Travellers Tales
By LINDA BALL
ITALY AND GREAT BRITAIN — This past Wednesday I turned the big 5-0. I admit it. I am sort of in shock, because I
am the baby of my family, and it just doesn’t seem right, especially since time stood still when I turned 28. I don’t feel 50, I
certainly don’t act 50 (in the traditional sense) and I’ve been told I don’t look 50 — you be the judge.
I wasn’t going to let this monumental milepost go by with a whimper, so about a year ago I started scheming a grand trip
with my friend since the seventh-grade, Colleen, who turned 50 this summer. We went to Europe for the first time ever for
each of us, and it was a grand adventure.
Colleen still lives in our hometown of Anchorage, so we met in Seattle. We got to Milan, Italy safe and sound, popping no-
jet lag pills every two hours. It was a long haul and we were looking forward to hopping on Air-Italia for our quick flight to
Florence, but they had overbooked so we had to wait in Malpensa airport for six and a half hours for the next flight. We
lost a half-day going over, but managed to get to our charming small hotel overlooking the Arno River by dinnertime.
Florence is magical. If you are an art lover, it’s an absolute must. The next day after sleeping in, we headed for the Uffizi, a
museum with the largest holding of Renaissance paintings anywhere, and one of the most important picture galleries in the
world. I was completely blown away — standing in front of works by the masters — Michelangelo, DaVinci, Bottecelli,
Titian and even two Rembrandts. I fell in love with Bottecelli’s work, and purchased a small print of the glorious “Birth of
Venus” — the original hangs in the Uffizi.
The real jaw-dropping moment for me, however, was the statue of David, by Michelangelo, which is housed in the Galleria
dell’ Accademia in Florence. David is astounding, and no, it’s not because he’s naked. He is so detailed, you can see the
veins in his hand. We’re talking about a guy made of marble. Michelangelo must have been a very patient man. What is
interesting, is that David is carved from a “scrap” piece of marble that Michelangelo found and asked if he could have it.
The statue is at least 16 feet tall, standing on a marble base of about six feet. I must have stared at him for 15 minutes —
before dropping down on one knee and proposing — but he just gave me a blank stare. Seriously, it’s inspiring.
I think the most profound observation for me is the history that surrounded me everywhere I went. Europe is old. I now
realize The United States is still in its infancy. The other thing that struck me, is religion is very, very big in Europe. Of
course, Catholicism is dominant in Italy, and I’m not Catholic, but it didn’t matter. Every Italian city or village has a
Duomo, or the primary cathedral, and the Duomo in Florence is one of the largest cathedrals in the world. The exterior of
the Duomo, and the bell tower, which is 414 steps to the top — no elevator — is pink, green and white marble. I spent half
the trip looking up with my mouth open in awe, luckily not swallowing any bugs.
Colleen being a good Catholic, talked me into going to mass Sunday morning in Florence. I didn’t mind — I figured it would
be good for my soul, and I could repent for drinking almost an entire bottle of Chianti Classico myself the night before.
We went to the Basilica di Santa Croce, a neo-Gothic cathedral, and much to my amazement, Michelangelo is entombed in
this beautiful place. Although in Italian, we both picked up bits and pieces of the mass. A sweet old Italian woman sat next
to me, and knew it all by heart. I wanted to bring her home with me, like so many of the kind Italian folks.
Florence is famous for their Florentine gold, and I didn’t pass up going to the famous medieval Ponte Vecchio, the only
bridge over the Arno River that survived World War II, allegedly by an order from Hitler not to destroy it. It is Europe’s
oldest segmental arch bridge, once the home to butcher shops. Now, the Ponte Vecchio is wall to wall jewelry stores
spanning the river. Talk about a bling fest — I was dizzy from all the choices, but did end up selecting a simple pair of 18
karat gold (everything is 18 karat) diamond-cut hoop earrings.
## The Tuscan experience
Switching gears from busy Florence, we embarked on a six-day tour of Tuscany with La Dolce Vita Wine Tours, a husband
and wife operation owned by our hosts, Pat Thompson and Claudio Bisio. I can’t say enough about these two. Pat, a
journalist from New York, and Claudio, a native of the Piedmont area of Italy, compliment each other beautifully. They
share their knowledge of Italy and the regional wines unconditionally.
