Tag Archives: England

Channeling Sting’s Fields of Gold

28 Tuesday Aug 2012

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English Rendezvous – Final Chapter

Fields of barley. They were all around us as we made our way to the little civil parish of Hannington, Hampshire England. (If you have Sting’s song, Fields of Gold, I recommend turning it on right now as you read this post. You can find Sting’s version of Fields of Gold on iTunes. I also recommend this other lovely cover version by Eva Cassidy.)

You’ll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You’ll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in the fields of gold

Two days earlier we were in Bath and the Cotswolds and the previous day we spent at Oxford where we picnicked on the lawn overlooking the River Thames and watched people punting. As we wandered around the campus we walked by a group of students playing cricket—my first real-live experience watching cricket, even if just for a few minutes. “They could be there for days,” Steve explained. Apparently cricket is a long, arduous sport. Where you wear sweaters.

But the barley in Hampshire—the Fields of Gold, Sting wrote about as a love song—caused me to take it all as a sign that there was something indeed magical happening right at that moment. (Some people call it falling madly in love, I suppose.) It was the perfect way to wrap up my two weeks in England: the solo week I had in London, the wonderful days in Bath, the “I Love Yous” the grief, the joy, the perfect photo together. That’s a lot to pack into travel. You don’t get all that backstory when you see the stamp in my passport unless, well, you’ve read this blog, I suppose.

So she took her love
For to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold

We were in Hannington because Steve Hannington is the man I was with and his family settled this part of the English county of Hampshire back before the 11th Century. I had never met anyone who hailed from a namesake town, so if Steve’s gallant nature from the previous days wasn’t enough to impress me, being a Hannington in Hannington sealed the deal for me.

Steve Hannington in Hannington, Hampshire England

Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
We’ll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in the fields of gold

It didn’t take long to walk around Hannington. There is a little square in the middle of the town—more of a park—right next to the ancient All Saints’ Church. I found a post box right at the side of the lane and dropped in my postcards, though all except one, which I had intended for Jessica before I knew she had passed away. I still have that postcard and today it is pinned to my bulletin board in my home office, right above my desk.

Hannington, Hampshire England

See the west wind move like a lover so
Upon the fields of barley
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of gold
I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I’ve broken
But I swear in the days still left
We’ll walk in the fields of gold

This was our last day together before I flew back to the U.S. Last time I left Steve it was Scotland and I cried—no, I sobbed. But I was out of tears this trip. I spent the last two days grieving the loss of my friend, Jessica and now all I had left were dry eyes and this soundtrack of Sting’s Fields of Gold playing in my mind. We took time to have dinner at the one restaurant in Hannington—a little pub called The Vine and we had fish out on the patio as we watched a dog play on the lawn, performing for all who were dining.

Time to leave. We left Hannington and the sun was beginning to set as we made our way toward Gatwick airport where we would find accommodations one last time in England.

Fields of Gold

Barley is simple and rather plain looking when you look at it individually. But all laid out in a field it takes on a collective sense of golden-ness. As we departed, going down a narrow lane toward London, we had the fields on both sides of us. Like when I walked through those doors at immigration and customs in Scotland and felt my life about to change, driving through the Fields of Gold also felt a little baptismal. This entire journey to England was a collection of individual experiences (exploring London solo for a week, the death of a friend, saying, I Love You) that combined, had cast a golden hue on my future, which I saw in those fields.

Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
You’ll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in the fields of gold

Fields of Gold, lyrics and music by Sting.

Find out where we meet up again.

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It’s about travel, saying “I love you,” and death

16 Thursday Aug 2012

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England Rendezvous, Chapter 3

My phone displayed that I had a voicemail. Normally I don’t bother with my phone while I’m traveling abroad, and I figure that I’ll listen to voicemail when I get back to the U.S. Besides, anyone important who needed to reach me while I was on holiday in Bath, England knew to just text me.

Castle Comb in the Cotswolds

It was day three of my epic romantic rendezvous in Bath, England with my long-distance suitor I met in Scotland just eight weeks prior. No distractions. No phones. Just the two us to discover Bath, the Cotswolds, and to see if I could muster the courage to say, “I love you.”

But the phone. There was a message on it and I had this feeling I needed to listen to this voicemail.

