Journey to the north with the Queen
Celebrating the start of fall and the big boy's birthday falling just after, we decamped from north London for British places even further north. Nainai flew in from Cedar Rapids to adventure with the FD Linges. Months earlier, Christine and I had planned a route, booked a car, homestay lodgings, lunches and early dinners at restaurants, and seats on a scenic train route. We booked with Nainai's discerning consumer preferences in mind. We hoped to make this her best trip ever. We planned to chase down her ancestors in Nottinghamshire and Beatrix Potter in the Lake District; she also had Scotland on her list of places to visit, so grant that wish we did.
Although she lives far away (at least 13 hours by plane, plus train (i.e., Piccadilly Line)), Nainai is an important part of Bobby's development. Bobby often talks to her over video chat, and Mum and I often put our child development questions to her. Usually we just need reassurance that his seemingly illogical behavior is actually a normal part of childhood development. But for all of her experience in early childhood development, she has no experience with dragging a toddler across Europe. Do the students have something to teach the master?
A running theme of this blog's last two years is that tourism with a small child adds constraints that don't exist when adults are travelling without children. This hasn't made travel less fun; it has in fact opened us up to new experiences. The pictures will all show us having a great time, of course, leaving out a few temper tantrums and parents with lost patience.
The four of us together all brought preferences on this trip that intersected in ways mostly positive. In the Linge family lore is one maxim that Nainai once used to rebuke my father (and then several more times after that) during a family vacation: "Travelling with you isn't a vacation; it's an endurance contest!" Nainai likes to travel at a slower pace than some because it is a vacation, you see. She also prefers the larger spaces of homes to cramped hotel rooms, and she likes to have her own kitchen.
In fact, travelling with a toddler demands you go slower and not venture too far from your lodging. Toddlers get grumpy when forced to move at a faster pace than wanted, and they are always happier when they can nap in their own beds, rather than out on the road. It is also best to have lodging where they can fit in a good run and have their own bedroom; sharing one hotel room requires lights out and whispers after the babe goes to sleep around 9pm. As a devotee of slow travel, Nainai is also happy to stay home rather than go out to dinner, and leaving the boy with his nainai, Mum and Baba were able to enjoy a few adults-only dinners, which is extremely rare in London.
Nottingham
After picking up our car at St. Pancras, we tiptoed through London's jammed traffic to the M1 motorway to Nottingham, about two hours away. This was on our itinerary because we knew Nainai's grandfather came from here. Similar to Birmingham, Nottingham is a bit scruffy, with a Victorian city center. You can tell Nottingham was once wealthier than it is now with the nice old Victorian buildings; apparently it was formerly the world's leading lace manufacturer. The drugstore juggernaut Boots is also from Nottingham. With the boy we kicked around the soccer ball in the old town's central market square, and we tried to picture what it used to be like when it was a raw food emporium; my great grandfather, being a farm hand himself, no doubt would have been part of the agricultural economy pushing produce to this square back in the day.
While in Nottingham, it was dawning on us that Nainai's grandfather wouldn't have lived in Nottingham proper. We knew he worked on a farm. Also, most people in those days lived in the countryside rather than in towns. Nainai's online research led her to find her great grandfather's grave in Newark-on-Trent, a town in Nottinghamshire, north of Nottingham. We struggled to find the grave because it is, in fact, unmarked. Newark city workers are about as friendly as you could imagine small town folks to be. They helped us to find the grave itself and info about the plot. We found the poor old man shared the grave site with several others; the city worker seemed hesitant to say, but this was a pauper's grave. Here we were now, generations later, much wealthier, having rode the rising tide lifting all ships during the twentieth century, and now returned to England to work, just as Nainai's grandfather had emigrated to Fayette County for work. On the grave site we found a feather, which Nainai took as a sign that my father was there with us.
Staying on the globalisation theme, after the graveyard success, we had lunch at a southern Indian restaurant in the center of town and bought coffee to go from Starbucks. We found Starbucks by trekking through the narrow alleyways characteristic of these old towns and into the town square. With a red eye coffee to go (black filter-brewed coffee with a shot of espresso), we loaded up the rental car and headed across Great Britain to the Lake District.
