UK - Abby Benton
My stay in Worsthorne - medieval village.

Arrival
Manchester, United Kingdom
By the time I got to Hong Kong I had slept about 3-4 hours squashed up next to an overweight Korean man. It's strange how you don't mind the close physical proximity of other people on a plane. Everything is so small that you wonder if you'll actually fit into it. However, all these fears were weightless (haha) and I probably improved my flexibility greatly squeezing out over my arm rest without bumping the guy's fully reclined seat in front of me, trying not to pull out my earphones or inadvertantly call for assistance from my remote and still trying to maintain a small piece of decorum.
Hong Kong airport was very clean. It grew light while we were there.
On our final leg to Heathrow, I was able to get a good look at the Chinese mountains and then Russia. After that, we flew over Denmark and Holland and - in the 13th hour - descended into Heathrow.
somewhere over China
Russia from plane window
Heathrow was fast. We didn't have much time before our connecting flight to Manchester and so we basically ran out of the plane. We didn't stick out, though. Basically everyone was running. Everything smelt strange and there was a plethora of English accents around me. I had a strange feeling that they were all faking it and I had strayed into the set of some movie.
Immigration was fun. The lady refused to smile at me and kept asking me why I was coming to England and where I was going and how much money I had and what on Earth had I been doing in Tonga.
Burnley finally arrived and we staggered into the house at about 7.30 pm. It was dark and cold but we got there. Yay.
written by  Abby Benton on January 15, 2008 from Manchester, United Kingdom
from the travel blog: UK

Day 1
Worsthorne, United Kingdom
Today Rachel and I went for a walk around Worsthorne and into the neighbouring fields. Worsthorne is mediaeval and has some very old houses in it. We walked up this narrow street and through a gate and onto a muddy track with a small stream flowing by it. This track was apparently an acient mule track to haul in salt to Worsthorne. It dates back to mediavel times as well. The flat stones are original.
Medieval mule track into Worsthorne
We followed this path over a few fields surrounded by stone walls. It was very muddy. The stone walls had these gates called 'kissing gates' because they can go either way. I suppose it would be easy to meet up in the middle.
Kissing Gate
After we had walked half a mile we reached the village of Hurstwood. After that we carried on out to a reservoire and back in through a small wood.
I've not seen a single other tourist so far. The weather isn't exactly warm, but not as cold as I thought it might be. As far as I can see, it is a very monocultural community where we are. People are quite friendly and say hello when we walk past them.
We went to a place called Towneley Hall in the afternoon. The oldest part of the house was built around the 1400's. The Towneley's were Catholics and there were apparently 7 different priest's holes in the house used to hide the priests from the Anglicans. The house rambled all over the place and there were little stone passages going everywhere. It is used as an art gallery now and there were heaps of massive paintings all over the place.
written by  Abby Benton on January 17, 2008 from Worsthorne, United Kingdom
from the travel blog: UK

