First... I am home in Brattleboro, Vermont, USA. Second... we will travel back in time to Manchester, England.
If you have been waiting to travel to Manchester, England, you may want to skip past Part One. Keep skimming down. Stop at Part Two. There, you are in England!
If you'd like to know how I got there and where I am now, this is the place to start...
Part One: Where I am now
The last blog I wrote ended with me leaving Germany. Some people, who most likely have been reading my blogs, see me around town and are surprised. I see people at the Brattleboro Food Co-op. "Oh," they say, "you are back from Germany?!" I saw Acupuncture Margie and Salsa Susie at the Food Truck Roundup. "Oh," they each said, "you are back from Germany?!" I have been hearing this surprised question-statement a lot. I think it is time to catch my blogs up to my present whereabouts, which is Brattleboro, VT, USA.
I have been (physically) home for 3 months now. The memory of traveling was so strong in my mind and heart, it felt like I was equally here and there. It was not a bad thing. I did not feel torn. It was actually a good thing. I felt expanded.
I also felt equally happy to be back and ready to leave. Someone said, "I am going to the Farmer's Market." I said, "I was planning to walk there. Let us walk together." Someone said, "I am going hiking in Whales next week." I said, "I want to go hiking with you in (not to) Whales." Someone said, "I am going to the Dosa Kitchen for lunch." I said, "Come get me; I will come with you." Someone said, "I am going to Bali tomorrow." I said, "I want to go with you to Bali." Today I was thrilled to eat at Superfresh. I am also looking forward to eating Indian in England, again. And so it was, and to some degree, still is.
As time moves forward, memories of traveling are fading. I am no longer viscerally feeling in my body the joy I felt while joining Turkish dancing in the street by my cave hotel in Cappadocia and in the middle of market in Antalya. Now, my body remembers dancing with my community of friends here in southeastern Vermont during Bandwagon Series concerts at Cooper Field and behind the Putney Inn, at the Retreat Farm, and in the Harmony Lot during Gallery Walk. It is an interesting awareness... that I am still transitioning from my travels and am still becoming more fully present, and more entrenched.
When I recently told Melissa about the Forest of Mystery at BEEC (an annual event that happens the end of October), I felt a longing to go to it with her. I will most likely not. Larry Mac recently told me, "I will be celebrating my 90th birthday (in April) in three places. Brattleboro is one of them." When he asked, "Will you be back," I felt a deep longing to say "yes." I could not. I want to leave the states in October. I want to be nomadic, with no end date to my travels.
I have ideas of traveling back to Turkey, of completing the two tooth implants I had started in Antalya, of living in the tiny rural town of Çıralı near Olympus, of hiking the Lycian Way along the Turquoise Coast, of checking-out nearby islands such as Cyprus and Crete. I long to spend an extended period of time at an artists' hotel in Morocco that I did not get to during this last travel. I want to hang out in Lisbon, Portugal and visit Louis Geronimo in the Canary Islands. I want to travel around Europe and the UK when it is truly warm. I want to visit Bianca in Germany and Andy in England, again. I want to explore Ireland, Scotland, and Whales. I want to see Pauline again, in Delft, and maybe finally spend more than an overnight in Amsterdam. And that is all one trip of many that I want to do.
It is interesting that, even with all this wanderlust, wherever I am (such as Brattleboro, Vermont, USA), I do not want to leave. I am by nature both a home-body and a free-spirit. I used to be free-spirited in my home-town. Now... I don't know.
More Part One: How I got to Part Two...
Dear Reader, by way of this blog, we are about to travel back in time to Manchester, England. Please get in the DeLorean, put on your seatbelt, and imagine a Scooby-Doo wavy time portal...
Thus far (up until March 18), I had felt rather spacious and spontaneous about travel plans. The last two-weeks of my almost six-months of travel, though, have become intricately detailed and tightly scheduled. Intricately detailed and tightly scheduled is not my preferred planning style. "Why then," one might ask, "would you do this, Ami?" Well...
A convergence of factors:
I had wanted to remain in Stuttgart, Germany an extra week to hang out with Eli (while there to meet Bianca).
I had planned to travel to Manchester, England England to meet Andy and Geoff, and while planning that visit, also met and stayed with Glenys.
I learned about Pauline in Delft, Netherlands and decided "this needs to happen."
I had waited for warmer weather in the northern hemisphere and stayed longer than originally planned in Turkey, so got a late start.