Lake District
The Lake District promises some of England's most beautiful scenery. According to Lonely Planet, "Ever since the Romantic poets arrived in the 19th century, its postcard panorama of craggy hilltops, mountain tarns and glittering lakes has been stirring the imaginations of visitors." The Lake District is a national park with several towns, set amidst the forested hills and glacier-carved lakes. The towns, full of shops, restaurants, and tourists, reminded me of Rocky Mountain ski towns, like Breckenridge, except that the mountains are not so high here, nor are the buildings made of wood; they tend, in fact, to be made from the same dark stone, lending a uniformity within the towns as well as between the towns and even allows the towns to blend into the natural landscape.
We put this stop on the itinerary because of Nainai's fondness for showering her grandsons with Peter Rabbit-themed gifts at Easter. Beatrix Potter was a resident in these hills. As her stories became more and more famous and she became wealthier and wealthier, she bought more and more land, preventing developers from building on it and leaving it to the National Trust on her death, and the Lake District National Park was born. Peter Rabbit reminds us of Bobby because Peter too has a propensity for being naughty. In fact, many of the Peter tales are set in the Lake District. We even visited Hill Top, the 17th century farm house where she wrote. Bobby wanted a stuffed Flopsy, Peter's sister, so Nainai obliged, and he proceeded to rename the rabbit "Rattie."
Spending time in England, it is easy to see that preservation of old buildings is common, and local people apparently like feeling some strong connection to their past by leaving these buildings stand. Historic roads can be quite narrow as well. Driving in the Cotswolds was relatively easy compared to the narrow roads of the Lake District. Why are these roads not made wider? Is it because landowners won't sell? Is it because nobody ever has any accidents? Or just because the roads have always been narrow so why would we widen them? Or do English people just love these inadequate roads because they feel "historic"?
Driving through these lovely hills, the roads twist and turn through forests, over narrow stone bridges, and oftentimes with stone fences right up to the pavement. Tractors and busses use these roads as well. When I saw them, I usually just slowed down and said a hail mary. I got used to the driving after a while, and it became a challenge to best like any other. Nainai, surprisingly, was not too scared during the drives. Maybe she was just suitably distracted by Bobby in the back seat. But it's surprising, since she said the scariest ride of her life was from Heathrow to Stonehenge, and from first hand experience I know which one of those trips is categorically scarier.
From aesthetic and historical points of view, it is nice that the old shape of the farmland and the little villages have not been bulldozed for wide highways. We had dinners in some old inns serving classic British menus: various game and fried and baked fish. We also stayed in a 19th century industrialist's mansion, Wansfell Holme, on a hill overlooking Lake Windermere, the biggest lake in the Lake District. Around the house were fields filled with sheep (as are most fields in northern England) that we could hear baa-ing noon and night. We booked knowing that Nainai likes historic homes, and she seemed pleased with this one. We spent some time talking to the owners of the house, as well, who told us about the local dog breeds and were impressed with Nainai's stories of finding her relatives in Nottinghamshire.
The dog point is of some importance because I don't believe I have ever visited a place where the level of dog fanaticism is as high as in the Lake District. Parked cars had dogs in them; all stores and restaurants encouraged dogs to come in, rather than just allowing. Fun fact, the border collie is from this border region of England and Scotland where they historically were used to herd the masses of sheep.
After two nights in the Lake District, we packed up the rented BMW 320d again and headed north, this time to Edinburgh. The scenery heading out of the Lake District was spectacular. Once we'd wound through the narrow roads through the forests and ravines, we eventually emerged into an unforested district of hills and valleys. The roads had widened, barely, and we eventually made it the M6 Motorway and cruised at speed into Scotland. I am sorry we didn't find Hadrian's Wall, but with so many stone fences in these parts, how could you tell which one the Romans built? (Although I just now have learned that Hadrian's Wall is completely within England!)
