by Layla
Friday was our one-week anniversary of living in Washington DC. It’s been a funny week. I’ve not been quite sure what to do with myself. Tuesday was a particularly odd day. The sun vanished behind a raincloud. Roz went off to work, and I called my parents, then her mother, then had the landlady fix a couple of things in the flat, then went on a long trek to ‘Target’ and ‘Bed, Bath and Beyond’ in Columbia Heights to buy an array of household items. Typically, I got indecisive and stressed and came back with a rather random array of items as opposed to the sensible list my dear wife had presented to me. And when I say ‘came back’, I mean ‘was driven back by a random stranger’ – when I asked the cashier about the best way back to Georgetown, the posh woman behind me in the queue overheard – she lived practically next door and offered me a lift. On our ride home she pointed out sights of interest and discussed her life as a journalist, covering warzones, while I mused upon the very clever nature of everyone I meet in DC, and my relief that she probably was not going to abduct me…
With Roz out at a work dinner, I prepared for a quiet night in and started feeling a little morose about my possible interminable future as a housewife, but then she called and said she had an hour to spare – so we both dashed to the cool little bar in Kramer Books and drank wine and caught up with our respective days. Very cheery. Then we both pottered off to our events – hers a fancy dinner with glamorous people to discuss something intelligent; me to the late night shops to acquire some coffee for our new cafetiere. But she had found me the contact details of a ‘spouse’ of a colleague who had a proper job, so I started to have hope that life may hold something for me more sensible than housewifeliness (at which, to use an American phrase, I suck).
The next couple of days passed more cheerily, with me making lots of health world contacts, going to an interesting presentation by the World Bank of their new development report on gender equality at the Centre for Global Development (a great think tank near Dupont Circle) and a ‘congressional briefing’ on integrating family planning and HIV services in developing countries, in one of the glamorous, marble-clad government buildings, right next door to the Capitol building (at which I asked a question about whether there were any disadvantages to the approach they suggested, which resulted in my receiving dirty looks from the entire audience, and the panel staring at me, stumped).
We’ve also been doing some evening socializing – a lovely trip to the cinema that’s just a hop, skip and a jump from our flat on Wednesday (My Week With Marilyn – quite enjoyable), and a brilliant St Andrews Day celebration with the Scottish government and various fancies on Thursday, at a museum dedicated to women’s art, randomly. My parents, having heard about our invitation to this decidedly glamorous affair, had immediately ordered sashes in the family tartan for both of us, and we had spent a week waiting on tenterhooks to see if they would arrive. Sure enough, Roz’s PA extracted them from the post room in the nick of time, and we looked excellent. It was a cheery night and our first time meeting a few people nice enough to hope they might become our friends…
Yesterday, I was up early to meet the delightful and intelligent director of global health for another think tank – we had a lovely, and fascinating conversation about global health in the US over lunch, until I realized I had to leave for an event that was so very opposite that it left me feeling entirely confused as to my identity: the official spouses’ coffee morning. This took place in a mansion just outside of town that made me fear Roz ever being invited to anyone else’s house and realize that we might have lived there rather than our little Georgetown flat… The spouses in attendance (9 women and a solitary man, clutching a small daughter for protection) were very nice, but the conversation was absolutely dominated by the discussion of children, of which each attendee had a few (some present; the others mostly at the same school). Children were so dominant in their identities that four of the ‘spouses’ sported gold necklaces proclaiming ‘MUM’ in various scripts. The absence of such a necklace around my neck was rapidly noted by all present.
People tried to engage me in conversation but when I embarrassedly admitted that (1) I did not have children (nor was I desperately trying to acquire some), and (2) I was intending to seek a job, and furthermore, not even a designated ‘spouse’ job, the conversation dried up. I sat there awkwardly, sipping my cup of tea and wondering how to extricate myself from this odd little parallel universe of homework and sports days.
Fortunately one of the spouses was driving home in my direction and gave me a lift (the event clearly finishing in time for the end of the school day). I hopped off at the school gates, walked home through the woods, then up to Roz’s work to snigger at her massive office and have drinks with the boss and his wife, and then – oh joys – it was the weekend!
We had dinner in a pleasant but unremarkable Italian restaurant called Il Ricci, then popped in for a drink in our rather bizarre local pub/restaurant Mie N Yu where we had an unpleasant cocktail and a more pleasant glass of wine amid weird Thai/Turkish décor, a bellydancer, and an incongruous TV showing a basketball game. A fun and quirky end to a fun and quirky week. I wonder what next week will bring…
Monday, 5 December 2011
Tuesday, 29 November 2011
In which Layla and Roz move to Washington DC
by Layla
It’s a funny feeling to leave one home in one country and travel towards another. It was as though we were in home limbo, placeless as we flew across the Atlantic. But then, with mounting excitement, we leapt from the taxi, and breathed a sigh of relief as we found that the home we’d chosen was indeed as nice as we hoped we remembered.
A vase of flowers awaited us at the door – from Roz’s friend Ali. And then, upon opening the door, a bottle of wine on our new dining table; pale velvety sofas; a comfortable bed; furniture galore, and furthermore, our ‘float’ (i.e. cutlery, towels, toasters etc – lent to us til our own arrive by ship) nicely distributed around the flat. We quickly put away our stuff (Roz revelling in smugness at her remembering to pack hangers), and went out to buy a few essential groceries. It was the day after thanksgiving, and the official start of the Christmas season. We walked along the bustling street to the festive tones of buskers to the exceptionally posh Dean and Delucca’s deli, where we spent about a million pounds on a little bread and cheese. And walking back to our flat, we marvelled at how we could possibly live in such a posh uber-Hampstead-y area.
Tempted to fall asleep, we soon forced ourselves out of our flat again – Roz had made reservations at an Italian restaurant. It was 2 minutes from our flat and delightful, but for the screeching violinist. Unclear whether this poor man would be acceptable to people not suffering from jetlag, but in our jetlagged state, we knew we’d have to leave. Luckily two seconds down the road was Il Canale, another lovely Italian restaurant, where we shared a pizza and toasted our new life with prosecco, and propped our eyes open as long as we could!
Up ridiculously early the next day, with a brilliant blue sky, we walked down the hill, a 5 minute walk past the canal to the river. It has a nice little landscaped park, and we walked along it, past restaurants and cocktail bars, and again pinched ourselves, trying to understand if this could really be us. The walkway goes on for miles, down to Capitol Hill. But after 10 minutes or so, we popped into the local café, Baked and Wired, and then – finding it lovely but more of a coffee than a breakfast place – proceeded to yet another posh and delightful venue, Leopold’s, for a tasty first breakfast in Georgetown.
Having purchased a few bits and bobs in a fancy furniture shop, and attempted to call our parents from the dodgy internet of the local bookshop, we returned home in time to receive our online shopping from Safeway, and then headed out for a stroll along the canal, followed by J Edgar at the cinema that’s a 5 minute walk from our new flat. Nice.
