The Sahara in Denmark

Thursday we left the Skjern area and this would be a crazy day - one in which we would try to use the public transportation system in a country we weren’t familiar with, to reach a remote area where part of Babette’s Feast was filmed. The day began well enough, with Jørn being able to give us a ride into the train station (rather than take a taxi), he was heading in to the last day of school (he is a science teacher) and so his work schedule worked out perfectly with our travel schedule.

We boarded a train in Skern armed with my list of what station we had to transfer to a different train in order to get to Hjørring. At our first transfer point a train arrived earlier than we expected, but it was going to Frederikshavn, so we hopped on. Turns out this was a train that was late, and thus we were able to catch a train that would take us straight to Hjørring without anymore transfers, and as it was a bit of an express route, with fewer stops along the way.

This was great as it would allow us a bit more time to visit the Mårup Kirke and the Rubjerg Knude Lighthouse. When we got to Hjørring we loaded our luggage into some lockers, then walked a block away to the bus terminal. It was going to be almost an hour before the next bus left to Lønstrup so we wandered about Hjørring a bit. I managed to find a photo store that had Velvia film, so I bought some more rolls (because I am on the last couple of rolls of the ones I brought from home).

The bus, once we got on it, took us to Lønstrup, which is a bit of a resort town, with lots of camping and cabins available. We figured it was because of the beautiful sand beaches that we could see when we were at the coast. We were dropped off at the local tourist bureau which was just closing but we were able to get a map and directions (and a few postcards) then it was off on our own two feet.

We first walked to the Mårup Kirke. This church on the sandy cliffs by the sea is in danger of falling into the ocean soon, so most of the church has been moved (the interior furnishings and the roof). Still at the site is the large anchor (salvaged from a shipwreck a few centuries back) and the walls of the building. While we were there a tour group came, and while we were taking pictures we suddenly heard singing, and to our surprise the tour group was holding some kind of the service on the grounds of Mårup Kirke. Their singing reminded me of little section in Babette’s Feast with the sect members singing before and after the meal.

Off a little way away we saw the huge sand dune and the top of the Rubjerg Knude Lighthouse. There was a path along the shoreline which we took. Sometimes we were led through areas filled with a thorny type plants, and Beth’s bare legs (below the knees) were paying the price. When we finally got to the dune it was enormous, and made of very fine sand. We climbed to the top where you could see the wind blowing the sand around. We both thought that it felt a bit like being in the Sahara Desert - the huge dune, the sand getting in our shoes, and the heat beating down on us (it was quite a warm day).

The lighthouse was not covered by sand (I think it has been dug out) but sand dunes surrounding it were half way up the structure. We both took lots of pictures hoping that some of them will give a sense of the size of this dune. All along this section of the coast you could see the power of nature at work, especially the force of erosion.

We walked back into town and we figure it was a good 5 - 8 kilometre round trip. We certainly got our exercise that day! We managed to catch the bus back to Hjørring about 10 mintues after getting into town. From there we picked up tickets and waited on the platform for the next train to Frederikshavn. Right on the platform we had a bit of a picnic lunch eating left over bread and cheese from yesterday’s supper.

The train arrived, we headed east - I was looking out the windows to the north where the area where Bindslev is, this is the region where my ancestors on my Danish Grandmother’s side come from. More trees than I expected, and obviously not hand planted, it seemed like a pretty area - though perhaps when the winter winds blew it would not seem like such a nice place to be.

We got to Frederikshavn, where we took a taxi to the hotel (and got ripped off - the hotel was close enough that we could of walked had we had a map). The cab that was next in line at the taxi stand was a wheelchair accessible one, and I think we paid extra for it (this morning we paid almost half to get to the ferry which was three times as far!) Oh well, I’ll let it go - most of the time we have done quite well with doing things for a decent price, and I should be grateful for that.

So we did a crazy thing - we got out to the Mårup Kirke and the Rubjerg Knude Lighthouse without renting a car, and dealing with a pile of luggage to boot. So pretty well everything I have hoped to do in Europe I have now done (and Beth has been gracious enough to go along with me on these crazy jaunts). Now we are sailing to Norway (as I write this entry) and there family will take care of us, a nice change from the past couple of weeks.

The Land Where My Ancestors Lived

I thought we were pretty well wrapped up after looking up the church records, but at this point Pastor Jens suggested we try to find the place where the family lived in Finderup. He dug out another book, did some checking in there, then suggested we visit a 87 year old man in Finderup for further information. Off we went, and then Pastor Jens was knocking on the door of a house, and then we were being led into the garden where the source of knowledge of days gone by was picking berries. Sure enough he knew of the family of bricklayers, and after a little more checking in a book about Finderup it was determined the exact location where the Henriksen’s lived. We drove a little way outside the village to a place that didn’t seem that old.

It turns out that the old buildings that were on the property have been long gone, though where the current house is placed matches the place where a small house with a thatched roof sat. So now we were standing on the land where the Henriksen’s lived before crossing the Atlantic to North America. This trip to the west part of Jutland was far exceeding my expectations, and Pastor Jens was being an excellent tour guide (that‘s him in the picture with me) - basically giving up his whole day to show us around. I felt blessed by all this.

I thought it significant that the oldest mission house of the Lutheran Mission movement was only a few hundred metres away from the home of the Henriksen family. It is possible that a certain form of pietism has been part of the family history for a number of generations. My understanding up to the point of this trip was that the approach to Christianity that my Grandfather had was the result of a religious experience in his young adult years with a travelling American evangelist. I’m now considering that a more pious and evangelical approach to Christian faith has long been part of the Henriksen experience. When I get home I plan to do more research into these 19th century mission movements in Denmark.

After seeing the land where the Henriksens lived we headed into Skjern with a stop by the river first (it is the largest river in Denmark based on water flow). Then Pastor Jens took us to a grocery store so we could buy a few items for supper (he really had thought of everything!), and finally we ended up at our Bed and Breakfast. After a supper we relaxed, did some work on the computer and took a few pictures - then our day of digging into my family history drew to a peaceful close.

In the Book

After the church in Finderup, Pastor Jens showed us a large patch of land that showed the original way this region would have looked in centuries past. Instead of trees and fields of grain there was mostly heather. Apparently sheep can live on heather, and that was mostly what you would find in this area of Denmark, sheep farmers. We looked out over the land from this high point (set aside like a nature preserve). We got even higher by climbing up on a burial mound. These were dotted all over the landscape, and are very ancient, dating back 3000 to 4000 years.

Next we visited to Sædding Kirke, where Søren Kierkegaard’s father attended at one point in his life, and even Søren himself was there once. Apparently when he was about ten, Søren’s father cursed God from the top of a hill nearby, cursed God because God wasn’t taking care of God’s people. According to Pastor Jens (who was a bit of a Kierkegaard expert) that curse shaped the life and religiosity of the Kierkegaards, and influenced Søren in his writings many years later.

We also had many Mission Houses pointed out as we drove around. In this area of Denmark there were three revival movements (for lack of a better term). The one started by Grundtvig, but wasn’t as influential in this region, and then the Lutheran Mission (similar to the Haugian movement in Norway I think) and the Inner Mission (not as anti-church as the Lutheran Mission). These organizations would have their own meeting halls, and set up their own groups - though their members would probably be officially members at the local Lutheran Church (and would commune once a year to maintain that status).

We ended up at Pastor Jens’ new home, we would call it a parsonage (a house owned by the church but made available for the pastor to live in), but it was more than that. Attached to the house was Pastor Jens office (a lovely, large room looking out over a valley… I admit I was a bit envious), and a large meeting room where confirmation classes would be taught and Parish Council meetings would be held. While the setting and construction of the house was very nice, both Beth and I were unsure that having the Office and Meeting rooms attached was ideal. Another interesting thing was that Pastor Jens mentioned that they had just moved into this new house and it was smaller than their previous house. It seemed pretty large to me, until I saw a picture on the wall of the previous parsonage - which looked a bit like a country home for some aristocrat. But in conversations with Pastor Jens I determined that the high level of respect Pastors in Denmark were once shown was disappearing - in fact I found a number of parallels between their experience and ours.

One similarity, for example, is that they are struggling with rural de-population, just like the Canadian prairies. One of the ways they are managing this shift is by combining more congregations together into one parish. Pastor Jens used to be responsible for just 2 churches, in the past couple of years he has been responsible for 4 churches. They too are losing young people from their region, and the younger children do not attend worship like they used to due to sports and other activities on Sunday mornings… sound familiar?

At Pastor Jens’ home we met his wife Kirsten, who had a nice lunch prepared for us. In touring their new house we saw a room that was an art studio, Kirsten is an artist who likes to put religious themes into her artwork. The lunch was a typical Danish lunch - open faced sandwiches. I even had one they called “The Veterinarian’s Night Bite” which was basically a liver pate covered with a couple of pieces of some kind of sliced meat, and topped with a substance I can only describe as a jellied form of beef broth. We had a nice visit, us asking questions about Denmark and the Danish church, and them asking us questions about Canada and the Canadian Lutheran church. I believe the conversation would have continued for a long time if Kirsten didn’t need to go to work (she works in a local Senior’s Home).

