Becky & Jim Go To London, Day One

I looked up the street. I looked down the street. I batted my eyelids in utter confusion. I glared at the map. The directions appeared simple and straight forward, yet there wasn't a single sign of Becky and Jim's hotel. I was lost. In my own city.

It's not a difficult thing to do, getting lost in London. Even people who were born here get lost on occasion. But it's kind of embarrassing when you're supposed to be playing tour guide. Instills a lot of confidence.

Eventually I found the proper hotel (or rather, Jim found me) and my stint as a tour guide officially began. Since my clients were of the HIGHEST caliber and the MOST discerning, I knew I'd better do a good job. Otherwise they might tell my mother on me.

So, off we headed into the great, wide world of London. We grabbed a quick bite to eat at a little cafe and I discovered that Jim had recently acquired an addiction to baguette sandwiches. The little cafe, such a hole in the wall with dire green walls, served excellent sandwiches of all varieties. We were pleased.

After lunch, our first stop was New Scotland Yard. It only seemed appropriate to have a picture of one of Prineville's finest in front of the home of London's finest. No need to point out I found NSY completely by accident. Oh, no. Let us pretend it was all in my Master Plan.

After mugging it in front of one of the world's most famous police stations, we headed over to Westminster Abbey. What an amazing place! We spent a good couple of hours inside wandering through the, um, graves.

There were sarcophagi everywhere. From Queens to Poets, everyone who is anyone is buried under the floors of Westminster Abbey. Which is really sort of creepy, if you think about it. I half expected Chaucer's ghost to go streaking through the nave.

In the very oldest part of the Abbey, which dates back nearly 1000 years, lies a museum. Inside the museum are relics of the Abbey's past, from the crosses of long-dead abbots, to the death dolls of famous monarchs.

After we'd had our fill of Westminster, we wandered over to Buckingham Palace. Unfortunately, Friday just happened to be the only day they don't do tours. We consoled ourselves by poking through the tourist shop on the hunt for goodies. We resisted the goodies and instead headed over to one of my favourite places: Covent Garden.

Becky and I left Jim to his own devices and wandered about in the shops. The very same musical group Michelle and I had so enjoyed on St. Patrick's Day was playing again! I was thrilled that Becky got a chance to hear them. They were excellent, as usual, and we really enjoyed the music and atmosphere.

After a good long listen, we found Jim again and headed to China town for a truly delicious dinner at one of the local restaurants... roast duck, spring rolls, sweet and sour chicken, special fried rice... yum, yum, yum!

By this time my clients had completely worn me out, so I headed home to bed before the next grand London Adventure!

Pardon My French, Chapter 7: Bathing With Romans

It is our final full day in France, so we decided to spend it doing our last bit of shopping followed by a tour of the Roman Baths at Chassenon.

We headed for Limoges where we enjoyed a decent meal in the smokiest restaurant in all of France. That is a thing one has to get used to in France. The French smoke. And they do not apologize for it. Despite the EU laws that now require smoking and non-smoking sections of restaurants to be blocked off by actual physical walls, French restaurants are still heavy on the smoking side and contain no physical partitions. For the most part, it wasn't bad and I viewed it simply as a French quirk, but this particular restaurant was so busy, they stuck us in the smoking section next to a couple of chimneys. It was bad. We bolted our food and ran for the door.

After airing out, we head for the main shopping area. I found a boulangerie (surprise, surprise) and tried a lemon tart. Beyond delightful! The buttery crust crumbled in my mouth, while the tangy sweet filling tangoed across my tongue. YUMMY!

Jimbo picked up goodies at the local chocolaterie for the girls at his work, while I picked up a few chocolates for Paul and Mish. Another chocolaterie proved a source of the most delicious violet bonbons. A box just jumped into my bag and begged me to take it home with me. I could not refuse!

A few doors down was a delightful little shop crammed with soaps and lotions and potions and all sorts of girlie things. Feeling like the proverbial bull in a china shop, Jimbo bowed out. I found a gorgeous little white soap that smelled like heaven. Another goodie for Mish.

For myself, I found a little teacup and saucer made right there in Limoges. It was painted with those same flowers we found growing all around the area. It seemed a perfect little souvenir to take home and a nice addition to my collection (of which nearly all are sadly languishing at mom and dad's).

We finally stumbled upon an outdoor food market. One of the stalls was selling an apple tart. I bought a piece for us to share and it was so delicious, we bought a whole one to take home for supper. I must say it was quite the hit!

On our way home we stopped in Chassenon at the Gallo-Roman Baths of Cassinomagus. The Baths date back to the end of the 1st century, but were only rediscovered in the 1950s. Since then, the site has been slowly excavated bit by bit, with more excavation happening in 2008. With each bit discovered, the archaeologists are able to learn more about life in France during Roman times. Though not as well restored as the baths in Bath, it was still a fascinating step back in time. I felt well satisfied. My journey was complete.

And so, the following day we headed back to England’s chilly shores and our ordinary, everyday lives. For now, our grand adventures behind us.

But not for long! Next week, I’m off to Northern Ireland….

Pardon My French, Chapter 6: Battle of Bordeaux

Ok, so we didn't actually get into a battle in Bordeaux, unless you count the traffic, but that was certainly bad enough. It was just about as bad as London. It seems the entire country of France is under construction, and most of it is on the streets of Bordeaux. Add to that a demonstration in front of the courthouse, the usual working day traffic, and French directional signs that leave a great deal to be desired, and you've got an interesting time on your hands. Thank goodness Jimbo was doing the driving, so he was doing all the cussing while Mick and I had a merry old time.

