Well- I made it in one piece to York, and I am all set up in my nice accommodations. Now this is not to say that this was all easy because it wasn't- in fact it was one nightmare of a day. On my flight here I flew on United Business Class, and I was treated like a real king (Thank you Uncle Al and Aunt Juanita!). Unfortunately, I was very sick though with a cold, and the congestion just killed me- especially the later two hours of the ten plus hour flight. Funny enough, my last sight of the US was Berkeley as the plane banked leaving SFO. After I saw the crowning white tower jutting up and out of the hill, I knew what it was and I turned my head from the window for the remainder of my US flight time with an easy smile. The plane actually flew over the eastern part of Canada, southern tip of Greenland, just missed Iceland to the south, and came down through Scotland to land in London (they had it on TV so you could follow the progress). From the plane I was able to see how green the countryside of England is, and I also was able to point out many of the familiar monuments as we flew into London following the river Thames. By the time we actually landed though, I was beat with a serious sinuous headache from the horrible congestion that I suffered. After I got off the plane, I went through customs without a hitch, retrieved my bags, and got on a high-speed train. The train was expensive, but it was fast. I got dropped off still far from my destination in London- the train station to go North (King's Cross)- so I took the 'tube' (subway) the rest of the way. Now is where the real fun begins. So I am sick- it is 8am in London but my body clock is saying it is midnight and time to go to bed- keep in mind I am still SUPER fatigued from being sick the whole flight and should have really gone to bed two hours ago. So I am waiting at the 'tube' station, and the train finally pulls up. I try to get on, but the train is PACKED FULL of morning commuters. Bottom line, I try to go to another car and the doors close and I miss the train. I try to get on the next one, making my way toward the front this time- thinking it might have more room- wrong again! I missed the second train. The funny thing is- I had two big luggage bags, and two bags around my neck- as people see me trying to board the train they don't make room or try to help- they look at me like 'you're NOT getting on this train!' I was freaken at my breaking point being sick, tired, and having missed two trains. So I sat down and thought about how crappy I felt and eventually thought about my dilemma. I thought to go up on the street and take a cab, but that would mean carrying ALL my luggage back up flights of stairs- which I have already done a handful of times since I got off the stupid plane. Just a side note- the English- as far as I can see- don't believe in elevators and that really sucks when you have a lot of heavy stuff, you're tired, and sick. I have resolved that if school goes bad for me, I can just start an elevator instillation business and make millions (there is a business prop for you Sean).
Back to the story- so I harden my resolve and decide that I am getting onboard the next train no matter what- even if I have to smash people with my big bags. In the end, that is exactly what I did, but people got out of my freaken way. Some people made some snide comments at me, and one lady said- with her best English accent- 'SOMEONE is not from around here?' I didn't care anymore- I was tired, fatigued, sick, and being nice got me standing on the curb watching the trains go by. So I get off at the station for the train to go North to York (King's Cross), buy my ticket (which was expensive!), and got onboard. As I was sitting on the train going north, I was reading a sign on the train which talked about making sure your car is the proper car for your ticketed class. The only problem is my ticket doesn't have any designation for any particular car type. Just then the Ticket Attendant comes by checking tickets, and he boots this guy out of my car because he is in 'reserved' seating. I turned white and you can imagine what I was thinking- 'Oh here goes the stupid American again.' That is the low I reached, and I never really elevated myself above that for the rest of the day emotionally. I was really spent by that point. If I had a white flag, my arm would have been reaching for it. Turns out the seats in front of me and behind me were reserved, but I was not in a reserved seat. Thank god because I was seriously at my wits end. The trip on the train north was beautiful, and my mood lightened slightly as I saw old churches, high old walls, rolling green landscape to the eye's reach! I made notes of stops I will have to return to, and two hours later I was dropped off at York station. Journey almost done right! No elevators at the station or anywhere else, a long line for check-in to get my room, and flights of stairs later (my room is on the top story of a four story building) I finally rested on my bed staring at my luggage, sweating and feeling like total crap. Uncle Al told me to try and make it to 8 or 9 pm before sleeping the first night, but being so sick I succumbed to overwhelming fatigue at 6pm (note- I was up a total of 26 hours straight- that was cool to do when I was a kid staying the night at my friend's place but not so cool being 30 and sick).
