On to London Town

After a few days in Ireland, we flew down to London for the remainder of our trip. Really, the main mission of this trip was to visit our friends Jeannette and Guillaume (and of course their daughter Ella) who relocated to London in May. They live in a lovely neighborhood called Crouch End in the northern part of the city. They were kind enough to let us stay with them. And thank goodness they did. With the dollar being what it is, if forced to pay for accommodations in London, we wouldn't have been able to afford much more than a cardboard box and a pile of tabloids for shelter.


In some respects this was a reunion for Elliot and Ella, who haven't seen each other for months. But not just any months - these have been some pretty important months, developmentally. I suppose it's sort of like seeing your high school sweetheart after two decades and seeing that person in a whole new light. The difference between fourteen months and eighteen months must be similar to the difference between 18 years and 35 years. I have no hard evidence for this, but it seems like a reasonable comparison. I mean, the last time they saw each other, Elliot couldn't even recognize a cow or bus. Now, not only can he recognize those things, but add to that tractor, sheep, emu, pig and airplane, and you're getting close to his reality.

And, I'm certain, he was able to recognize Ella. Here he is upon setting eyes on his former Boston sweetheart.






From that point onward, they spent nearly every waking hour together. Of course, they often alternated their naps, so they only saw each other for a few hours a day. Perhaps the key to such a successful relationship.

One of the first things we did was head to the Peter Pan playground in the Kensington Gardens. It's funny how traveling with Elliot has opened our eyes to the nuance of playground design. This was a might fine playground and we all enjoyed the subtle differences it had from the typical American playground.

After a long stretch of play, Ella and Elliot found a nice little tree for a romantic lunch together. Elliot ate dirt. Ella, much to her parents dismay, ate nothing.


Then off for a little stroll.



...a little pillow talk.


...and then right to the bath. Kids today - they move so quickly.


Our last full day in London, we set out to do perhaps the most touristy thing in the city - a ride on the London eye. This magnificent sculpture (in the guise of a functioning Ferris Wheel) was absolutely worth the astronomical admission price of £15 (or $30).


We got in line. The line seemed huge - but it moved rather quickly. And luckily, with on again and off again London rain, we enjoyed very pleasant conditions while waiting in line (sorry, in the queue).


Elliot took a little snooze while we were waiting. I was a bit afraid he would sleep through the whole thing, but luckily he woke up just in time.




But once we got in the little capsule and started to rise, he noticed a boat (a bah, a bah) and he was wide awake.


He was also quite interested in the car above us. According to Elliot, they were in a bah, a bah, as well.

Perhaps the most stunning view of the 30 minute circle was this one of the Parliament building.



For Elliot, it was the buses passing over the bridges.



So, I'll end this post with this family portrait and one quick thought about our trip. We had a wonderful time, we were able to see great friends, Elliot got to see some exciting things, not to mention his sweetheart Ella and the wonderful world of airports, and all and all we had perfect weather. But there's one thing that will stick with me about this lovely part of the world: they call diapers "nappies." I don't think I could get used to that. So, in this picture below, we are smiling. But deep down, we are riddled with a deep sense of strangeness. We know that over two hundred years ago when the rebels gathered in Boston to throw tea in the harbor, they were not really upset by taxation without representation, they actually just felt silly calling diapers nappies, and because they didn't have any of that blue liquid used in tampon, paper towel and diaper commercials, they figured tea bags would be their symbolic gesture against the repressive naming regime that would force its people to use a term like nappy.


We have emerged as a sovereign nation, and have forcefully removed ourselves from that taxonomic nightmare. As it is written in our declaration of independence, the word nappy shall only be used to describe hair and maybe the general sense of filth that overcomes somebody after staying up all night on a transatlantic flight.

Cheerio!

Travels to the Emerald Isle

We just returned from a week-long trip to Ireland and England. We had a great time - although traveling with a toddler is not as easy as it might sound. Elliot was on great behavior - but the nature of toddler behavior is such that it kept us on our toes constantly. Running here to keep from falling off a cliff, or there to keep him from running onto the tarmac at Heathrow. So, we've resolved ourselves to the hard cold truth that vacationing will not be relaxing for some time to come. All that said, I wouldn't give it up. Seeing the world through Elliot's eyes is a travel experience far better than any bus tour or cruise line could offer.