About the time we crossed the Scottish border into Dumfries and Galloway, storm Ali had began barrelling into the shore from the Atlantic (after having just swept across Ireland). It was very windy outside -- we saw a few trucks had blown over and saw many felled trees -- but we were comfy and stable in the rental car. Nainai spoke her compliments of the engineers at BMW. We stopped for lunch in Moffat at Brodies, a restaurant we had found in the Michelin Red Guide. The small town of Moffat almost could have been a small town in Iowa. Brodies, decorated with some friendly floral patterns, bright colors, and comfy chairs, was a bit of everything: tea shop, coffee shop, restaurant, cocktail bar. It is here we first started noticing those distinctive Scottish accents with their rolling r's.
After lunch, we took a turn to the northeast and rode the infamous A70 road the rest of the way to Edinburgh. The path from the Lake District to Edinburgh is not exactly the UK's highest traffic route. Needing to cross from the west of England to the east of Scotland, we had to use some smaller roads. The A70 has apparently seen a number of crashes over the years, and we even passed through the notorious right angle turns at Harperrig Reservoir. The road is a bit narrow, but the landscape of rolling grassy hills, populated by sheep, was pretty. And after driving in the Lake District, narrow roads are easy.
Edinburgh
In London, people often sing the praises of Edinburgh being so lovely. In fact, it maybe is too lovely since it is one of the towns complaining of 2018's new elitist buzzword: overtourism. We stayed there for four nights.
Edinburgh is also made of stone, but while the stone in the Lake District seems to have a dark hue as part of its natural geology, the gray limestone of Edinburgh has turned dark from the years of pollution. Edinburgh is no longer much of an industrial town with that smoky fog of its manufacturing heyday; it is in fact famous now for its services industries, especially banking (see, the Royal Bank of Scotland), but it was apparently too hard to clean the limestone without damaging it. Anyway, the dark colors lend themselves to that gothic air that makes Edinburgh so handsome. Well, while many call it lovely and handsome, Nainai found it filthy so wasn't as big a fan. And we didn't see any junkies in the mold of Marc Renton being chased through the streets by cops -- presumably if that's still happening it's down by the port.
University of Edinburgh is a fairly large and highly rated school; I'd be happy to come visit Bobby there if he were lucky enough to be accepted. The university and the gothic architecture, plus the relatively compact size, give the city a collegiate feel.
We took our queen to the royal sites of Edinburgh, the home of Scotland's former royal family (before they moved to London and were eventually co-opted by the English) and now the home of the devolved Scottish Parliament. Edinburgh's landscape is dominated by the castle on top of the highest hill in Edinburgh, with the Old Town and New Town (which is actually pretty old now) grasping up the hill at the castle. This castle, however, is less like a palace and more like a fortress, with cannons and stone floors. No, the Queen of England, when in Edinburgh, stays down the hill at the Palace of Holyroodhouse, which we also visited. It also lacks the grandeur of Buckingham Palace, but I guess the Queen is doing alright there. Nevertheless, I think the Scots prefer more austere decor than do the English.
Additionally, we participated in some fine Scottish dining, which meant more baked fish and fresh vegetables, but also deer, lamb, and game. We dined at the Forth Floor, a restaurant on the top floor of Harvey Nichols, overlooking the prestigious St. Andrew's Square, the heart of old elite Edinburgh. Finding the children's clothes at Harvey Nichols laughably expensive, we headed across the square to Jenners, where we found a few new toys for Bobby.
Most importantly, we found him his own Mini-Cooper. The boy has fond memories of riding in Winnie Cooper, his gugu's Mini-Cooper, and just loves watching the roads and exclaiming "Gugu!" when he sees one. You wouldn't notice how many Mini-Coopers are on the streets of the UK until you pass some time here with Bobby.
On Sunday we loaded up our gear and caught a first class train from Edinburgh Waverley to London's King's Cross. At Waverley Station, an attendant at Pret-a-Manger liked Bobby's cute look, perched in the Ergo Baby carrier, and gave him a free gingerbread man, named Godfrey, to eat. Once aboard our train we learned about first class on British trains -- namely, it is not as nice as flying first class on an airline; it is actually more akin to economy plus but no booze on weekends. The train ride from Edinburgh to Newcastle is a route famed for its scenery. You ride along hillsides overlooking the North Sea. You cross some bridges over estuaries cutting into the land. You see some old villages along the sea and some manor houses set in the green fields, sheep grazing everywhere.