Skipton
Skipton, United Kingdom
We went around a mediaeval castle today. The oldest part of it is nearly 1000 years old. It was very wet and cold and Rachel and I were the only ones in the whole place. It is quite a small castle in many ways, although there were plenty of passageways and rooms. During the War of Roses, the castle was besieged for 3 years and was never overtaken. The walls are incredibly thick.
We walked through the gatehouse into the outer court which is just a grassed area now.
Skipton Castle entrance
Then we climbed up some steps, past the grooves of an old portucullis and into the inner court. The court was named Conduit Court and had half a dozen doorways leading from it. They were all different shapes and sizes and all very black. The stone was a mixture of green and grey and there was a steady trickle of rain making everything look very bleak and old. In the centre was a magnificent yew tree, planted by one of the ladies in the 1600's.
We climbed some more steps and entered the great hall. The fireplace was massive. You could easily fit an entire deer on a spit in it. Then we went through into the old kitchen and the fireplace was even larger. There's very little furniture of any kind left, but you can see things like the old ovens set into the wall on either side of one of the fireplaces and a shute for kitchen waste disappearing into the moat far below. Off the kitchen was the only privy we saw with a very cold hole going sraight down to the moat.
Inside new kitchen, Skipton Castle
Most of the rooms seemed to be for defence. There seemed to be surprisingly little room for people to live in. All the inner staircases were narrow and spiral. The stone steps had great dents in the middle...I guess from thousands of feet going up and down them. There was one straight inner staircase...and that led to the dungeon. It was incredibly dark and damp inside and people were sometimes shackled to the wall. No one ever escaped from it, although there was no torture and the longest stay was about 13 weeks.
There were a variety of narrow shafts for shooting arrows out of as well as a number of windows set into the wall. Most of these seemed to have been put in after the war, when the danger was over. The walls had been cut back in places so the windows were set back in the wall about 2 metres.
The town of Skipton itself was fascinating. It's an old market town and all the shops are really old. Nothing looks new. You walk along the cobbled street past dark grey stone stores and there are small alleyways every now and then with a sign over them saying 'something yard' and there is an open space beyond. I guess for horses.
I'm glad I'm not driving. Everyone seems to go really fast and the streets are very narrow. The intersections are confusing as well. It seems that the mediaeval town planners didn't make sure that all the streets met at neat 90 degree angles. People seem to think nothing of parking on the side of the road even if there is only half a metre from the edge of their parked car and the centre line! The traffic lights are different too. A flashing orange light means 'proceed with caution'. And the lights go from red to orange to green to give you a warning that it is changing.
written by  Abby Benton on January 18, 2008 from Skipton, United Kingdom
from the travel blog: UK

Sunday
Worsthorne, United Kingdom
Last night was the first night that I slept right through! It felt like a huge accomplishment. I'm beginning to feel human again. Everyone assures me that it is much easier going back to NZ. That has yet to be seen.
I'm beginning to feel a big like the only NZer in the world. They tease me unmercifully, and I have only my slow wit to combat them all. The boys keep going on about NZ 'choking'in the world cup. This means, of course, that they lost when they were the favourites. I told them I didn't understand that expression. When asked what word we used for this, I said we didn't have one, as this is such an unusual occurence. I thought I was quite clever..:) Anyway, it made me wonder if we did have an expression...couldn't think of one.
We went to this beautiful little village called Hebden Bridge on friday.
Hebden Bridge...down the bottom of a deep valley
It was raining very hard and I'm finding I have to keep turning off the flash on my camera when I want to take pictures. It seems to think it is very dark even in the middle of the day.
I've driven over the moors a couple of times now. It seems very wild and bleak and brooding...but it only lasts about 10 minutes and then we are in another settlement.
The word 'bleak' takes on more meaning. Typical farmhouse
Worsethorne is in the foothills of the Pennines which separate Lancashire from Yorkshire. Both Skipton and Hepton Bridge are in Yorkshire.
We went to see a 13th Century church on friday as well. It was quite large and the floor of it was completely covered in old gravestones, laid horizontally.
Ruined church from the 1200's
There is another church on the grounds as well...I think built in the 1600s or something. It's still being used now.
written by  Abby Benton on January 20, 2008 from Worsthorne, United Kingdom

