Destination: Blackpool

Travel Day: December 20, 2012

I wake up feeling like my brain has been dismembered, and then crudely sewn back together with some parts missing and others in the wrong places. Dreams were harsh and murky. As I shower I consider which is worse, a tequila hangover, or “I lost a day” jet lag. Something is missing, and I have no idea what it is. Oh wait, it’s gray and raining. Nothing is missing, it’s just like home!

In the hotel restaurant my brother and I have a full English breakfast of fried eggs, thick Lancashire bacon, wonderfully seasoned sausage, institutional hash brown wedges, baked beans, and an Americano coffee. We both relish the meal. It reminds us of the Christmas breakfasts our dad always made for our extended family. I feel full, simultaneously sad and happy, but only slightly more alert.

 

A cab picks us up from the hotel to take us round to the car hire at the airport. We reserved a small Peugot 208 with Avis. It’s slightly larger than a roller skate, and getting in on the driver’s side requires some contortionist moves I thought I’d forgotten. Cars here are not built for people my size. They are built for great gas mileage, and with petrol advertised for 1 pound 30 pence a litre (approx. $2.10 Canadian) one would hope so.

 

Our first stop is a couple of blocks up the road from the airport, at a Currys Electronic store. We need to get a mobile phone SIM card for a phone loaned to us by a cousin. However, me being me, I suddenly realize they have “unlocked” phones. We have a heck of a time getting them at home. “Unlocked” means they are not tied to a single carrier, and the number and service can be changed with the simple act of changing the SIM card. This provides huge flexibility in being able to carry the phone most anywhere in the world. You buy a local SIM for around $20 (includes a modest amount of service time and data) and then you get smartphone service without the criminal like international roaming rates of most carriers.

We are served by Brian and Luis, a couple of really great guys at the “phones 4U” concession booth, who help us to understand the mobile phone landscape. There is a very wide selection of phones, carriers, and plans. Nothing at all like the closed monopolistic competition we suffer with in Canada. I buy a Samsung Galaxy Ace smartphone for 70 pounds (about $112), and 30 pounds of calling time and data (250 minutes and 250mb). It’s a smart move as I now have a phone I can travel with anywhere. I also remember the $600 replacement cost of a new i-Phone 4 when I lost my last one. For a carrier we select a UK wide “pay as you go” on the O2 network.

From Currys we journey across town to my Aunts house. It’s just over four miles, but when you’re driving a manual transmission for the first time in 20 years, on the left side of the road for the first time ever, four miles seems like four hundred. The road lanes are narrow, and at times the painted lines are ambiguous. Around bus stops are squiggly white lines, sometimes people cross the centre lines to get around illegally parked cars, and making a right turn across oncoming traffic is a new one on me. Speaking of parking, I have minor heart attacks as cars can park most any direction they choose, making you question whether or not you've been an idiot and turned into a one way street, because cars on both sides are pointed towards you. And most people park on the sidewalk.

Then there is the protocol of roundabouts. I understand the basics of yielding to traffic on the right in the roundabout, but who has priority when it comes to actually getting into the roundabout? After a few attempts I get it right, thankfully, as roundabouts are more common here than traffic lights. Some roundabouts are so busy they have traffic lights to aid right of way.

My brother, bless his soul, makes no comments on my driving style or ability. His job is to watch the SatNav and warn me of upcoming turns, or which exit we take while in a roundabout. We only get lost three times, and that’s because we find ourselves in the wrong lane at intersections or miscount which exit of a roundabout. I’ll only briefly mention how easy it is to nearly sideswipe parked cars since all the usual unconscious driving cues are now on the other side.

We have a tearful reunion with our Aunt. We haven’t seen her in several years, since her last trip home to Vancouver. She was a major figure in our lives as we grew up. Her decision seven years ago to return home to England was hard for all of us. She now lives in a lovely bungalow on a street at the edge of a farm field. From her sunroom at the back of the house she looks over a low green hill with grazing sheep. Very peaceful and quietly pastoral.

Around four it begins to darken up and in our fatigued state head back to the hotel. We retrace our route, getting lost yet again as we take the wrong lanes at intersections and roundabouts, and have problems seeing street signs. Turns out they are either in small letters high up on the sides of buildings, or low down on retaining walls hiding behind cars. And it’s still dark and raining.

Safely back in the Brewers Fayre bar at the hotel we have a couple of beers and some really wonderful fish and chips.

 

According to the Mayan calendar tomorrow is supposed to be the end of the world, maybe. If it happens, so be it, because yet another tick mark has been placed on my bucket list. The tick mark sits next to “Surviving a day driving on the wrong side of the road, while on the other side of the world”!

