Cardiff: day out

It's been another great weekend so far. Mom's last one of this trip. We took Friday off, and with poor weather predicted for the weekend, decided to make the most of the sun with a day out in Cardiff. It's become a ritual to stop at Coffee #1 near the train station: they're really friendly, and always have a tempting selection of treats on display. After I'd ordered Triple Belgian Chocolate Brownies and tea for my ladies, the woman behind the counter said, "I have to ask. Where are you from?" My response brought gushes, not only from her, but also from the woman behind Mom in the queue: family, friends who'd been, loved it, wanted to go back, saving to go. The consistent enthusiasm for Canada that I've encountered in the UK and abroad over these past two years fills me with such pride. I really do count myself lucky -- the accident of my birth, as they say -- more fundamentally than I did back home, even as a proud Canadian and a proud Newfoundlander.

The Cardiff Market was our next stop: for welsh cakes and a browse of secondhand books; another ritual. Tea had a bit of shopping to do as well, so we agreed to meet at the castle later on. A new favourite of mine is the microbrewery Zero Degrees, and while I was a day too early for their Oktoberfestbier, I enjoyed a pint of their seasonal amber ale before meeting Tea and Mom at the gates of Cardiff Castle.

They'd added a new World War II shelter exhibit since our last visit. The kitchen display caught Mom's eye: she pointed out the old oil heater, imposing at three feet or so, and cast-iron with a large handle: they had one when she was growing up, to heat the front room or parlour when guests were over; the only source of heat outside the kitchen stove.

Mom w. Brains Dark at the Goat Major

We toured the walls, grounds and keep 'til closing, and then popped across the street for a pint at the Goat Major. A Brains pub with an impressive history of guest ales (if the pump clips behind the bar are any indication), we enjoyed pints of Brains' Legends, Dark and gravity-dispensed SA in its warm atmosphere. It was only as we made our way to Zero Degrees for supper that we realized we'd missed a heavy rain shower.

Once there, we had a great meal on an interior balcony that overlooked the kitchen. Tea and Mom were mesmerized by the delicate dance around the wood oven -- their menu focusses on pizza, which Tea again raved about. Plus, Mom really enjoyed their Mango Ale. I can't say enough about their Pale Ale -- a really nice hoppy character I keep going to back to -- and I finished with a half pint of their Black Lager: nice body with heavy coffee notes.

Supper at Zero Degrees

Check out our Picasa album for more pictures from the day.

* * *

Yesterday, we were invited to a big barbecue the Americans had organized at Witcombe Cricket Club. We even got to be guest judges at their chili competition, a highly-anticipated annual event. (I had a tough time, going back for seconds to break ties, but persevered -- yes, the consummate professional, folks.) It was a fantastic atmosphere: great spread, games for the kids, and nice location and weather (early on, anyway) -- they even had an ice cream truck show up!

Later, we took Mom to see Jane Eyre, which we all really enjoyed; particularly the setting. And speaking of film, I should sign off and grab a shower; the main event (from my Mom's point of view) is on deck as a matinee: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. She's over the moon that it opened here ahead of the North American release.

Baltic cruise: Helsinki: sauna nation

[We pick up my travel journal on the eve of our historic first steps on Russian soil.

The post title comes from the two million saunas in Finland; enough to house the 5.1 million Finns simultaneously, with room to spare.]

July 2, 2011: Helsinki

Back on the boat, docked in Helsinki. What a fantastic day! Not a cloud in the sky. We passed a sign before midday that read 29℃; hilarious, when you consider that we thought this'd be our coldest stop. (It is our most northern one.)

♫ One of these things is not like the others ♪

Sailing into Helsinki was very reminiscent of the approach to Stockholm, with the many treeds islands and islets. As we entered the port -- which is rare amongst the Nordic countries for its tendency to freeze in the winter, and explains Finnish expertise in the manufacture of icebreakers -- sailing vessels lined the horizon: while we were too early for the regatta in Warnemünde, we docked smack in the middle of one in Helsinki. They're very serious about their boating: their oldest yachting club began in the mid 1800s and is still in operation.