Following lunch on Wednesday Pastor Jens said “Let’s see if we can find your grandfather in the records” (All the records for the past 100 years, from all 4 churches he is responsible for are stored in this parsonage in a fire proof vault in the basement). He dug out the book from 1908 and with the flip of a few pages there it was - the name Harry Henriksen, on the top of the page. That was quite a thrill for me, though it is hard to put into words exactly why. We spent a little more time looking for the records of others from the family (of which we found a few). I took photos of each of the entries, and Pastor Jens made photocopies for us as well. In some way seeing the names in the book made this journey seem more real, which is strange because it felt plenty real before that, but seeing the name Harry Henriksen in the book has made a difference.

Bricklayers and Finderup Kirke

What an interesting coincidence that we arrived at Finderup to find some bricklayers (or murers) working on the church building (doing some maintenance). The whole reason we were coming to this church was because there is a very good chance that my great-grandfather and his brother worked as murers on this very building. The church construction started the year my grandfather was born (as indicated by the 1908 painted on the pulpit), but was not completed until 1909, the year the Henriksens moved across the Atlantic (where they became the Hendricksens). Because the church was not finished at the time, Harry was baptised in the Hanning Kirke in the next closest village.

Because this church was newer it was missing some of the features of the other churches we looked at - gone was the triumphal arch, and the weapons room, the 3 foot thick walls and narrow windows. In the Hanning Kirke the original windows were left on the one side of the church, but after the reformation, when the parishioners would now need to read the hymns and liturgy, larger windows were put in on the south side of the church to let in more light. The Finderup church had larger windows all around.

On the back outside wall of the church there was some interesting brickwork, which formed a cross. I wondered if my great-grandfather or his brother shaped that expression of faith in their handiwork. Most buildings in Denmark are still made with bricks - even the new parsonage (more on that in another post) was brick throughout, even the interior walls. In North America we build things to last decades, in Denmark they are built to last centuries… we could learn something from them.

So now I had seen the church where my grandfather was baptised, and the church that quite likely my great-grandfather helped build - that was all I had hoped to see, but it seemed like Pastor Jens had more to show us, and he said “I have arranged lunch for you.” This was turning out to be more than expected, much to the gracious and generous hosting by Pastor Jens Holmgaard.

Inside the Kirke

After a lovely breakfast provided by our hosts, Jø rn and Irene, we were met by Pastor Jens Kristian Holmgaard from the local parish. Pastor Jens looks after four churches in this rural area of Denmark, including the two I was interested in seeing. After some quick introductions he suggested seeing Hanning Kirke (church) first. Driving through the area I thought it reminded me of the area around Brooks and Tilley, except here there were more trees. They were irrigating crops in places, and the ground was quite flat, the grain fields were beginning to ripen and I was beginning to feel at home (including the hay fever which has kicked in). Pastor Jens told us that all the trees in this area were hand planted a little over a 100 years ago, to prevent soil erosion from the strong winds… so it is like the prairies in many ways!

At the church the first thing we noticed were the immaculate graveyard beside the church. We met the caretaker of the grounds, and he seemed like he really cared about his job… within minutes he had located some gravestones of my ancestors, including one I will have to research more when I get back. But he somehow knew that the Henriksens were bricklayers (or murers in Danish). This man has a full time job looking after the graveyard (which is pretty much the whole of the church grounds), and we’ve never seen anything like it before - very beautiful and respectful - we could take a lesson in Canada from these Danes.

Inside the church I found the baptismal font that my Grandfather, Harry Henriksen (as it was spelled in those days), was baptised in. It was larger than I anticipated, large enough to immerse an infant, which was the practice for many years… but then too many infants got sick and died after being immersed in water in the cold months, so the practice of sprinkling was developed (according to Pastor Jens). The font is made of stone, and is very old, dating back many centuries - perhaps even older than the church building (which was built in the 11th century).

A few other interesting features about this church: There is an entrance called the weapons room and it was in there that men in the earlier centuries would leave their weapons before entering the sanctuary. There is an arch which divides the altar area from the nave, this is called the Triumphal Arch and is a symbol of the victory of Christ over sin and death. The arch can not be perfectly symmetrical however, since only God is perfect - so little imperfections, in the form of differences between the two sides of the arch, are intentionally put in by the stone workers. The altar in these old churches always is in the east, thus the congregation always faces east in worship - the place of the son rise, and returning Christ. Pulpits were added after the reformation (there really were no sermons prior to then), so in the case of this church in Hanning, a hole was cut into the one wall by the Triumphal Arch so that there could be room to put in steps up to the pulpit. Many of the pulpits that were created shortly after the reformation have paintings of all four of the gospel writers on them (we saw two examples of this on out tour with Pastor Jens).

We took lots of pictures, and even waited until 11 AM to record the church bell (Pastor Jens was amazed to learn that many churches in western Canada do not even have bells, let alone ring them regularly - he asked “How do people know it’s time to go to church?” We shrugged and said “They look at their watches”. Certainly not as interesting as hearing the bell ringing in the distance.) For us the bell meant it was time to move on to the next church.

Sailing into History

Both Beth and I had an enjoyable trip on the ferry. I decided I had a little Viking blood in me because I have enjoyed our boating experiences so far (this one and the ones around the Isle of Mull). As we were arriving in Denmark we went past a huge wind farm out in the sea. It was something to see these huge wind turbines spinning their blades out in the midst of the waves. (We found out the the company that makes these huge wind turbines is from a little town called Lem, close to Skjern where we were staying). By 1 PM we had arrived in Esbjerg, Denmark. Wandering through the town we could tell that it had been a destination for ferries from England for many decades as many of the local restaurants had English menus, and there were English signs in lots of places. Later we learned that prior to the advent of cheap air travel there were 4 or 5 ferries making travelling that route regularly, now there is just the one travelling one way one day, then the other way the next day. I wonder when aviation fuel climbs in price if people will return to using the ferries.

We also saw off the coast of England many Oil Tankers, just sitting in the water, not going anywhere. I heard the ship’s information officer telling someone that they are waiting for the price of oil to rise. Some of these tankers have been sitting there for over four months.
Once in Esbjerg we had to take a cab to the train station (just too far to walk with our luggage pile). There were able to store our luggage, which allowed us the opportunity to look around the city a bit. Esbjerg is the 5th largest city in Denmark, but even so it was not it that big. Beth’s curling iron died the other day, so we were on the look out for a new curling iron, and I am running out of slide film, so we took our time wandering in and out of shops around the city centre.

We climbed the old brick water tower (which was legal in case you think this was like the mischief we might get into as teens). We got a nice view of the city and the harbour, including the boat we travelled from England, which was still in port. Right beside the Water Tower was the Music Hall (Musikhuset), and of interest to us was that it was designed by the same fellow who did the famed Sydney Opera House (the one that looks like sails billowing in the wind). This building was nothing like that, rather than billowing curves it was based on the hexagon, throughout the whole structure. Still it was an interesting building to have a look at.

By this time our stomachs told us it was meal time. We looked at a number of places, but settled on Café Valter. There I had the largest Ham and Cheese sandwich ever. My meal also included a pretty yummy milkshake with raspberry, pineapple and forest berry in it. The weather was perfectly delightful so we ate outside, the only problem with this was that was where all the smokers ate as well. We have seen more smoking in public on the European Continent than we’ve seen for years. I felt sorry for the little baby who was surrounded by two adults (mom and grandma?) smoking continuously.

After our meal we headed back to the train station, collected our luggage out of the lockers, and boarded a little modern train (2 cars) for Skjern. This train was very comfortable, with lots of room for our luggage, and it had free internet wireless access! I found out later that the west coast of Jutland in Denmark was the first place that wireless internet was made available on trains.

In Skjern it took a while to figure out how to get a cab, but eventually with help from the girl behind the train counter, a cab was called and we made it out to the Bed and Breakfast (on a farm about 5 kilometres out of town). Our hosts, Jø rn and Irene, were very gracious, inviting us to have some coffee and freshly picked strawberries (from their garden). They asked us questions about our trip, and about Canada - we are the first North Americans they have had stay at their place. Following coffee we got a tour of their garden, very nicely done. The whole place had a sense of calm and relaxation about it - a nice ambience for us at this point.

They also have wireless internet which has allowed us to do some catch up with the blog, some checking of financial items, and emails. I was going to catch up completely but found myself too tired, and so have left the rest of the writing until today (while we are on the train from Skjern to Frederikshavn). So I went to sleep thinking that I was in the same territory that my ancestors come from, and I fell asleep wondering what the next day would bring.

