Part One: Arrival in England and Bath
Me, at the main pool of the Roman Baths
First, Angel and I took a ferry from the Hook of Holland to Harwich, England. Then we took a train from Harwich to London. Then we went from London to Bath. Travel time was about 6 hrs not including emarking/disembarking and other delays. So when we finally arrived at Bath Spa Station, we were very tired.
The first thing I did when I got to Bath was to call the Abbot House, the bed and breakfast that we were to be staying. When I had e-mailed Sandra, one of the owners, she offered to pick us up at the train station. So I was a bit surprised when I called and instead of hearing Sandra, a raspy man's voice answered instead. He explained he was Sandra's hubby, co-owner of the place, and he said that he would pick us up at the station. "Look for either a blue car, or a green car, and I'm wearing a green sweater. And, I'm bald." That last statement he found to be very funny as he gave a long wheeeeeezy laugh before I was able to cut in and say, "Great! We'll be waiting for ya!"
After I hung up, I decided to call Real World Studios. Let me back up a bit here...about six months ago, when I had the dates of my European vacation pinned down, I decided I wanted to have a Golden Real World Moment, something that I could share here on the Hill. Since I figured asking for a studio tour was out of the question, I thought I could do the next best thing: use my status as a Solsburian to get an interview with someone who worked at Real World Studios. I was always facinated by the "behind the scenes" stuff, it would make for a nice feature on the Hill, and perhaps I could needle the subject for some juicy Real Worldian gossip.
So I wrote in a plea to the one person I've corresponded with before: The chief webdude of Radio Real World (whose name I won't reveal as it's not plastered all over RRW, so I'll assume he might not want it plastered here). I offered to meet some willing Real Worlder at a nearby pub for a casual interview for my website(1). I promised to behave and not talk exclusively about Peter Gabriel or ask for autographs, etc. I was pretty flexible about who, what, when and where, so I figured they couldn't say no. After about a month of no response, I finally heard back from Real World. They said that they were reluctant to be interviewed. Okay, I thought. They're shy people. Or maybe, after getting a taste of how my mind works through the Hill site, they were afraid of me.
Anyway, to make a long story shorter, we looked into doing a short studio tour instead. Considering it was what I wanted in the first place, I rather liked that idea. Over the next few months, Real World and I had a few exchanges. Note that this is a very loose paraphrase:
RW: If we do a tour, it will have to be done on the weekend, as clients use the studios during the week.
Me: We can arrange to be there on the weekend. No problem!
[several weeks later]
RW: Well, there may be a problem after all. We're having trouble finding someone to conduct the tour for you.
Me: Why is that?
RW: Because nobody is around the studios on the weekends.
Me: *Sigh.*
RW: We'll keep trying to find someone to give a tour.
[months pass]
Me: Any luck yet?
RW: No, not yet. We'll keep you posted.
[weeks pass]
Me: Any luck yet?
RW: Sorry, no. We'll know for sure when it's closer to your arrival date in Bath.
Me: That's next week!
So when I went to Europe, I knew this "Golden Real World Moment" thing wasn't looking very good. But I felt I had to give one last try. I called Real World Studios from the Bath Spa train station. There, my contact sadly informed me that everyone who could've given a tour was going out of town that weekend. My contact did point out there were footpaths around the studios and we were welcome to use those to see the exterior of the studios, however, I already knew about those as that was my Plan B in case the tour wasn't going to happen.
I figured since I had some sympathy, I'd hit him up for some gossip, specifically about the status of the arrival date of Gabriel's Golden Child. The response? "No comment." *Sigh*.
I was disappointed, but they did all he could do for me, and it was nice of Real World to even consider a tour in the first place, considering the fact that I'm a civillian, and that I've taken a few jabs at PG and Real World on this site every now and then.
After wallowing in self-pity for a full three seconds, I remembered that I was in England, a place I had always dreamed of visiting even without the PG connection, and Bath did seem like a beautiful city. I was looking forward to getting a better look at it.