I ran out of money so needed to get creative with transportation and lodging.
My return (end date) to the US was April 1.
The itinerary for my last 14 days of travel looked like this:
March 17: Fly from Stuttgart, Germany to Amsterdam (arrive at night)
March 17-18: Stay overnight in Yetvart's Airbnb (leave luggage)
March 18: Fly from Amsterdam to Manchester, England (with carry-on and ashes)
March 18-21: Stay in Stockport with Glenys
March 21: Michelle's 19th yahrzeit (spread ashes). Move to Airbnb closer to Andy's place in Langho
March 22-24: Take trains to Clitheroe (a Harry Potter-like town, to meet Andy's brother and nephew), Hebdon Bridge (to meet with Geoff), and Blackburn (to eat the BEST Indian food and meet Andy's other brother and Mum)
March 25: Fly from Manchester to Amsterdam; immediately take a (late) train to Delft
March 25-28: Stay with Pauline
March 28: Take a (late) train to Amsterdam, stay in Yetvart's Airbnb and retrieve luggage
March 29: Fly from Amsterdam (early in the morn) to Boston. Drive to VT with Melody
March 29-31 A Melody weekend
Note: I made it home by April 1. Check.
Creative transportation and lodging sometimes worked well. I booked cheap flights:
a one-way ticket from Antalya, Turkey to Stuttgart, Germany on Sun Express (Ima give a shout out here to Svitlana, who is a pilot for Sun Express)
a one-way ticket from Stuttgart, Germany to Amsterdam, Netherlands on Eurowings
a round-trip ticket from Amsterdam to Manchester, England and back on Easy Jet
a one-way ticket back to the states (from Amsterdam to Boston) on Jet Blue.
My excessively cushy return flight was basically free because of the awesomeness of Jet Blue and the brilliance of True Blue points. I stayed in the same (relatively inexpensive) Airbnb in Amsterdam the night before flying to Manchester and the night before flying to Boston, so I could leave my luggage and fly to England with just a carry-on. (My Airbnb host was super cool). I arranged for free housing with host (and new friend) Glenys (who I met through Trusted Housesitters), and host (and new sister-friend) Pauline (who I met through Host-a-Sister Over 50).
Sometimes my efforts to be frugal backfired. Like... when I left Turkey (from Antalya to Stuttgart) 21 days over my Visa. I had been told by a fellow traveler that I would not need to pay a fine. That information was incorrect. I could not leave Turkey without paying the fine. I paid a fine of $200.
When I left Germany (from Stuttgart to Amsterdam) I purchased the cheap flight that allowed one checked bag. I had two bags to check but did not think this a problem. Together, both bags were under the total weight allowed. All other airlines (up until this flight) focused on the total weight of a passenger's checked bag(s). All other airlines (up until this flight) counted the two bags as one. I did not think this company would be different. It was.
The extra baggage charge was as much as the plane fare. Hearing about the extra baggage charge shocked me into survival mode. I experienced sympathetic nervous system responses: fight, flight, freeze.
My reaction was not as bad as it had been in the Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris. You may recall that my reaction in Paris was pitiful.
By this point, I had experienced many challenges. I had missed planes from Paris to Istanbul (in October) and from Istanbul to Antalya (in January with Ozden) and both times had to pay for another ticket. From October through March, there were many other unexpected expenses as well.
Each time a challenge happened, I felt thrown from my center. Each time, I found my way back to my center. In Paris, it had taken me a long time to recover. Almost six months later, I noticed, I was recovering more quickly.
My experience at the Eurowings baggage counter in Stuttgart went something like this...
Eurowings Baggage Counter Woman: "You need to pay for the second piece of luggage."
Me: (Freeze, Silent dear-in-headlights response)
Eurowings Baggage Counter Woman: "That will be 70 euros."
Me: Silent dear-in-headlights
Eurowings Baggage Counter Woman: "We can take a credit card."
Me: Silent dear-in-headlights
Eurowings Baggage Counter Woman: "Ma'am, you need to pay for the second piece of luggage."
Me: (Fight response) "But... the weight of both bags is under..."
Eurowings Baggage Counter Woman: "That doesn't matter. You have two bags."
Me: "But... the other airlines..."
Eurowings Baggage Counter Woman: "Eurowings does not work that way. You need to pay for the second piece of luggage."
