aussie neighbor, Olivier had told us that David was an authority on Karl Marx so I spent some time studying up on Wikipedia so I wouldn’t embarrass myself if the conversation went that direction. I did the ol’ “cram for the test” method so don’t expect to have me answer your Marxism questions because I already forgot what I learned!

David is of Scottish descent, but was born in England. He went to Oxford (and a couple other universities), lived in France and according to Wikipedia, considered becoming a Jesuit for a time. During that time, he became enamored with Karl Marx’s theories (philosophies?) and has spent his life studying and writing about him and others who interested him. Glen borrowed a biography he wrote about a woman who sounds very interesting. David has written and published more than 20 books! He’s a very interesting 82 year old chap. He has a daughter and granddaughters who live in town (and another daughter and her family in France) and it seems that he is quite involved with them. all He has been walking the “Camino” in France and Spain with the girls for years. They just finished a section last week. We thoroughly enjoyed our time with David and look forward to having over to our home soon. And he and I have a date for a walk with his widow friend next week and I can’t wait!!

Here’s a postscript to our visit with David last night. This morning, he popped by our window and I opened our door to see him in full Scottish dress – kilt, socks with knife, sash, etc. etc. He was acting a bit odd and it turns out he’d locked himself out of his house as he was leaving for his granddaughter’s graduation and forgotten his hearing aids so he couldn’t hear a thing. He was flustered trying to find someone who had an extra key to his house. He thought our landlords had a key and I sent a quick email asking about it, but they took it with them! Big help that was. We did find a key that looked like his, but it didn’t work so after knocking on another neighbor’s door to no avail, I think he had to just head out to London “deaf” as he said. I wish I’d gotten a picture of him in full Scottish dress, but it didn’t feel like it was the time. Also, he was dressed per his granddaughter’s request! How sweet is that?!

And another postscript before I could get this post published…our pub neighbors came over to help me with the trash system this morning. Turns out they have a key to our house should we get stuck. AND as we were leaving for the train station for our matinee in London, we found a 90 year old woman (okay I’m guesstimating) unlocking David’s door. Turns out she’s his housecleaner! (I’m guessing her eyesight isn’t too good based on the cleanliness of his house.) She just laughed at David forgetting his key. She was going to hide one outside for him. What a lovely community of caretakers!

Finally…I’ll try to end this post…I had another of “those” unplanned experiences this morning. The kind that really makes travel special.

I was for a walk by myself and I came upon a small stone church with a graveyard. Always an irresistible stop for me. I saw that the church had an “open” sign and as I entered, a woman followed me in. I didn’t want to be disrespectful in case she were there to pray, so I tried to be unobtrusive in the back. I saw that she definitely was not heading to a pew for prayer as she started poking around so I poked around, too. She finally told me that she was looking for Thomas More’s crypt. Thomas More? Sounds familiar. Hmm…We had a lovely chat where she educated me on the history of Thomas More. He was a prominent Catholic who refused to agree to the annulment of King Henry’s marriage to Catherine of Aragon so that he could marry Anne Boleyn. In order to get around the pope’s supremacy and refusal to the annulment, Henry decided to go his separate way and declare his own supremacy of the (new) Anglican church. Thomas More remained allegiant to the Catholic pope and stood by his beliefs and though he didn’t publicly decry Henry’s plans, even his silence led to his trial and eventual decapitation for treason. More also chose to educate his girls in the classics just like his son was educated. This was BLASPHEMY in the day.

For his sins against the king (and his second wife, Anne Boleyn), Thomas More’s head was placed on a pike outside London Tower for a month as a warning to anyone who was considering standing by the Catholic church. His daughter gathered his head at the end of the month and took it to her church in Canterbury where it was entombed near the alter. Thomas More was later sainted by the Catholic Church.

Then as my new acquaintance finished my education, she looked at her watch and said she had to get to class! She took the time to tell me that she was taking a “master gilding” course. Ahh…my ignorance (or shall I say poor education?) again. Gilding…that sounds familiar…She popped open her phone to show me photos of what she is working on…she is gilding (gold leafing) a large mirror frame using the original techniques from the Middle Ages. Cool, right?!