Outside the train station, our host managed to spot us before could spot him. We must've looked like lost American tourists, only Angel isn't American (although everyone thinks she's Canadian, but that's a different story). He came over and greeted us, and led us to his car, so I can see firsthand what the whole "driving on the wrong side of the road/steering wheel on the wrong side" was all about. All I can say is driving in England is insane. Ironically, our host (whose name is Robert, btw) upon learning Angel was Dutch, said he had been in Amsterdam recently, and thought the driving there was crazy. I wanted to say, "Hey, I just spent a day in Amsterdam, and I saw nothing there that could compare to the first five minutes on the roads here."
We got to the B&B and we were warmly greeted by the lady of the house, Sandra. She was the one I had corresponded with via e-mail after chatting with her and seeing our rooms, I was rather pleased (BTW, we stayed at Abbot House. Go here if you're interested in staying there. We highly recommend.)
While Sandra was showing us our room, she said that if we wanted directons, advice, or anything of that nature, to just ask. So I decided to ask, "Do you know where 'Solsbury Hill' is?" She looked puzzled for a moment, and said, "There's a song called 'Solsbury Hill', right? And that's your website and your e-mail address!" I pointed at my Peter Gabriel t-shirt. "Yeah!" I said, "This guy wrote the song!"
"You want to know where 'Solsbury Hill' is? Are you saying it's around here?"
Angel and I answered in the firm affirmative.
"I thought it was in America!"
*Sigh.*
"I'll see if I can look it up for you!"
"Excellent!" I said.
We decided to rest a while before grabbing a bite to eat. We asked Sandra as to where's a good place to eat within walking distance, preferably some place that served fish n' chips as we figured it was safe and somewhat traditional English fare. She instructed us to go to a pub called The Boathouse, and we headed off in that general direction, hoping to not get lost.
After walking a bit, we got lost. Well, not really. We managed to find the carpark to the place, but we couldn't find the actual building at first. However, we did find a footpath that went across a long field and then up a hill. We were about to investigate it when we saw the actual pub in the opposite direction.
We had some food, and it was...edible! Afterwards, Angel decided she wanted to check out the footpath, and so did I as I wanted to see the land and I love long walks. So we walked and I gaped at the landscape which was a lot different than the country I had just left, The Netherlands, and my home state of Florida. As we made our way up the hill, I paused several times to enjoy the view of all the rolling hills in the approaching dusk. And to catch my breath. Actually, I was getting quite winded, and had to stop every few paces to adjust my legs and lungs to the climb. Let me back up here...as someone who was born in northern Indiana and moved to Florida twenty years ago, I've lived my entire life in Flatland. I'm not used to seeing hills, let alone walking up them. They're a beautiful touch to the landscape, but I'm glad I don't have to climb them on a daily basis.
While I was puttering along, Angel was quickly climbing the hill without a pause, which I attribute to the fact that she has much longer legs than I and therefore had to work a lot less to cover the same distance. We got to the top, and I asked Angel how high up we were. "I don't know...fifty meters?" Not really knowing, or caring what "fifty meters" meant, as I can't judge distances worth a darn, I decided it was worth the trouble to climb the hill for the experience. Plus I figured it was good practice for when we climbed Solsbury Hill. (Oh, little did I know...)
After we walked back down (which wasn't as exciting as walking up, but much, much easier) we headed back to the B&B. There, we watched the Simpsons and eventually went to bed, thinking happy, Gabriellian thoughts.
Prior to the trip, Mac decided to buy a pair of Doc Martens. After wandering all over Bath, it proved to be a wise investment.
(1) Okay, I was secretly hoping that the Real Worlder I'd get to interview would be Tina. I had this vision of waiting at the pub for my interview subject when I'd look out the window and see six saintly shrouded men move across the lawn slowly with a seventh shrouded figure walking behind with a box full of notes, Real World goodies, and supply of chocolate biscuits. This would be Tina. Then Tina and her guardians would meet me at a corner table, where they would set up and light a bunch of candles that they brought along.
To protect her secret identity, she would have the hood of her cloak over her eyes and most of her face, and to disguise her voice, she'd use one of those special-effect microphones to make her sound like Deep Throat. Then, the hours would be spent in awe as she would rattle off Gabriellian prophicies spoken in cryptic quatrains. Sure, the coffee bill for myself, Tina, and her entrouage would've been insane, but it would've been so worth it! (back)