We spent the next five days and six nights in their competent hands visiting the villages of Greve, Siena, Pienza,
Montalcino and Montepulciano, visiting at least two Tuscan wineries each day, and of course, tasting wonderful wines. All
told, we tasted 41 different wines in Toscana.
We were able to witness the wine-making process from vine to bottle over the course of the tour, all the while enjoying
perfect weather and some of the most beautiful scenery in the world. The Castle of Brolio, the birthplace of Chianti was a
high point. The estate has been in the Ricasoli family since the 10th century, but for 22 years was owned by Seagram’s.
The quality of the wine declined, until in 1993, Francesco Ricasoli bought it back and turned things around. Now, they
produce only top-quality Chianti Classicos and other vintages. It was quite the juxtaposition — this ancient castle, then the
high-tech wine making machinery. It’s impressive — and these Italian winemakers are extremely passionate about their
product. Journalism is my second career — if I decide to have a third career, it might just be in the wine business.
The food was to die for, too. Pat and Claudio have combed the region and scouted out some of the best restaurants to take
their clients. We had wild boar — who roam the area freely— which was delicious. Other delicacies included beef cheeks
and guinea fowl. An Italian meal comes in four to six courses, all wonderful, but here’s the deal: Italian restaurants in the
U.S. just plain over-do it. Real Italian food is not heavy, so you are able to pound down most of the courses.
We had big fun one night in the middle of nowhere in Tuscany, with a cooking lesson at a private kitchen called Toscana
Mia. I learned the secret to good, light, Tiramasu. Call me if you want in, but I will say, you must use real marscipone
cheese and lady fingers — not sponge cake. I’ve already recreated one of the recipes we learned, a pasta dish with porcini
mushrooms, and it turned out pretty darn good. We made the pasta from scratch at Toscana Mia, but at home I copped
out and used store-bought fettucine.
## Above us only sky
From Italy, we flew direct on Ryan Air, “The Low Fares Airline,” arriving an hour and a half later in Liverpool England, for
our pilgrimage.
Let me explain. Colleen and I have been die-hard Beatle’s fans since the beginning. It would have been sacrilegious to go to
Europe and not visit the birthplace of the Beatle’s. Let me go on the record by saying that, contrary to what you might
think, Liverpool is not some dirty old port town. We arrived at the John Lennon International Airport to picture-perfect
weather, admiring the green landscape from the air. John is my hero, and I was so excited to see his lyrics neatly stenciled
in huge letters all over the terminal, and the amazing bronze statue of him in the airport that I almost made myself sick
with excitement.
Liverpool is preparing to host the European City of Culture events in 2008 — a huge honor. The old Albert Docks were
saved and restored into wonderful shops. The Beatle’s Story, a museum dedicated to the fab four, is also housed at the
docks, and is a very thorough look at the history of the band. Elsewhere in this very clean city are signs of preparation for
2008, with new shops and hotels going up. You can feel the excitement and pride.
I did my homework for months before this trip, and with the help of some friends who have a travel website, wavejourney.
com, I was able to arrange a private Beatle’s tour with Jackie, a Beatle’s expert, who was born and raised in Liverpool.
Jackie is 45, and her parents, who she said were hippies, had her when they were 17 and 19. So, they experienced early
Beatlemania and Jackie developed a deep appreciation for the fabs as well.
This is the tour to take. The three of us and her driver started steps from our hotel, at the Liverpool Institute of the
Performing Arts, where Paul McCartney and George Harrison went to school. It was about to get the wrecking ball when
McCartney stepped in and pumped about 40 million pounds into it to save it. It reopened in 1996. Paul still visits
Liverpool regularly, and they love him. And — they really, really do not like Heather-Mills McCartney, his soon to be ex-
wife. Really!
Jackie took us to the hospital where John Lennon was born, then to the hospital where Paul was born. We saw all of their
boyhood homes; their old haunts — The Grapes and the Philharmonic pubs where they used to hang out, the Jacaranda
Club where they played under the management of their very first manager, Allan Williams, “the man who gave the Beatles
away.” He didn’t think they would amount to anything, so he dumped them. This was before Brian Epstein “discovered”
them at the Cavern Club. Williams is still in Liverpool, and in fact I saw him in a pub the next night. I looked at him
thinking, my God, he must have been kicking himself for the past 43 years!