 

 

Destination: Blackpool

Travel Days: December 18 & 19, 2012

Back in August my brother and I thought it would be a good idea to travel to England for Christmas to spend time with relatives. An Aunt, our cousins, our mother’s cousins, etc. So we looked around for flights. We web searched flights, hotels, car rentals and all the other things that we could think of that revolved around our past trips to England when we were teenagers and young adults. But our late parents used to take care of all that “stuff”, so this was new territory for us.
After getting frustrated with the Air Canada and British Airways websites, and trying to balance points against cash, we decided we needed professional help. With the help of a marvelous travel expert at Marlin Travel, we booked with Air Transat. She offered us an upgrade to their Club Class, the almost equivalent of Business Class on other carriers for $300 each way. After careful consideration, well it was really my brother and I just glancing at each other for a second with raised eyebrows, we said yes. Even with the upgrade we saved hundreds of dollars off the web page regular economy fare on both British Airways and Air Canada.
Our travel expert also helped us with car rental, and a hotel near Gatwick Airport for the return journey. The well recommended hotel we wanted in Blackpool (when our sister-in-law approves of a hotel we listen closely), did not show up in the hotel database for the agent, so we booked that ourselves through Booking.com. The Premier Inn hotel webpage didn’t allow bookings longer than nine days, and we needed 12. Not sure why a stay over nine days couldn’t be booked on the webpage but that’s between them and the page designer, we found a workaround.
It snowed on our departure day. It’s not unusual to get snow in Vancouver, but not usually when I need to fly. But the weather, along with the roads cleared in time for me to pick up my brother and drop the car in the long term lot at the airport. We have a coupon from the travel company that made parking the car for two weeks cheaper than two cab fares from our respective homes. It’s half the cost of cab fares, plus the lot is fenced and patrolled.
We were early checking in at the airport, almost three hours before our flight. So we checked our bags at the Club Class priority counter, and after passing through Security (they still insist on having people removing their shoes in spite of the two year old memo from Transport Canada that said people don’t need to), we wandered the airport. Duty Free gin in its security friendly bag, Tim Horton’s Steeped Tea, that mornings Globe and Mail in hand, and e-books at the ready we settled into the wait for boarding.
Some of the many benefits of Club Class are priority boarding, wider seats, much greater leg room, and a wide choice of meals. Hot towels, appetizers, pre-takeoff champagne or orange juice, and dedicated service are just some of what you get for the extra money. It was worth every cent!

A couple of hours after take-off a request for a doctor or nurse went over the speakers. Then the portable oxygen tank from over our seats was taken out and disappeared into the back of the plane. My brother and I had a quick conversation about what a possible diversion might mean to our connection plans. The diversion will never materialize, but it’s always good to discuss contingencies.

In the air I passed on most of the inflight entertainment, sticking to the jazz audio channel, and one with some new music off a couple of albums titled Buddha Bar. It’s a kind of New Age, Smooth Jazz, and soft pop all rolled into one. I have to do research when I get home to find out more. It was great stress reducing music, and very dream friendly as I manage a few hours of rest.

We arrive at Gatwick airport the next day and a little earlier than scheduled. After a 45 minute lineup to clear passport control we gathered the luggage, and passed without challenge through Customs on the “Nothing To Declare” line. Unlike the guy they did pull over, suitcase open on the counter, and was heard to say as we passed “…I honestly don’t know how that got in there!” One of the Customs fellows looks ever so briefly at the two of us, and I saw in his eyes we were dismissed as “not likely to offend”. Boringly so, he was right.

We caught the inter-terminal shuttle train to check-in for our British Airways flight to Manchester. Entering the terminal we were greeted by a couple of BA elves handing out mince tarts courtesy of the airline. At the ticket kiosk we were helped a lot by attendant Roz to get our bags tagged and on the way.

Once again through security, this time without having to remove our shoes (they got the memo!) we settled in for the three hour wait for our connection. We booked a long layover in case of weather or plane delays. Better to sit around doing nothing for a couple of hours, than spending time rushing as if there’s no time left.

We wandered the airport shops, buying water, and checking out bookstores. We looked in the Harrod’s shop (all hand bags, ties, chocolate, jewelry, and such), watched the departure board in case our gate had been posted, and I bought a GPS (or SatNav as they’re called here). I tried to log into the airport Wi-Fi but my laptop could not see a signal. The departure gate was finally listed at 1710 local, for our 1740 departure.

The plane took off twenty minutes late. The Captain said something about maintenance paperwork, but I thought I overheard something along the lines of “Where are those darn starter keys?”.

In Manchester we are met by my late mother’s cousin. It’s always such a pleasure to see him and his wife. They have been kind enough to drive the hour down from Blackpool on a miserable wet and dark night to pick us up and drop us at the hotel. Along the way we chat about our mutual experiences driving in the American South.

At the hotel my brother and I check in. The clerk is kind and gives us rooms at the far end of a hall on the second floor, away from most of the foot traffic and noise.

In spite of our deep weariness, we have a quick dinner and beers in the bar attached to the hotel. I get a burger with a cheese like spread on the top of the bun. The meat is dry and tough, and I am saddened that this cow died in vain. My brother has bangers and mash, and is impressed.

It’s been almost 27 hours of cumulative travel, and we still need a plan for our first day here. So we lay a few things out but in the end we put it over for discussion at breakfast.

We interrupt this trip...

Not to worry, I'll finish up the last few days of the Cross Country Trek soon. Just a few days after I returned home I got thoroughly slammed by work and life.

Currently I am in England over Christmas, and that tale will unfold over the next few days.

Now that the comical end of the old world has passed, I can concentrate on the beginning of the new world. Hopefuly it involves less work and more story telling. I know, I know, but a guy can hope, right?

Stay tuned!!