Another characteristic of the British railway system we got to experience was delays. These delays were supposedly caused by damage to infrastructure from Storm Ali. We finally made it back to London, with Bobby having mostly been a generally well-behaved salmon child on the train ride. It helped that we had the extra hands of Nainai to wrangle him -- and most importantly, Mum's and Baba's relaxation on their no screen-time rule.
Assessing the trip
The Lake District and Edinburgh are both nice places to visit. Nottingham is a bit like Cedar Rapids -- it's not a bad town, but you need a special reason to justify making a trip there. In fact, I feel there is even more for us to explore in Scotland -- Glasgow, the Highlands, the Scotch whisky tour. I'd go back to Edinburgh, and maybe I will when Bobby is in college.
As for Nainai's first European vacation with a toddler, it wasn't particularly hard on any of us. It was helpful having a governess on the trip; Bobby and Nainai enjoy spending time together. Nevertheless, dealing with a toddler, there are bound to be ups and downs. While the veteran traveller in me wishes we had done more in Edinburgh -- whisky tasting, National Gallery, used bookstores -- the parent reminds me that this is a holiday for all of us and not an endurance contest.
Although she lives far away (at least 13 hours by plane, plus train (i.e., Piccadilly Line)), Nainai is an important part of Bobby's development. Bobby often talks to her over video chat, and Mum and I often put our child development questions to her. Usually we just need reassurance that his seemingly illogical behavior is actually a normal part of childhood development. But for all of her experience in early childhood development, she has no experience with dragging a toddler across Europe. Do the students have something to teach the master?
A running theme of this blog's last two years is that tourism with a small child adds constraints that don't exist when adults are travelling without children. This hasn't made travel less fun; it has in fact opened us up to new experiences. The pictures will all show us having a great time, of course, leaving out a few temper tantrums and parents with lost patience.
In fact, travelling with a toddler demands you go slower and not venture too far from your lodging. Toddlers get grumpy when forced to move at a faster pace than wanted, and they are always happier when they can nap in their own beds, rather than out on the road. It is also best to have lodging where they can fit in a good run and have their own bedroom; sharing one hotel room requires lights out and whispers after the babe goes to sleep around 9pm. As a devotee of slow travel, Nainai is also happy to stay home rather than go out to dinner, and leaving the boy with his nainai, Mum and Baba were able to enjoy a few adults-only dinners, which is extremely rare in London.
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| On the roof of the Scottish National Museum in Edinburgh. |
Nottingham
After picking up our car at St. Pancras, we tiptoed through London's jammed traffic to the M1 motorway to Nottingham, about two hours away. This was on our itinerary because we knew Nainai's grandfather came from here. Similar to Birmingham, Nottingham is a bit scruffy, with a Victorian city center. You can tell Nottingham was once wealthier than it is now with the nice old Victorian buildings; apparently it was formerly the world's leading lace manufacturer. The drugstore juggernaut Boots is also from Nottingham. With the boy we kicked around the soccer ball in the old town's central market square, and we tried to picture what it used to be like when it was a raw food emporium; my great grandfather, being a farm hand himself, no doubt would have been part of the agricultural economy pushing produce to this square back in the day.
While in Nottingham, it was dawning on us that Nainai's grandfather wouldn't have lived in Nottingham proper. We knew he worked on a farm. Also, most people in those days lived in the countryside rather than in towns. Nainai's online research led her to find her great grandfather's grave in Newark-on-Trent, a town in Nottinghamshire, north of Nottingham. We struggled to find the grave because it is, in fact, unmarked. Newark city workers are about as friendly as you could imagine small town folks to be. They helped us to find the grave itself and info about the plot. We found the poor old man shared the grave site with several others; the city worker seemed hesitant to say, but this was a pauper's grave. Here we were now, generations later, much wealthier, having rode the rising tide lifting all ships during the twentieth century, and now returned to England to work, just as Nainai's grandfather had emigrated to Fayette County for work. On the grave site we found a feather, which Nainai took as a sign that my father was there with us.