Me: (Flight response thinking) l need to disappear... I need to get rid of a bag...
Eurowings Baggage Counter Woman: Watching my wheels spinning... "Ma'am, you cannot get your ticket until you pay 70 euros."
Me: Silent dear-in-headlights
Eurowings Baggage Counter Woman: Waiting.
Me: (Recovery thinking) Breathe. Take another deep breath. And another.
Eurowings Baggage Counter Woman: Silent.
Me: Calming down. Thinking more clearly.
Eurowings Baggage Counter Woman: Looking down, doing other things.
Me: (Recovered) Pulling out my credit card. Handing it to Baggage Counter Woman.
Eurowings Baggage Counter Woman: Looking up. "Thank you." Taking my card. Swiping my card. Handing it back to me.
Me: "Sorry about that."
Eurowings Baggage Counter Woman: Handing me my ticket. "Have a good flight."
And off I went, on my way to Amsterdam on Eurowings...
When I landed in the Amsterdam airport, I saw a little cleaning computer botting about. His head moved like he was looking around. He stopped and waited when someone crossed his path. I thought he was mighty cute. I am not sure why I am referring to the cute cleaning bot as "he" but there you have it.
I did not see Amsterdam that night. I took a taxi directly from the airport to my Airbnb. There, I ate, took a shower, and packed a day pack for my week in England. Andy had suggested I bring my rain jacket and a brolly. I packed my yellow slicker and umbrella. I stashed my two largish pieces of luggage in the Airbnb room. I left 50 euros in the bureau drawer for my return stay. I laid down to get (some) sleep.
I did not see Amsterdam the next day either. First thing in the morning, I took a taxi directly from my Airbnb back to the airport to fly to Manchester.
Before and during boarding, Andy and I texted. I sent a picture of my tired self on the plane as proof that I was (finally) on my way.
Flying during the day is amazing because of the clouds. There is nothing that moves me like a sea of fluffy clouds below an open sky of more clouds.
Part Two: Manchester, England
Most people not from the United Kingdom (UK) are confused about the terms "England," "Britain," and "United Kingdom." I was certainly confused about these terms. I asked Andy.
Basically, The UK is comprised of England, Scotland, Whales, and Northern Ireland. "Britain" can mean a bunch of things, though the term is currently used as a synonym for the UK. The official designation for a citizen of the United Kingdom is "British citizen." I took that last line from Wikipedia when I looked up United Kingdom. I found what I read fascinating. You may too.
While planning where I would stay in England, I wrote to some folks from TrustedHouseSitters.com. Though this site is mostly people looking for pet sitters, I explained that I was not really looking for a pet-sitting job. I explained that I was looking for someone who lived near Manchester to host me while I visited friends in the area who were unable to house me.
Glenys wrote back. When I arrived in England, I took a taxi to Glenys' home in Stockport.
Glenys lived in a four-bedroom house. Her children had grown and moved out. Her beloved best-friend and husband, George, had died four years earlier. Glenys had a cat and two dogs, one of whom was too ill for Glenys to leave home. I think Glenys was happy for my company. She was delightfully welcoming.
When we met, we were like old friends reunited. Glenys and I talked and hung out pretty much non-stop for two days and nights. Glenys loved tasty food, real conversation, romcoms, and a peanut butter version of Baileys on ice cream... my kind of woman.
In an online meditation group (that Glenys joined), someone asked how we were getting along. Glenys said, "We are getting on like a house on fire." I agreed. Our new friendship was hot, exciting, catchy, and spreading quickly.
While I was getting to know Glenys, Andy was dealing with a couple of things that unexpectedly popped up. His mum needed medical attention and his car had sprung a leak and flooded the carpeted floor.
A couple of days into my stay with Glenys, Andy kindly drove (what he deemed his "stinky car") to Stockport to see me.
While Glenys visited with a friend of hers in the house, Andy and I walked to Goyt Valley park, a local nature reserve.
How does a guy needing to de-stress and two people meeting in-person for the first-time get comfortable? Andy and I took a series of selfies.
Reviewing our photo shoot, Andy and I took time to share our other (stored) pictures with each other.
Because of the issues with my phone storage, I had deleted most of the pictures I had taken (and stored). What I had kept though, were shots of different paths in nature - paths in Vermont and Turkey and Germany. A funny little thing... Andy's phone's camera storage was also full of different kinds of paths in nature. Come to find out, we had this in common. Andy and I are both attracted to paths in nature.