Eye in the Sky

Monday morning we slept in a bit, enjoying our luxurious room a bit longer. Then the inevitable packing up, checking out, storing our luggage at the hotel. Once those practical concerns were taken care of we headed out for a bit more London sightseeing. This time we headed down the south bank of the Thames, which had all kinds of restaurants, museums and art galleries. We grabbed a quick bite at a place called EAT. Beth had a Full English Breakfast on a bun, and I had a Eggs Benedict on a bun. They were heated up in a panini grill and hit the spot nicely.

Following this quick bite we kept on down the Thames. We came across a section of the quay where all the tree trunks were wrapped with bright red and white polka dot material. We were trying to figure out what was going on until I noticed a sign on the sidewalk indicating that this was an artist’s installation called “Ascension of Polkadots on the Trees” by Yayoi Kusama. Shortly after this we got to the London Eye. For those of you not familiar with this name, it is the very large Ferris Wheel built in the centre of London for the Millennium celebrations. We had fortunately purchased tickets already through the concierge at the hotel, which saved us waiting in one line at least. Within 20 minutes we were loaded in our capsule and going up, up and around.

The day was a little hazy, but we still got a great look at London. It was weird looking down on Big Ben! There were a couple of little girls in our capsule, and they were amusing to watch on our ride - one kept saying “There’s an Ice Cream stand” and the other saying, “Don’t even bother to take a picture of it, I’ll just delete it.”

After the ride (which takes about a half hour) we walked past Big Ben (where I got a recording of it striking 12 noon, something I missed the other day). Then we walked along the north bank of the Thames back to our hotel. It was a nice way to spend the morning.

Back at the hotel we gathered our luggage, took a cab to the Liverpool Street Railway Station where we caught a train to Harwich, the port where we board the ferry to Denmark. In our short time in England we have used 4 different train stations in London!

At the port in Harwich we were met by a very cherry clerk at the Ferry Station, and then simply had to wait for our boarding call. When the call came it was a long walk to get to the boat, but soon enough we had wrestled our luggage into our little berth (actually it seemed very spacious compared with the berth we had on the train to Glasgow). The boat pulled away from the pier and we were on our way… goodbye UK, hello Scandinavia.

Moot Worship

After spending a little time in the area with Big Ben we strolled back in the direction of our hotel, with a quick stop for ice cream along the way. We continued past our hotel heading towards St. Mary Woolnoth Church where we hoped to catch a Moot worship service. We arrived just in time for the beginning of the service, and were welcomed by the friendly group (which was not too large, perhaps about 20 people).

The Moot worship had visual elements in it, lots of silent spaces, some creative presentations of the scripture readings, and an interesting way to do intercessory prayer. Before I knew it the service was over, and folks were putting the audio visual gear away. Many folks came up and chatted with us, and we were invited to a local pub, which is a traditional thing this faith community does after the worship.

On the wall in the church was a plaque for John Newton (the writer of Amazing Grace) since this was the church he served for over 20 years at the end of his ministry. St. Mary Woolnoth is also another Christopher Wren designed church, and we were told by one of the members of the Moot community that he apparently used some of the dimensions from Solomon’s Temple in his design. It wasn’t a large church, but it was very tall. St. Mary Woolnoth is in the very heart of Old London, and is currently surrounded by the Banking Area of the city. In this way Moot is a bit like a prophetic presence, as one of their central concerns is justice and peace, not profit and power.

The Moot Community is hoping to establish a new monastic community, and have been working with the Church of England authorities to get this established, but so far have not had much success. They are an interesting group of younger people, with a commitment to the Gospel that is deep, and yet they function in a very accepting and non-judgmental manner. It was a good experience worshipping with them - completely different from what we experienced in the morning at Canterbury Cathedral, but inspiring in its own way.

After the service we walked over London Bridge to get to the pub where we had interesting conversations with a number of people from the Moot community. I particularly had an deep conversation with a young Irish man, who is seeking to find his place in the world (and the church). Eventually the sky grew dim and folks started leaving, so Beth and I bid farewell and walked back to our hotel.

Our hotel room is quite simply the nicest room we have stayed in yet (and will likely ever stay in our this trip). We found out when we booked in that we had been bumped up to a higher level room (I’m not sure why, but these Air Miles have gone a long way in this case!)

Along the Thames to Big Ben

We arrived uneventfully in London, no Tamil demonstrations this time, had another talkative cab driver giving us information about various things, checked in at our hotel and decided to take advantage of the gorgeous weather and walk along the river embankment to see Big Ben. This was another of the things that Anna was interested in so we knew we had to get lots of pictures.

After a (very) quick 25 minute walk we arrived at Big Ben and the Parliament buildings. We had to jostle a little for picture-taking positions since a large portion of the London population (or maybe just all tourists) were also enjoying the lovely day. We got some great shots with the sun glinting off the tower. I was interested with the Parliament Buildings to also note how large and elaborate the Sovereign’s entrance was. I was also reminded of the turbulent history of Britain when we walked by the barriers protecting the Houses of Parliament from any potential car bombers. England on the whole is very security conscious, I first realized this when we were at Euston train station waiting to go to Glasgow and I couldn’t find a garbage can anywhere. This is common tradition, they have people continuously wandering through the station to pick up trash, there aren’t even garbage cans in the washrooms - it’s a very different feeling.

Anyway, back to Big Ben. Dennis also wanted to try and record the sound of the clock chiming the hour so we nipped through the park behind the Houses of Parliament. Unfortunately there wasn’t full access all the way around so he wasn’t close enough to get a good recording but I did get a nice picture of the statue of Emmeline Pankhurst in the park.

Worshipping at Canterbury Cathedral

On Sunday morning we were woken up at 7:45 AM by the bells of the Cathedral sounding the wake up call - these bells went on for 10 minutes! There were actually bells throughout the morning, sometimes a single tone struck repeatedly, like the wake up call, or sometimes a variety of tones in a pattern, or even (seemingly) random. We couldn’t figure out what most of them were for, but it was nice to hear. Beth wondered if the locals got sick of the bells, but we enjoyed them.

After breakfast, which was delivered to our room, we got ready for worship. We went to the Sung Eucharist at 11 AM, the primary of the 5 services being held at the Cathedral that day. We were arriving pretty well right at 11 AM and so were held up by the ushers because the procession was about to start. All of a sudden we were surrounded by a massive organ sound, then the congregation swelled into song and the procession made its way into the cathedral. I was surprised that we were going into the front part of the cathedral since there was a huge nave behind us, but then we went through the doors at the tail end of the procession and were astounded by the huge space in front of us. The Cathedral was a bit misleading, it was very long, and the part we saw the previous evening (which we assumed was the majority) was probably not even half the space. (This service was using the High Altar, and we walked up a number of steps to enter the nave, and another bunch of steps to the altar rail for communion - High Altar indeed.) So we entered this historic space to a glorious sound of pipe organ and singing… the sound was as large as the space!

During the worship service I came to a new understanding of choral masses, participating in one in that grand space things clicked. The choral masses were written for spaces such as this, and in the Canterbury Cathedral I found a new appreciation for those works. That morning there was a visiting choir from Sussex as the Cathedral Choir was on tour somewhere. We were told by a guide that choirs from across England queue up to sing fill-in at the Cathedral, and I can believe it, it would be great to have the Christ Lutheran Chamber Choir experience singing in a space like that. This choir was not robed, and was obviously volunteers, but they did a really nice job, especially of some Haydn selections, and the Bruchner's Locus Iste (which the Luther College Choir sang this year). Beth and I were certainly getting to hear a lot of Haydn this past week.

I also came to a new understanding of how the choir can be used in worship. This was something I have understood theoretically, but having experienced it at Canterbury Cathedral has given me an actual example to relate to. However the architecture, acoustics and seating arrangement of the worship space helped in this regard.

During the service I found myself thinking “We are worshipping in a place where Christians have been worshipping since the days of the Roman Empire.” In fact, truth be told, I was thinking some of those thoughts during the sermon, which that morning was being delivered bv a female preacher, the Arch Deacon of the Cathedral. It was based on the Gospel, a reflection on fear, why it is sometimes necessary and good, but more often it is destructive and contrary to faith. But as the sermon had to be delivered in a measured pace (due to the acoustics in the Cathedral) it came across as a little dry. Being there I came to understand more fully why music, and speaking, needed to be done in a slower, measured pace, the reverb in there made anything else impossible… perhaps that’s why people associated slower hymns with reverence since that’s how the hymns were played in the cathedrals, thought of as the pinnacle of worship expression, and copied by church musicians back home.

I certainly felt inspired by the worship that morning, mostly because of the glorious organ music accompanying the hymns. I would have liked to sing loudly along with the hymns, but two things prevented that - first I’ve developed a bit of a cold and sometimes things like singing will induce a coughing spell, and second, none of the hymn tunes were familiar to me - even with the closing hymn, the words were very familiar (Love Divine, All Loves Excelling) while the tune was vastly different.