Jackie took us to Brian Epstein’s and Stu Stutcliffe’s graves — both very sad. Stu was John’s best friend, who died
tragically of a brain aneurysm at age 22. We visited the church where Paul first saw John play with the Quarrymen, and
later would audition for John. And of course, we went to Strawberry Fields — where there really isn’t much to see
anymore, but is nonetheless a shrine to the Beatles — and Penny Lane. It was all incredibly holy for a Beatle’s fan.
While in Liverpool we also visited their big Catholic cathedral, which the locals call “the Irish Wigwam.” It’s very
contemporary, but very beautiful inside. Built in the ‘60s, they seem to accept it now. Liverpool is also home to the largest
Anglican church in Europe, which was gorgeous. We strolled though Calderstone Park to admire an English garden
bursting with color.
I also went to the Cavern Club, where the Beatles played an astonishing 292 times. The original Cavern is gone, but 50
percent of the “new” cavern is on the same piece of real estate, and is part of the old club. Had a cool one and sucked up
the vibe the best I could. I can die happy now.
## Cosmopolitan London town
The next day it was off to London, taking the train through the lovely English countryside. We were on Virgin Trains,
owned by bazillionare Richard Branson, who the English folks also seem to love, because he is a self-made man. It was an
awesome train ride — spacious, clean and fast!
Then we made the mistake of taking the tube to our hotel. The tube is great for getting from point A to point B, but not
with heavy luggage. By the time we got to our last stop, I was sweaty and irritable. The English have such marvelous
manners though, that a nice gentlemen offered to help me lug my big bag (with four bottles of Italian wine in it) up the
stairs to the street. He took it from me and said “traveling light are we?” I loved the wit.
Arriving at yet another lovely boutique hotel, the Diplomat, with only 26 rooms, we hosed off and got on one of the red
buses to get an overview of the city. London is huge, but not intimidating, but I could see four days was not going to cut it.
Kensington Palace was a priority, because I loved and miss Princess Diana very much. I left a rose for her at the gate, and
we proceeded inside for a look. Much to my delight, there was a special exhibit going on of photos taken of her in a one-
day shoot by renowned photographer Mario Testino. They were breathtaking, revealing a very relaxed and comfortable
Diana, wearing no jewelry and minimal makeup. Several of her gowns that were auctioned for charity were on display as
well, including the black dress she wore at the White House when she danced with John Travolta.
We walked from the palace to Hyde Park and on to the Princess Diana Memorial Fountain — very unique and peaceful.
Hyde Park is huge, so this took some time. We took a short cruise on the River Thames for a different perspective, and
then had a nice dinner at a restaurant called the Ivy where I had delicious, fresh Atlantic salmon.
The next day’s big adventure once again revolved around the Beatles. We took the tube to St. John’s Wood, per Jackie’s
instructions, and within five minutes of emerging to the street, we found ourselves at Abbey Road, at the very intersection
where the cover was shot for the album of the same name. We knew we were there, because we weren’t the only pilgrims.
A very excited Danish couple had downloaded the album cover off the Internet, and showed us clearly by the buildings in
the picture that we had indeed arrived.
There were four Japanese fellows there, too, who I think were as excited, if not more, than me. The four of them walked
back and forth across the street, spaced apart just like the Beatles were, while the Danish couple took their pictures. Soon
I was jumping up and down cheering for them, calling them the fab four while they gave us a thumbs up.
Then it was my turn. I took my shoes and socks off, crossed the street so I could walk back across in the correct direction,
and the moment was captured on film. In case you don’t know the relevance of being barefoot, note that Paul is barefoot
on the cover. This was when the rumors where swirling that “Paul was dead,” and supposedly the bare feet were some kind
of a sign. It was a nostalgic and freeing experience for me.
We also gazed upon Abbey Road studios, which is still active, and walked a few more blocks to see Paul’s home on
Cavendish Avenue. Of course, we found it. It was garbage day, and the garbage collectors knew exactly what we were up to
and pointed us to the right house. I don’t know if Sir Paul was home or not, but Colleen took my picture in front of his gate
anyway. Note: they’d already picked up his garbage, but I wouldn’t have dived anyway!