Staying on the globalisation theme, after the graveyard success, we had lunch at a southern Indian restaurant in the center of town and bought coffee to go from Starbucks. We found Starbucks by trekking through the narrow alleyways characteristic of these old towns and into the town square. With a red eye coffee to go (black filter-brewed coffee with a shot of espresso), we loaded up the rental car and headed across Great Britain to the Lake District.
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| Standing next to her great grandfather's grave in the cemetery in Newark-on-Trent. A local city worker, Philip, helped us to find the grave and provided us with more information about who was buried there. Without his help we may not have found it: we had been looking for a headstone, but this grave was unmarked. English people on the whole seemed quite charmed with the idea of Americans coming back to find their ancestors. |
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| Nottingham came alive after dark. Normally, Christine and I could never go out after dark because of childcare duties, but with Nainai at home with the boy, we ventured out for a dinner date and a pint at the supposed oldest pub in England, Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem, which is housed in some caves at the base of the inexplicable Nottingham Castle Rock. |
Lake District
The Lake District promises some of England's most beautiful scenery. According to Lonely Planet, "Ever since the Romantic poets arrived in the 19th century, its postcard panorama of craggy hilltops, mountain tarns and glittering lakes has been stirring the imaginations of visitors." The Lake District is a national park with several towns, set amidst the forested hills and glacier-carved lakes. The towns, full of shops, restaurants, and tourists, reminded me of Rocky Mountain ski towns, like Breckenridge, except that the mountains are not so high here, nor are the buildings made of wood; they tend, in fact, to be made from the same dark stone, lending a uniformity within the towns as well as between the towns and even allows the towns to blend into the natural landscape.
We put this stop on the itinerary because of Nainai's fondness for showering her grandsons with Peter Rabbit-themed gifts at Easter. Beatrix Potter was a resident in these hills. As her stories became more and more famous and she became wealthier and wealthier, she bought more and more land, preventing developers from building on it and leaving it to the National Trust on her death, and the Lake District National Park was born. Peter Rabbit reminds us of Bobby because Peter too has a propensity for being naughty. In fact, many of the Peter tales are set in the Lake District. We even visited Hill Top, the 17th century farm house where she wrote. Bobby wanted a stuffed Flopsy, Peter's sister, so Nainai obliged, and he proceeded to rename the rabbit "Rattie."
Spending time in England, it is easy to see that preservation of old buildings is common, and local people apparently like feeling some strong connection to their past by leaving these buildings stand. Historic roads can be quite narrow as well. Driving in the Cotswolds was relatively easy compared to the narrow roads of the Lake District. Why are these roads not made wider? Is it because landowners won't sell? Is it because nobody ever has any accidents? Or just because the roads have always been narrow so why would we widen them? Or do English people just love these inadequate roads because they feel "historic"?
Driving through these lovely hills, the roads twist and turn through forests, over narrow stone bridges, and oftentimes with stone fences right up to the pavement. Tractors and busses use these roads as well. When I saw them, I usually just slowed down and said a hail mary. I got used to the driving after a while, and it became a challenge to best like any other. Nainai, surprisingly, was not too scared during the drives. Maybe she was just suitably distracted by Bobby in the back seat. But it's surprising, since she said the scariest ride of her life was from Heathrow to Stonehenge, and from first hand experience I know which one of those trips is categorically scarier.
From aesthetic and historical points of view, it is nice that the old shape of the farmland and the little villages have not been bulldozed for wide highways. We had dinners in some old inns serving classic British menus: various game and fried and baked fish. We also stayed in a 19th century industrialist's mansion, Wansfell Holme, on a hill overlooking Lake Windermere, the biggest lake in the Lake District. Around the house were fields filled with sheep (as are most fields in northern England) that we could hear baa-ing noon and night. We booked knowing that Nainai likes historic homes, and she seemed pleased with this one. We spent some time talking to the owners of the house, as well, who told us about the local dog breeds and were impressed with Nainai's stories of finding her relatives in Nottinghamshire.