The day began with markets: first, the covered Hakaniemi Market Hall, built in 1914. It sold all sorts of food -- including amazing fish, of course -- and I loved all the old photographs of its early days, displayed throughout. Then we took in the nearby, open-air kauppatori (market square). There were all sorts of vendors again, including fishmongers selling their catch right from their boats, those selling all manner of woollen garments -- later, I picked up a pair of wool socks from a woman who spoke very little English; a rarity, I can assure you (at least in Helsinki, despite the two official languages being Finnish and Swedish) -- florists, painters, jewellers, and many, many food stands. We made a note to come back for lunch.

Uspenski Cathedral

So began the religious segment of the day: first, the Eastern Orthodox church, Uspenski Cathedral. Oddly, it was open to tourists during a baptism; tourism trumps all in Helsinki, apparently. Next up was the Lutheran church, Helsinki Cathedral. The dramatic white steps leading up to it, and the cobblestone square and fountain before it, make it a natural congregation point for the Finns, it seems. On this day, it was the start of their gay pride parade, Helsinki Pride.

We could feel the energy building as we made our way to one final church, and the last sight on our list: the famous Rock (Temppeliaukio) Church. (Unfortunately, it was closed for a wedding; scrap that tourism trumps all bit.) This energy reached Notting Hill Festival proportions as we headed back to the kauppatori. All the city's green space -- plenty enough to rival Stockholm, incidentally, which has been widely lauded on that point throughout our cruise -- was lined with picnickers, out to show their support, enjoy the sun, have fun, or all of the above.

Helsinki Cathedral

Frequent readers will know the weight I give a city's vibe or pulse. Helsinki has it in spades, as well as a sense of conviviality and community (if that milktoast term means anything these days) that I hope extends beyond the celebrations of the day; that's the problem with day stops to new places, of course: I don't know. Frankly, residents might risk cardiac arrest, displaying such joie de vivre on a daily basis.

I suspect much of what I felt is there year round, because there was plenty of evidence unrelated to gay pride: one intersection was strung with many laden clotheslines, whether as art or in fun (or both, of course), I couldn't say. In a park, a band included a cardboard box drummer -- and a good one at that!

Everywhere you turned, people were out enjoying themselves, in groups big and small. After seeing a few hen dos in full swing mid afternoon, it came to us that the seasons may have a lot to do with this: in the winter, parts of northern Finland never see the sun, and even Helsinki is limited to three or four hours of daylight for long stretches. Best get out and enjoy that (almost endless, at times) sunlight when it comes then!

I'm forever relating new places to those I've seen. With Helsinki, I struggled. Much of it reminded me of what I'd imagine the southern USA is like, along the coast. (But I'm relying on television for much of that, I hasten to qualify.) The public transportation is all European, though, even if the street cars hint at San Francisco. We really enjoyed Stockholm, but, particularly for a short stay, you can't beat Helsinki's accessibility; it's a walker's city. (I do see a long weekend in Sweden in our future, however, when we have the time to explore.)

We rounded out the day with a (late) fish lunch in the kauppatori -- even tastier than we'd been imagining on our long walk back -- and a boat tour of the harbour. The latter may have squeaked in as the highlight of an amazing day, as it allowed us to take in the sights (and a load off!) in a fully licensed environment.

I met two lost ladies from St. Petersburg earlier in the day -- they were looking for the bus terminal; luckily a passer-by spoke Russian and was able to direct them -- and tomorrow I get to see it. Can hardly wait!

Up next: St. Petersburg, Russia

There are more pictures from the amazing day in our Picasa album, as usual.

Baltic cruise: the North Sea and Warnemünde, Germany: "Who's the celebrity?"

[We pick up my travel journal with ruminations on sailing out of Amsterdam and the subsequent day in the North Sea.]

June 27, 2011: a few hours out of the 'dam

I can hear Stephen playing with our two-way radios in the second of our adjoining cabins. We had a great day in Amsterdam: Nancy and I joined Tea and Stephen for their second round at the Chinese massage parlour, after a breakfast of toasted sandwiches -- shredded chicken, avocado slices, loads of creamy goat's cheese, and honey were some of wonderful ingredients therein across all our selections -- out in the sun by a canal; it was the way to start the day.