Following the service Beth and I took a long time wandering through the cathedral, and especially appreciated seeing the spot where Archbishop Thomas Beckett was murdered in the 11th century. It is partly because of this martyrdom that Canterbury became a pilgrimage site. I wondered if I would be as calm as Thomas Beckett, who insisted the monks unbar the door “I will not have the church become a fortress” allowing in the knights who murdered him on the spot. Later Henry the 8th ordered all shrines to Thomas Beckett destroyed (I guess he didn’t like the idea of people celebrating church officials who stood up to the King). We saw a stained glass window in Christ Church Cathedral in Oxford that was special because it is one of the few images of Thomas Beckett to have survived Henry the 8th’s purge. In the Canterbury Cathedral, where the original shrine to Beckett stood, there is only an empty space, with a large lit candle in the center of it (see the picture).

Some of the stained glass windows were incredible, but I liked a modern window the most - the red, purple and blue hues were deep and brilliant. The old technique was to paint on the stained glass windows, thus the natural beauty of the glass was often shrouded a bit, but this new window was simply glass in such great colours shining through in all its fullness.

Afterwards we checked out the shops in the Burgate (the little shop area right around the gate to the cathedral) and much to our delight a ceramic shop that we spotted the day before was open (even though the sign didn’t indicate a Sunday opening). We had noticed a beautiful red chalice and paten (the cup and plate used for communion). And the price was very reasonable… well now we could check it out more closely. In the shop was lots of beautiful plates, vases, cups and so forth - all fabricated on the premises. In the end we couldn’t resist, I picked up the chalice and paten set (along with a matching candle stick holder) and Beth got a very cool nativity set. We have paid to have the shop ship the items directly, and even with that added extra cost it was very reasonably priced.

Then we popped next door to a old fashioned candy store to pick up some unusual goodies for Beth’s candy jar at work. Then our time in Canterbury was up, we collected our luggage from the hotel (lugging it down the narrow flight of stairs to the street level), caught a cab to the train station, and headed back to London.

Pilgrims in Canterbury

Once in Canterbury we took a cab to our hotel, the Cathedral Gate Hotel, then up the staircase to the second floor where reception was. We were shown to our room, which was known not by a number, but by a name - the Daybreak Room. This room was on the third floor overlooking the Canterbury Cathedral. To get to the room we had to take a few little twists and turns, and down a small flight of stairs - definitely an interesting design which was obviously put together over the centuries.

We went to the Cathedral to have a look around after the Evensong service was over (which we missed by half an hour), but were promptly chased out because they were preparing for a concert there that evening. So instead we looked around for a restaurant - Beth had a Ploughman’s dish, I had a Sweet Potato, Beans and Spinach with Curry dish (not exactly what I would think was a traditional British dish, but then again sitting right next to us were a couple of gentlemen of East Indian descant having some pints of Ale. We were so full when we finished that we couldn’t even have dessert though it looked great (more Sticky Toffee pudding which Beth was eyeing, and some Raspberry and Pear Crumble that I thought looked good).

Our stomachs full we wandered around the streets only to find that most of Canterbury packed up Saturday evening (other than the pubs) so we could only do a little window shopping. After this lost its charm went up to our hotel room to take it easy. This turned out to be a nice change, we just relaxed and listened to the concert from the Cathedral (it was the Verdi Requiem, and we could hear it pretty well at times from our room (that’s how close we were). So we looked out our window at the cathedral (the picture is the Cathedral in the evening from our hotel room window), I did some catch up on the computer, and Beth recorded her pictures and did some reading. Every once and a while the bells would chime, the music would swell and it was a nice way to spend a few hours.

We slept in a four poster bed with night curtains (not that we needed them, it was a beautiful evening. The windows over here do not have screens on them which I found a bit strange at first, but then again I’ve hardly seen anything that looks like a mosquito. The Cathedral was lit up at night, so we could continue to look at it, even when it got dark (at least until they turned the lights off at 11 PM, but by then Beth was already asleep, and I was getting ready for bed).
We both agreed that it was a good thing not being able to get into the Cathedral Lodge as originally planned, this hotel room was a decent size, had a good bed, and a great view…. and we were going to have breakfast delivered to our room (at no extra cost) the next morning - but that’s another day and another post.

Leaving Oxford

Saturday meant time to leave Oxford behind. The first order of business was to box up all the books I have purchased so far on this trip, and ship them home by post. Yes it was somewhat expensive, but it was worth it knowing that I didn’t have to haul that pile of books around the rest of Europe with me. I sent them the cheapest way possible (by boat) and have been told it can take up to 3 months to arrive by that method, but the way I look at it, three months from now we will have a delightful reminder of our Europe trip show up on our doorstep.

In my limited experience I would say that Oxford changes tone on the weekend. For example, when I went to mail our parcel the street I walked down had various religious groups proselytizing the crowds, there were Christian evangelicals, Jehovah Witnesses, an Islamic group, and some other group that reminded me of some of the cults of the late 70s. Gone were the crowds of students (many probably on their way home, or simply still in bed recuperating from the year end festivities.

And gone were we as well, it was an enjoyable stay in this historic city that we have heard so much about over the years, but it was time to head to Canterbury. We walked with our luggage to a spot on the street where a regular bus service to London departs from. In London there were some demonstrations going on, so at first it appeared as if we weren’t going to be able to be dropped off that the train station we needed… fortunately just before we arrived the demonstration cleared up enough that we got to where we needed to go. Once I figured out how to purchase tickets, and for which train (with help from the Information person) we managed to board the train and head south to the ancient pilgrimage city of Canterbury.

Evensong and Danish Royal Chapel Choir Concert

Friday evening began with Evensong at Christ Church Cathedral. This service is similar to the Sung Eucharist we attended the previous evening, but without the celebration of Holy Communion. Most of the liturgy in the service is sung (at least 90%) much of that by the choir. It was a nice way to shift gears after a full day of checking out Oxford. Following Evensong we went back to our hotel to freshen up and change into our formal wear so that we would be ready to attend the concert at the Sheldonian Theatre that night.

The concert we attended Friday evening featured the Danish Royal Chapel Choir with the Oxford Philomusica orchestra. The Danish Choir was configured like a traditional Cathedral choir - two thirds boys, one third men, much like the group we had just heard at Evensong. The Oxford Philomusica is an orchestra made up of Oxford folks, in fact we noticed that a lector from the service at Christ Church Cathedral the previous day was one of the cellists.

The first part of the program was decent, but since both of us were a little tired from tromping around all day, and it was rather hot and stuffy where we were sitting (in the first balcony) Beth and I were struggling to keep awake. I did remember thinking during a Handel selection “So this must be pretty close to how it sounded in Handel’s time", both the size of the orchestra, the type of choir, and the actual room we were sitting in, all combining together to produce a unique musical listening experience.

After some fresh air during the intermission, which renewed our energy and spirits, we were able to enjoy the second half of the performance more fully, this was the Nelson Mass by Haydn. I don’t think I’ve ever heard this Haydn work before, certainly not live. It was a great performance, and the young singers in the Danish Choir did a super job.

I found out talking to a woman travelling with the choir that they have won a Grammy Award for one of their recordings, plus other significant awards in Europe - so the Royal Danish Chapel Choir is certainly a notable group. The guest soloists were good as well, especially the soprano who in the first half of the concert also sang a solo piece (accompanied by the keyboardist from the Oxford Philomusica) Two items of note about this, he played on an upright piano (rather than a Grand, mostly likely because it would be near impossible to store a large piano in that building, considering how it was built (which of course was before pianos had really come into existence). The second was that the keyboardist was a stereotypical Brit (this being Beth’s observation) and I would have to agree… he was most amusing to watch with his flourishes and awkward manner.

It was indeed a huge contrast from the concert we heard the previous day, but moving and delightful in itself. I especially enjoyed the Danish folksong they did as an encore, it featured an echo group singing from the top balcony - a very beautiful lullaby. Thus after the concert (and another full day) we were now prepared for sleep, which we did after making our way to our tiny room on the top floor of our historic hotel.

Toasting the Inklings

In the middle of Friday afternoon we returned to the Eagle & Child Pub, where we were able to be seated in the Rabbit Room. This was the very room at the back of the pub where C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, Charles Williams and other members of The Inklings would meet on a regular basis. It was hard to believe that we were sitting having a meal in the same room that was frequented by the authors of the Chronicles of Narnia, The Lord of the Rings and The Place of the Lion.

On the wall in the Rabbit Room were pictures of some of the Inklings, and of most interest to me was an original letter signed by many of these same writers. I think it would have been fascinating to have sat in on one of their sessions, if one could keep up with these intellectual giants quoting ancient sources, referring to academic ideas, challenging one another - engaging in passionate debate.