After the cinema we went out for dinner at yet another fancy Italian restaurant 5 minutes from our flat. This one is favoured by celebrities and presidents, and it was delicious, if rather mad with Christmas decorations. An excellent first full day in Washington.
On Sunday, we decided to venture out of Georgetown. First, Roz went for a run along the riverside, all the way past the Washington Monument, White House, and Capitol Hill, and came back feeling pleased with herself, and told me to change my clothes as it was practically summer. Sure enough, it was t-shirt weather. We set off on a walk to the weekly lovely farmers’ market at Dupont Circle, where we bought some cheese and sampled lots of tasty things, and then to Logan Circle where we visited furniture shops and had lunch in a delightful café called Cork – the food was amazing, and we each had a ‘mimosa flight’ which means three small drinks. Pleasing. We walked home and were happy to find it wasn’t very far away.
Later, Roz went for a massage to help regain serenity in anticipation of her new job starting the following day while I did some shopping, then we went next door to Barnes and Noble (I’m in denial about it closing in December) to hear former Time editor Walter Issacson talking about his Steve Jobs biography – really interesting.
Afterwards we went home, feeling very sleepy. Roz cooked us our first dinner at home in Georgetown, and then we fought our exhaustion to walk up the hill to a wine bar we’d heard of, Bistrot Lepic. We were rewarded with a funny, quirky little bar, champagne, and cheese. And so endeth our first weekend in DC.
Today we both went to Roz’s work for a few induction things, then I left to go to a talk by one of the key players in USAID about the US government’s global health strategy, during which I was too shy to talk to people and was most irate with myself, but it was an interesting event, and they had quite a good lunch… then I went to the Social Security office to get my lost number, which will facilitate lots of utilities etc. I rewarded myself with Starbucks and their free wifi. As I pottered home, with the details of various coffee mornings for ‘spouses’ in my bag, I worried that I could get used to this. Note to self: get out to work!
It’s a funny feeling to leave one home in one country and travel towards another. It was as though we were in home limbo, placeless as we flew across the Atlantic. But then, with mounting excitement, we leapt from the taxi, and breathed a sigh of relief as we found that the home we’d chosen was indeed as nice as we hoped we remembered.
A vase of flowers awaited us at the door – from Roz’s friend Ali. And then, upon opening the door, a bottle of wine on our new dining table; pale velvety sofas; a comfortable bed; furniture galore, and furthermore, our ‘float’ (i.e. cutlery, towels, toasters etc – lent to us til our own arrive by ship) nicely distributed around the flat. We quickly put away our stuff (Roz revelling in smugness at her remembering to pack hangers), and went out to buy a few essential groceries. It was the day after thanksgiving, and the official start of the Christmas season. We walked along the bustling street to the festive tones of buskers to the exceptionally posh Dean and Delucca’s deli, where we spent about a million pounds on a little bread and cheese. And walking back to our flat, we marvelled at how we could possibly live in such a posh uber-Hampstead-y area.
Tempted to fall asleep, we soon forced ourselves out of our flat again – Roz had made reservations at an Italian restaurant. It was 2 minutes from our flat and delightful, but for the screeching violinist. Unclear whether this poor man would be acceptable to people not suffering from jetlag, but in our jetlagged state, we knew we’d have to leave. Luckily two seconds down the road was Il Canale, another lovely Italian restaurant, where we shared a pizza and toasted our new life with prosecco, and propped our eyes open as long as we could!
Up ridiculously early the next day, with a brilliant blue sky, we walked down the hill, a 5 minute walk past the canal to the river. It has a nice little landscaped park, and we walked along it, past restaurants and cocktail bars, and again pinched ourselves, trying to understand if this could really be us. The walkway goes on for miles, down to Capitol Hill. But after 10 minutes or so, we popped into the local café, Baked and Wired, and then – finding it lovely but more of a coffee than a breakfast place – proceeded to yet another posh and delightful venue, Leopold’s, for a tasty first breakfast in Georgetown.
Having purchased a few bits and bobs in a fancy furniture shop, and attempted to call our parents from the dodgy internet of the local bookshop, we returned home in time to receive our online shopping from Safeway, and then headed out for a stroll along the canal, followed by J Edgar at the cinema that’s a 5 minute walk from our new flat. Nice.
After the cinema we went out for dinner at yet another fancy Italian restaurant 5 minutes from our flat. This one is favoured by celebrities and presidents, and it was delicious, if rather mad with Christmas decorations. An excellent first full day in Washington.
On Sunday, we decided to venture out of Georgetown. First, Roz went for a run along the riverside, all the way past the Washington Monument, White House, and Capitol Hill, and came back feeling pleased with herself, and told me to change my clothes as it was practically summer. Sure enough, it was t-shirt weather. We set off on a walk to the weekly lovely farmers’ market at Dupont Circle, where we bought some cheese and sampled lots of tasty things, and then to Logan Circle where we visited furniture shops and had lunch in a delightful café called Cork – the food was amazing, and we each had a ‘mimosa flight’ which means three small drinks. Pleasing. We walked home and were happy to find it wasn’t very far away.
Later, Roz went for a massage to help regain serenity in anticipation of her new job starting the following day while I did some shopping, then we went next door to Barnes and Noble (I’m in denial about it closing in December) to hear former Time editor Walter Issacson talking about his Steve Jobs biography – really interesting.
Afterwards we went home, feeling very sleepy. Roz cooked us our first dinner at home in Georgetown, and then we fought our exhaustion to walk up the hill to a wine bar we’d heard of, Bistrot Lepic. We were rewarded with a funny, quirky little bar, champagne, and cheese. And so endeth our first weekend in DC.
Today we both went to Roz’s work for a few induction things, then I left to go to a talk by one of the key players in USAID about the US government’s global health strategy, during which I was too shy to talk to people and was most irate with myself, but it was an interesting event, and they had quite a good lunch… then I went to the Social Security office to get my lost number, which will facilitate lots of utilities etc. I rewarded myself with Starbucks and their free wifi. As I pottered home, with the details of various coffee mornings for ‘spouses’ in my bag, I worried that I could get used to this. Note to self: get out to work!
Wednesday, 2 November 2011
In which Layla and Roz hunt for a new home in Georgetown
by Layla
With Roz off to work, I got my first taste of being a lady of leisure. I pottered around the hotel, then wandered down Connecticut Avenue to Dupont Circle, where I was to meet a director of global health policy at a think tank. She was lovely, though alas no jobs are available at the moment. But we had a really useful discussion about my options in DC, and some interesting mental health chat. Afterwards, somewhat confused about what to do, I gravitated to a little lunch place and read my book over salad.
I then decided to walk to Georgetown. I had scheduled three house viewings that afternoon, and I wanted to get there early to try to get a bit more of a feel for the area. Walking along M street, I turned left, and after a block, found myself crossing a bridge over the canal. The canal is quite picturesque and has a walking path that apparently extends for almost 200 miles, into Maryland. Nice. I kept walking down the hill for another couple of blocks and found myself under a flyover, and next to a road. My first instinct was 'urgh' but then I looked... to my left was a multiplex cinema! And straight across the road, there was the Potomac River, with lovely views, a boathouse, and a riverside park, here.
