As the inaugural post, a brief play-by-play of my first 24 hours:
02/04 23:30 Take off from Pearson with tears in my eyes and a glass of champagne in my hand (thank you club class). After settling in, camembert with parma ham, red grapes and a glass of merlot. For dessert, Inniskilin ice wine and because I'm so goddamned charming (or pitiful, who cares which) an extra-complimentary kaluha on the rocks.
02/05 01:30 Ready to doze off...
02/05 04:30 Wake up to the smell of a cream cheese crepe being set in front, with honeydew melon, orange, pineapple and cantaloupe, and a glass of orange juice.
02/05 06:30 EST - 11:30 GMT Land at London Gatwick.
11:45 Get baggage.
12:00 Clear customs. Well that was easy. Ha.
12:02 Haul luggage to designated smoking area. Then hang around waiting for the train, bound by all this luggage.
13:19 Board train for Reading Station. Lean my head against the window and watch the English countryside. Realize that every band/musician I'm listening to is from the UK. Feel like a poser.
14:32 Board train for Penzance. Again with head leaning, and Don Delilo's Americana.
19:37 Arrive in Penzance. Attempt to decipher labels of drinks available from vending machine. End up with a blackberry-antioxidant juice of some sort. Score.
19:45 Bustle across tiny street to bus stop and check times for the #2 or #2B Helston via Porthleven. The town is dark and quiet.
20:05 Having waited 20 minutes, I'm told that this #2B Helston does not go through Porthleven, but the next one does (because that makes perfect sense).
20:06 Shuffle over to a taxi and inquire about the cost to Porthleven. 25 pounds.
20:07 Back at the bus station, find a not-too-frosty seat and settle in. Nothing is open, and even the train station is only half indoors, so I wait outside. My teeth start to chatter.
20:25 Guy strolls up to bus station and lights a smoke in front of the no smoking sign. I say "well if you're going to, I'm in." Have a lovely conversation with Warren, a chef in Penzance, who spent four years in central London and whose Father went to Dubai last Christmas and loved it.
20:55 Warren gets on his bus. My teeth are full on chattering.
21:05 #2B Helston via Porthleven. Between the bus driver and the one other passenger we manage to figure out where I should get off in Porthleven closest to Claremont Terrace - close to the main stop in the square, which he kindly points out so I'll know where to get the return.
21:35 Haul bags off bus. Friendly goodnights and well-wishes. Drag myself and luggage up deceptively smooth-inclining hill past quaint (yes, an appropriate cliche) little cottages all in a row, with names like Suncliff, Vilvorde and Crab Pot Cottage. I can't see ten feet around me and all I hear is crashing waves. On my left, Rosa Cottage. Unhinge the gate, navigate the steep, dark stone steps and fumble around next to the door for the key left under the rock. Remember that I have a mini flashlight in my purse. Find key and unlock door. Drag all bags inside and close door to silence.
22:00 Tea Mission. The caretaker left a box of Cornish Fairings (like gingerbread cookies) and milk in the fridge for me. Love this woman.
22:05 Outside. The sky is splattered with stars. Reminds me of the blackout in 2003, although nothing I've seen or probably ever will see can compare to that.
22:15 I'd like to say I lit a fire or had a bath, but there was no firewood and no hot water so I just washed off the train and crawled into bed with my book. Thick duvet and feather pillows. Single-occupancy pillow arrangement. Slow sadness under the covers.
22:30 Almost finish Americana. Almost.
22:35 Sleep. Half stir in the middle of the night forgetting where I am.
02/06 11:20 Wake up in Cornwall England to clear sunlight and the rhythm of the ocean.
To sum up the following six days in Porthleven: lounge, walk, stargaze, write, wine and cheese, BBC, tea, fire, write, stargaze, read, lounge, walk, tea, more wine and cheese, more tea...that's pretty much it. It was fantastic.
This is Rosa Cottage:
And this is Porthleven:
I stayed in the Penzance hostel on the 12th, and as my first hostel experience it was pretty decent. Except for the Aussie who kept trying to kiss me. Absolutely no radar for subtle rejection. Anyway, under the rug.
On the 13th I hopped the train to Ipswich to Sarah's Aunt's place, where they kindly put me up and fed me fish and chips, then got to London on the 14th in time to have a much needed reunion with Christine. Adventure tales, longings, advice and expectations.
02/14 Heathrow: Dubai via Amsterdam.