I thought of how each of these authors I have mentioned have influenced me over the years, and how they were focussed for a period of time in this little room. There is nothing about the room that would speak of the hugeness of their ideas and imaginations, it is simply another room in another British Pub, but for us it was a vivid reminder of some great authors. So I toasted the work and memories of the Inklings, and enjoyed a fine meal besides.

Perhaps it was the inspiration of eating in the Rabbit Room of the Eagle & Child, but the very next thing we did was head to Blackwells, a huge bookstore in Oxford. In order to get an idea of what this place is like, think of a large Chapters, then double or triple the size, and fill it will mostly academic books on a wide range of topics. The religion section along was the size of whole bookstores back home. I found a sale box (an especially dangerous thing) and in it found the Oxford Complete History of Christianity on for half price! It is a good thing I had a limited amount of time to spend in that store. As it was I came out with a handful of books, including one that promises to be interesting reading, an analysis of C.S. Lewis’ writings called Planet Narnia. Both Harry Maier and Bryan Hillis suggested I had to check Blackwells out, and their suggestion was right on - it is a book lover’s paradise.

Keble College and Another Light of the World

After punting Beth and I headed to another area of Oxford to look at Keble College. This College has a different architecture than most of the other colleges, an interesting contrast. We saw inside the chapel, with its towering ceiling and beautiful mosaics depicting scenes from the Old and New Testaments high up on the wall. The primary purpose of visiting Keble College was to see another version of the painting The Light of the World by Holman Hunt. We knew about version of the painting because Dr. Bryan Hillis, who attended Keble College when in Oxford, told us that he spent many hours in the little chapel (off the main sanctuary) where this painting is displayed. It was perhaps half the size of the one at Saint Paul’s Cathedral in London, but still an original and beautiful picture that invites reflection and meditation.

Leaving the chapel we saw students having some fun playing croquet in the quadrangle. The days we were visiting Oxford were when the school year was winding up for most students, thus we saw many young people in their academic attire, or in black suit and ties (going to or coming from year end functions). We also saw many who had been covered with shaving cream, silly string, barbeque sauce, with fake leis around their necks, and other marks of having just been the victim of some student hijinks. The thing that Beth and I both said while in Oxford was “They’re too young to be graduating from University” which really meant “We can’t really remember being that young ourselves.” I suppose for a couple soon to celebrate 25 years of marriage, we shouldn’t be surprised when much of the world seems younger than ourselves.

Punting in Oxford

The Botanic Gardens backed on to a waterway and at various spots we could see people out punting. This is another thing that we had been told we had to do so after finishing our viewing of the gardens, we made our way across the Magdalen Bridge and down to the riverside where there were punts to be rented. <A punt is a flat-bottomed boat that requires a person standing in the back using a long pole to provide steering and propulsion. editor>

We weren’t entirely confident about our punting or navigational skills (mine in particular) so decided to pay a little extra and get a punt complete with a punter (not sure if that’s the correct title or not). These punts are all navigated by students so we thought it was worthwhile to help subside tuition. Our punter, Faith, was very capable and gave us a smooth ride past the Botanic Gardens and St. Hilda’s College, under a picturesque foot-bridge and ended by backing into the original spot (I have to back my van into my parking space at work and know how challenging that can be - I was most impressed by her skill in this regard). Faith wasn’t really chatty so we didn’t get a lot of extra information with our trip but I appreciated her other abilities especially as we saw several other students really struggling with their punts. Later on I saw an advertisement for opera punting - you could go in a punt and have people sing different arias while you travelled. That would have been interesting but sort of a repeat of the gondola ride we had in Venice with the tenor singing different works. I think in this case we were better off with Faith.

Botanic Gardens

Friday morning was another beautiful day, warm and partly cloudy, again no rain. This was just perfect for our plans to visit the Botanic Gardens. These are very extensive gardens which have been in existence for hundreds of years. It’s a good thing that a map was included with the modest price of admission.

There are so many literary connections to these gardens. It was overlooking the water garden where we found the bench used in The Golden Compass trilogy (this where Lyra and Will would sit, in their own time dimensions, to feel connected to each other). Lewis Carroll patterned the Queen’s gardens in Alice in Wonderland after the Botanic Gardens and J.R.R. Tolkien’s favorite tree was the basis for the Ents in the Lord of the Rings series. You could really see the personality when you looked at this Pinus Nigra extending its branches far above the wall.

I loved looking at the vegetable gardens. Besides making me reminiscent of my garden at home (my pretty much non-existent garden this year, did you kids ever plant the potatoes?), it reminded me so much of Beatrix Potter’s book, Peter Rabbit, with all of the upside down baskets over the lettuce to protect it from rabbits.

The rock garden with its central fountain was truly inspiring. I kept thinking about what I could do with my space if I only had lots of time, a team of trained gardeners and the climate of Britain.
My favorite area was the beds laid out according to notes from the Superintendent of the Garden back in the 1600’s. In 1648 he had published a catalogue listing the 1000+ species of plant present in the gardens. This area was planned to include many flowers from that list. Most of them were in bloom so it was a beautiful site.

The gardens were also used for research in conjunction with various Oxford Colleges so when we visited the conservatories we saw many exotic plants such as passionflower (with a really unusual blossom), bananas, varieties of orchids (unfortunately none of these were blooming), ferns of every size and description and so many other things you just have to go and see for yourself. The most astounding were the lily pads in the lily house. They were massive! Each one was probably three feet across, I’d never seen anything like it.

All in all it was an amazing experience. I thought if I lived in Oxford I would certainly have to get a season’s pass because you could go back every week and see new things. It’s probably a good thing that the Arboretum was 6 miles out of town or I might still be there.

Contrasting Musical Experiences

One of the things we were highly recommended to do while in Oxford was to take in an Evensong Service at one of the colleges, especially Christ Church College. So Beth and I made our way to Christ Church College where we were greeted by a porter, who when we told him we were there for the service, pointed us through the quadrangle to the two arches which led to the chapel on the far side (see the picture). A quadrangle is the inner space, a large courtyard of sorts, that many of these colleges have. We made our way through the well kept green space, entered the appropriate doors where we tried to sit in the closest available seat (assuming we would be at the back). An usher told us we couldn’t sit there, that space was for the choir, and so we were ushered all the way down the center aisle to a place where it was appropriate for us to sit. The seating arrangement threw us a little, as we were directly facing other folks across the centre aisle in what I assumed was the chancel (I should have brushed up on my cathedral floor plans before I came over!)

We soon discovered that this was not an Evensong service, but rather a Sung Eucharist. We weren’t exactly sure what we were in for, but we weren’t about to walk down the centre aisle again to leave. Soon the choir and worship leaders processed in. The Christ Church Cathedral Choir (a traditional boys and men’s voices choral group) did indeed sit in the seats we had recently vacated. The Dean of the Cathedral and other ministers were seated up at the end we were at. We were welcomed, told which book would be used and invited to receive communion if this was something we did in our own tradition. With that the service began.

A Sung Eucharist is basically a standard communion service, but with many of the liturgical parts sung by the choir rather than spoken or sung by the congregation. The congregational booklet had an English translation of any music sung in Latin, so that was helpful. As a whole the service was beautiful and easy to follow. The choir were very skilled, in spite of some of the members being quite young. I’m not sure how young the youngest singer would have actually been, but I thought not more than 7 or 8.

When it came time for the distribution of the elements Beth and I were a little worried because we were going to be some of the very first people to commune, and we didn’t know how this would take place (would it be common cup, or intinction, do we kneel or stand, do we leave as soon as receiving the elements, or wait for a blessing?) Well it was fortunately fairly straight-forward (common cup done continuously kneeling at the rail) so we survived that without making some embarrassing blunder (like sitting in the wrong place).

After the service was over we both agreed that it was a good thing that we squeezed that worship experience into our day, and we made plans to attend the Evensong the next day (we found a schedule and thus knew the following day would indeed be an Evensong service). Both the wonderful choral singing, and the impressive space (with its reverberant sound) made this a special experience, one we were happy to repeat.

We headed back to our hotel room to relax for a little bit before we headed over to the Sheldonian Theatre for a concert that evening. I mentioned how perfectly located our hotel was, well the Sheldonian was only a block away! The concert we were attending this evening was unplanned. While wandering around Oxford in the afternoon I came across a poster advertising “The World Premiere of Solstice Suite for Trumpet, Voice and Jazz Orchestra with the Oxford University Big Band featuring Mark Armstrong (composer/trumpet)”. Then we came across a young man handing out hand bills about the concert. I asked him if he was one of the musicians (I had a hunch) and sure enough he played trombone in the group. He assured me we would love the concert, so I thought we’d consider it and see how we felt in the evening. We felt up to going (Beth was gracious here) and we bought our tickets and went to be seated.