After pausing to read my book, I walked a bit more around Georgetown, past pretty shops and cupcake vendors, wondering if I was posh enough to live here, til it was time to view my first property of the day. Which may turn out to be the one we take! It's just off the main street, in a little courtyard, and is a new type building, rather than a traditional row house as we'd hoped. It's all white walls and shiny wooden floors, with the second bedroom being on a mezzanine, and two long, thin balconies overlooking rooftops and the pretty buildings of M street. Very modern, very nice condition. And bicycle parking. But do we want a modern flat? Do we want to live in Georgetown? I progressed to meet the wife of Roz's predecessor, who showed me their house, a nice little rowhouse, though quite dark and in less good condition (and further up the hill). Finally, having met up with Roz, we saw the third house, a bigger rowhouse, in moderately good condition, with likely fussy landlords. And then, flummoxed, we progressed to an Italian restaurant where we wrote down the pros and cons of living in Georgetown, over pizza.
Then we returned to the original flat so that Roz could see it. It still looked good, but we remained unsure. Do we want to live in Georgetown? In a modern flat? We walked back to Dupont (25 minutes), and continued to muse over G&Ts in Kramer Books, then wine and cheese in Veritas before bed...
Georgetown photos here
With Roz off to work, I got my first taste of being a lady of leisure. I pottered around the hotel, then wandered down Connecticut Avenue to Dupont Circle, where I was to meet a director of global health policy at a think tank. She was lovely, though alas no jobs are available at the moment. But we had a really useful discussion about my options in DC, and some interesting mental health chat. Afterwards, somewhat confused about what to do, I gravitated to a little lunch place and read my book over salad.
I then decided to walk to Georgetown. I had scheduled three house viewings that afternoon, and I wanted to get there early to try to get a bit more of a feel for the area. Walking along M street, I turned left, and after a block, found myself crossing a bridge over the canal. The canal is quite picturesque and has a walking path that apparently extends for almost 200 miles, into Maryland. Nice. I kept walking down the hill for another couple of blocks and found myself under a flyover, and next to a road. My first instinct was 'urgh' but then I looked... to my left was a multiplex cinema! And straight across the road, there was the Potomac River, with lovely views, a boathouse, and a riverside park, here.
After pausing to read my book, I walked a bit more around Georgetown, past pretty shops and cupcake vendors, wondering if I was posh enough to live here, til it was time to view my first property of the day. Which may turn out to be the one we take! It's just off the main street, in a little courtyard, and is a new type building, rather than a traditional row house as we'd hoped. It's all white walls and shiny wooden floors, with the second bedroom being on a mezzanine, and two long, thin balconies overlooking rooftops and the pretty buildings of M street. Very modern, very nice condition. And bicycle parking. But do we want a modern flat? Do we want to live in Georgetown? I progressed to meet the wife of Roz's predecessor, who showed me their house, a nice little rowhouse, though quite dark and in less good condition (and further up the hill). Finally, having met up with Roz, we saw the third house, a bigger rowhouse, in moderately good condition, with likely fussy landlords. And then, flummoxed, we progressed to an Italian restaurant where we wrote down the pros and cons of living in Georgetown, over pizza.
Then we returned to the original flat so that Roz could see it. It still looked good, but we remained unsure. Do we want to live in Georgetown? In a modern flat? We walked back to Dupont (25 minutes), and continued to muse over G&Ts in Kramer Books, then wine and cheese in Veritas before bed...
Georgetown photos here
Tuesday, 1 November 2011
In which Roz and Layla explore DC, fail to find a home, and spend their anniversary dining with Roz's future boss
by Layla
On Sunday we were delightfully awoken by sunlight streaming in the window. We got up, put on our sturdy walking shoes (well, not really, but that would have been appropriate!) and set out to explore DC. Which is a far more pleasant occupation in the sunshine! Roz had booked brunch at a cool chocolate-themed restaurant, Coco Sala, which has prize-winning brunches. It turned out to be in the same area as yesterday's conference, but we took a long, meandering route past what we thought to be one of the apartments we were going to look at the following day, set in a lovely street, then down past the Dupont Circle area to the Logan Circle area. The houses were lovely, and the wide streets were lined by cute little cafes and suchlike local amenities. We were entirely sold on the area.
After a delicious brunch of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for Roz and a cheese souffle for me, we set off for more walking. We headed south to hit the famous Mall, a long stretch of grass, lined by Smithsonian museums, with Capitol Hill at one end, and the Lincoln Memorial at the other, and the Washington Monument in the middle. It felt very Washington as we strolled down the paths, avoiding the final runners in a marathon being run that day. We veered left and saw the Potomac River for the first time, glistening in the sunlight. After a stop for a drink at a sunny outdoor cafe (how bizarre to think of the previous day's snow!), we walked up through an area called Foggy Bottom (which seemed fairly dull other than its comedy name, and it being the home of several of the organisations where I hope to one day work!), and crossed over a bridge to Georgetown.
We were very intrigued to see Georgetown - it has been built up as a mythical area in our minds, very posh and picturesque, full of rich people, the streets possibly lacking in soul, but making up for it in charm, though we would not be able to afford so much as a coffee. We weren't quite sure what to expect, and I'm not sure we've really got the measure of it yet, but we walked down M Street, the main drag. Sure enough, lovely buildings, posh designer shops, a nice Barnes and Noble bookshop (where we had cookies and drinks), and Georgetown University at the bottom of the road. Roz acquired two lovely new pairs of boots, and we had a meander in a couple of mini-shopping malls.
After that, we'd hoped to view a flat but the owner cancelled, so we returned to our hotel for a rest - our feet were aching after all that walking! And then it was out again, this time to Adams Morgan. For some unknown reason I'd believed that Adams Morgan was a scary, rough neighbourhood. In fact it's arty, ethnically diverse, and quite pleasant other than being up a bit of a hill. We went to a Nepalese restaurant called Himalaya (where Roz eavesdropped on our neighbours' conversations and gained further evidence of DC being a city for clever people), and wandered around the main street before heading back to our hotel and falling asleep at a shamefully early hour.
So I only had myself to blame when I woke up resolutely at 5am! Roz eventually joined me in wakefulness, and we walked to a really delightful cafe in Adams Morgan called Tryst, where we had a 2nd wedding anniversary breakfast - bagels, yoghurt, granola. We loved it. And then we marched down the hill to meet our 'realtor', which is an estate agent. We saw four properties, all of which were no good. It was interesting to see them, but increasingly dispiriting... particularly when the one we'd rather pinned our hopes on turned out to be in a building for which the first floor was given over to a mental health clinic. We interspersed them with lunch at a brilliant political type cafe called Bus Boys and Poets at U Street, an 'up and coming', hip and edgy area of the city. Loved the cafe. So many cool venues in DC.