And this is why we travel…to meet the Davids and gilders of the world.

PPPS Thank you Mike and Nancy for correcting my spelling of gild!!! Gives the post a whole new meaning!

We arrived last Friday evening. Today is Wednesday. I went out for my first wander this morning.

The neighborhood we are in is adjacent to Town Center. Town center is circled by a couple of main thoroughfares. And to get across these thoroughfares and into Town Center are a labyrinth of tunnels. The photo below is one of the signs posted at the entry way of every one of these tunnels. It got me to thinking.

Yes, I believe each of us as humans needs to feel safe. Yet, we define safe differently. And we bring each of our unique situations to that safety equation. For instance, I am white and male. This makes for a significantly safer path through life than those that are neither. I share those characteristics with a huge portion of the worlds population. I’m also 6’6 1/2″ tall. Well, at least I used to be before I began my late life process of shrinking (that MUST be another post). I was also born into a middle class traditional family during one of the greatest times (post WWII US) and places to be born. Simply put, I won the lottery!! And on those days when I am wallowing in self pity, I do my best to remind myself of my lottery winnings.

The sign also led me to thinking about Joyce and I as we live out the remainder of our lives. As we adventure as long as we are able. Do we need to be safe? Heck yes. And yet the safe thing to do for me would be to stay in Walnut Creek, enjoy the fruits of our labors and slide into nothingness.

One of my heroes, Neil Young, sings “It is better to burn out, than to fade away!”

We love our Two Sawyers pub (circa 1796) and Phoebe’s coffee shop right across the way (15 steps to be exact). We enjoyed coffee yesterday morning and in the evening we popped over for a gin and tonic and dinner. The pub had quite a few “young” people in it so Glen asked the drinking age in GB – it’s 18. No one was unruly or anything, we had just forgotten this difference between our two countries.

Later in the evening, there was live guitar music and he was playing “oldies” from the 60s and 70s. We enjoyed our own “private” concert so much that I walked the 15 steps over to give him a tip. He was surprised and grateful! I saw him go tell the bartender that he received a tip from the neighbors. Pretty cool, right?

But there is a down side to living on a tiny street with direct passage to Old Town and across the street from a pub…and you are probably already guessing the challenge presented by that location. Last night at 2:00 am we woke to a man’s voice pleading with a woman to “wake up”. “Leyla (or was it Lola? Lila?), wake up, pleeeeaaaasssseee.” After this went on a few minutes, I got up and looked out the window (nosy boomer here) and there she was on her side, spread out on the sidewalk (it’s not really a sidewalk) apparently fast asleep. And that’s giving her the benefit of the doubt. The pleading continued and Leyla (we’ll stick with that name) could be heard muttering. unintelligibly. The man eventually asked her to tell him “the number” which I thought was a phone number, but we later agreed it was more likely the code to get in the house. Leyla started reeling off numbers (8675309, anyone?) and the man would repeat them and then she’d reel them off again though I’m not sure it was the same string of numbers.

Glen finally got up and yelled out the window telling him the numbers that she’d muttered, hoping the man would hear him and get the dang door opened so that Leyla could get to bed! After awhile, somehow the man got Leyla up and they made their way past our windows down the lane a bit, but not far because Leyla went down on the sidewalk again for another little nap and the pleading started all over again. A few minutes later another man arrived and was hollering down the street asking questions. It sounded like the two men knew each other and that he’d been called in for reinforcements. Sadly, a few minutes later the second man walked away and man #1 was on his own again.

I wish I could tell you how this situation resolved, but it got quieter for a bit and I drifted off to sleep. No sign of Leyla on the street this morning so my guess is that they finally got the code sorted out and made their way into the cottage. Someone was going to need a serious hangover cure this morning! Like I said…young and dumb and hungover!

You all know I’m a baseball fan and I love using baseball’s language for life and life’s language for baseball. The above title is my way of saying JDT “hit it out of the yard” with the first two selections of our latest adventure! Hooray!!!

