Monday, April 6: Getting a Yen for York

Whew. We survived. Brian left the house this morning to go get the rental car, and he made it back, driving on the other side of the road, alive and without any dents or scratches. Carsten and Louise were going to pack up and spend the day seeing London with their baggage in tow, so they packaged up all the leftover food (so much bread!) for us to take along.

We spent a few minutes saying goodbye and suggesting where we might see each other again in 3 or 4 years. Maybe Australia? Grand Rapids? California? Who knows. Carsten said next time we would leave the kids home, which elicited immediate protest. A lot of hugs and a few pictures later, we were on our way.

The “estate car” turned out to be basically a small station wagon without the way way back. It just has a larger storage area in the back, which is exactly what we need. I kept throwing my odds and ends in the passenger seat, and Brian inexplicably kept moving them to the driver’s side. Finally I realized that, of course, I was throwing it all in the driver’s side. 

Our kids have longer legs than the last time we did this, and I have to say I felt rather sorry for them all smashed in the back seat. On the other hand, I also felt quite sorry for Brian for having to drive, and for myself for having to navigate. I have always described Brian as a fearless driver, because for the most part he is. But today was something else, and the thing about being nervous is that it rubs off on everyone. And you can imagine how that works out. 

Somehow we made it out of London before the traffic really got started, so we didn’t hit real traffic until we were already halfway north to York. We decided to take the backroads in a quest to see more of rural England. We had heard that Newark-on-Trent was an interesting town, so we stopped there to eat our lunch (thanks for the leftovers, Carsten and Louise) in a parking lot—bread, a few pieces of ham, some warming butter and milk. 

Then we walked through the market square and into the old city shopping district, where Natalie could have spent a few hours. While the girls scouted the store, Brian and Andrew scouted the city and found out there was one remaining side wall of an old castle overlooking the River Trent. It was gloriously sunny and we walked around it for quite a while, enjoying the quiet and the green grass and the blue sky.

Back in the car for more pastoral beauty, which is only slightly marred by continuous referring to the map to make sense of the roundabouts that came around every 10 miles or so. There was also the nagging from the backseat from one particular middle schooler who was really hoping for ice cream. Have you ever tried to navigate and drive on the wrong side of the road while looking at a map, also trying to keep an eye out for ice cream? That did not go so well. Maybe tomorrow.

The road trip sandwiched between two rather glamorous tourist towns gave us a tiny taste of a different England. Lots of flat land with green grass, sheep, cows and horses. Quaint towns with old farms and homes, dotted with the occasional stately manor house.Yet for all the picturesque scenery, there was a lot of empty real estate, and a number of Head Start-type children’s centers. One gorgeous old church was painfully boarded up with signs that said “Dangerous. Keep out.” We had a bit of a family debate when we passed several enormous nuclear power plants; one of them had 12 of those huge cooling towers. A good reminder that people live and breathe in a real world here.

All in all, it went well, and Brian was getting a bit more comfortable by the time we hit York. York is a gorgeous old city, the old city wall still much intact, and a section of streets where the buildings lean over the street as they try to meet in the middle. Our hotel has several family rooms. I’ll have to take a picture tomorrow. It’s like someone took the furniture from a youth hostel dorm room and put it in a high-ceilinged, formerly elegant rowhouse. It’s been repainted and updated, but as we noted at our last rental, things fall apart. But we have a spectacular set of windows and a short walk into the old city right down the street.

The street known as The Shambles was intentionally built with the tops of the buildings closer together than the bottom, because they were originally butcher shops, and they wanted to keep the hot sun out of the street so that the meat would not spoil. Nowadays the area is filled with interesting shops and great restaurants and cafes. Natalie has started a list of stores to visit tomorrow—the Japanese print shop (where we can’t afford anything), a 10,000 Villages type of store, and the store that sells armor and weapons, where even if we could buy something we couldn’t take it home with us.

I happened to get a restaurant recommendation from, of all people, the girl at the counter at Charlotte Russe in Woodland Mall the week before we left, as she had spent a semester in York. We found ourselves standing in front of the Slug and Lettuce restaurant with 3 hungry kids, reading a very welcome sign that said “Mondays 50% off food.” Aha. Her recommendation was a good one, and we ate very well for half price. With the possible exception of Brian, who ordered a burger. Really, I feel like ordering a burger outside of the US is just asking for disappointment. After all, we’re from Grand Rapids, home of the ordinary but extraordinary Garbage Burger at Last Chance Tavern, and also the higher form burger from Stella’s. There’s no topping those two.

Of course, I would’ve been happy either way, because our waiter was reminiscent of James McAvoy. Those of you who are on my movie email list already know that I harbor a particular tenderness for Mr. McAvoy, and having his lookalike as our waiter could only make the dinner better. But really, the rest of us were very happy with our dinners, and went back to our rooms in a happy food coma.

Now Brian and I are sitting in the Bootham Tavern down the street from our hotel while I write this and he was watching a soccer game until an older bar patron challenged him to a game of pool. I can’t decide if he is about to be hustled or not. Possibly someone has some untoward plans for me and has called Brian away to leave me open for his advances. If it turns out to be James M

cAvoy, I can’t guarantee I can finish