After our final, unsuccessful flat viewing, we trudged up the hill back to Tryst to raise our spirits with some smoothies, then headed back to the hotel to glam up and walk to Roz's new boss's house for a welcome dinner party, which was lovely. Afterwards, we popped into the Veritas wine bar near our hotel for a final anniversary glass of champagne. A lovely day.
And now Roz is off to work, and I have an appointment to meet a potential work person, and several Georgetown flat appointments... wish me luck!
On Sunday we were delightfully awoken by sunlight streaming in the window. We got up, put on our sturdy walking shoes (well, not really, but that would have been appropriate!) and set out to explore DC. Which is a far more pleasant occupation in the sunshine! Roz had booked brunch at a cool chocolate-themed restaurant, Coco Sala, which has prize-winning brunches. It turned out to be in the same area as yesterday's conference, but we took a long, meandering route past what we thought to be one of the apartments we were going to look at the following day, set in a lovely street, then down past the Dupont Circle area to the Logan Circle area. The houses were lovely, and the wide streets were lined by cute little cafes and suchlike local amenities. We were entirely sold on the area.
After a delicious brunch of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for Roz and a cheese souffle for me, we set off for more walking. We headed south to hit the famous Mall, a long stretch of grass, lined by Smithsonian museums, with Capitol Hill at one end, and the Lincoln Memorial at the other, and the Washington Monument in the middle. It felt very Washington as we strolled down the paths, avoiding the final runners in a marathon being run that day. We veered left and saw the Potomac River for the first time, glistening in the sunlight. After a stop for a drink at a sunny outdoor cafe (how bizarre to think of the previous day's snow!), we walked up through an area called Foggy Bottom (which seemed fairly dull other than its comedy name, and it being the home of several of the organisations where I hope to one day work!), and crossed over a bridge to Georgetown.
We were very intrigued to see Georgetown - it has been built up as a mythical area in our minds, very posh and picturesque, full of rich people, the streets possibly lacking in soul, but making up for it in charm, though we would not be able to afford so much as a coffee. We weren't quite sure what to expect, and I'm not sure we've really got the measure of it yet, but we walked down M Street, the main drag. Sure enough, lovely buildings, posh designer shops, a nice Barnes and Noble bookshop (where we had cookies and drinks), and Georgetown University at the bottom of the road. Roz acquired two lovely new pairs of boots, and we had a meander in a couple of mini-shopping malls.
After that, we'd hoped to view a flat but the owner cancelled, so we returned to our hotel for a rest - our feet were aching after all that walking! And then it was out again, this time to Adams Morgan. For some unknown reason I'd believed that Adams Morgan was a scary, rough neighbourhood. In fact it's arty, ethnically diverse, and quite pleasant other than being up a bit of a hill. We went to a Nepalese restaurant called Himalaya (where Roz eavesdropped on our neighbours' conversations and gained further evidence of DC being a city for clever people), and wandered around the main street before heading back to our hotel and falling asleep at a shamefully early hour.
So I only had myself to blame when I woke up resolutely at 5am! Roz eventually joined me in wakefulness, and we walked to a really delightful cafe in Adams Morgan called Tryst, where we had a 2nd wedding anniversary breakfast - bagels, yoghurt, granola. We loved it. And then we marched down the hill to meet our 'realtor', which is an estate agent. We saw four properties, all of which were no good. It was interesting to see them, but increasingly dispiriting... particularly when the one we'd rather pinned our hopes on turned out to be in a building for which the first floor was given over to a mental health clinic. We interspersed them with lunch at a brilliant political type cafe called Bus Boys and Poets at U Street, an 'up and coming', hip and edgy area of the city. Loved the cafe. So many cool venues in DC.
After our final, unsuccessful flat viewing, we trudged up the hill back to Tryst to raise our spirits with some smoothies, then headed back to the hotel to glam up and walk to Roz's new boss's house for a welcome dinner party, which was lovely. Afterwards, we popped into the Veritas wine bar near our hotel for a final anniversary glass of champagne. A lovely day.
And now Roz is off to work, and I have an appointment to meet a potential work person, and several Georgetown flat appointments... wish me luck!
Sunday, 30 October 2011
DC: a city for clever people?
by Layla
There is something very odd about flying into a new city in which we will be living in just under a month. We landed at Dulles airport, determined to love it. The airport procedures didn’t persuade us at first – a long transit to the main airport building, and hideously long queues with one passport official for the lot of us. It took more than two hours to get from the plane to the Churchill Hotel, our home for the next six days. And then when we determinedly headed out for a drink, we were foiled first by everything being apparently closed, and then when we found Bistro de Coin, despite its lovely atmosphere they wouldn’t serve us wine as we didn’t have our passports. But fortunately they served us chips, and we staggered up the hill to our hotel feeling partially sated, and entirely exhausted.
Up far too early on Saturday morning thanks to jet lag, we got dressed and headed out in the cold and torrential rain. Luckily it was all uphill from there. We had breakfast in Afterwards, the café of Kramer Books, a really brilliant independent bookshop at Dupont Circle. Pancakes, omlette, juice, and loveliness, and a copy of the Washington Post to wash it all down. And then it was time for our first metro experience. Which was not entirely successful – the trains seem to run only once every 20 minutes or so… particularly disappointing when we realised we’d got on the train in the wrong direction! Luckily we’d bought a copy of the monthly ‘Washingtonian’ which I’d rather hoped might be a Time Out substitute. Not really, but it is a great magazine, with some listings and a range of interesting articles. Through reading it, with features not on celebrities and suchlike nonsense, but on such subjects as the white house legal team, top business people, etc, it became clear: Washington DC is a city for clever people.
By the time we got to our target station, we were sure we were late. But no, we slipped into seats in the balcony of the Sidney Harman hall just in time for what we had been looking forward to for weeks – a TEDx conference, on the vague theme of ‘place’. After a brilliant experience with TEDx in London, we had been excited about going to another, and it didn’t disappoint. For an entire day, we listened to 12 minute talks by brilliant, fascinating people on a wide range of diverse topics. We particularly enjoyed the man who invented the security words one has to type when buying something online to prove that you’re a person rather than a computer. Did you know that only one of the words is for that purpose – the other word is taken from a book that is being converted to a digital book, which is done by scanning? But the computer can’t recognise a third of the words, so this method is used to translate billions of words to enable ebooks to be published. Very clever. Also liked a NASA astrophysicist on telescopes. It was a particularly fortunate pastime for yesterday, as it was first freezing and rainy, then actually snowy! We braved the weather for delicious guacamole for lunch at a nearby restaurant, but otherwise remained warm and intellectually stimulated. A great start to our Washington adventure.