I felt compelled to write a few times while up in western Scotland. And each time anything I would have written would have, on balance, come out negative. I really struggled with the travel. And then, as truly wonderful and perfectly suited the Isle of Arran was to begin this journey, I knew I would need time to adjust, regain energy and begin to get in a European rhythm. The US and western Europe’s cultures have really come together and blended from when I first traveled here in 1984. Yet, there are still enough differences to make the experiences wonderfully unique. It is this uniqueness that I drives our similar, yet distinctly different desires to travel. Scotland was physically and emotionally hard for me as I adjusted and struggled to get enough calories in me.

On Thursday, I went on Amazon to order and have delivered the “food” that has become my sustenance. I’m intaking about 75% to 80% of my calories through liquid diet. In the US I have it figured out. I use the re-order feature and coupled with some combination of fresh banana, fresh strawberry, raw spinach, chocolate powder, Nutella, almond butter, ice and my excellent VitaMix I blend a calorie bomb (750-1,000+) concoction. In the UK, Ensure is unavailable – pivot. In UK, my high calorie protein powder is unavailable – pivot. I pivoted. And when I pressed order, it said I would receive July 25th – oh shit!

We arrived last night in Canterbury. I was armed with my last Ensure of the 24 I had sent from the US to Scotland. I’d essentially survived on those 23 Ensure and bananas. I knew that I’d have it in the morning, then have to figure it out. To bridge the gap until July 25th. Before we shut down for the evening JDT went to the market near us and was able to get some supplies including some bananas, strawberries and spinach. I had also sent baggies of my powders from the US. I wasn’t sure how we’d solve the blender issue. I sure as heck don’t want to lug a Vita Mix around Europe. And what did we find in our home for the next four weeks – a blender. Wow! Unusual in our experience with VRBO living. This was really coming together.

I wasn’t sure how this would all blend up? Perfectly!

Then when you least expect it, a miracle happens. As I finished my breakfast what showed up at the door. My packages!! A full two weeks “early”.

When we started planning this trip, I was stuck on spending a month or two in Dublin. Ireland has long been on my “must see/do/dwell list. I had a hard time finding a place to rent so then I switched to Edinburgh. Glen loved Scotland and especially the Highlands so as I said in my last post, I started researching how to travel in Scotland without a car and Isle of Arran came up.

As I pondered our first days abroad and the obvious challenge of jet lag at our advanced age, it made sense to go somewhere where we wouldn’t feel the need to race about and “see” everything. That meant that London was not an option. (And truth be told, it’s me who feels the need to “race about”. Glen does much better at slowing life down.) When I read about Isle of Arran and its “Scotland in miniature” title, it just made sense and the Douglas Hotel also seemed like a lovely option. It’s all been great and things always work out the way they are supposed to…mostly.

As I sat out on the deck enjoying my last Arran Anvil and thinking about our six days here, I found myself feeling incredibly grateful for this opportunity and for the people of Arran and Scotland, in general. Their graciousness, kindness, and friendliness really made our stay special.

Now, I don’t want to bore you with a travelogue so I’ll just share a few highlights and likely more than a few photos. Can’t help myself. Isn’t this better than an old-fashioned slide show though? At least you can scroll forward and you don’t have to sit in a dark room and listen to my slide-by-slide descriptions without an escape route!

In closing, one of the last times I left my mom in her apartment (turning 96 in August!), I could hear her saying on repeat as I walked away down the hallway…”Until next time, until next time, until next time…” Wow. That was hard. None of us has a guarantee for a “next time” and so for now….Isle of Arran, until next time…

Well. We’ve been gone from home for six days – two days of travel to reach our first destination. It was always our plan to arrive in Scotland at Isle of Arran and…do very little. Mission accomplished. Mostly.

But let me back up. I posted on FB about our travel to get here, so skip on forward if you already read that part. We started with an Uber ride to BART to SFO and two airplanes. We had a four hour bougie layover in the American lounge at JFK where we were entertained by a feuding couple with mediation from a drunk passenger and surveillance by an undercover cop. Well, I might be making that part up, but there was a very buff woman, dressed all in black, standing nearby clearly observing the altercations and she looked ready to intercede, if necessary. (Maybe American Airlines shouldn’t provide free alcohol at an open bar where you mix your own drinks whilst you have a many hours layover? Just a thought.)