The dog point is of some importance because I don't believe I have ever visited a place where the level of dog fanaticism is as high as in the Lake District. Parked cars had dogs in them; all stores and restaurants encouraged dogs to come in, rather than just allowing. Fun fact, the border collie is from this border region of England and Scotland where they historically were used to herd the masses of sheep.
After two nights in the Lake District, we packed up the rented BMW 320d again and headed north, this time to Edinburgh. The scenery heading out of the Lake District was spectacular. Once we'd wound through the narrow roads through the forests and ravines, we eventually emerged into an unforested district of hills and valleys. The roads had widened, barely, and we eventually made it the M6 Motorway and cruised at speed into Scotland. I am sorry we didn't find Hadrian's Wall, but with so many stone fences in these parts, how could you tell which one the Romans built? (Although I just now have learned that Hadrian's Wall is completely within England!)
About the time we crossed the Scottish border into Dumfries and Galloway, storm Ali had began barrelling into the shore from the Atlantic (after having just swept across Ireland). It was very windy outside -- we saw a few trucks had blown over and saw many felled trees -- but we were comfy and stable in the rental car. Nainai spoke her compliments of the engineers at BMW. We stopped for lunch in Moffat at Brodies, a restaurant we had found in the Michelin Red Guide. The small town of Moffat almost could have been a small town in Iowa. Brodies, decorated with some friendly floral patterns, bright colors, and comfy chairs, was a bit of everything: tea shop, coffee shop, restaurant, cocktail bar. It is here we first started noticing those distinctive Scottish accents with their rolling r's.
After lunch, we took a turn to the northeast and rode the infamous A70 road the rest of the way to Edinburgh. The path from the Lake District to Edinburgh is not exactly the UK's highest traffic route. Needing to cross from the west of England to the east of Scotland, we had to use some smaller roads. The A70 has apparently seen a number of crashes over the years, and we even passed through the notorious right angle turns at Harperrig Reservoir. The road is a bit narrow, but the landscape of rolling grassy hills, populated by sheep, was pretty. And after driving in the Lake District, narrow roads are easy.
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| Wansfell Holme, where we stayed two nights, though just in one wing of the house. Lake Windermere is in the distance at the right. The damp weather was characteristic of our entire time in the Lake District. Had the day been clear, you could see the lake much better. |
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| A better view of Lake Windermere from our house. |
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| A creek cutting through the little town of Ambleside, which is near to where we stayed. |
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| Unfortunately I didn't take more pictures of the narrow roadways. This one gives you an idea of the physical geography, however: an inn placed right on the road's shoulder with the opposite side clad in stone. We ate dinner here, at the Queens Head Inn, by the way. It was certainly charming inside, with exposed wooden beams, comfy chairs, beers on tap, and hearty food menu: burgers and fish and chips. This is the classic example of the English country pub. Nainai strongly disliked the food here. |
Edinburgh
In London, people often sing the praises of Edinburgh being so lovely. In fact, it maybe is too lovely since it is one of the towns complaining of 2018's new elitist buzzword: overtourism. We stayed there for four nights.
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| A view of Edinburgh's New Town from the top of the Scottish National Museum. Christine and I visited the museum with Bobby. Bob took a nap in the Ergo Baby while Mum and Baba scoured the historical part of the museum. Bobby enjoyed the parts with the animal mannequins that some Scottish imperialists brought back in the old days. |
Edinburgh is also made of stone, but while the stone in the Lake District seems to have a dark hue as part of its natural geology, the gray limestone of Edinburgh has turned dark from the years of pollution. Edinburgh is no longer much of an industrial town with that smoky fog of its manufacturing heyday; it is in fact famous now for its services industries, especially banking (see, the Royal Bank of Scotland), but it was apparently too hard to clean the limestone without damaging it. Anyway, the dark colors lend themselves to that gothic air that makes Edinburgh so handsome. Well, while many call it lovely and handsome, Nainai found it filthy so wasn't as big a fan. And we didn't see any junkies in the mold of Marc Renton being chased through the streets by cops -- presumably if that's still happening it's down by the port.