Simon (Beowulf) confronts (Eight-legged) Grendle
So I wake up in the middle of the night, and I have to use the restroom (I have my own restroom- nice!). I stumble back to go to bed, and before I climb into bed I notice in the dark and WITHOUT my glasses on that there is this strange black blob right next to my pillow on the backrest of the bedpost. Horror! The blob is dark and about the size of a full dollar coin. I turn on the lights, put on my glasses, and there he is- a huge, black, eight-legged critter. Now I have seen my share of spiders, but this sucker looked like Arnold Schwartzenagger in spider form- its legs were BUFF. He was ugly as all hell, and I squirmed at the time to think he was less than a foot away from my sleeping head only moments before. Standing red-eyed in my boxer shorts, I quickly grab my shoe to war with this bastard, and he wins the first round as the sloppy (and tired) American misses badly. He decides to really wake me up, and he plops down on my pillow and runs into my covers upping the ante. My eyes bulge! Now, I just put new bed linen on, and I wasn't about to kill that big bastard and foul my brand-new sheets with his unholy blood- I was imagining at the time that its body held a small cup full of blood (which is a whole lot more than normal spiders who simply smear). So I chased the bastard through my covers barking, swinging, and throwing false fire at him trying to draw him onto my floor. I can only imagine what my sleeping neighbors were thinking with all the banging and cursing.
I finally get him to go under the bed- big mistake. The bed has a wood-enclosed metal frame, and it is hard to get under it without getting INSIDE the enclosure yourself. Gut check time, ladies and gents! So I thought- I could let him hide under my bed all night, move the mattress onto the floor and get my much needed (and deserved) rest and get him in the morning, but I knew that would not be the last I would see of him that night. Firming my resolve, I got serious- using what I had on-hand (a whiffle-ball bat, slippers, and a folder) I crawled into the small space and tried unsuccessfully to lure him into a compromising position while at the same time trying to avoid his treacherous bite. I felt like a blind McGyver without even the bubblegum, all my well honed insect killing skills were for naught against this new, crafty adversary. Again, I can only imagine what my sleeping- well now awake- neighbors were thinking. I probably woke up my entire flat swinging that plastic bat into the metal and wood with loud crashes and bangs! Also, I learned very quickly that the spiders here have one up as far as intelligence goes to their American cousins. My adversary finally wedges himself between the wall and the frame, a place I cannot get to with anything. I try to move the bed to crush him, but I cannot move the bed because it is bolted to the floor. Nice! I now realized I needed to be more inventive for this foreign born but highly evolved English-creature of the night. So I run to the bathroom and grab my cologne bottle. One spray- the black bastard flinches- second spray- he crunches down angrily- third spray- he runs for it! As he races across the floor - and I mean FAST- I am right on his heals having thrown the cologne bottle onto the bed in a frenzy of motion and snatched up my weapon of choice for such a determined adversary- my wiffle-ball bat. Swinging madly, hitting the wall, then bed, then floor, over and over again, I corner him again- but for some damn reason he continues to evade my mighty hacks- I keep telling myself that I should tighten up my swing- you know, a Hattaberg two-strike swing- but I have him in my crosshairs like a lazy fastball right out over the plate- he is just too fat and sweet not to give him my good ole homerun swing- admittedly resembling more of a golf swing though. Suddenly realizing in my tired and now frenzied state that the actual total amount of surface area on the bat which is hitting the floor when I swing is actually less than the spider's total size, I am humbled and forced to consider other measures.
Then, as I turn to grab my shoe for the kill and just as my eyes are off him for just a fraction of a second, the bastard bolts down the side of the wall making his way past me and back toward the bed frame! Again, this just another sign of this creature's highly evolved nature as opposed to his dumb American counterparts- wily little bastard! Finally though, after a half-hour battle, I relish in a victory by crushing and grinding his body parts into my carpet floor just as he was reaching my bed for cover. Traumatized, sweaty, my room a mess and smelling of five-year-old cologne the battle is finally over, and I lift my wiffle-ball bat up and over my head in victory. Below my feet, my segmentally-scattered opponent quivers in his final death-throws. There will be no bargaining and payment in this feud, so I resolutely look forward to two more years of this kind of savage feuding.
So I turn to my left, and I see this huge/towering/monstrous church in the distance. I don't know how I missed it before- I must have been too fixed on my far off lonely steeple, I think- but this towering structure has to be York Minster. So I am cutting down one street to another, I walk about a mile, and then when I turned a street corner the coolest sight reared up before me- the Castle Wall surrounding the city! But I really didn't get too excited until I was actually able to get up and walk around on top of the Castle Wall! WOW! This was just one of those too cool experiences! All of you know me, so I don't need to elaborate. I walked the wall, broke out my camera and took shots of the wall and the Minster. My legs and feet were already beat from walking so far, but I had new energy- new life! I felt like a kid again. I had walked and defended walls just like these among princes and kings in my imagination as a kid, and now I am here for real. I was on the verge of tears, my heart was racing, and nothing in the world could have wiped that smile off my face. That smile stayed with me for the rest of the day too. Heck! I think it is still with me! I walked the length of the wall to the Gate House, and I descended into the city center. The city center of York is like a giant shopping area with shops lining either side of the street. It kind of reminded me of footage from old versions of Dicken's Christmas Carol.