Anyway, I digress…We caught the Tube at Heathrow to Euston Station where we boarded a train to Glasgow, followed by a (missed) train to Ardrossan Harbor. The entertainment in the Glasgow train station was the constant flow of teenagers dressed in a manner that told this old woman that their parents (mostly girl parents) weren’t home when they left the house. I had some curious glances (aka raised eyebrows) with a few other senior citizens who shared our bench. They were equally agog by the fashion show. Apparently the teens were all headed to a festival a la OutsideLands.

At the end of the train line, at Ardrossan Harbor, we caught our ferry to Brodick, Isle of Arran, Scotland where we finally walked the last part of our trip – a five minute walk to our hotel.

About 30 hours of travel is all. And we did it without any real feuds of our own! Success!!!

People have asked how we found this place. And I have to answer…I’m not sure. I think I was reading a Rick Steves Q & A on how to get around Scotland without a car when we were thinking of staying in Edinburgh, but wanted to visit the highlands. I came across this island and it’s described as “Scotland in Miniature” which seemed like a good fit when we only had a week. We also wanted a place where we could “do” jet lag and just relax. And if I do say so myself, I found a winner! Plus our hotel, The Douglas is lovely in all the best British/Scottish ways.

So we’ve been here four days and we’ve really succeeded at the “relax” thing. We had a day back in Ardrossan where we spent some time in a wonderful locally-owned bookshop. (The couple was actually “mixed” as he’s a Scott and she’s from Montana!)

Yesterday while Glen continued to recover from travel, I went out exploring and ended up at Brodick Castle. Oh, what a beautiful day! It’s been mixed weather with drizzle and wind and some sun – temps in the 60s since we’ve been here. This pattern is to be expected. But yesterday was a glorious, sunny day with temps in the…HIGH 60s-maybe even a low 70 for a bit! I’m proud of myself because I was thinking, nah, I’ll just go to the castle tomorrow and then I thought about the ever-changing weather here so decided to take advantage of a sure thing…Phew!

And today? Well, it won’t get out of the 50s and it’s been stormy all day. Seems like a good day to hang out in the lounge and enjoy a pot of tea, a comfy couch, a good book and a blog post (or two…or three…or maybe four???). And dinner at the bar with some whiskey and soup? Sublime!

*This is a post I wrote while in NOLA. Better (posted) late than never. 😉

We have stayed in many Airbnb/VRBOs over the years and by and large they have all been great. We may have had a small hiccup here or there, but nothing that I can even remember. (Not that I can remember much these days.)

Renting in NOLA proved to be a bit tricky. When I started looking, there really wasn’t much available. Glen did “what Glen does” and looked for other ways to solve the problem. He found a few furnished places on Zillow that rented by the month without a long lease. I took it from there. (Turns out that you’re not supposed to be able to rent units in the Quarter for less than a month unless the owner is part of a non-profit? (That could just be bad information I’m passing along…so take it with a couple grains of salt. People get around it somehow, but it does make it challenging for a renter to figure out the system.)

The unit I liked best was in the building that we are in, but it was a different apartment. The unit I liked was “available” online, but when I spoke with the representative it suddenly was not available, but…he had another unit that was “even better”! Yah. Red flag #1.

The unit that was “better” was not online yet, but it would be ready by our arrival. It was smaller, but less expensive. We couldn’t see it because…they never answered that question, but I’d guess because it was rented and the tenant hadn’t moved out yet. And I could rent it by giving him my credit card number over the phone. Red flag #2.

So I started doing my internet sleuthing to see if I could verify this rental, the company behind it, or some information that would give me confidence that it was real. I finally spoke with someone who seemed official and gave me some additional information. We agreed that I would sign the lease, but would not pay the deposit until a month later when they would take me on a “video” tour. All of this with only a few reviews for their other rentals though they’d been in the business for “15 years”. Red flag #3.