Fish and Chips
Worsthorne, United Kingdom
We drove at least half an hour out of our way last night to get the 'best' fish and chips in the world last night. Apparently this is not an English tradition, just a Webster one. Rachel has been moaning all year about our chips being horrible, so I was interested in the 'amazing' English ones. The main difference was that they were cut from fresh potatoes with their skins on and were a lot greasier. They also only ate them with vinegar and no tomato sauce. They were a nicer colour than our sort of grey ones too. However, I don't think I would go into raptures over them! Our fish is fresher so I guess the idea is to get English chips and NZ fish and you'd have the perfect meal.
I have been enduring comments about sheep, the fact that we are part of Australia, and inferences to us being a 'warder' country because the warders of the convict colonies must have settled in NZ. I find I have to be slightly polite about English things, however, because I'm very outnumbered. It's also interesting to hear Rachel describing NZ things to her family. :)
Kathryn (Rachel's mum) was very interested in the way we eat Corned Silverside. Rachel had told her how much she enjoyed it because the McGrath's had cooked it in their crockpot the way we do. I was trying to describe it but was very difficult because they had no concept. Their corned beef only comes in tins. How is it made? (not how is it cooked, I know that)
Anyway, it's raining again today so I might go and read some more history books. Wishing you were all here to enjoy this with me.
written by  Abby Benton on January 21, 2008 from Worsthorne, United Kingdom

catch-up
I went for a walk the other day by myself. It was very cold and there was ice everywhere...I followed the old medieval path over the fields again.
There are footpaths over the fields everywhere. They're not usually an actual path, just a stile in the fence and maybe a sign. You can spend hours walking over all sorts of people's land.
There's some thing called the 'right to roam'. I reached the village of Hurstwood and then headed out along a reservoir. There were a few other people there, walking dogs - there are dogs everywhere. One man turned round and said to me, "Have you no dog?" in a surprised tone. After leaving the reservoire, I climbed a deceptively steep hill and arrived puffing at the top. If you look at the photo you can see the ribbon of path I followed around the edge of the reservoire.
The air is very bracing and the views are beautiful, though a bit brooding. I'm looking forward to some sunny NZ weather.

Lake District
Bowness-on-Windermere, United Kingdom
We went to the Lake District a couple of days ago. We went to
Windermere, which is the largest lake in the district. It was incredibly beautiful, very cold and very Arthur Ransomish. I would love to go
back in the Summer and do some tramping up on the fells. We paid £5 and went for a 3/4 hour ride on the boat. It was quite cool to see cormorants,
and places that Ransome drew. The colours are stunning and there is still lots of land which means that it doesn't seem overpopulated.
written by  Abby Benton on January 28, 2008 from Bowness-on-Windermere, United Kingdom

London
London, United Kingdom
Well I'm sitting in an internet cafe in the middle of London...Leicester Square if anyone is interested. I can't download any photos at the moment but will do when I get back to Worsthorne later on tonight. I have enjoyed seeing London...it's amazing how few English people there seem to be.
The tubes are great. I feel kind of important being able to use them and go places. There are trains every 3 or 4 minutes and all sorts of lines going all over the city. I have bought a travel card each day for £5.90 which means I can use any public transport in zones 1-4 which includes all of central london and quite far out. You put your card into a machine which opens a gate for you and then can get on or off any tube you want until you leave whereupon you enter your card again to get out.
Rachel and I arrived in London on thursday and decided to go and see the Tower of London. We got in at Euston station and had to navigate the tube. Rachel is pretty good, but she's only ever done it a couple of times before and always had someone with her who knew it better. We did pretty well, made a slightly funny mistake by climbing off one train and then getting back on one that took us straight back the way we had come. THat was easily fixed though.
We found the one we thought we wanted, climbed on, went a couple of stops and then the voice came over the speaker saying that this train was terminating at Aldgate. (not where we wanted to stop). Rachel said, "Quick, get off!" and jumped out the door. I, however, was a bit slower and the doors started closing and we stared mutely at each other as I disappeared off into the darkness. I have no phone that works. I had to get off at the next station because it terminated there and I wandered around wondering what to do. I was strongly tempted to climb back on the train and get back to Rachel but I was pretty sure she would try to come to me. So I waited and another train came roaring in and I ran along trying to see Rachel when I she poked her head out and yelled, "Abby! Get in!" I did a beautiful flying leap into a completely different carriage with much grace and we both got off at our destination and laughed our heads off. I did feel for a while that we had lost each other in the bowels of the earth. It's not like there is just one train. They're all at different levels.
Since then we have developed a PLAN of ACTION if ever we are so stupid as to lose each other again. :)
The Tower of London was pretty cool and I've been in Westminster Abbey as well. That doesn't feel like a building that is about God. It's all about dead people. There are heaps of kings and queens from many years ago in great stone sarcophaguses (I know that's egyptian, but it sounds good) and statues of people like Wilberforce.
I have to admit London feels a bit depressing just because it is filled with people who seem so sad and grumpy. No different from the rest of the world I guess just all jam-packed into a small space. I begin to feel, more and more, a strong sense of compassion for people who are foreigners in different lands. Maybe this comes from being a foreigner, but I think things like Hebron House are incredibly important ways to look after people. (I have to say that I don't feel that like a foreigner in England...it's not like being in Tonga!)
I am going to York tomorrow for my birthday if we're not too exhausted from London. Then it's Holland on tuesday, I get back on Friday and then home on Sunday. It's gone pretty fast but I'm looking forward to getting back and doing some proper work. Hope you're all well, miss you.
written by  Abby Benton on February 3, 2008 from London, United Kingdom