Still feeling high from my wall walk, I bounced down the streets easy even though my feet were killing me. I turned another corner and there loomed the biggest church I have ever seen in my entire life- York Minster. This thing is like a football stadium or something- it is unreal! I just marveled at how freaken big it is as I walked the long length around the church. I took a ton of pictures of this thing- I just cannot describe enough how big and beautiful this place is, and I still had not even gone inside yet. So I decided to venture inside, and I paid my fare. There is nothing in the world that can replace the feeling I had when I walked in that church- it was unreal. I spent half the day and expended all my film on my camera in that church, and I didn't even take the full tour or go up on the tower. I just couldn't help but marvel at man's ability and craftsmanship. There is just too much to see! Honestly, if any of you come to York, you will spend one day alone just looking at this church, and you still will walk away without having seen everything!
The funny thing is, as I was leaving, this English school teacher was escorting his class up to the Minster. As he was walking, he said to his students apologetically, 'Yeah, I know, another big church!' It was at the moment that I was happy that I was born in a distant land, so I could appreciate the beauty and majesty of the structure.
Later that day when I finally got home as the sun was going down, I was completely exhausted. For my hours of unabashed walking and standing, I had multiple nasty blisters on both my feet. I knew though that today was the type of day that I live for, these kinds of days are the days that make my experience in this life special- that let me know that I am alive- and the awesome thing about it is that I have at least another year here at York to have many more days just like today. How Awesome is that!
So anyway- a couple days ago I am sitting in the courtyard of King's Manor eating on a cold sandwich that I purchased, when from right around the corner, a corner that is only a few feet away mind you, struts Percy! He must have heard my mouth clamping up and down because he strut his regal butt right up to me- and he demanded, in his own way, that I give him some. See- the thing is- I didn't know there were any Percy's around or anything like his species here in England, so I was a bit shocked. Percy you see- is a huge, colorful peacock, and he lives at the Manor- or somewhere around it. Percy- about sacred the crap out of me because he wanted to eat- and this sucker was big with giant claws. Let me tell you- Percy is like a giant turkey or something- he is huge- I have seen my Aunt and Uncle's peacocks- but Percy is a monster-stud of a peacock in comparison. Anyway, Percy was a little hard to chase away, it seemed the more I made noise and tried to wave him away- the more he took that as an invitation to get closer and become more demanding. The way I resolved the situation was I just threw the food far away and ate quickly before he could return to demand more. When he realized I didn't have any more food, he became immediate uninterested, and as I was chasing him through the courtyard trying to take a picture he surprisingly became very shy. I should have tried to combine my approach- but oh, well.
So this morning, I awoke and the rain was really coming down. Now I have been here for two weeks- that is 14 days- and I would have to say that about half of them have had some kind of rain. I have only had serious rain for a long period of time for two of those days- one of which was today. The other days of rain are like passing clouds that dump a little water and meander on their way through the sky. This morning was a different animal though- cold and really wet. I have a half-hour/forty-five minute walk to the Manor- I refuse to pay the 2+ pounds to ride the bus (it is almost 5$ in American money!). So I get my nice little compact umbrella I brought from the States and head off. Not even half-way there, my legs from the knees down are completely drenched and my socks are starting to get wet. I was pretty mad and cold. No matter how I held the umbrella, the wind would whip the rain in a different direction. In fact, I felt that the very elements were plotting against me while I was making my way to Old Norse.
So I am walking, and I get into the town proper (the University itself is in a suburb outside the town). I look around at people passing by me, and I notice something peculiar- it stands out like a soar thumb really! I noticed every business man that passed me had one of those giant golf umbrellas- you know those suckers that look like they can safeguard an entire hemisphere under its enormous canopy. By this time my shoes are making those fart noises, and my pants are truly two different shades of blue. As the various business men passed me, I stared at their umbrellas in longing (they all had them)- I heard in my mind that famous song- 'Strangers in the Night!'. Then this one group of business men pass me, and they all have them but one. It was a young guy, younger than me, and he was struggling to keep his suit dry while his fellow workmates laughed carefree under their great hemisphere shields. I suddenly thought to myself- maybe when the business men here get a promotion the company gives them one of those giant umbrellas as a status marker? Anyway- after sitting through four hours of Old Norse and Old English with soggy pants and shoes, stinking up the class with my funky mildew smell, I made it a mission to go to a store and purchase one of those giant suckers. While I was getting my hair cut after- I told the barber who was this Scottish lady about my Business Man Umbrella Theory- and she thought it very funny- as did the other guy getting his hair cut and they thought I should write my dissertation about it. I think I should be well off now with my very own Business Man Umbrella.