We've just come back from an exclusive area of the ship's spa -- for a price, of course; highlights included form-fitted, heated stone benches and a Turkish bath with cold water taps (so you don't overheat). So relaxed right now. And, look! It's time for supper! What's on the menu tonight?

* * *

In port, looking off the back deck

Supper was strange. Our waiter was too chatty after delivering the food, and there were a number of presentation and spicing problems. Celebrity may be aiming to treat us as such -- at one point, Tea, reading through the events calendar, asked, "Celebrity Wine Tasting... Who's the celebrity?" Nancy's "Us!" was priceless -- but that dining room has nothing on Royal Caribbean.

Lido deck

June 28, 2011: sailing

Breakfast this morning confirms it: the level of English comprehension amongst the front-line servers is significantly below what we're used to, which is a problem when you're relying on them to serve you. (It's a pseudo buffet, for lack of a better term.) However, it wasn't crowded at all, and the air is pleasantly crisp here.

* * *

O.K., all's right in the world after a half hour in the Turkish bath, followed by a swim. Now, lunch time!

11:00 p.m.

We had an excellent supper in the specialty Italian restaurant. Many amusing moments: Stephen's 'cheesecake', which the waiter personally retrieved from the downstairs dining room, and, oddly, had all the attributes of what one would call a cheese plate. [Our waiter was a great sport about it, and each of our many trips back to that restaurant featured many a joke about accents.] And then there was the moment when Tea discovered her dessert garnish was Pop Rocks. Holy snap, crackle, pop, Batman!

* * *

June 30, 2011: Warnemünde

Yesterday was our first stop: Warnemünde, Germany. I've been to Germany a few times now, and thought I'd some idea as to the range of experiences available there; unsurprisingly, I suppose, the sea alters that, my quaint beribboned Deutschland.

Invariably it's these small ports that really speak to me. Despite my family's not having made a living from the sea in a generation, those sounds and smells -- the water lapping, the fresh catches -- take me back to St. John's harbour, and my youth. Warnemünde was closer to the South Shore of Nova Scotia or Howth, Ireland, with many fishing vessels, yes, but also many pleasure craft, as they geared up for their big regatta the following week.

I got chatting to a Norwegian gentleman who couldn't say enough good things about Warnemünde. He'd sailed all over the world, but kept coming back. He loved the proximity of the facilities, and that you could tie up to the boardwalk, amidst it all. He also had very nice things to say about Canada. (Another Roots swag win; that's why he'd stopped me.) He said it was very beautiful, and that he'd really enjoyed his time in Halifax and St. John's. I left him with an even greater determination to see the fjords; he was a very proud, if reserved, Norwegian.

A three hour train journey from Warnemünde, we quickly discard Berlin as a potential destination for the day. Instead, we set out for the nearby town of Rostock, first by train, then by tram. The Old Town was lovely, with an open air market surrounded by Dutch-gabled buildings (much like we'd seen in Zaanse Schans a few months ago).

Rostock -- across from city hall

We passed the large tower that features on the label of their brewery's beer [which I believe was the Western Gate Tower, and part of the old city wall, marking the original limits], circled by birds of all sorts, including swifts, I'm convinced, thanks to my studies on Lake Como. Bird watching has really captured my imagination as a pursuit, although I'm convinced I lack patience for it.

M'm... goulash and pils

Unfortunately, the brewery was closed, but we found a shaded patio for sampling their Rostocker pils anyway, and the house special of goulash. Stephen asked for a burger, and while it didn't look promising initially -- we think the waitress was attempting to literally translate his request for a hamburger -- he absolutely loved his selection; we couldn't get him to shut up about it for the rest of the day, truth be told.

From there, we took the train back to Warnemünde. We sat in a large car lined with folded seats -- for bicycles, mostly, we soon found out, as new arrivals pulled out hidden belts to hold their many cycles securely, while they folded down a seat beside them. (Oh, if only they'd had a car like that on the train from Schipol to Amsterdam; that train was convenient for backpackers, not cruisers.)

Back in Warnemünde, munching on a basket of fresh strawberries from a nearby stand, we made our way down the boardwalk to the pier. It was a lovely sunny day, but even so, the sight of hundreds -- if not thousands -- of people enjoying the white sandy (man made) beach and surf took our breath away for a moment; not what we expected of the Baltic!

