Today was supposed to be the great day of sailing at the UKSA – instead, I sat on a black leather coach in the lounge area of the Academy, trying to sleep through riotous young men playing pool and watching endless episodes of Scrubs. This fun day was provided via too much sun-shining-on-water exposure without sunglasses and a hat, which eventually morphed into a migraine.
After the rest of the students and leaders returned from sailing, we had a little session of trying to build rafts out of materials like tires, empty plastic drums, and rope. As far as I remember, my team had at least one raft that made it out to sea, but I think all of them fell apart shortly thereafter: constructed of three surfboards tied together with rope (complicated knots provided by the sailing instructor that helped us) and a blue barrel on top for a rudder seat. Our craft, lovingly dubbed “Big Bertha,” did hold seven people for a little while – much more than I gave it credit for pre-shove off. For reasons mostly unrelated to our rafting performance, our team was self-christened “the Champions.”
After our activities we thanked our instructors and gave them our thanks, along with a small Arizona souvenir – we tried to do this with everyone who spent some time helping us – guides, bus drivers, people conducting our activities, etc.
Right after the sailing academy it was back on the last coach in an English-speaking country to board the ferry to France. We caught the ferry in Portsmouth, a city with a large naval history. The port was the last place Lord Nelson stopped before dying in the Battle of Trafalgar against the French. His ship, “Victory,” is still moored there. This was also the port the first convicts sent to Australia set out from. There are still battlements on the coastline from WWII, and much of the British navy’s submarine training happens in Portsmouth.
The port city is also home to the Spinnaker Tower, literally towering on the coastline at 550 feet. See more at http://www.spinnakertower.co.uk/
Looking back over my journal, I see that I was somewhat apprehensive of going to a country with such a reputation for rudeness to Americans. As I was soon to learn, no rudeness dictated by nationality was directed at us, and the only people we encountered that could be construed as rude were in Paris – much like New York City, everyone is just so hurried and jaded they forgo manners to all.
Another thing on my mind was going to the many war memorials in Normandy. Both my grandfathers served in WWII, so I was afraid I would have a very strong emotional reaction to the endless graves.
I must add a small note about our remarkable dinner tonight – we had cinnamon chicken! The things we ate on a regular basis.
Once we got aboard the ferry (we were very close to late and boarding did require much running with suitcases and carry-on in tow), we separated off to our rooms. The cabin we stayed in had four beds, and all were occupied. I slept on a bottom bunk, and surprisingly comfortably, at that. In retrospect, I wish I had gone to sleep instead of writing the journal that I’m reading from now, but I guess it was for the greater good.
Besides stuffy rooms, some of the stewardesses were speaking French, so it was fun to be the only one in the cabin who could parler en Francais. One more note on food – when we were still on the Isle of Wight, I bought the yummiest Little Debbie cake-like lemon snacks I have ever had.
We were on the Brittany Ferries line – the ship itself looked much like a Carnival cruise ship. I wondered, and still wonder, if they were named after Brittany, France. The original PTP itinerary claimed I would be lulled to sleep by the gentle current of the English Channel – and for once, they were right.
No comments:
Post a Comment