After the conference (we sneaked out a little early due to jet lag drowsiness and a dull final speaker), the rain/snow had largely abated, so we decided to stretch our legs and walk to see the White House. A longer walk than we’d anticipated, we stared up at the big white building with a little confusion. We hadn’t expected it to be right on the street… and it was a bit in need of a coat of paint! Only then did we look up and see a sign proclaiming that it wasn’t the White House at all, but the Treasury! Sheepishly we took directions from some security guards, and suddenly there it was, looming white and elegant across a pristine lawn, and just as it looks on TV (and in the West Wing!). It felt shamefully touristy, but we stood and stared in delight.
Afterwards, we walked all the way up Connecticut Avenue to Dupont Circle, and Kramer Books called for a glass of wine. I had the Horton Viogner, which just won an award for best locally made wine (in Virginia). I’ve had better, to be honest, but under the circumstances, was duly appreciative… And we may have had a piece of key lime pie…
Having walked home past Halloween costumed partiers, we were amused to find these same partiers on the news as we returned to our room for a pre-prandial rest, along with pictures of far more snow in different parts of Virginia. Seems we’d got off lightly. We were supposed to go to a fancy (and expensive) restaurant for dinner, but as we walked there, we both noted we felt rather tired (it was 9:30pm!) and not especially ravenous. And we’d both secretly noted the presence of a delicious-sounding butternut squash ravioli on the Kramer Books menu… and so Roz voiced what we were both thinking, and we sprinted through pretty residential streets (one of which might soon be our street!) to the lovely restaurant where we indulged. Afterwards, we pottered around the bookshop, which had brilliant selections of books, and on a Saturday night at 10:30pm was absolutely mobbed with people browsing books, eating in the restaurant, and drinking at the bar. As we walked past the bar, we saw a man having a glass of wine and reading the Financial Times. Roz and I looked at each other. We had come home.
We walked up the road, past more Halloween costumed partiers, and were tempted into a very lovely little wine bar called Veritas. It seemed there were plenty of places to go out, but they were a little subtle, and local. A couple of proseccos and a sneaky bit of delicious cheese later, we retired to bed, to dream of living in this city.
There is something very odd about flying into a new city in which we will be living in just under a month. We landed at Dulles airport, determined to love it. The airport procedures didn’t persuade us at first – a long transit to the main airport building, and hideously long queues with one passport official for the lot of us. It took more than two hours to get from the plane to the Churchill Hotel, our home for the next six days. And then when we determinedly headed out for a drink, we were foiled first by everything being apparently closed, and then when we found Bistro de Coin, despite its lovely atmosphere they wouldn’t serve us wine as we didn’t have our passports. But fortunately they served us chips, and we staggered up the hill to our hotel feeling partially sated, and entirely exhausted.
Up far too early on Saturday morning thanks to jet lag, we got dressed and headed out in the cold and torrential rain. Luckily it was all uphill from there. We had breakfast in Afterwards, the café of Kramer Books, a really brilliant independent bookshop at Dupont Circle. Pancakes, omlette, juice, and loveliness, and a copy of the Washington Post to wash it all down. And then it was time for our first metro experience. Which was not entirely successful – the trains seem to run only once every 20 minutes or so… particularly disappointing when we realised we’d got on the train in the wrong direction! Luckily we’d bought a copy of the monthly ‘Washingtonian’ which I’d rather hoped might be a Time Out substitute. Not really, but it is a great magazine, with some listings and a range of interesting articles. Through reading it, with features not on celebrities and suchlike nonsense, but on such subjects as the white house legal team, top business people, etc, it became clear: Washington DC is a city for clever people.
By the time we got to our target station, we were sure we were late. But no, we slipped into seats in the balcony of the Sidney Harman hall just in time for what we had been looking forward to for weeks – a TEDx conference, on the vague theme of ‘place’. After a brilliant experience with TEDx in London, we had been excited about going to another, and it didn’t disappoint. For an entire day, we listened to 12 minute talks by brilliant, fascinating people on a wide range of diverse topics. We particularly enjoyed the man who invented the security words one has to type when buying something online to prove that you’re a person rather than a computer. Did you know that only one of the words is for that purpose – the other word is taken from a book that is being converted to a digital book, which is done by scanning? But the computer can’t recognise a third of the words, so this method is used to translate billions of words to enable ebooks to be published. Very clever. Also liked a NASA astrophysicist on telescopes. It was a particularly fortunate pastime for yesterday, as it was first freezing and rainy, then actually snowy! We braved the weather for delicious guacamole for lunch at a nearby restaurant, but otherwise remained warm and intellectually stimulated. A great start to our Washington adventure.
After the conference (we sneaked out a little early due to jet lag drowsiness and a dull final speaker), the rain/snow had largely abated, so we decided to stretch our legs and walk to see the White House. A longer walk than we’d anticipated, we stared up at the big white building with a little confusion. We hadn’t expected it to be right on the street… and it was a bit in need of a coat of paint! Only then did we look up and see a sign proclaiming that it wasn’t the White House at all, but the Treasury! Sheepishly we took directions from some security guards, and suddenly there it was, looming white and elegant across a pristine lawn, and just as it looks on TV (and in the West Wing!). It felt shamefully touristy, but we stood and stared in delight.
Afterwards, we walked all the way up Connecticut Avenue to Dupont Circle, and Kramer Books called for a glass of wine. I had the Horton Viogner, which just won an award for best locally made wine (in Virginia). I’ve had better, to be honest, but under the circumstances, was duly appreciative… And we may have had a piece of key lime pie…
Having walked home past Halloween costumed partiers, we were amused to find these same partiers on the news as we returned to our room for a pre-prandial rest, along with pictures of far more snow in different parts of Virginia. Seems we’d got off lightly. We were supposed to go to a fancy (and expensive) restaurant for dinner, but as we walked there, we both noted we felt rather tired (it was 9:30pm!) and not especially ravenous. And we’d both secretly noted the presence of a delicious-sounding butternut squash ravioli on the Kramer Books menu… and so Roz voiced what we were both thinking, and we sprinted through pretty residential streets (one of which might soon be our street!) to the lovely restaurant where we indulged. Afterwards, we pottered around the bookshop, which had brilliant selections of books, and on a Saturday night at 10:30pm was absolutely mobbed with people browsing books, eating in the restaurant, and drinking at the bar. As we walked past the bar, we saw a man having a glass of wine and reading the Financial Times. Roz and I looked at each other. We had come home.
We walked up the road, past more Halloween costumed partiers, and were tempted into a very lovely little wine bar called Veritas. It seemed there were plenty of places to go out, but they were a little subtle, and local. A couple of proseccos and a sneaky bit of delicious cheese later, we retired to bed, to dream of living in this city.
Thursday, 6 October 2011
In which Roz drags an ailing Layla up a mountain and miles along a cycle path
By Roz
One of the pleasing things about travelling with someone else is that it isn’t viable to go for the “hide-in-the-room” option long term, since one or other of you will eventually say “well, I guess we better go out now” and the other will feel impelled to agree. And thus it was that Layla and I headed out into the scary world of Daedunsan. Our first stop was for lunch (for me, anyway) which was a tasty vegetable bimimbap. Layla, of course, sat there watching me, whilst also writhing in pain (this proved to be a feature of the subsequent few days) – fortunately I am a heartless beast and took this as a cue to order a beer or two.