So, here's the long and the short of it. We flew from Boston on an overnight flight to Shannon, Ireland. I need to say just a few words about that unfortunate flight. We flew Aer Lingus. The flight left at 7:15 PM EDT and was scheduled to land in Shannon at 6:00 AM GDT. OK fine. We assumed that the Irish would know how to take care of us. In some respects they did. But in other, more important respects, they didn't. The flight was akin to baby torture. They kept the lights on through bar service (no free Guinness as one would expect), dinner, and then an agonizingly long duty free process. By the time they turned out the lights it was something like 11pm, with only two hours left of the flight. Elliot (and all the other babies on the flight) screamed for hours, as if begging them to have mercy on them and turn off the lights. Before 11pm rolled around, even the adults on the plane were crying. Here's a word of advice for you Aer Lingus, turn off the lights and let the poor babies sleep. People want sleep more than food on an overnight flight.

OK, so enough of that. We arrived safely in Shannon and we rented a car. News flash: they drive on the "wrong" side of the road over there. We were given a manual transmission vehicle and we had to quickly learn how to shift with our left hand. Weird. This would have been hard enough, but add the pencil thin roads to the equation, and you have an extremely stressful driving situation. The only saving grace was that it was early morning on Sunday and most people were still comfortably in their homes, giving us ample opportunity to meander the tiny roads of Ireland.

We eventually figure it out. I was the first to drive and Justeen likely had the equivalent of twenty massive heart attacks as I attempted to exercise my judgment about the width of the automobile. Suffice it to say that exercise is an ongoing process.

Anyhoo, our first stop was a sleepy little town on the West coast of Ireland called Quilty. Elliot was very happy to see the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.



We needed some breakfast, so we popped into this little shop and picked up some food from the "deli." We passed on the blood pudding, but we were able to get a few poached eggs plopped in a bag for us. The Irish have a strange sense of taste. Well, the meal took a lot of Elliot, and in no time, he was back asleep.


Right around this time, we passed the stunningly beautiful Cliffs of Moher, but because of the sleeping baby, we were unable to get out of our car to see them. Wanting our child to sleep more than we wanted to see the world famous cliffs, we drove on.

We stayed in Galway, where our friends Roger and Neil met us. They live in Wolverhampton, England, and flew up to Ireland to visit with us. Enjoying the unusually lovely weather, we headed to the Eyre Square, the city's center, and let Elliot run around.



Roger and Neil only stayed for one night. Once they left, we decided to take the car out for some more heart thumping driving. We passed through the Connemara region (apparently famous for their ponies). The mountains were beautiful and the cost even more so.




We made our way to a little town called Clifton where we found some lunch and gazed at the mountains and surprisingly quiet north Atlantic.



After leaving Clifton, we stopped at a beach and let Elliot enjoy the sand between his toes (and in his diaper).





After leaving the beach, we passed a lovely little town called Round Stone. We thought, next time we come to Ireland, we're certainly staying here.


Alas, it was time to leave this beautiful place. While packing, Elliot seemed to be reflecting on what he experienced (or it could have just been the sand in his diaper).

The forbidden dance

New Car and Jill (not related)

We finally made the plunge and bought a new car. The little Golf wasn't cutting it - getting in and out of the 2-door on our hill was difficult and annoying. So, after much deliberation, we decided to buy a Subaru Forester. It's all-wheel drive and promises to handle very well in New England weather and the notoriously bad Boston roads.


On a completely different note (and if I weren't so lazy, should be a separate blog post), Jill, Elliot's nanny from last summer, came by last night for a visit. She hadn't seen Elliot for an entire year and was shocked by his rapid growth. But that's not saying much, this morning, I hadn't seen Elliot for eight hours, and I was shocked by his growth.

Speed Boat

Last weekend, we all went out on a boat together. My colleague Jim has a little fishing boat that's docked up in the Parker river in Newbury, MA. This, Boston's north shore, is truly a beautiful part of the world. Lots of rivers that snake through marshland and dumps right out into a dramatic Atlantic. Elliot didn't much like the life jacket, but he put up with it in exchange for the thrill of his little lifetime.




Notice the grape on my shoulder. After about an hour, we found a little beach at which to dock. This is a view of Crane's beach, which was right across the way from the southern tip of Plum Island (which is where we docked the boat).



We threw an anchor in the water and walked out to the shore. Of course, Elliot wanted only to walk back into the water.


As you can see, he's having a grand ol' time.




This pic won't cooperate, but here's a sideways version of Elliot taking a little nap on the boat ride back to the dock.