Spent quality time at the Tower of London, which is just amazing, admiring all of the history and the crown jewels. I tried
not to choke when I saw the scepter with a 530 karat diamond. We strolled around Westminster Abbey, where Diana’s
funeral was held, and went inside Westminster Cathedral.
That night we had dinner at a very swank art-deco restaurant called the Astor before going to the theater to see “Guys and
Dolls” starring Patrick Swayze. Boy, is he light on his feet! It was a very full day.
The last day was dedicated to shopping. All I can say is Harrod’s, to quote Colleen, is a retail-festivus. This monster of a
store, owned by another self-made billionaire, Mohammad Al Fayed, takes up an entire city block and is five stories. This
is not an ordinary department store. The entire lower level is fresh food — fish, meat, vegetables, flowers, candy, wine —
this is in addition to about six restaurants in the store.
They have couture, a cigar shop, jewelry, fine furniture including priceless antiques, appliances, sports wear and
trainers....the list is endless. I’m embarrassed to say I was in there for seven hours, but that included having lunch, and
later, tea. Al Fayed’s son, Dodi, was Diana’s lover and died with her in that tragic Paris car crash, and in the store, there is a
beautiful bronze statue of the two releasing a dove.
One more comment about Great Britain — contrary to popular opinion, the food is not horrible. The scrambled eggs and
thin smoked salmon for breakfast was delicious, as were the scones, fish and chips and veggie quiche to name a few things.
Not one thing I ate could be qualified as nasty.
The journey home was painful between nasty security at Gatwick airport in London, a long flight, and equally nasty
customs and TSA employees once we were back on U.S. soil in Atlanta. I think TSA employees, especially the female
ones, could learn some manners from the English. Must we all be treated like criminals? Colleen and I split up there, as she
flew on to Salt Lake, then Anchorage, and I went to Seattle, then Spokane. It was all worth it.
I can’t really say what the high point was because everything I have described was enlightening and special. What I do
know is this trip gave me new life.
By LINDA BALL
ITALY AND GREAT BRITAIN — This past Wednesday I turned the big 5-0. I admit it. I am sort of in shock, because I
am the baby of my family, and it just doesn’t seem right, especially since time stood still when I turned 28. I don’t feel 50, I
certainly don’t act 50 (in the traditional sense) and I’ve been told I don’t look 50 — you be the judge.
I wasn’t going to let this monumental milepost go by with a whimper, so about a year ago I started scheming a grand trip
with my friend since the seventh-grade, Colleen, who turned 50 this summer. We went to Europe for the first time ever for
each of us, and it was a grand adventure.
Colleen still lives in our hometown of Anchorage, so we met in Seattle. We got to Milan, Italy safe and sound, popping no-
jet lag pills every two hours. It was a long haul and we were looking forward to hopping on Air-Italia for our quick flight to
Florence, but they had overbooked so we had to wait in Malpensa airport for six and a half hours for the next flight. We
lost a half-day going over, but managed to get to our charming small hotel overlooking the Arno River by dinnertime.
Florence is magical. If you are an art lover, it’s an absolute must. The next day after sleeping in, we headed for the Uffizi, a
museum with the largest holding of Renaissance paintings anywhere, and one of the most important picture galleries in the
world. I was completely blown away — standing in front of works by the masters — Michelangelo, DaVinci, Bottecelli,
Titian and even two Rembrandts. I fell in love with Bottecelli’s work, and purchased a small print of the glorious “Birth of
Venus” — the original hangs in the Uffizi.
The real jaw-dropping moment for me, however, was the statue of David, by Michelangelo, which is housed in the Galleria
dell’ Accademia in Florence. David is astounding, and no, it’s not because he’s naked. He is so detailed, you can see the
veins in his hand. We’re talking about a guy made of marble. Michelangelo must have been a very patient man. What is
interesting, is that David is carved from a “scrap” piece of marble that Michelangelo found and asked if he could have it.
The statue is at least 16 feet tall, standing on a marble base of about six feet. I must have stared at him for 15 minutes —
before dropping down on one knee and proposing — but he just gave me a blank stare. Seriously, it’s inspiring.