After lunch, we headed towards the park entrance and got a cable car half way up the mountain. The views were very pleasing and I must confess to a little inner joy that I had managed to avoid the steep uphill walk. On getting out of the cable car, we contemplated the view from the observatory. Given that it was 2 o’clock (and returning to the hotel a minute sooner than we needed to held no attractions for me at all), it struck me as a good plan to head up to the top of the mountain. This did not strike Layla as a good plan, in her weakened and pain-ridden state. So, we agreed that I’d head up (it was around a kilometer) and she’d read her book / doze and wait for me. And so, I headed off.
I must confess that I’d assumed that the hike would be of the usual Korean variety – in other words, very easy going, with boards all the way. In fact, it proved to be rather more hard-core than that and clambering over the rocks I felt slightly explorer-ish. Until, that is, I was passed by a man going downhill carrying a baby (a fact all the more bitter given that I was at that moment using both hands and feet to make the ascent…). The inappropriateness of feeling intrepid was confirmed when I then stumbled across a café (with a speaker playing Sinatra’s My Way…). Ah well...
Having made the ascent, I then began to make my way down. The speed and agility of Koreans when hiking became even more apparent – to the extent that I received encouraging / sympathetic smiles from some and, more humiliatingly, was told by one man to “stop dreaming and get going”! But it was good fun.
On returning to Layla, I found that she’d gone to sleep in the shade, and had awoken freezing cold and feeling rather worse. Sadly, it did not occur to me that this development should mean that we should get the cable car down again – but instead I pressed on with our original plan of walking back. This proved to be a rather painful and unfortunate experience for us both, with Layla needing to stop every 100 meters or so. But she assured me that in the moments where she wasn’t feeling dreadful, she was glad she was there.
Back at the bottom of the mountain, we decided to go and sit in the park and read and drink / snack. This we did until it became cold, at which point we headed back to the uninviting hotel. The evening is best skated over. Suffice to say that I developed something of Layla’s ailments, which took the form of a fever and overwhelming headache, so the evening was spent in the room, feeling rather sorry for ourselves.
The next morning, we got an early bus to Daejeon and then a bullet train to Seoul. On getting into Seoul, we headed straight to our glamorous and final hotel – the Fraser Suites. We dumped our bags (having got there too early to check in) and then went to explore our new area, Insadong. Slightly startled by the crowds (and still feeling a trifle fragile) we soon stopped off for a cup of tea (which in my case turned into a lemon drink which I found strangely terrifying). Fortified, we did a little more wandering and stopped off in an art gallery, where we briefly contemplated buying some art. We resisted, and then I urged that we found somewhere for lunch. Directed to an Italian place by a local tourist guide who was randomly standing on the street, we found ourselves having delicious pumpkin soup (served in hollowed out warm pumpkins), warm bread and wine. Or at least I did. Layla took two spoonfuls of her soup, turned green, and I became the beneficiary.
After which, we went back to the hotel to check-in properly. At this point, things definitely began to look up. Our room turned out to be a spacious self-contained flat with a very comfy sofa. With Layla having been unmanned by the pumpkin soup, I suggested that we settle down on the sofa, watch a film (from the extensive DVD library which the hotel had) and recover. At thus it was that we watched Good Will Hunting (a film we’d not seen before): Layla did her obligatory weeping at the appropriate moments, and it was all very pleasing. After the film, I left Layla to read and went to the gym, where I ran 10K whilst simultaneously people-watching the busy street below me (and listening to an Anthony Trollope audiobook – seemingly my new addiction). After this, we both headed to the jacuzzi / sauna to wallow in the warm water.
Evening had of course arrived, and we took the decision to resist the lure of the locality in favour of a night in our flat, in the hopes that Layla would finally recover (dragging Layla down a mountain hadn’t proved to be as medicinal as I’d hoped, so this approach seemed a reasonable alternative). We settled down with the epic Gone With the Wind (which in my view Layla had to watch before our move to DC) and got room service, including some very nice wine – and worked our way through the first two thirds of the film, before heading to bed.
The next morning, Layla announced that she was cured. The delicious hotel breakfast unfortunately demonstrated that this was not the case. But she was improved anyway. And so we headed off to hire bikes to go on a cycle route suggested by Lonely Planet (also medicinal, I think). And it proved to be a truly lovely cycle route. There’s a huge river in Seoul, called the Han, and alongside it there’s a fantastic cycle path (and a separate path for walkers) that goes on for many kilometers. Alongside sparkling water, and in glorious sunshine, we had an exceptionally jolly cycle ride. Often we cycled with huge motorways above us, and we contemplated the glorious fashion in which Korea has created a space that mixes the very urban with carving out a space for nature in the very heart of the city. It felt like the future. The paths were busy (it happened to be a bank holiday) and it was lovely to cycle alongside so many locals. The route was also peppered with outdoor exercise machines, and we felt obliged to have a little play (though Layla found this had a less medicinal result than one might have thought!).
Returning back to the hotel at the end of the day, we contemplated our options for our very last night of our lovely holiday. And so we found ourselves back in the jaccuzzi, and then off to dinner in the Italian place we’d lunched in the day before. Layla felt that she might be up to more than one mouthful of soup, and I was enthusiastic about eating something that wasn’t rice and vegetables (of which I have had quite a lot on this holiday). Dinner was really very good indeed – to the extent that Layla ate an entire bowl of soup, whilst I managed a main course as well – and then we headed back to the hotel for the final third of Gone With the Wind.
There’s little to say about our last morning in Seoul – there was an alarm clock, a 10K run down in the gym for me and breakfast - and then it was time for the airport bus. But what a lovely holiday it’s been. And that’s just as well, because in 7 weeks and 3 days we’ll be emigrating to Washington DC, where we’ll be living for the next 4 years. So this oasis of a holiday (albeit with a little illness thrown in) has been just what the doctor ordered…
One of the pleasing things about travelling with someone else is that it isn’t viable to go for the “hide-in-the-room” option long term, since one or other of you will eventually say “well, I guess we better go out now” and the other will feel impelled to agree. And thus it was that Layla and I headed out into the scary world of Daedunsan. Our first stop was for lunch (for me, anyway) which was a tasty vegetable bimimbap. Layla, of course, sat there watching me, whilst also writhing in pain (this proved to be a feature of the subsequent few days) – fortunately I am a heartless beast and took this as a cue to order a beer or two.
After lunch, we headed towards the park entrance and got a cable car half way up the mountain. The views were very pleasing and I must confess to a little inner joy that I had managed to avoid the steep uphill walk. On getting out of the cable car, we contemplated the view from the observatory. Given that it was 2 o’clock (and returning to the hotel a minute sooner than we needed to held no attractions for me at all), it struck me as a good plan to head up to the top of the mountain. This did not strike Layla as a good plan, in her weakened and pain-ridden state. So, we agreed that I’d head up (it was around a kilometer) and she’d read her book / doze and wait for me. And so, I headed off.