Aside: both in an elaborate fountain in Rostock, and on the beach in Warnemünde, there were children playing, naked as the day they were born; their screeches and giggles were pure joy. It can't help but warm your heart, something so simple and natural, in a world that can seem anything but for long stretches.

We wiled away the rest of the afternoon on patios, sampling other local beers, and fried and pickled herring -- the latter is lush with fresh dill! It was getting on for 9:00 p.m. as we headed back to the ship, the sun still high in the sky. A rare treat (for cruisers) awaited us: live folk music up on deck as we sailed for Stockholm, the sun finally setting a hour or so before midnight.

Up next: Stockholm, Sweden

There are more pictures of our first days on the cruise in our on ship album, and in our Germany one.

Birmingham: Back to Jamie's

With a rainy Saturday developing, we decided, on a whim, to take the train to Birmingham, for a bit of shopping and a meal at Jamie's Italian. Happily, we were under blue skies before long, enjoying the bustle of the Bull Ring. There's such an energy in that city, and in the open market especially; the air's a-buzz with it, the shouts of the vendors hawking their produce or auctioning off their cuts of meat coming over the top.

We put our name in at Jamie's Italian, and with an estimated wait of forty minutes, took their pager for a stroll. We came upon a fantastic find then: a bin, outside a lingerie shop of all things, filled with old water jugs advertising various breweries, £2 a pop. We picked up five, for less than we've paid for one in the past.

Shortly thereafter the pager went off. I'm happy to say that the Birmingham location is yet another example of the stellar standards we've come to expect from Jamie's. I went with their specials exclusively this time: a golden beetroot soup to start, followed by crab and risotto cakes with a fennel salad. Both were superb; simply superb. The only way the crab cakes could've been any better was if they'd included a few more tangerine segments -- maybe one per cake -- vice the one. Such an amazing blend of flavours. Tea's mushroom panzerotti was the same; probably more so, in fact.

Finally, while we were initially disappointed to learn that our beloved lemon polenta cake is a seasonal offering, the waiter was absolutely correct: the chocolate, raspberry and amaretto brownie with bourbon vanilla ice cream was truly to die for. And I don't normally make a fuss about the bill, but I think it's important that I highlight how affordable Jamie's is: all that, plus their fabulous selection of breads, a bruschetta starter, 1.5 litres of their lovely house red, and tea and coffee only cost £64. At the risk of officially joining their marketing team, I'll reiterate a sentiment I've blogged before: this is some of the best food I've eaten out; ever. And I've paid a lot more than that for meals of similar composition.

Pleasantly full, it was time for a bit of shopping. The last train home was around half nine, so we stopped up with enough time for a pint. Tea's CAMRA app. pulled through again, pointing out the wonderful Anchor Inn, just down the road from the Bull Ring. I'd recommend it for the atmosphere and friendly staff alone, but the list of real ales they had on pushes it to legendary status in my books. And it seemed to be a local favourite too, with lots of folks -- a range of ages at that -- havin' a good time.

The same could be said of the Royal Union, where we finished the night, back in town. It was good to see. We've decided Robin needs to let the dogs come down and mingle more, though.

As always, we've created a Picasa album with more pictures from the afternoon and evening.

Stroud: Leonard in England

Since Saturday was supposed to be the nice day of the weekend, we made sure we were up somewhat early, and after picking up Matt, made our way to Stroud for their famous farmers' market: supposedly one of the best (the best?) in England. Once parked, we made our way to the nearby high street -- through the train station, I might add; guess how we'll be getting there next time -- Celtic notes filling the air. The Bucket Band was almost through a set, two little girls skipping 'round a little boy just in front of them, like something out of a Newfoundland tourism ad.

After picking up a CD, we wandered the market, taking in all the fabulous sights and smells. Even in the middle of winter, it was substantial. Can't wait to go back when more's in season. We bought olives and focaccia, and after sampling some sausages straight off the grill, a few packages for home -- cookin' them up as I type this, actually; they smell so good! (And I'm cookin' 'em up, too; look at me! *wink*) Plus, we got chatting to the chap from Warcop Brewery in South Wales, and Matt and I grabbed half a dozen of their stouts and porters between us; sounds like he's there year-round, so I know where to go if I like it.