This group is apparently the first jazz group to ever play in the Sheldonian Theatre (remember this is the building Christopher Wren designed, the building Handel played in, where convocations and other special ceremonies have taken place for centuries). The program began with some shorter original pieces or arrangements of standards by Mark Armstrong (the guest performer with the band and an alumnus of Oxford University). The first number blew me away with the tightness of playing and control of dynamics. It was apparent that even those these were University students, we were listening to the best of the best, under a skilled director. After one song I knew I was going to enjoy the show!

The first half ended with a three part composition entitled Oxford Suite with the movements named “I - Isolation, II - Meditation, III - Determination”. This suite was composed by Mark Armstrong while a student at Oxford and featured him on flugelhorn and trumpet. Some beautiful, complex, dynamic music well performed by everyone. I was impressed that Mr. Armstrong composed this while a student, it showed a lot of maturity and experience. By the way, Mark was inspired by the composing and arranging of a Canadian trumpet player Kenny Wheeler (who has recorded many albums on ECM records). I could detect a Wheeler influence in the composition and looked forward to the major work premiering after the intermission.

The Solstice Suite was in four movements with some nice contrasts in tone, colour, tempo and dynamics. This group had a flute player which was a nice colour used throughout, though when the brass kicked in it was really just a subtle spice at that point. The fellow I talked to on the street earlier in the day had some excellent improvised trombone solos, as did all the soloists. The drummer was fun to watch and was very creative and nuanced, even as he was rhythmically solid. In the end it was an excellent concert, well worth the time and money spent. Who knows, maybe we saw some future jazz stars playing that night, though I wondered if Handel was rolling over in his grave. <I also enjoyed the concert - just found myself wishing for a little more leg room! editor>

High Tea at the Grand Café

One of the major things on my list of what to do in the U.K. was to partake of High Tea. When we got our map from the Oxford Information Centre, I also asked the man where he would recommend we go for High Tea. He suggested the Randolph Hotel (large hotel mentioned in Dennis’ C.S. Lewis blog) as well as three smaller establishments.

I decided that the Randolph would go to the bottom of my list, to be our last resort and we went in search of the other places. The first one we were able to locate was The Grand Café. There was a line-up to get in - which I figured was probably a good sign. If a place is that busy, it often means it’s good as well. It seemed like a massive space until I realized that the back and side walls were covered with huge mirrors so it looked much larger than it really was. After waiting about 15 minutes I was starting to second guess our decision and we were about to leave when we noticed a group of six people starting to pack up their things.

Finally we were in, seated and looking at a menu - there were pretty much two options for me - regular tea with scones or high tea which included sandwiches with the scones (we also had the choice of the Grand High Tea, with champagne alongside the sandwiches and scones.) Somehow champagne at 4:00 in the afternoon just seemed too decadent so we ordered the High Tea. Dennis did opt for a lemon fizzy drink so he was closer to the champagne than I was with Earl Grey tea. Anyway, the sandwiches were quite nice - smoked salmon and cream cheese on pumpernickel and egg mayonnaise on white bread - but the real treat were the scones. They were wonderfully light and fluffy and served with clotted cream and strawberry jam - they were most definitely the highlight of my afternoon. Oh, there is also a historic aspect to this outing - there was a plaque on the wall that proclaimed The Grand Café to be the oldest coffee house in Oxford (so it was delicious and educational, all at the same time).

Walking in the Footsteps of C.S. Lewis

Thursday morning in Oxford was one of the moments during our journey that I was looking forward to the most - the C.S. Lewis Tour. We started by waiting for our tour to start outside the Randolph Hotel (the designated meeting place). For those of you who have seen the movie Shadowlands, the Randolph Hotel was used in the scene where C.S. Lewis first meets Joy. I also found out from our tour guide that Laval University (of Quebec) granted Lewis an honorary degree, the ceremony of which took place in the Randolph. Though a little late, eventually our guide Ron Brind showed up, along with a group of Americans who came in from London that morning just for the tour. Ron is an interesting chap, and is well suited to leading this tour because he grew up near the Kilns, the 9 acre wooded area that was Lewis’ home for most of his adult life. As a boy Ron would go up to the house at the Kilns and ask Jack (the name by which everyone knew C.S. Lewis) if he could go fishing or hunting on his land. Later when Joy and her two boys moved into the Kilns Ron became a friend with one of Lewis’ stepsons, Doug… and the two of them would get into mischief together. So Ron had first hand knowledge of C.S. Lewis, and being a native of Oxford was able to point out many interesting things, and fill us in on some of the unique customs and traditions of that college city.

We started by going around some of the places right in Oxford that had a Lewis connection, most significantly Magdalen College where Jack taught for many years. Lewis was never granted a professorship at Oxford, some say due to jealousy about his fame, and others because of his noticeable Christian faith, or others suggest a combination of the two. Whatever the reason Lewis ended his teaching years at Cambridge because that institution offered him a professorship (even though he taught a Cambridge he still maintained his home at the Kilns). This slighting of Lewis was a common theme throughout the tour, as Ron told us that in Oxford you find little mention or recognition of C.S. Lewis (other than at the Eagle and Child Pub - more on that later), no plaques or statues, no official recognition or honouring of this significant author. This is something that Ron Brind is fighting a one-man crusade to rectify. It was only through Ron’s persistence that a plaque was placed on the house at the Kilns acknowledging it as the former home of C.S. Lewis.

Outside of Oxford proper, in an area known as Headington Quarry, at the local parish church, known as Holy Trinity Church, our guide told us that this was the only place we would find souvenirs that related to C.S. Lewis. This church was the home parish for Jack Lewis and his brother Warnie, the place where the Lewis brothers attended worship regularly for years. I bought the souvenir cup and a few greeting cards that featured the Narnia Window installed in this church. It is also in this church’s graveyard that C.S. Lewis’ grave can be found (though not in great condition - another thing that bothered Ron). It was something special to sit in the very pew where Lewis would sit, Sunday after Sunday. (The picture is of Beth sitting in C.S. Lewis' usual spot in Holy Trinity Church).

It was here, at Holy Trinity Church, that I was suddenly, deeply and unexpectedly moved - I know not exactly why. I found myself in tears as I thought about C.S. Lewis, and all he has meant for my faith journey. I might have expected to have a sense of awe at being at the Kilns - Lewis‘ home, or amazement at being in Oxford - Lewis‘ academic home, but it was at his spiritual home that the intensity of the whole experience hit me… being in the place where Lewis prayed, listened to sermons (even preached a few), sang hymns and communed was, in the end, the most significant of all. I was grateful that our guide gave us plenty of time for pictures, or to look around, or in this case to simply sit in the pews in quiet reflection.

The tour stopped at a number of places, including one of the houses J.R.R. Tolkien lived in (which was also in Headington Quarry). The last big stop was at the Kilns. The house at the Kilns was smaller than I expected, but the grounds were larger than I imagined. Wandering around in the woods by Lewis’ house one could easily imagine themselves to be in Narnia! The Kilns is currently owned by a C.S. Lewis Foundation, based in California, and it is they who grant tours of the building - we were fortunate to be there on a day when we could tour the house. We saw Jack’s bedroom and study, the kitchen and common room, all done up in the manner they would have been in the 40s and 50s. In the Dining Room was the original typewriter of Warnie Lewis. This was significant because it was Warnie who typed up all of Jack’s manuscripts (Jack didn’t type himself - he wrote everything out in long hand). So on this very typewriter displayed in the Dining Room at the Kilns was typed the manuscripts for the Chronicles of Narnia, The Screwtape Letters, Surprised By Joy, Mere Christianity and many other classics.

The tour ended up at the Eagle and Child Pub (back in Oxford). This was where C.S. Lewis with a number of his literary friends, known as the Inklings, would gather weekly. This group included J.R.R. Tolkien and Charles Williams. Beth and I could have stayed with the tour group and had a meal there but I had a Doctor’s appointment to keep so we decided to say farewell to the group and planned to come back another time to have a meal.

You might wonder why I went to the Doctor, well… in the morning, while having my shower, I discovered some kind of bug attached to my arm. I tried getting it off but its head was burrowed into my skin. It didn’t look like a tick, but having been warned about Tick-borne Encephalitis in certain regions in Europe we thought I had better be safe than sorry. When I got in to see the Doctor he didn’t even think it was a bug at first, but I assured him I had seen little legs so he looked again and said “Well what do you know!” Some sterilized tweezers later, and the bug was removed - which he assured me wasn’t a tick (rather something more like a kind of flea or small beetle). He told me to take an anti-histamine to take care of the minor swelling, and to come back to him if there were any problems. I can tell you now that nothing came of it, the red swelling went down and all is well. I’m still not sure where I picked up that little guy, perhaps tromping around the estate grounds of Glengorm Castle. Wherever, we have now purchased our own set of tweezers for if we happen to encounter a similar situation later.