“Hi Lisa,” the voice said. “This is Jana, Jessica’s sister. I’m sorry to have to tell you, but Jessica passed away and I know you two were close and I found your phone number in her address book. I wanted to let you know when the funeral will be, so call me at….”

I just stood there looking at the stupid phone in my hand. Tears welled up in my eyes so fast that it felt like they were coming like a big wave that crashes on the shore. I inhaled and then crash! I couldn’t stop them.

Jessica and I worked together in Menlo Park, California back in the 90s. When I moved away we phoned each other weekly and wrote long epistles back and forth to each other over email where we lamented about men, our jobs, men, our coworkers, men. You get the picture. We would even watch the Oscars together over the phone and make snarky comments throughout the show. (This is what we did before Twitter, my friends.) We went to Giants games when I would come to town and traded books through the mail.

She also had lupus and had contracted an infection from a pedicure she received from a salon in her neighborhood. The infection was so bad she was hospitalized the last several months of her life and I frequently called her at El Camino Hospital in Mountain View, knowing I could be easily directed to her room where I would update her on what happened in Scotland and this fantastic guy I had just met.

But she died.

Steve walked in the room and I looked up at him and he had that look on his face—the “Oh crap, she’s crying. What do I do?” look. I blurted out the words, “My friend.” Tears not just rolling but pouring down my face. “She’s dead,” I continued. “Her sister. She left me a message.” I couldn’t breath and pressed my face into his chest and sobbed. I sobbed big heavy, almost-hyperventalating tears.

The “I love yous” and the never-ending tears

I’m in Bath. Just the night before I said, “I love you” and he said it back (thank goodness). Big moment. Colossal moment. This is the desired outcome Jane Austen writes about, but I was grieving. I pulled myself together and we went downstairs to breakfast where our Bed and Breakfast host served us breakfast while I gave up trying to control the tears that seemed to never ever stop. I was sure that the other guests and the host thought we had been fighting.

A church in Castle Comb in the Cotswolds

Move on with our day’s plans. That was the only thing that we could really do. This was the day we were going to discover the Cotswold region. Every guidebook seemed to write lovingly of the romantic quaint region with its stone homes, thatched roofs and cream teas. I studied the region ahead of time. I was prepared to get wrapped up in it, but I was sad. So very sad.

The verdant landscape of the Cotswolds was like looking at a poem. There is a cadence to the hills and each little village was like hitting upon the rhyme at the end of a line. They all looked similar, but they had their own character, like words that sound the same but aren’t. It wasn’t a sad poem and it wasn’t a happy poem, but it was a comforting one.

Bourton on the Water

We held hands as we walked along the pathway at Bourton on the Water, and we would have moments of silence and then I would start talking about Jessica. Then I would tear up again and return back to silence. I didn’t quite know how to feel. My heart hung heavy with grief, but was also bursting out of my chest with spectacular joy and the feeling of being in love. I couldn’t have been in a more bifurcated moment in my entire life. Or is it possible to have two hearts in this kind of experience?

This picture with smiles and a sad heart

I wanted a photo of us in this lovely place. I asked a man if he could take our photo and Steve and I sat on a bench. “No, no,” the man said as he pointed to another bench. “Sit over here. It’s much better.” We moved to the other bench and the man, who turned out to be a photographer, took this photo with my little Kodak point-and-shoot camera. This beautifully, perfectly angled photo.

I feel like I’m spoiling the ending here but you know already that I married that man. Fast forward almost two years later and as a wedding gift, the women at my church had an artist paint a portrait based on this photo. When they revealed it to me I wept again. This photo took me back to that time when I was swept up in love in England, where “I Love Yous” were exchanged, and if you look really closely you’ll notice that in my heart I’m grieving the loss of my friend, Jessica.

Continue to next chapter.

 

Bath, England: An aphrodisiac for my long-distance love affair

12 Sunday Aug 2012

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England Rendezvous, Chapter 2

London is where we met for our second rendezvous and then drove to Bath, England for the next chapter in our epic romance. (I know, “epic” is overused. Just indulge me for a little while on this.) Only a few knew of my long-distance romance with Steve, which began in Scotland eight weeks earlier. Most people probably wouldn’t have believed it. I barely believed it myself.