I must confess that I’d assumed that the hike would be of the usual Korean variety – in other words, very easy going, with boards all the way. In fact, it proved to be rather more hard-core than that and clambering over the rocks I felt slightly explorer-ish. Until, that is, I was passed by a man going downhill carrying a baby (a fact all the more bitter given that I was at that moment using both hands and feet to make the ascent…). The inappropriateness of feeling intrepid was confirmed when I then stumbled across a café (with a speaker playing Sinatra’s My Way…). Ah well...
Having made the ascent, I then began to make my way down. The speed and agility of Koreans when hiking became even more apparent – to the extent that I received encouraging / sympathetic smiles from some and, more humiliatingly, was told by one man to “stop dreaming and get going”! But it was good fun.
On returning to Layla, I found that she’d gone to sleep in the shade, and had awoken freezing cold and feeling rather worse. Sadly, it did not occur to me that this development should mean that we should get the cable car down again – but instead I pressed on with our original plan of walking back. This proved to be a rather painful and unfortunate experience for us both, with Layla needing to stop every 100 meters or so. But she assured me that in the moments where she wasn’t feeling dreadful, she was glad she was there.
Back at the bottom of the mountain, we decided to go and sit in the park and read and drink / snack. This we did until it became cold, at which point we headed back to the uninviting hotel. The evening is best skated over. Suffice to say that I developed something of Layla’s ailments, which took the form of a fever and overwhelming headache, so the evening was spent in the room, feeling rather sorry for ourselves.
The next morning, we got an early bus to Daejeon and then a bullet train to Seoul. On getting into Seoul, we headed straight to our glamorous and final hotel – the Fraser Suites. We dumped our bags (having got there too early to check in) and then went to explore our new area, Insadong. Slightly startled by the crowds (and still feeling a trifle fragile) we soon stopped off for a cup of tea (which in my case turned into a lemon drink which I found strangely terrifying). Fortified, we did a little more wandering and stopped off in an art gallery, where we briefly contemplated buying some art. We resisted, and then I urged that we found somewhere for lunch. Directed to an Italian place by a local tourist guide who was randomly standing on the street, we found ourselves having delicious pumpkin soup (served in hollowed out warm pumpkins), warm bread and wine. Or at least I did. Layla took two spoonfuls of her soup, turned green, and I became the beneficiary.
After which, we went back to the hotel to check-in properly. At this point, things definitely began to look up. Our room turned out to be a spacious self-contained flat with a very comfy sofa. With Layla having been unmanned by the pumpkin soup, I suggested that we settle down on the sofa, watch a film (from the extensive DVD library which the hotel had) and recover. At thus it was that we watched Good Will Hunting (a film we’d not seen before): Layla did her obligatory weeping at the appropriate moments, and it was all very pleasing. After the film, I left Layla to read and went to the gym, where I ran 10K whilst simultaneously people-watching the busy street below me (and listening to an Anthony Trollope audiobook – seemingly my new addiction). After this, we both headed to the jacuzzi / sauna to wallow in the warm water.
Evening had of course arrived, and we took the decision to resist the lure of the locality in favour of a night in our flat, in the hopes that Layla would finally recover (dragging Layla down a mountain hadn’t proved to be as medicinal as I’d hoped, so this approach seemed a reasonable alternative). We settled down with the epic Gone With the Wind (which in my view Layla had to watch before our move to DC) and got room service, including some very nice wine – and worked our way through the first two thirds of the film, before heading to bed.
The next morning, Layla announced that she was cured. The delicious hotel breakfast unfortunately demonstrated that this was not the case. But she was improved anyway. And so we headed off to hire bikes to go on a cycle route suggested by Lonely Planet (also medicinal, I think). And it proved to be a truly lovely cycle route. There’s a huge river in Seoul, called the Han, and alongside it there’s a fantastic cycle path (and a separate path for walkers) that goes on for many kilometers. Alongside sparkling water, and in glorious sunshine, we had an exceptionally jolly cycle ride. Often we cycled with huge motorways above us, and we contemplated the glorious fashion in which Korea has created a space that mixes the very urban with carving out a space for nature in the very heart of the city. It felt like the future. The paths were busy (it happened to be a bank holiday) and it was lovely to cycle alongside so many locals. The route was also peppered with outdoor exercise machines, and we felt obliged to have a little play (though Layla found this had a less medicinal result than one might have thought!).
Returning back to the hotel at the end of the day, we contemplated our options for our very last night of our lovely holiday. And so we found ourselves back in the jaccuzzi, and then off to dinner in the Italian place we’d lunched in the day before. Layla felt that she might be up to more than one mouthful of soup, and I was enthusiastic about eating something that wasn’t rice and vegetables (of which I have had quite a lot on this holiday). Dinner was really very good indeed – to the extent that Layla ate an entire bowl of soup, whilst I managed a main course as well – and then we headed back to the hotel for the final third of Gone With the Wind.
There’s little to say about our last morning in Seoul – there was an alarm clock, a 10K run down in the gym for me and breakfast - and then it was time for the airport bus. But what a lovely holiday it’s been. And that’s just as well, because in 7 weeks and 3 days we’ll be emigrating to Washington DC, where we’ll be living for the next 4 years. So this oasis of a holiday (albeit with a little illness thrown in) has been just what the doctor ordered…
Monday, 3 October 2011
In which Layla and Roz see caves and mazes, feel seasick, and climb some hills
By Layla
Oh the horror of not having written a blog for so long! We left you in Jeju city, where we popped in to a Paris Baguette for breakfast, then we hopped on a bus in the other direction along the perimeter of the island, and got off at a random roadside with a track leading 2.5km down to what is probably the biggest lava cave in the world. A lava cave essentially looks like the lair of a giant, evil snake. It’s black, with swirls and swoops as you imagine the molten lava flowing. The cave was about 17km long, but a 1km section was open to the public. We made our way down into the darkness, and did the walk, over rough, irregular ground, til we got to an illuminated 7m high tower of lava that marked the end of the walk. Fascinating, though personally I preferred the half-lava, half-limestone caves in Hallim Park…
After a picnic lunch on the grass courtesy of Paris Baguette (I have never eaten so many bagels!) we went to the other entertainment of the day, a maze. I rather like mazes. Unfortunately this one was filled by hundreds of shrieking, shoving schoolchildren, who made the experience rather less fun… we were very bitter to see them all leaving at the same time as us! But we persisted and were successful in solving the maze.
We’d planned to go to a nearby beach after this, but the weather turned grey, so we headed back into town where we established ourselves with kiwi juices at a book café, then another café, where we made excellent progress with our books before retiring to – oh the shame – the same excellent Indian restaurant!