I think the most profound observation for me is the history that surrounded me everywhere I went. Europe is old. I now
realize The United States is still in its infancy. The other thing that struck me, is religion is very, very big in Europe. Of
course, Catholicism is dominant in Italy, and I’m not Catholic, but it didn’t matter. Every Italian city or village has a
Duomo, or the primary cathedral, and the Duomo in Florence is one of the largest cathedrals in the world. The exterior of
the Duomo, and the bell tower, which is 414 steps to the top — no elevator — is pink, green and white marble. I spent half
the trip looking up with my mouth open in awe, luckily not swallowing any bugs.
Colleen being a good Catholic, talked me into going to mass Sunday morning in Florence. I didn’t mind — I figured it would
be good for my soul, and I could repent for drinking almost an entire bottle of Chianti Classico myself the night before.
We went to the Basilica di Santa Croce, a neo-Gothic cathedral, and much to my amazement, Michelangelo is entombed in
this beautiful place. Although in Italian, we both picked up bits and pieces of the mass. A sweet old Italian woman sat next
to me, and knew it all by heart. I wanted to bring her home with me, like so many of the kind Italian folks.
Florence is famous for their Florentine gold, and I didn’t pass up going to the famous medieval Ponte Vecchio, the only
bridge over the Arno River that survived World War II, allegedly by an order from Hitler not to destroy it. It is Europe’s
oldest segmental arch bridge, once the home to butcher shops. Now, the Ponte Vecchio is wall to wall jewelry stores
spanning the river. Talk about a bling fest — I was dizzy from all the choices, but did end up selecting a simple pair of 18
karat gold (everything is 18 karat) diamond-cut hoop earrings.
## The Tuscan experience
Switching gears from busy Florence, we embarked on a six-day tour of Tuscany with La Dolce Vita Wine Tours, a husband
and wife operation owned by our hosts, Pat Thompson and Claudio Bisio. I can’t say enough about these two. Pat, a
journalist from New York, and Claudio, a native of the Piedmont area of Italy, compliment each other beautifully. They
share their knowledge of Italy and the regional wines unconditionally.
We spent the next five days and six nights in their competent hands visiting the villages of Greve, Siena, Pienza,
Montalcino and Montepulciano, visiting at least two Tuscan wineries each day, and of course, tasting wonderful wines. All
told, we tasted 41 different wines in Toscana.
We were able to witness the wine-making process from vine to bottle over the course of the tour, all the while enjoying
perfect weather and some of the most beautiful scenery in the world. The Castle of Brolio, the birthplace of Chianti was a
high point. The estate has been in the Ricasoli family since the 10th century, but for 22 years was owned by Seagram’s.
The quality of the wine declined, until in 1993, Francesco Ricasoli bought it back and turned things around. Now, they
produce only top-quality Chianti Classicos and other vintages. It was quite the juxtaposition — this ancient castle, then the
high-tech wine making machinery. It’s impressive — and these Italian winemakers are extremely passionate about their
product. Journalism is my second career — if I decide to have a third career, it might just be in the wine business.
The food was to die for, too. Pat and Claudio have combed the region and scouted out some of the best restaurants to take
their clients. We had wild boar — who roam the area freely— which was delicious. Other delicacies included beef cheeks
and guinea fowl. An Italian meal comes in four to six courses, all wonderful, but here’s the deal: Italian restaurants in the
U.S. just plain over-do it. Real Italian food is not heavy, so you are able to pound down most of the courses.
We had big fun one night in the middle of nowhere in Tuscany, with a cooking lesson at a private kitchen called Toscana
Mia. I learned the secret to good, light, Tiramasu. Call me if you want in, but I will say, you must use real marscipone
cheese and lady fingers — not sponge cake. I’ve already recreated one of the recipes we learned, a pasta dish with porcini
mushrooms, and it turned out pretty darn good. We made the pasta from scratch at Toscana Mia, but at home I copped
out and used store-bought fettucine.
## Above us only sky
From Italy, we flew direct on Ryan Air, “The Low Fares Airline,” arriving an hour and a half later in Liverpool England, for
our pilgrimage.