The nature reserve was vast. Andy and I walked and walked. We stopped at a little waterfall...
...visited a family tree...
...spotted tree veins...
...passed an area of lush ground cover...
...and admired tree hearts...
Andy drove his "stinky car" to Stockport again, on the date of Glenys and George's wedding anniversary.
Glenys explained that it was the fourth wedding anniversary since George's earthly departure. It felt significant. Andy and I asked Glenys out for brunch and she liked that idea. The three of us went to George's favorite restaurant-in-a-grocery-store, and had "full English."
After that day, Andy's car went into a shop to dry out. The car remained in shop for what became the duration of his vacation and my visit. Because of this, the rest of our travels for the week would be by rail. If you did not know this little fact about me, here it is: my favorite way to travel is by train. I was not disappointed.
While traveling through the English shire by train, I took pictures of sheep...
...and more sheep...
...fields...
...and villages...
...hills...
...and stone walls...
...towns with factories, condos, old homes...
...and newer homes...
...clouds above the towns...
...windmills to harness the wind...
...and fences to corral the animals...
Often, I rode the rails alone. Sometimes the train was quiet. Sometimes it was lively. Once there was a full-on party-of-women on the train with some kind of alcoholic liquid being poured into shot glasses to go round. I think it was a bachelorette party. I did not intrude upon the party by taking a video.
This video (below) caught a different (though almost equally) chatty day on the train...
Sometimes I viewed the world passing by while sitting side-by-side with my dear friend Andy.
These were my favorite times on the train. Andy is a sweet being and was good company. He is an excellent listener as I would really learn later. But I am getting ahead of myself.
Our first stop was Andy's quaint home town of Langho. We walked around the quiet streets where I spotted a red telephone box. If the heavy British accent spoken by everyone around me had not given my location away, this British icon surely will.
You may have noticed in the picture (above) that I am wearing just about every item of clothing that I had packed in my day pack. Though I waited until March for England to warm up, The UK was a might cold.
One day, we walked into a field that Andy said was a frequent hiking route of his. I call this picture (below) "Field and Stream."
We spotted flowers...
...and horses who Andy had befriended...
...one of Andy's favorite trees...
...and bunnies...
On another day, while waiting for a train we saw more bunnies...
March 21st was Michelle's 19th yahrzeit. I had told Andy that on this day, I would like to spread some of Michelle's ashes on English soil. Andy suggested a spot at the end of another of his favorite walking routes that he called: "the bench." We walked from Andy's place, up hill, to a spot overlooking Langho...
...to a wooded path and mossy staircase leading further uphill, into the woods...
... and eventually arrived at the infamous bench. There, Andy documented me spreading Michelle's and Jessica's ashes.
I told Andy that, while in England, I had wanted to spread Michelle's ashes in the Hundred Acre Wood. She so loved Winnie-the-Pooh. "Not the new Winnie-the-Pooh," she would say... "the old Winnie-the-Pooh. The original Winnie-the-Pooh." Any land in England connects to the Hundred Acre Wood, I thought. Spreading Michelle's ashes at the bench in Langho would do nicely.
Andy said that the bench would be even more special to him now. Now, Michelle's and Jessica's ashes would feed the soil and trees. Now, he would remember them every time he came here.
Doing these rituals with others deepens and cements friendships for me. Our online meditation group made Andy my meditation brother. Our in-person week of visiting and spreading Michelle's (and Jessica's) ashes together deepened my dear brother's status to my dear friend.
Andy rents a room in Arthur's home. Arthur was a lovely bloke who called me "m'love" (as in, "Hello, m'love. Good morning, m'love. How're things for you, m'love?"). It reminded me of my dad, who often called me Lovie.
One night, I missed the last train from Langho to my Airbnb. Arthur agreed I could stay overnight, and Andy offered his bed. Andy slept on the floor of his office (in the next room). It was not ideal, and I did not want to put Andy out like that again. The next couple of nights I made sure to catch the train back to my Airbnb.
After meeting and feeling comfortable with me, Arthur invited me to stay in the extra little bedroom at his home. It would be more convenient for Andy and I to travel together, so I gratefully accepted. I packed up my things at the Airbnb and moved in to Arthur's house.