The next day we awoke early for what I had absolutely expected to be a treat – a three hour sail from Jeju to Mokpo, in mainland South Korea. Alas I hadn’t really thought it through. First, the weather was miserable. Secondly the boat tossed and turned. Rather than the pleasure trip I’d anticipated, Roz and I sat on the floor outside in the rain, green, cold, and nauseous, and praying for it to be over, which thankfully it eventually was. Weirdly the taxi at the port didn’t want to take us to the train station, so a 25 minute walk later, we arrived, shivering, drenched wretches, and obtained tickets.
We were off to Jeonju, a city we’d swithered about staying in, but decided to do it. A train and taxi ride later, with the taxi driver unable to find our hotel, we were unceremoniously dumped in the city centre, and left to fend for ourselves. We eventually found the hotel. It was full. They sweetly drove us to another hotel, where we settled in and then headed out for pizza, salvaging our rainy travelling day with food and later drinks at a local coffee shop.
Another bright and early day yesterday took us on an hour-long bus to the very lovely Maisan Provincial Park. The park has two peaks that look like horses’ ears, and a very, very large number of steps. The scenery was lovely and there was a really interesting area called Tapsan which consisted of temples, and stone towers. We walked past a lake, then had a very good bimimbap lunch, and finished off with a climb up a big hill, before catching a bus back to Jeonju.
We popped back to our hotel and then strolled down to a beautiful, traditional area of Jeonju called the Hanok Maeul, with lots of traditional style Korean houses, many made into cafes, restaurants, and a quirky wine museum which we visited. A music festival was starting so we had a quick listen at their outdoor stage before retiring for coffee and cake. We returned to town to get some cash and do a tiny bit of shopping (it was freezing and we bought cardigans!) and then returned to the Hanok Maeul for dinner in a lovely Italian restaurant. Sadly I’d been struck down with a dodgy stomach, which was most unfortunate. Indeed, having finished the meal and had a peppermint tea in a nearby café, I was obliged to usher us home to bed. And had a lovely night spent mainly in the bathroom…
Still feeling rubbish today, but spurred on a) by our successful trip to Maisan Provincial Park, and b) by the lack of rooms available in Jeonju this evening, we have relocated to Daedunsan Provincial Park where the tourist office man in Jeonju booked us a room in an incomprehensible local motel. This was almost definitely a mistake. There was practically nobody on our bus. We stepped off into chilly mountain air. A random shop owner approached us quizzically and I handed her the post-it note with our motel name written on it in Korean characters. She zoomed off with it to make a phonecall, and before long the proprietor of the motel was dashing down a steep hill to meet us. She then pranced back up it like a mountain goat, with Roz and me trudging weakly behind her, looking at the scary-looking restaurants, the middle-of-nowhereness, and rather wishing we were still in Jeonju. We’re now both hiding in our less-than-glamorous room and trying to work up the courage to go up a mountain…
Oh the horror of not having written a blog for so long! We left you in Jeju city, where we popped in to a Paris Baguette for breakfast, then we hopped on a bus in the other direction along the perimeter of the island, and got off at a random roadside with a track leading 2.5km down to what is probably the biggest lava cave in the world. A lava cave essentially looks like the lair of a giant, evil snake. It’s black, with swirls and swoops as you imagine the molten lava flowing. The cave was about 17km long, but a 1km section was open to the public. We made our way down into the darkness, and did the walk, over rough, irregular ground, til we got to an illuminated 7m high tower of lava that marked the end of the walk. Fascinating, though personally I preferred the half-lava, half-limestone caves in Hallim Park…
After a picnic lunch on the grass courtesy of Paris Baguette (I have never eaten so many bagels!) we went to the other entertainment of the day, a maze. I rather like mazes. Unfortunately this one was filled by hundreds of shrieking, shoving schoolchildren, who made the experience rather less fun… we were very bitter to see them all leaving at the same time as us! But we persisted and were successful in solving the maze.
We’d planned to go to a nearby beach after this, but the weather turned grey, so we headed back into town where we established ourselves with kiwi juices at a book café, then another café, where we made excellent progress with our books before retiring to – oh the shame – the same excellent Indian restaurant!
The next day we awoke early for what I had absolutely expected to be a treat – a three hour sail from Jeju to Mokpo, in mainland South Korea. Alas I hadn’t really thought it through. First, the weather was miserable. Secondly the boat tossed and turned. Rather than the pleasure trip I’d anticipated, Roz and I sat on the floor outside in the rain, green, cold, and nauseous, and praying for it to be over, which thankfully it eventually was. Weirdly the taxi at the port didn’t want to take us to the train station, so a 25 minute walk later, we arrived, shivering, drenched wretches, and obtained tickets.
We were off to Jeonju, a city we’d swithered about staying in, but decided to do it. A train and taxi ride later, with the taxi driver unable to find our hotel, we were unceremoniously dumped in the city centre, and left to fend for ourselves. We eventually found the hotel. It was full. They sweetly drove us to another hotel, where we settled in and then headed out for pizza, salvaging our rainy travelling day with food and later drinks at a local coffee shop.
Another bright and early day yesterday took us on an hour-long bus to the very lovely Maisan Provincial Park. The park has two peaks that look like horses’ ears, and a very, very large number of steps. The scenery was lovely and there was a really interesting area called Tapsan which consisted of temples, and stone towers. We walked past a lake, then had a very good bimimbap lunch, and finished off with a climb up a big hill, before catching a bus back to Jeonju.
We popped back to our hotel and then strolled down to a beautiful, traditional area of Jeonju called the Hanok Maeul, with lots of traditional style Korean houses, many made into cafes, restaurants, and a quirky wine museum which we visited. A music festival was starting so we had a quick listen at their outdoor stage before retiring for coffee and cake. We returned to town to get some cash and do a tiny bit of shopping (it was freezing and we bought cardigans!) and then returned to the Hanok Maeul for dinner in a lovely Italian restaurant. Sadly I’d been struck down with a dodgy stomach, which was most unfortunate. Indeed, having finished the meal and had a peppermint tea in a nearby café, I was obliged to usher us home to bed. And had a lovely night spent mainly in the bathroom…
Still feeling rubbish today, but spurred on a) by our successful trip to Maisan Provincial Park, and b) by the lack of rooms available in Jeonju this evening, we have relocated to Daedunsan Provincial Park where the tourist office man in Jeonju booked us a room in an incomprehensible local motel. This was almost definitely a mistake. There was practically nobody on our bus. We stepped off into chilly mountain air. A random shop owner approached us quizzically and I handed her the post-it note with our motel name written on it in Korean characters. She zoomed off with it to make a phonecall, and before long the proprietor of the motel was dashing down a steep hill to meet us. She then pranced back up it like a mountain goat, with Roz and me trudging weakly behind her, looking at the scary-looking restaurants, the middle-of-nowhereness, and rather wishing we were still in Jeonju. We’re now both hiding in our less-than-glamorous room and trying to work up the courage to go up a mountain…
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)