Sore Roots Trip Log--Day 1

[Robert & Laura]

Sore Roots Trip Log--Day 1

April 8, 2012

Kingham near Oxford in England, United Kingdom, possibly part of Europe

Well, actually this one day for us spans both April 7 and April 8. And in a mere 20 hours, we travel from our living room to the quaint, and probably historic, grounds of Kingham Hill School, where the Sore Fingers music camp is held. 

1:00 pm (Left Coast Time)

Laura's sister Jan kindly agreed to drive us to the airport, which means that we don't have to show up extra early to park the car (and pay extra money). We considered taking the bus/light rail, but that involved a lot of lugging luggage where it doesn't lug well and would also have meant leaving extra early. 

As it is, we're told to show up three hours early for an international flight, so that we can spend extra time sitting around waiting. 

2:00 pm (Cupertino time)

New wrinkle in airport security procedures: take EVERYTHING out of your pockets. Not just your Swiss Army knife, and your nail clippers and your keys, but also that gum wrapper you were planning to fold into an origami knife and seize control of the airplane with (darn! they're on to us!). 

We also get to go through the "look at you naked" back-scatter X-ray machine, so Robert grins at them and does a little bump and grind ("Hey, as long as I'm appearing naked, I might as well give 'em a show!"). They are unamused, but they also know that Robert's not in any particular hurry and he's happy to waste their time. And it's Saturday afternoon and it's sunny and nobody wants to open that can of surrealism. 

3:00 pm (Pacific Northwest Time)

We decide to take advantage of the Duty-Free shop and do some Duty-Free shopping. Since we're leaving the US of A for two weeks, we can buy stuff here that hasn't had import fees paid on it, which makes it cheaper. 

But there's a problem! We're landing in Iceland and changing planes and THAT means we'll have to go through security again! 

The salesclerk solemnly explains to us that we have to be very very careful not to use the bottle of cologne that we bought until we actually reach England. Apparently, if it's Duty Free and unopened (or appears unopened) then security doesn't mind. And it's not like terrorists could ever develop shrink-wrap technology, so they won't be able to spoof the system. 

Robert assures the sales clerk that we will do our darndest not to open our expensive cologne and use it before the plan lands in England, however much that might distress our fellow passengers. The sales clerk agrees that's the best course and lets us buy the cologne. Handshakes all around! 

Jet Lag

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You would think that by now, we would have developed a better treatment plan for jet lag than "Deal with it," and we do have a better plan than we did in the sixties when we started flying. But not much better. 

Robert did some Internet research on jet lag before leaving, figuring that crossing eight time zones is a pretty sure-fire jet lag inducer. Here's the advice he found:

 - Stay awake during the day!

 - Get some sunshine!

 - Sleep at night!

 - Deal with it!

One place did suggest getting up a couple of hours earlier in the days before you leave, so Robert's been doing that, He slogs out of bed at 4:00 am and mumbles, "Wow! Slept till noon London time!

He figures maybe it'll shave a day or two off the adjustment period. The rule of thumb is you need one day to recover for each time zone you cross. So with Robert's plan, he's spreading the stupid around--being a little bit stupid the week before the trip to be only a little bit stupid the first week of the trip. 

3:30 pm (Tijuana Time)

While we're waiting for our plane, sitting around the airport, we play "Words With Friends" with each other (even though we're married, and we really should be playing "Words With Spouses"). That's the same game that Alec Baldwin was playing when he got tossed off a plane and he's the same age as Robert and we would LOVE to be as cool as Alec. 

The only down side is that it takes ten minutes to transmit each word from Laura's iPhone to Robert's iPod Touch, because we're using modern technology. If we'd brought a Scrabble board, we could have played three or four complete games by the time we'd exchanged five moves. 

4:20 pm (SeaTac time)

We're finally on our airplane, which is being flown and staffed by Icelandair, an airline from Iceland, a country which is well known for its aviation prowess. Plus, announcements are made in Icelandic and English and we learn that "Björgunaruesti under saetum" means "Life vest under your seat." 

Which by our calculations means "Björguna" is the Icelandic work for "life," which explains why most of the Icelandic people are kind of dour, as though their björguna was baloney.

Sun, Apr 8, 2012 (Easter!)