When the video tour date came and I didn’t hear from them, I was surprised. I thought that they would be hungry to get our money. Since I needed to know that we had secured an apartment, I reached out and we arranged the tour. Everything seemed fine so I paid the deposit with a promise that when it was furnished, they would send me photos and we would pay the rest upon arrival. We were told that the two bedrooms had queen beds so we went ahead and invited people to stay with us. A couple weeks before arrival, we received photos and I felt pretty good about things. Photoshop is a thing. Red Flag #4.

Fast forward to our arrival. We know what a good photographer can do with photos, right? When someone says that they are “waiting for the arrival of the furniture”, I assume that it’s been purchased and they are waiting on delivery. While there is nothing wrong with the furnishings, it’s not quite as they led me to believe. All the furniture is used, not quite fresh and clean, dinged up and the accessories are definitely from Ross because the price tags are still on them. (I’m a certified discount shopper so I have no problem with the purchase location, but please…remove the price tags!) Also, the bedrooms are small and I swear those beds are NOT queens. In the “main” bedroom, you can’t close the door because the room is so small that the door hits the bed. So we can’t ask our guests to stay in that room. But the back bedroom is on the parking lot with a staircase right outside the windows. When those big pickup trucks come in at night their headlights aim straight in the room and light up like a searchlight! We asked for blackout curtains (the windows are frosted) for the three windows, but received plain curtains for two of the windows. Fair warning for any of our readers still considering visiting us.

I’ve done some more sleuthing on the rental company and in talking with neighbors I’ve learned that they own quite a few rentals in and around the French Quarter. This information led me to believe that they would have the rental process down pat. Not so much. Since we are the first renters in this apartment, I wasn’t surprised that there were a few missing things such as hangars and when I asked for the items, some of them arrived. A few things though promised, were never supplied with no explanation. Not such a big deal. We either got what we needed from Amazon or figured out a work around. Princess problem.

But then things got a little weird. Something about this company is just off. Glen says they are part of the “Costa Nostra” which is probably not okay to say…??? There’s something weird about the circumstances of the people who live in the units in the back of the building. I’m not exactly sure who lives there, it seems to be a rotation for some. The ones I’ve met all work for the company and they are all from Honduras. Keep that in mind for the next paragraph. I’m just gonna leave it at that.

The other tenants since we’ve been here…There was supposedly a “traveling nurse” next door though we NEVER saw or heard her. Some other renters said that they had a “bait and switch” situation where they paid for a two bedroom/four bed unit and were given a studio. There were four of them. They complained and ended up having it resolved, but it eerily reminded me of our beginning situation. A young man (a chef) moved in next door and was obviously expecting to stay for the long haul (based on the amount of stuff his mom bought for him at Costco) and he disappeared in a matter of a two days. No trace of him.

The other day the workers were scurrying around painting and cleaning two of the units, including the one that the young man had suddenly vacated. It was definitely an “all hands on deck” situation. One of the workers told me (in Spanish) that some “VIPs” were coming so they were getting the units prepared.

The “VIPs” arrived the evening of the eclipse. There were a bunch of them dragging suitcases into the units. By a bunch, I think maybe seven or eight? All men and one woman. They had a truck with Texas plates that had a roofing company logo all over it. Dug and I were out watching the eclipse that evening and when one of the men came out, we introduced selves. He told me he was here on business and was from…Honduras so I thought that maybe he was connected to the company and I said, “Oh, do you know the people living in the back? They are from Honduras”. He paused and sputtered and said no. It was just awkward. And weird. It felt like I had asked something I shouldn’t have…Costa Nostra?

This evening as in after 6:00 pm, the workers are power washing and blowing the brick in front of the building and our doors. And they are washing the table that has been outside the whole time. I tried to clean it once, but I only had so many paper towels. Interesting that nobody thought to clean it for our arrival. And for the last few days…we can’t seem to keep our wi-fi working. We’ve been promised they are working on it, but no improvement. I think they are bandaging it and not fixing the root problem which is that they have a full building without enough capacity for the number of devices.

So apparently, my VIP status is not enough for the special treatment. And that, my friends, is my princess problem.

*And now in Europe…we’ll see how our VRBO/Airbnb rentals work out!