Liverpool Airport
Liverpool, United Kingdom
I thought I was going to miss the plane when I went to Liverpool. We just hit traffic jam after traffic jam. It took twice the time it usually would. My flight left at 9.30am and we arrived just after 9. The gate was to close at 9, and you don't get there until you've gone through security. I raced in and up the airport, burst into security and was able to start straight way. A very unruffled, unhurried man with strong Liverpool accent slowly took my things and then casually said, "Boots, please!" I tugged them off and handed them to him and he leisurley placed them on the conveyor belt. Finally, I raced off again and arrived at my gate with 10 minutes to spare. Interestingly enough, we only decided the night before that we would leave a quarter of an hour earlier than we had planned. Had we not done that, I would have missed my flight.
written by  Abby Benton on February 8, 2008 from Liverpool, United Kingdom

arrival in Amsterdam
Amsterdam, Netherlands
The Netherlands are like nowhere I've been before. You couldn't get a more different reception at Schiphol, Amsterdam than Heathrow, London. The immigration officer took one look at my passport, wished me a happy birthday for yesterday and gave me a stamp. Not a hint of a neo-Spanish inquisition! No searching questions about reasons, money or ancestry. I think at that point I became disposed to like Holland. I wandered leisurely out of the airport (in direct contrast to the flustered way I had just barged into the previous airport!), got a few euros out of the bank, and a drink and sat down to wait for Glen.
Amsterdam is beautiful. The houses are all so different from each other and there are canals everywhere. Apparently there are over 1300 bridges in Amsterdam alone. You sometimes get a sense of deja vu when you cross one. There are bicycles everywhere you look and they all seem to be coming from the wrong direction because they drive on the right hand side of the road. It's terribly confusing to get to a roundabout and give way to the left - it feels slightly reckless and wrong somehow.
Amsterdam canal houses
We went first to the Anne Frank huis. It was very strange to walk the same rooms that they lived in for 2 years. It's a sort of surreal feeling. I was quite surprised at actually how much space there was.
The Rijksmuseum was next. It took me about three days to work out how to say that but it's actually quite simple. I can see why I had difficulty when I looked at the way I wrote it in my diary from memory. I've got 'Reichtmuseum'. I wonder what that means. hehe. Anyway, I thoroughly enjoyed this museum. There were the most amazing Rembrandt paintings. My favourite was a self-portrait in which Rembrandt is dressed up as St Paul. The use of light is excellent. It doesn't matter where you look on the painting, your eye is continually drawn to his face - almost involuntarily.
Gateway to the Rijksmuseum
We also went on a very cool tour of the canals. It worked out really well because we started when it was still daylight and finished when it was dark so I got to see Amsterdam in the light and then with the lights. It is quite a different perspective from the canals.
Anyway, will write some more soon. Have recently returned to England so need to do a bit of 'catch-up'.
written by  Abby Benton on February 8, 2008 from Amsterdam, Netherlands