Back to the C.S. Lewis Tour… I was looking forward to this part of our trip for a long, long time and it did not disappoint. I feel fortunate to have been guided on our tour by such a knowledgeable and passionate person as Ron Brind. I believe I have a little more insight into the person of Jack Lewis, and perhaps that will enrich my reading of his works, which I am sure to dig into again.

More Art and Artefacts Than You Can Shake a Medieval Sword At

Wednesday morning we awoke to the rain falling gently outside. A rainy day in Glasgow was fine with us as we only had to walk a few blocks to the Kelvingrove Museum and Art Gallery . There we spent almost 3 hours looking at an incredibly diverse display of archaeological artefacts, historical weaponry, social commentary, and artwork. We saw paintings by Vincent Van Gogh, Claude Monet, and many other French impressionists, we saw huge paintings done for Scottish castles, we saw a World War II Spitfire and of greatest interest to me was seeing the original of Salvador Dali’s “Christ of Saint John of the Cross” - an interesting and controversial work (when it was first painted in 1951).

Perhaps the most moving artwork we saw was an unusual three panel set, painted on the back of old flour bags and created by an Italian prisoner of war (Giuseppe Baldan) for a mud chapel in the POW camp he was in. The flour bag paintings formed an altarpiece and depict the Madonna and Child flanked by kneeling angels. They are set against the backdrop of the prisoner of war camp. These paintings ended up in the Kelvingrove Museum because of a Scottish commander who was in charge of the POW camp (situated in north Africa) - this commander was humane and compassionate in his treatment of the prisoners, and they insisted on giving him the artwork at the end of the war (after he managed to save it from being destroyed from local soldiers). Reading the story of the paintings and then looking at the actual artwork almost brought tears to my eyes.

There was so much to see (that is an understatement), we totally missed the bird exhibit, and like Beth said to me, in the one gallery each of the paintings had interpretive centres that if you had the time you could explore the details of each painting - that one gallery alone could take hours! So maybe not the absolute “best museum and art gallery in the world", but we can certainly agree that it was big, it creatively displayed its collection, and there were some stunning pieces in that collection… and most astonishingly it has free admission! Amazing.

Back to the hotel to collect our luggage, and we were by the 4th generation of this family business! A very professional pre-schooler was helping her grandma, and dutifully took the key for the luggage closet and opened it up for Beth and I. Her grandma proudly told us that she has a lot of interest in running the hotel, and that certainly was in evidence at that moment.

We’ve started to figure out this train thing, like how to figure out which platform to get on, and which coach to get on, and when, and most importantly - what to do with our luggage. The train ride through the countryside on a rainy day gave us a picture of what I expected to see when coming to the British Isles, but as for the rain, so far it has mostly happened while travelling and hasn’t really put a damper on our plans at all.

By the time we got to Oxford in the early evening the rain had stopped. The taxi stopped outside our hotel, but at first I thought he was wrong - we could hardly spot it, since it was simply a small sign on a wall by a door, and nothing else. We rang the doorbell and were let in by a gracious, if somewhat informally dressed, host. He booked us in, showed us to our room. This hotel (or guest house as it is also being called) has real character: it has 17th century origins (which I was constantly reminded of as I kept banging my head on the low doorways); the floor in our bedroom was not level; old wooden beams showed up throughout the building; and of course the bedroom was small and we shared a bathroom with two other rooms… but the price was way better than the other accommodation in the area, and we are centrally located (ideally located as it turned out), it would be easy to walk to everything we want to see. While we did a little looking around that night, the real sightseeing would begin the next day.

The Best Museum (and Bus Driver) Ever

Alas, before we knew it our time at Glengorm was over, and the taxi had arrived to take us to the bus. It turns out that the cab driver was a former constable from Glasgow, and when he found out we were from Canada he became quite talkative, telling us historical things about the area and things to see in Glasgow. He told us that the Kelvingrove Museum and Art Gallery was “The best museum in the world”. He also informed us that all the museums in Glasgow were free admission, a truly remarkable commitment to culture and education on the part of the city. (Beth already knew this because of internet research, and had picked the hotel we were booked at because of its proximity to the Kelvingrove Museum… but it was nice to have that affirmed by a local). Even though he moved to the Isle of Mull because it was a good place to raise a family he still spoke with pride about his native city.

Buses in the United Kingdom work differently in Canada, at first I thought the Isle of Mull buses worked this way because they were a family run business unique to the island, however we discovered the same thing when we were going from Oban to Glasgow. After the taxi dropped us off in Tobermory we took the Isle of Mull bus down to Craignure where we boarded the ferry to Oban. According to my internet information we would have about 25 minutes between when the ferry docked and the bus for Glasgow left. We had decided to take the bus to Glasgow rather than the train for two reasons, first because there was a run that worked well for our schedule, and second because it would give us some different scenery than the train trip out.

So lugging our luggage off the ferry we walked around the terminal, past the train station to where the map indicated the bus station was. Only problem was that I couldn’t find the bus station and we were running out of time. All I saw were some bus stops on the street with a sign that read “Local Buses Only”. I was beginning to get frustrated (and a bit worried), and Beth took over, asking some local folks, and it was through this that we discovered that what looked like a standard curbside city bus stop was indeed where we caught the bus to Glasgow… there was no terminal! In the U.K. most of the time you buy the ticket directly from the bus driver. Sure enough, shortly before the designated time a bus pulled up and when I asked if this bus went to Glasgow it was affirmative.

So we get on, take the front seats so we can see, and have a lovely drive from Oban to Glasgow. Once the driver discovered we were visitors, and were from Canada he pointed a few things out to us along the way. We drove the road that follows the shore of Loch Lomond which was pretty, if a bit nerve wracking at times (the driver said his wife never drives with him when he’s on this route). At one point he asked where we were staying in Glasgow, and nodded his approval when we told him.

In Glasgow, when we had arrived at the station he asked us to stay on for a minute - I thought it was to let the others off first so he could help us with our luggage - instead, once everyone else were off the bus he said “I’ll take you folks to your hotel, it’s close to the bus garage anyway.” It turned out he had the wrong hotel at first (but the right area), and eventually after driving around the block, we were let off right in front of our hotel door! Could you imagine a Greyhound driver doing that in Canada? It seems that everyone we were encountering in Scotland went out of their way to help us.

That theme continued as we checked in at the Kelvingrove Hotel, an establishment run by three generations; grandmother, mother and daughter. We were met by a very friendly receptionist, shown to our room (surprisingly decent sized) and told about eateries in the area when we asked. Such pleasant people, everywhere!

Our day ended with a great meal at Sutherlands - a restaurant across the street from our hotel (Steak and Ale pie for me, Beth had Fish and Chips - the nicest battered Haddock so far! I also discovered a great Swedish Pear Cider called Kopperberg, what great pear flavour, even better than the one I had in London). After a long afternoon of travelling and a very filling meal we had had enough, time to sleep and get ready for tomorrow.

By the way, the picture is of Dennis pointing at an unusual traffic sign we saw in a number of places driving through Glasgow. In other words, it’s not just the law, it’s common sense too!

In Search of Bluebells

After a fairytale sleep in the castle (the most comfortable bed yet) we were ready to start our day. First, down to the beautifully decorated dining room for a hearty breakfast. Those of you who know Dennis’ morning habits would be amazed to see him tucking into these Scottish breakfasts. You start off with fruit, yogurt and either cold cereal or porridge. Normally this would be my typical morning meal so I was caught off guard the first morning in Scotland when this turned out to be the appetizer, so to speak. After the fruit, etc. then you get the hot breakfast - eggs cooked to your liking, sausages, bacon (more like back bacon than the streaky bacon we’re used to), potato scone, grilled tomatoes and mushrooms. The good thing about such a substantial breakfast is that you really don’t need to eat anything else until supper. The bad thing is that with such a substantial intake you really need to balance with your calorie output or else. Glengorm has a valley on its property where bluebells grow rampantly. That was one of the things that interested me about it so we set off on a hike to find it (even though Tom had warned us that we were just at the end of the bluebell season so probably wouldn’t find that much).

As we were trekking along, we came across a herd of Highland cattle. This was also on my list of things I wanted to see because they’re very unique with really shaggy, long hair and long horns. It was fascinating to see so many up close. However, being a town girl I would have preferred a nice fence between us, especially since we had read that you have to be extra cautious at calving time. There were a couple of mamas eyeing us suspiciously so I took a couple of quick pictures and then we carried on. <Wearing a red jacket didn't add to my comfort level with those long horns pointed at us. Dennis>

Our path led us beside a stream and soon we came to Scout’s bridge. It was beautifully covered in moss but wasn’t safe to use so we had to ford the stream. Like Dennis said, you almost felt like Robin Hood or something crossing the water, going from rock to rock.