7:30 am (London time)

We tried to sleep on the plane, which is extra challenging when we both have aisle seats and people are forever going up and down to the bathroom. (On the plus side, it's easy for us to go up and down to the bathroom.) We catch a couple of naps, but no deep sleep. 

8:00 am 

We go through the previously alluded to Icelandic security check. And both are these guys strict! No watches! So forget that plan where you take apart your watch and use the cog wheel to seize control of the airplane's navigational system. 

Also, Laura's underwired bra sets off the metal detector, so they wand her, to make sure that it's not an AK-47 equipped underwired bra. What's especially puzzling is that we took two autoharps through both security checks and nobody cared. If you're not familiar with an autoharp, it's like a guitar, only it has 37 strings, each one of which would make a dandy garrote. But, sssh, don't tell the TSA until we get back home, okay?

Iceland is also very efficient. When we got off the plane, we went through passport control where they neatly stamped our passports with entry visas. Then, after we completed the security check, there was another passport control station where they very neatly stamped our passports with exit stamps. (No kidding, these guys' stamps were inside the lines and everything. When the Canadians stamped our passports, they were all willy-nilly wherever, but the Icelanders used the first blank page and carefully lined the stamps up under the headings.)

12:40 pm

We're finally in London! Yay! Now we have to find our way to Kingham. 

And our first stop is at "Airport Information" where the lady there carefully enunciates it as "King. Ham." and wants to know where it is. We tell her "England," but apparently, that didn't narrow it down enough. It turns out that the correct answer is "Oxford," and once she knows that, she's able to direct us to take the Tube (what we call a subway, only it's English and the trains are roundish and it really does look like a series of tubes). 

So at Paddington station we hook up with a train to get to Kingham--just like the bears! England is so quaint!

12:55 pm

Did we say "quaint"? Well, that was before we rode the Picadilly line. At each and every one of the thirteen stops, there was an announcement, "This is a Picadilly line service to Cockfosters." And at each and every one of the thirteen stops, Robert sniggered. 

2:15 pm

Okay, we're finally at the Paddington Bears railway station. We buy our tickets for Kingham and are ready to go. With one small problem: we're supposed to call the school from the railway station so they can come pick us up. 

But we have no phone! We disabled our phone's calling features because we didn't want to pay $18 a minute to make phone calls in a foreign country where even the electrons are different (they're voltier). 

So Robert heads out on a quaint London street to get a cheap pay-as-you-go phone, which the Internet assured us could be had for a couple of quid or pounds or whatever they're called. Cheap, anyway. 

Except that the Internet didn't take Easter Sunday into account, when an amazing number of stores are closed (and an equally amazing, unhelpful number of stores are still open). Robert finally finds a small store run by a Pakistani guy who has a phone for 25 pounds (cash only) that he claims will work using England's telephone system. 

4:20 pm

Okay, maybe it's because we've been up for some 30 hours with no sleep. Or maybe it's because we're in this weird, almost-normal country. Or maybe it's because NOBODY TOLD US you have to open the train door yourself at the station. 

The train pulls into Kingham, and we keep waiting for the doors to open, like they did on the tube. What's good for the tube is bad for trains, apparently, because on trains you are the door-opening mechanism. 

We figured this out right as the train pulled OUT of the Kingham station (which everybody around here pronounces "Kingum" so we're not sure what the deal was with the airport information lady). 

So we ride to the next station, which is "Morton-in-Marsh" (it's a well-known fact that British people make up ridiculous names for their towns just to put them into railroad time schedules and confuse tourists). 

And, while ridiculously quaint, Morton-in-Marsh is so far out in the country, the sheep have lambs (and cute ones!). Not only is nothing open (Happy Easter Sunday!) but there's not even anything to BE open. It's houses made from stones and probably 18 centuries old, and a train station where even the bathrooms are locked. And nothing else. 

But we finally get a train going the other way back to Kingham station. 

Where, of course, there's a freaking phone booth (really! England is littered with the damn things). 

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Yes, this didn't go out on Sunday night. That's because there's NO internet on this campus and the closest place is in town, which is over a mile away, and it's nine o'clock at night, and it's pitch black, and the road is more goat path, and we've been up for 36 hours with no sleep, and Laura finally convinces Robert that he shouldn't wander the English countryside in the cold and the dark just so he doesn't have to listen to people whine. 

So no whining. We have it figured out now, though, so they should be pretty regular from here on on. 

  Robert & Laura

  Sore Roots Tour