Day 2 of Holland
Voorschoten, Netherlands
Well I'm actually back in NZ now, but I thought I had better finish up my Holland blogs. The second day I slept in to a ridiculous hour and made my way leisurely downstairs. I had to ask Ans how to work the shower. It is amazing how many different ways there are to work so many familiar things.
Ans and her two children (Warren, 9 and Ashleigh, 3) took me to Madurodam. Again, I had incredible difficulty pronouncing or even remembering this word when they said it to me. Warren carefully and slowly pronounced it for me, syllable by syllable. Then I saw it written down and remembered it instantly. I guess I'm a visual learner.
Madurodam is a miniature Holland. Many of the famous landmarks of Holland and streets etc are replicated at 1/25 of their actual size. The detail is very careful and exact.
It was an excellent way to 'see' a lot of Holland in a few hours.
For tea, we went to a very comfortable restaurant that Ans refers to as the 'Pancake House'. I'm sure it has a Dutch name...and equally sure she told me it...but have no idea what it is now. It had dark ceilings and was furnished in warm colours. In the centre of the room was a large, open fire with comfy chairs all around it. I sank into one of them and was instantly attacked by a kind of sleepy daze. It was with the most reluctance that I hoisted myself from the chair to go chase the kids around the playground before heading for home an hour or so later.
written by  Abby Benton on February 14, 2008 from Voorschoten, Netherlands

last (boohoo) day of holland
Leiden, Netherlands
Today Ans' friend Linda showed me around Leiden. I felt very Dutch as I set off on a bicycle to see the sights - although certain parts of my anatomy felt the repercussions of sitting on a bicycle seat for a few hours! Leiden is a very old town and has Holland's oldest University in it. I know that Nelson Mandela and Winston Churchill studied there. I was informed of this fact by Glen who tells me he signed his name between these guys in the sweat room (I think this room is where people studied, rather than a sauna!).
We saw Rembrandt's birthplace, where he went to school and where he began painting. There were almshouses, the city hall, the execution square, churches, something called a 'burcht' (probably spelled completely differently to that), windmills, canals, bicycles, houses, narrow streets....etc. It was an excellent afternoon. Linda knew just about everything and was able to keep me well entertained and interested all afternoon.
It definitely whet my appetite to see and learn more about the Netherlands.
I spent the rest of the day talking with Ans and trying to learn a bit of Dutch. I read an ad out of the newspaper and made her laugh a lot. Some sounds my brain refuses to hear and it is even less likely that my tongue can be forced to say them. However, I think I was progressing ever so gradually. It was lovely staying with Ans and Glen. It was very 'gezellig' as the Dutch term it...very comfortable and I was sorry I had to leave when I did.
written by  Abby Benton on February 14, 2008 from Leiden, Netherlands

Out of my window - Rachel's grandmother's place

Water Street

Kissing Gate

Gate

Medieval mule track into Worsthorne

Towneley Hall

Victorian Kitchen, Towneley Hall

Skipton Castle entrance

Inside new kitchen, Skipton Castle

English Weather

Even the pigeons hated the rain!

Hebden Bridge...down the bottom of a deep valley

The house with the green door was built in the 1600's. Looking from the ruined church

Ruined church again

Stone stile

Ruined church from the 1200's

Some terraces. Built in the industrial revolution for the mill workers

"her hem was 6 inches deep in mud!" (Jane Austen referring to Elizabeth Bennet)

an unusual break in the clouds...note the stone walls disappearing into the water

Church at Heptonstall

Day Rooms in Whalley Abbey

The sun!!! Whalley Abbey

Snowdrops at the Abbey

Whalley Abbey

Lake Windermere

Gateway to the Rijksmuseum

Amsterdam canal houses