We finally got to what we figured was Bluebell Valley and there weren’t many bluebells left so we took what pictures we could and set off back to the castle (with a slight detour down to see the Atlantic). That was pretty much all for our time at the castle (the standing stones of the evening before were very much a highlight), just enough time for a quick stop in at the coffee shop, where I had fermented Victorian lemonade (another taste experience) and then it was time for our taxi to come and take us on to the next adventure.

Glengorm Castle - Living a Fairy Tale

We took a cab to Glengorm Castle - something that at one stage we had thought we might be able to do walking… we would have been crazy! It was uphill all the way and over a twisty narrow rough road. The irony is that is cost us twice as much to take the cab to the castle as it did to take the bus across the island.

When we pulled up to the castle it was in an incredible setting, overlooking the ocean, high on a bluff. We were shown in by Tom, the owner and resident of the castle (he grew up here himself, and is now raising his family here). He showed us around the inside, the breakfast room was stunning, and the library like something out of a movie. Our bedroom was the largest sleeping space we have had on our trip so far - double the size of anything else. The bed had the fluffiest comforter and mattress, like sleeping in a cloud - I joked with Beth about the princess and the pea.

After we got ourselves established we went out for a hike and some picture taking - near the castle is an ancient ring of standing stones and I had wanted to get a picture of these. While we were out in the field (with all the sheep and goats - this place is a working farm) the sun came out giving me great light for some photography.

We ended the evening in the library, we both had a sample of Iona Scotch, can’t say that I really enjoyed, but it was something we thought we should try while here (and besides the samples were complementary). While Beth was reading some P.G. Wodehouse in the library I went back outside to take some sunset pictures, the nicest sunset I’ve seen since coming here. Then we retired to our big comfy bed. All the hassle of getting out here was quickly erased by the magical setting, it’s a little like living in a fairy tale.

Leaving Iona and Across Mull

Monday morning it was raining on Iona, soaking our shoes which we had left out to dry! I didn‘t mind staying indoors for a little bit, we spent the time catching up a bit with our writing as well as organizing ourselves for the next part of our journey. Later in the morning the sun peeked out and I ventured out to the village to get a few things. Beth stayed back at the B&B, I think both of us were pretty worn out by yesterday’s evening hike.

Truth be told I entered the most dangerous place on Iona during this morning outing - the Iona Community Book Store. I looked through all the initial titles that caught my eye the previous day, did some humming and hawing - and came away with a pile of books, many new resources for worship at Christ Lutheran back in Regina and especially for the Mysterium Worship Gatherings. Beth and I decided that perhaps we could ship these books home from Oxford, where I also expect to get a few more titles since that is the home to Blackwells, the greatest bookstore in the world according to my Oxford taught friends Dr. Harry Maier and Dr. Bryan Hillis.

After making my purchases I headed back to gather our luggage and head down to the dock to wait for the ferry. Our Bed and Breakfast host also happened to be the local (and only) taxi driver on Iona, and he graciously offered to take Beth and I (and our growing pile of luggage) down to the ferry (thank you Lindsay!) It was beginning to rain again while waiting for the ferry (which we were doing outside as there is no ferry terminal on Iona) but fortunately we got on board the ferry and under cover before it really started coming down.

We took the bus from Fionphort across the Isle of Mull to Craignure. On this bus trip we sat in the front seat and were amazed at how the driver negotiated the single lane road. There were little turn outs all along the road probably every 200 or 300 metres, and traffic would have to figure out who pulled over and who drove through… always with a wave to each other. It was all about courtesy and patience. You could tell who the tourists were, they didn’t smile and wave, just seemed frustrated at not being to get where they were wanting to go as quickly as they wanted.

At Craignure we switched buses to head to Tobermory - the total cost of the round trip for both Beth and I was the equivalent of 8 or 9 Canadian dollars - a real deal. The same type drive on a single lane road and after about an hour we arrived at our destination. Tobermory is a beautiful, colourful harbour town. It is the setting for a BBC children’s show and I can see why it was chosen, so pretty, quaint and colourful - we were even treated to a rainbow over the harbour to add to the picturesque quality of the setting. Now we just had to find a taxi to take us to Glengorm Castle.

An Evening Hike - Following the Sheep Trail

On Sunday evening, after a short break to regroup, Beth and I went walking again, to the south part of Iona again. Since I had purchased a map earlier in the day we were able to take a short cut and get to the golf course faster. There we encountered another hiker who told us we were on the right path to Saint Columba’s Bay (which is where he was supposed to have initially landed when first arriving at Iona from Ireland).

After some hiking over hill and dale we made it to the beach. This was not a sandy beach, but rather one covered in large pebbles and stones. We found some more examples of cool rocks (we are bringing home a few samples as crazy as that sounds). I also recorded the very cool sound of the waves breaking on this stony beach.

From there we went looking for the marble quarry. A guide yesterday said it was a bit difficult to get to, but worth the effort, so we were putting in the effort. We didn’t find the path marked on the map so we ended up climbing over some difficult terrain, but eventually we found the abandoned marble quarry. The altar in the Abbey was made from marble taken from this quarry, and it was a beautiful work of art. It was hard to imagine such a beautiful item coming from such a place as the quarry, which seemed to be primarily chunks of rock of varying sizes, albeit differently coloured than all the other rock on the island. We found a small piece of marble with some green in it (similar to the green rocks we found earlier), so into my pocket it went, another unusual souvenir from Iona.

From the Marble Quarry we took what I thought was a trail back marked on the map, but in reality it turned out to be nothing more than a sheep trail. It‘s a good thing Iona isn’t that big, so we couldn’t get really lost. So up and down over the hilly terrain we went making our way back to the village. In some of the low spots we encountered the famous Scottish bogs - and first Beth, then myself got our shoes muddy and wet. Walking over such soft ground was a new experience for me, used to the dry hard ground of the prairies.

Eventually we spotted the road we needed to get back to our B&B - where we changed our shoes and pants and went to eat, both of us being famished by this point (about 9 PM). The restaurant (same one as yesterday) was nice enough to serve us, even though we were there right at closing time (for the restaurant part anyway, the bar part remained open later). The fish and chips we both had tasted mighty good after so much hiking around (and since we hadn’t eaten a proper meal since breakfast).

Beth fell fast asleep, even with the lights on (as I was working on the computer, trying to catch up with my notes taking and picture transferring.) After a short bit, I couldn’t keep my eyes opened, so I joined Beth in the land of Zees.

A Full Day on Iona and Staffa

Sunday began with a large breakfast served by our host at the B&B. Eggs, bacon, ham, oat cakes, cereal, mushrooms, tomatoes, coffee and juice. Needless to say when we were done all that we were full!

Then it was off to the Abbey for the Sunday Morning Communion service. Unlike the service of the previous evening, this one was done well and was a joy to participate in. They really do a good job of welcoming and including all people in their worship services. The presiding minister that morning was an Scottish Episcopalian Priest and his leading of the Eucharist was very gracious and inviting, yet at the same time reverent. There were some new songs that were part of the service that I quite liked and so I knew I would need to check out the bookstore. Which is what I did following the service, but oh what a dangerous place that bookstore was… too many interesting titles. I did some initial checking but decided that I would have to come back the next day when I had more time to sort through which ones I wanted the most (I couldn’t get everything I was interested in because it would make my wallet too light, and our suitcases too heavy).

Early in the afternoon we boarded a boat heading to Staffa Island (a small island about 5 miles north of Iona). On the island we were able to see puffins up close, really close (though it took a little time for them to come in from the ocean where the flock was hanging out as a protection from the ravens and gulls). Once they started flying we discovered how fast those little birds are - they don’t look like they are built for speed, but it was hard to get a picture of them in flight! Eventually when they started landing near us we got some great close up shots of these colourful and interesting birds.

At the opposite end of the island to where the puffins were is the large cave called Fingal’s Cave. It is in this place that Mendelssohn got inspired to write a symphony. The geological formation of the island is partly what makes this cave a fascinating place to visit, patterns of hexagonal rocks form most of the island, like stepping stones around the perimeter. It is actually on those ‘stepping stones’ that we walked to get to, then into the cave. Once inside Fingal‘s Cave one is surrounded by the sound of the sea. There was even a deep booming sound made by the waves crashing into the cave. I made a recording in the cave (though much of it has other tourists talking, mostly about posing for pictures… I was getting a little irritated, but didn’t think I could say “Could I please have a minute of no talking so I can record these sounds”. The boat was soon leaving so I had to stop recording and head back to the docking point.

We’ve been told by many locals, including the folks on the boat, that we had exceptional weather for visiting Staffa. I can attest to that because I came back with a bit of a sunburn! The only thing that could have made the trip better was to have spotted a whale, which is what one of the tours the previous day did. But we did see the puffins, and that was what we were looking forward to. The day wasn’t even over and it already was packed with great sights, sounds and experiences.