Let me explain. Colleen and I have been die-hard Beatle’s fans since the beginning. It would have been sacrilegious to go to
Europe and not visit the birthplace of the Beatle’s. Let me go on the record by saying that, contrary to what you might
think, Liverpool is not some dirty old port town. We arrived at the John Lennon International Airport to picture-perfect
weather, admiring the green landscape from the air. John is my hero, and I was so excited to see his lyrics neatly stenciled
in huge letters all over the terminal, and the amazing bronze statue of him in the airport that I almost made myself sick
with excitement.
Liverpool is preparing to host the European City of Culture events in 2008 — a huge honor. The old Albert Docks were
saved and restored into wonderful shops. The Beatle’s Story, a museum dedicated to the fab four, is also housed at the
docks, and is a very thorough look at the history of the band. Elsewhere in this very clean city are signs of preparation for
2008, with new shops and hotels going up. You can feel the excitement and pride.
I did my homework for months before this trip, and with the help of some friends who have a travel website, wavejourney.
com, I was able to arrange a private Beatle’s tour with Jackie, a Beatle’s expert, who was born and raised in Liverpool.
Jackie is 45, and her parents, who she said were hippies, had her when they were 17 and 19. So, they experienced early
Beatlemania and Jackie developed a deep appreciation for the fabs as well.
This is the tour to take. The three of us and her driver started steps from our hotel, at the Liverpool Institute of the
Performing Arts, where Paul McCartney and George Harrison went to school. It was about to get the wrecking ball when
McCartney stepped in and pumped about 40 million pounds into it to save it. It reopened in 1996. Paul still visits
Liverpool regularly, and they love him. And — they really, really do not like Heather-Mills McCartney, his soon to be ex-
wife. Really!
Jackie took us to the hospital where John Lennon was born, then to the hospital where Paul was born. We saw all of their
boyhood homes; their old haunts — The Grapes and the Philharmonic pubs where they used to hang out, the Jacaranda
Club where they played under the management of their very first manager, Allan Williams, “the man who gave the Beatles
away.” He didn’t think they would amount to anything, so he dumped them. This was before Brian Epstein “discovered”
them at the Cavern Club. Williams is still in Liverpool, and in fact I saw him in a pub the next night. I looked at him
thinking, my God, he must have been kicking himself for the past 43 years!
Jackie took us to Brian Epstein’s and Stu Stutcliffe’s graves — both very sad. Stu was John’s best friend, who died
tragically of a brain aneurysm at age 22. We visited the church where Paul first saw John play with the Quarrymen, and
later would audition for John. And of course, we went to Strawberry Fields — where there really isn’t much to see
anymore, but is nonetheless a shrine to the Beatles — and Penny Lane. It was all incredibly holy for a Beatle’s fan.
While in Liverpool we also visited their big Catholic cathedral, which the locals call “the Irish Wigwam.” It’s very
contemporary, but very beautiful inside. Built in the ‘60s, they seem to accept it now. Liverpool is also home to the largest
Anglican church in Europe, which was gorgeous. We strolled though Calderstone Park to admire an English garden
bursting with color.
I also went to the Cavern Club, where the Beatles played an astonishing 292 times. The original Cavern is gone, but 50
percent of the “new” cavern is on the same piece of real estate, and is part of the old club. Had a cool one and sucked up
the vibe the best I could. I can die happy now.
## Cosmopolitan London town
The next day it was off to London, taking the train through the lovely English countryside. We were on Virgin Trains,
owned by bazillionare Richard Branson, who the English folks also seem to love, because he is a self-made man. It was an
awesome train ride — spacious, clean and fast!
Then we made the mistake of taking the tube to our hotel. The tube is great for getting from point A to point B, but not
with heavy luggage. By the time we got to our last stop, I was sweaty and irritable. The English have such marvelous
manners though, that a nice gentlemen offered to help me lug my big bag (with four bottles of Italian wine in it) up the
stairs to the street. He took it from me and said “traveling light are we?” I loved the wit.
Arriving at yet another lovely boutique hotel, the Diplomat, with only 26 rooms, we hosed off and got on one of the red
buses to get an overview of the city. London is huge, but not intimidating, but I could see four days was not going to cut it.