I learned that the little bedroom was no longer available. Andy gave up his bed for me and slept on the couch downstairs. I was not happy about this arrangement because Andy disclosed that he did not sleep well there. But... an English host's manners are mighty strong and not to be argued with. I stayed overnights in Andy's room while he sort-of slept on the couch downstairs for the remainder of my visit.
Arthur's brother and friends visited him daily. They would sit in the living room and chat while drinking tea. I loved watching Arthur's ritual of making tea. He would boil water in an electric kettle, pour the boiled water into the cups, pour the water back into the kettle, bring the water to another boil, pour the water back into the cups, and then add teabags. When properly steeped, he added fresh cream from a glass jar that had been delivered that morning.
A couple of times, I joined the men to chat. I learned a little about their past worldly adventures, their beliefs, and politics. They had led magnificent lives. They were happy, I think, to have a "young" traveling woman in the room. I was happy to settle into the house with them.
Arthur had an interesting custom of washing dishes by hand and placing the soapy items in the drying rack. Mujdat had told me about how people in London did this. Leaving soapsuds on dishes really is a thing in England. It is not a thing with every Brit, though. Andy, born and raised (and still living) in England did not do this, nor had he seen this custom before living with Arthur. Andy rinsed the soap off dishes before placing them in the drying rack. Andy also cooked meals for me. He (Andy) is a very (very) good cook. And, he (
Andy) serves food on dishes I am confident about eating off of.
It was great hanging out at home and taking walks in Langho. It was also fun exploring other towns nearby.
Andy and I took a train to Clitheroe. Andy said a friend had called it "Harry Potter" town...
In Clitheroe, we met up with Andy's brother, Stephen (Ste), and his son (Andy's nephew) Patrick (Pat). I loved these guys instantly. I asked if they'd like to join our online meditation group and, to Andy's surprise, they said "yes." I had brought my laptop, so we set it up and joined the rest of the "Meditation Family." Before and after the group, the four of us had a great conversation about meditation, energy, and Spirit... and music! Come to find out, music was a big part of Andy's families' lives.
We walked into and around the town of Clitheroe...
...and stopped for a delicious meal...
On another day, Andy and I traveled (individually) by train and met in Hebdon Bridge, where Geoff lived.
Andy had described Hebdon Bridge as "bohemian" which I think he meant as "artsy." "You would like it," he had said. "You would fit in."
We met at the train station...
...walked along the canal...
...into the center of Hebdon Bridge...
... and met up with Geoff at a pub called Shoulder of Mutton. We decided to walk through town and picked another restaurant where we got an extraordinary amount of absolutely delicious food to eat...
After eating, the three of us walked in the park, in the rain...
I was impressed with the graffiti at the skate park...
Although Andy and Geoff had been living in close proximity to each other (for years) and had met online through our meditation family, this was their first time meeting in person. I gave them time and space to chat while chronicling their budding friendship...
Another day, Andy and I went to the Thira restaurant in Blackburn to eat South Indian food for dinner. I had been told that, aside from India, England has the best Indian food in the world. After eating Indian at one restaurant, I decided to full-on believe this tale.
After dinner, we walked thorough downtown Blackburn...
...toward Andy's mum's and (other) brother, Chris's apartment. Walking, we talked about my relationship with Mujdat. It was the first time I had processed what had happened, at length, out loud, with someone other than the inner voice in my head.
Andy is a therapist by trade and an excellent listener. He, like me, is intolerant of abusive behavior. Processing through my story of abuse was overdue and, come to find out, much needed. I am still grateful for my clear, warm, caring, British friend, Andy.
We arrived at Mum and Chris' place and visited with them. Mum and I got on, as Glenys had said, "like a house of fire." Chris was awesome as well, and he ended up giving Andy and I a ride home which extended our visit.
Hanging out with Andy's family was heartwarming. It was fun hearing how Andy and Chris had played in a band together, back in their adolescence... how Ste played with bands but not theirs. Each family member played off of the other's wild stories about places they had been and antics they had done.
Honestly, I loved Andy's family. The only member of the immediate family I was not able to meet was Andy's sister. Maybe next time...
I think it was the night before I was to leave, I asked Andy if he would introduce me to his line-up of guitars. When he picked up his current favorite, he jammed out a variety of styles. I had a blast jamming out with him...
The next day Andy and I parted at the train station where I took the train to the Manchester airport. I said goodbye to England and flew to Amsterdam.
Next, I would visit Pauline in Delft, for the last three-day leg of my 6-month traveling adventure...
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