Speaking of ale, we thought it'd be the perfect way to wash down our sausages and rest our feet. Tea's CAMRA app. told her the Queen Victoria was good choice nearby, so off we went. As we sat outside, enjoying our pints -- the excellent Cornish Mutiny for me, and Anastasia's Exile Stout for Matt; the latter's by Ascot Ales, which deserves special mention, as their Alligator Ale came in my most recent CAMRA Beer Club box, and it's excellent) -- a guy approached, asking whether we had any papers to spare, mistaking us for smokers.

He had more success inside, and came out to share a pint with us. As we chatted, he showed us a newsletter he'd just finished for an upcoming series called Lorca In England, celebrating the work of the Spanish poet, Federico García Lorca. The town has a rich history of supporting the arts, we soon discovered. He'd moved out from London 22 years ago, and fallen in love. He said that now, many of those artists make up the local business community, running coffee shops, pubs, etc. When he found out we were Canadians, he immediately gushed praise for Leonard Cohen, talking about how he's still writing verses for Hallelujah, his ordination as a Buddhist monk, and his bankruptcy. (Much of which was news to me, I have to be honest. Matt easily kept pace, though.) Before leaving, he recommended we check out the Golden Fleece, and hoped to see us there later.

Next on our list was the snowdrops in Colesbourne Park, but we'd passed through Painswick on the way to Stroud, and decided it was worth a stop coming back. After wandering the beautiful grounds of the Church of England parish church of Saint Mary -- with its literally fantastic yew trees -- we stopped for a bite to eat at the Royal Oak, enjoying the fruits of Stroud Brewery -- Budding and Tom Long, specifically -- two bowls of butternut squash soup and a burger between the three of us.

It isn't hard to see why Colesbourne Park is getting so much attention on local radio and television: the snowdrops were more than plentiful. Because of that, I think our later arrival, with an hour 'til closing, worked out really well: the crowds were dying down, and we still had plenty of light to take some great photographs. A great way to end the day.

Check out our Picasa album for more pictures from the day.

A little slice of Germany (and Christmas!) in the Midlands

We decided to take a quick train ride up to Birmingham to check out its famous Christmas market -- the biggest outside Germany, apparently. It seems that Birmingham is always a waypoint for us, as we fly on to other destinations, so it was nice to spend some time there; it really does feel like the country's second largest city, particularly the area we were in, swelled as it was with the market crowds.

At times you couldn't move, the pavements were so packed. Not a big deal when you have a piping hot mug of mulled wine warming your mitted hands and smelling so wonderful. And it was a feast for the eyes as well, of course: from the stunning traditional carousel in Victoria Square, to the displays of miniature German villages and nutcrackers -- Tea brought some of that home with her, of course.

Something I didn't expect was the wide range of German beers. In fact, it so struck me as wandering in Munich, that when Tea said that the market was known for its rare German beers, I replied, "What? I'm sure we could get a dunkel or Weissbier on any corner." Honestly, it really is a little slice of Bavaria. (Well, Germany, I guess, as they had Kölsch as well, which is associated more with Cologne -- where we're going next month for yet another Christmas market!)

We had a fantastic bratwurst shortly after arriving -- even the roll it was in was so wonderfully crusty and fresh... My mouth's watering just remembering it -- but started to think about a sit-down supper as evening approached. Thanks to Tea's handy CAMRA Beer Guide application, we found that a former Pub of the Year, The Wellington, was just a block off the market. That board on their website is current; they have it up on a big screen, and you order by pump number. The place was packed with folks and good cheer; just a great atmosphere. You don't see many milds around, so I ordered a pint of Hobson's Mild and Tea went for a Baskerville from the local Two Towers brewery. Both were excellent.

The Wellington doesn't serve food, though, so after that we were back on the street in search of a restaurant. Luckily, Thai Orchid is pretty much across the way. Their Tom Yam Goong (#11) was probably the best Thai soup we've had -- delicious!

The market was still in full swing as we finished up, so we got another mulled wine for the train ride, then continued with the supermarket brand when we got home, watching Love Actually and part of Elf before packin' it in.

 

Check out my Picasa album for more pictures from the evening.