Kensington Palace was a priority, because I loved and miss Princess Diana very much. I left a rose for her at the gate, and
we proceeded inside for a look. Much to my delight, there was a special exhibit going on of photos taken of her in a one-
day shoot by renowned photographer Mario Testino. They were breathtaking, revealing a very relaxed and comfortable
Diana, wearing no jewelry and minimal makeup. Several of her gowns that were auctioned for charity were on display as
well, including the black dress she wore at the White House when she danced with John Travolta.
We walked from the palace to Hyde Park and on to the Princess Diana Memorial Fountain — very unique and peaceful.
Hyde Park is huge, so this took some time. We took a short cruise on the River Thames for a different perspective, and
then had a nice dinner at a restaurant called the Ivy where I had delicious, fresh Atlantic salmon.
The next day’s big adventure once again revolved around the Beatles. We took the tube to St. John’s Wood, per Jackie’s
instructions, and within five minutes of emerging to the street, we found ourselves at Abbey Road, at the very intersection
where the cover was shot for the album of the same name. We knew we were there, because we weren’t the only pilgrims.
A very excited Danish couple had downloaded the album cover off the Internet, and showed us clearly by the buildings in
the picture that we had indeed arrived.
There were four Japanese fellows there, too, who I think were as excited, if not more, than me. The four of them walked
back and forth across the street, spaced apart just like the Beatles were, while the Danish couple took their pictures. Soon
I was jumping up and down cheering for them, calling them the fab four while they gave us a thumbs up.
Then it was my turn. I took my shoes and socks off, crossed the street so I could walk back across in the correct direction,
and the moment was captured on film. In case you don’t know the relevance of being barefoot, note that Paul is barefoot
on the cover. This was when the rumors where swirling that “Paul was dead,” and supposedly the bare feet were some kind
of a sign. It was a nostalgic and freeing experience for me.
We also gazed upon Abbey Road studios, which is still active, and walked a few more blocks to see Paul’s home on
Cavendish Avenue. Of course, we found it. It was garbage day, and the garbage collectors knew exactly what we were up to
and pointed us to the right house. I don’t know if Sir Paul was home or not, but Colleen took my picture in front of his gate
anyway. Note: they’d already picked up his garbage, but I wouldn’t have dived anyway!
Spent quality time at the Tower of London, which is just amazing, admiring all of the history and the crown jewels. I tried
not to choke when I saw the scepter with a 530 karat diamond. We strolled around Westminster Abbey, where Diana’s
funeral was held, and went inside Westminster Cathedral.
That night we had dinner at a very swank art-deco restaurant called the Astor before going to the theater to see “Guys and
Dolls” starring Patrick Swayze. Boy, is he light on his feet! It was a very full day.
The last day was dedicated to shopping. All I can say is Harrod’s, to quote Colleen, is a retail-festivus. This monster of a
store, owned by another self-made billionaire, Mohammad Al Fayed, takes up an entire city block and is five stories. This
is not an ordinary department store. The entire lower level is fresh food — fish, meat, vegetables, flowers, candy, wine —
this is in addition to about six restaurants in the store.
They have couture, a cigar shop, jewelry, fine furniture including priceless antiques, appliances, sports wear and
trainers....the list is endless. I’m embarrassed to say I was in there for seven hours, but that included having lunch, and
later, tea. Al Fayed’s son, Dodi, was Diana’s lover and died with her in that tragic Paris car crash, and in the store, there is a
beautiful bronze statue of the two releasing a dove.
One more comment about Great Britain — contrary to popular opinion, the food is not horrible. The scrambled eggs and
thin smoked salmon for breakfast was delicious, as were the scones, fish and chips and veggie quiche to name a few things.
Not one thing I ate could be qualified as nasty.
The journey home was painful between nasty security at Gatwick airport in London, a long flight, and equally nasty
customs and TSA employees once we were back on U.S. soil in Atlanta. I think TSA employees, especially the female
ones, could learn some manners from the English. Must we all be treated like criminals? Colleen and I split up there, as she
flew on to Salt Lake, then Anchorage, and I went to Seattle, then Spokane. It was all worth it.
I can’t really say what the high point was because everything I have described was enlightening and special. What I do
know is this trip gave me new life.