We took our queen to the royal sites of Edinburgh, the home of Scotland's former royal family (before they moved to London and were eventually co-opted by the English) and now the home of the devolved Scottish Parliament. Edinburgh's landscape is dominated by the castle on top of the highest hill in Edinburgh, with the Old Town and New Town (which is actually pretty old now) grasping up the hill at the castle. This castle, however, is less like a palace and more like a fortress, with cannons and stone floors. No, the Queen of England, when in Edinburgh, stays down the hill at the Palace of Holyroodhouse, which we also visited. It also lacks the grandeur of Buckingham Palace, but I guess the Queen is doing alright there. Nevertheless, I think the Scots prefer more austere decor than do the English.
Additionally, we participated in some fine Scottish dining, which meant more baked fish and fresh vegetables, but also deer, lamb, and game. We dined at the Forth Floor, a restaurant on the top floor of Harvey Nichols, overlooking the prestigious St. Andrew's Square, the heart of old elite Edinburgh. Finding the children's clothes at Harvey Nichols laughably expensive, we headed across the square to Jenners, where we found a few new toys for Bobby.
Most importantly, we found him his own Mini-Cooper. The boy has fond memories of riding in Winnie Cooper, his gugu's Mini-Cooper, and just loves watching the roads and exclaiming "Gugu!" when he sees one. You wouldn't notice how many Mini-Coopers are on the streets of the UK until you pass some time here with Bobby.
On Sunday we loaded up our gear and caught a first class train from Edinburgh Waverley to London's King's Cross. At Waverley Station, an attendant at Pret-a-Manger liked Bobby's cute look, perched in the Ergo Baby carrier, and gave him a free gingerbread man, named Godfrey, to eat. Once aboard our train we learned about first class on British trains -- namely, it is not as nice as flying first class on an airline; it is actually more akin to economy plus but no booze on weekends. The train ride from Edinburgh to Newcastle is a route famed for its scenery. You ride along hillsides overlooking the North Sea. You cross some bridges over estuaries cutting into the land. You see some old villages along the sea and some manor houses set in the green fields, sheep grazing everywhere.
Another characteristic of the British railway system we got to experience was delays. These delays were supposedly caused by damage to infrastructure from Storm Ali. We finally made it back to London, with Bobby having mostly been a generally well-behaved salmon child on the train ride. It helped that we had the extra hands of Nainai to wrangle him -- and most importantly, Mum's and Baba's relaxation on their no screen-time rule.
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| We stayed near to the train tracks that run up the central ravine that bisects Edinburgh. For Bobby, our little train junkie, it is of course absolutely critical that he is able to view trains regularly. |
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| A Scottish table, more fish, but it was very, very good, at Forrage and Chatter in Edinburgh. Bobby had cheesy pasta and loved it. Thank god: these days you never know whether he'll refuse to eat. |
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| Bobby thoroughly enjoyed shopping for toys at Jenners and even made a few friends. |
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| Bobby took his new Mini Cooper from Jenners into St. Andrews Square for a test drive. Somewhere along the way he picked up a stick as well, though I'm not sure why. |
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| Heading back to London on the train, unwinding with a mug of milk and his new friends, the Mini Cooper and Rattie, |
Assessing the trip
The Lake District and Edinburgh are both nice places to visit. Nottingham is a bit like Cedar Rapids -- it's not a bad town, but you need a special reason to justify making a trip there. In fact, I feel there is even more for us to explore in Scotland -- Glasgow, the Highlands, the Scotch whisky tour. I'd go back to Edinburgh, and maybe I will when Bobby is in college.
As for Nainai's first European vacation with a toddler, it wasn't particularly hard on any of us. It was helpful having a governess on the trip; Bobby and Nainai enjoy spending time together. Nevertheless, dealing with a toddler, there are bound to be ups and downs. While the veteran traveller in me wishes we had done more in Edinburgh -- whisky tasting, National Gallery, used bookstores -- the parent reminds me that this is a holiday for all of us and not an endurance contest.
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