I don't think either Jimbo or I were entirely impressed with Bordeaux. It was noisy, dirty, crowded, and entirely unlike any of the other beautiful cities, towns and villages we'd seen on our trip.

There is an impressive cathedral. So we snapped a picture of that, though we didn't go inside.

We also found an amazing history museum. That was quite possibly the best part of the day in Bordeaux. The museum took us from the earliest record of humans in the area (including samples of bits of jawbone, simple rock tools, and the remains of a campfire), through Roman times and into the modern era. It was facinating and the boys enjoyed it as much as I did. Once again the signs were all in French, but they had these nice little phone things that had an English narrative to go along with the exhibits.

We lunched at the cutest little cafe/boulangerie ever. There were old tea kettles and tricycles and things hanging from the ceiling, checkered table cloths on the tables, and lovely china teapots for serving tea and coffee. Water was served in old wine bottles. We ordered Croque Monsieur sandwiches, which is basically a grilled ham and cheese. Except fancy. And French. And these were SUPER yum! Dripping with hot, melted guyere and bleu cheese on homemade wholegrain brain. Oh, joy! Honestly, that was one of the best meals we had the whole trip. Naturally I followed it up by buying some delightful macroons for snacking on later.

After a wander through town and a mooch about the shops, we stopped for coffee in the Turkish district. Mick treated us to dark, smooth, black French coffee and some sort of Turkish treat that involved almonds, syrup and... couscous? I have no idea what it was, but it was good! He said he used to have it in Turkey when he was there.

After a long day of hard work wandering and enjoying ourselves, we headed home for a long deserved rest. Just one more day left of sight seeing...

Pardon My French Chapter 5: 'Round the Mulberry Bush

Wednesday dawned bright and... well, gray, really. It was rather like waking up in England. Fortunately we'd already decided that due to sheer exhaustion (Mick had worn us both out in La Rochelle.), we would spend the day tooling about in our car, exploring the local countryside. So, after a hearty breakfast of cereal and toast with more yummy French honey, off we went.

Our first stop was a little down dripping with cute Frenchness called Saint-Amant-de-Bonnieure. It wasn't because we particularly wanted to go there or had a specific intention to see the place, but rather because we would pause at a crossroads and Jimbo would ask, "Which way?" I would answer "Left" or "Straight Ahead" and so on in no particular order just because it sounded good. After all, pretty much every little town and village in this part of France is

unbearably cute and most of them have boulangeries, so it didn't matter where we wound up, as long as I could get my morning croissant.

In any case, Saint-Amant-de-Bonnieure had a really nice little church that was built absolutely ages ago. In fact, it smelled a bit like a cave inside. And it was tiny and had very hard looking pews. I don't think I'd ever survive a mass there. Thank goodness I'm neither French, nor Catholic.

Next to the church was an ancient keep. The sign (which had an English translation) called it a "Norman Keep". Now, since we were nowhere near Normandy, I was a mite befuddled over that one. Was it Norman in style? Was it from the age of the Normans (Was there an age of the Normans?)? Or did actual Normans jump on their horses and come down here and build a keep? After all, they invaded England in 1066 AD, so why not Saint-Amant-de-Bonnieure? I've no idea, but it was cool anyway.

After snapping a few pictures, we headed deeper into the village where we found the prerequisite boulangerie so I could buy my morning croissant. It was AMAZING! The best one of the entire trip! It was crunchy and crusty on the outside, and flakey and buttery on the inside. My mouth was EXTREMELY happy. In that moment, the entire world revolved around that delightful little baked good. I should have bought more. Ah, well. I shall simply have to go back!

A bit further down the road, we found a sign with a brown coloured symbol on it. We had learned during our travels in France that these white signs with the little brown thingummies on them indicated "Really Old Stuff". Sometimes it was a "Really Old Church", sometimes a "Really Old Cemetary", and sometimes we never actually found anything at all.

Well this sign apparently indicated "Really Old, Really Big Rocks In The Middle Of a Field With A Crazy Frenchman With A Gun." Fortunately, the Frenchman with a gun was sane enough that he didn't attack, though he did give us a few odd looks. Apparently, not a lot of tourists visit the "Really Old Rocks". I believe the rocks, which are perched atop a couple of small hills, had something to do with Druids. Unfortunately, the sign was in French, so we're not entirely sure if they were sacrificing small children, or just having a really big clam bake. Perhaps they were stages for early Druid rock stars? Pun not entirely intended.

After pausing long enough to snap a few pictures of the "Really Big Rocks", and some of the countryside, we hopped back in the car. It had started sprinkling a bit, and we were getting hungry.

The nearest town serving food was Ruffec. Unfortunately, the cafe we found served the worst food in all of France. It was nasty, and neither of us finished our meal. However, there were a few nice little shops, so we were able to do some browsing.

After whisking through a few more cute French villages, we decided to call it a day and headed back home. On the way, we passed a sign to one of the little "house collections" similar to Les Puy. The sign read "Robinet". "No way!" I screeched, causing Jimbo to have a small heart attack and nearly drive off the road. "My ancestors were Robinets, and I think they were from France or something." Jimbo was not impressed. But still, I thought it was kind of cool. It's a small world, after all.

Before reaching home, we stopped in Chassenueiul to pick up a few things. Jay was working in the British Cafe there, but we couldn't find it, so we ended up heading home. On the way we passed a building with Union Jacks painted all over it. "Do you supposed that's it?" I mused aloud. "Who knows," Jimbo replied.

True. After all, this is France. Anything could happen.

Next up: Jimbo, Mick and I hit the big city of Bordeaux. It may never be the same....