We arrived at the Marlborough House—a lovely bed and breakfast in a stone Victorian house just a few blocks away from the famous Royal Crescent—and after our host drew us a map of the highlights of Bath, we made our way to the Roman Baths and Pump Room for a candlelight tour in the evening. “Oh it would be very romantic!” our host urged us. Romantic, of course! That’s why we were here—it was all for the romance.

A visit to the Roman Baths

Roman Baths

When this all came upon me–this falling in love–I wasn’t prepared to take copious notes on Bath. I didn’t go to Bath to learn of the Victoria Art Gallery or the Holburne Museum of Art. No, I was there to fall further in love–to somehow channel Jane Austen and all her heroines so that I could use Bath as some sort of aphrodisiac for my long-distance love affair.

It’s not like we needed any help. We were completely smitten in Scotland and nothing indicated that it wouldn’t continue that way, though because this was so out of the ordinary I thought that I would actually wake up and none of this had happened. So, if you’re going to dream, I thought, why not dream with Bath as the backdrop.

Evensong at Bath Abbey

Bath Abbey

Our second day in Bath, a Sunday, we visited the Bath Abbey for an Evensong presentation. If the backdrop of Bath wasn’t enough, now I had a soundtrack. Being musically trained myself, I was swept up by the acoustics of the building and prayed to God that this whole thing wouldn’t slip through my fingers.

Jane Austen, of course

We visited the Jane Austen Centre where we moved from room to room to see how Jane Austen lived, learned more about her family, looked at some of the film costumes as well as various framed letters on the walls from celebrities (notably Emma Thompson, that goddess of wit who wrote the film adaptation of Sense and Sensibility). I was surprised as to how simple and quaint the Centre was, given the massive following of Jane Austen. I suppose that’s how she would have wanted it, as she really seemed a modest person. It was almost a little odd to be in the Jane Austen Centre where I was learning about this woman who wrote fiction that were turned into movies–all about being independent and falling in love with the right person at the right time. At the same time I was living this and thought, it doesn’t have to be fiction. It feels like fiction but it doesn’t have to be.

The healing waters of Bath

There’s a lot said about the healing waters of Bath.  Historically, many went to Bath to cure themselves of their ills. Perhaps something in Bath washed over me too as well as Steve.

That rendezvous that started in Scotland? It still was alive and well in Bath too. Little did I know, I was going to soon need the healing of Bath to soothe my soul more than I could imagine.

Continue to next chapter.

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This is how I ended up in London

27 Friday Jul 2012

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England Rendezvous, Chapter 1

I wanted to do something spectacular for my 40th birthday and things got interesting when a friend suggested I join her and some other gals to hike the Swiss Alps that year. I was so onboard! How many people can say they’ve hiked the Swiss Alps?

Well, not me, it turns out.

It had been two months since I rendezvoused with the man in Scotland. After that trip that sent my heart soaring and my tears flowing as goodbyes were exchanged at the end of our six days together, we phoned, we emailed and I hoped we would see each other again. The closer it got to the Swiss Alps trip the more I realized that given limited vacation time at work and limited funds for a long-distance courtship, I had to make a choice: Hike the Alps with some fun women or take another chance to see if what happened in Scotland had any sticking power.

So I didn’t hike the Alps. I bailed and decided to go to London instead–by myself, actually. Turns out, it’s also rather convenient for Steve (the man I met in Scotland) to rendezvous again with me. Once I let Steve know about my plans to go to London he immediately jumped at the chance to meet me there, but only met me for week two of my trip since I wanted to have some time to myself in London.

My travel journal for the England rendezvous

I just adore London and I’m so glad I made the decision to do the first half of the trip by myself. Here’s what I learned:

  • You actually don’t have to take the Tube everywhere because most of the time a lovely walk through Hyde Park will get you to where you need to be. (This was a big “duh!” moment for me.)

London’s Hyde Park

Hyde Park, London

  • I arrived the week London was having a heat wave. Londoners took this opportunity to sunbathe at Hyde Park and I thought I was pasty white!

Londoners enjoying the high temps at Hyde Park

  • They have Subway sandwich shops in London–same menu and about the same prices in the U.S., which totally saved me loads of money on food.
  • Other great food options for lunch include Pret a Manger and Marks and Spencer. I discovered this when I watched where the locals were eating.
  • Best view of London is not the pricey “Eye,” but take the stairs clear to the top of St. Paul’s Cathedral–completely breathtaking and an awesome workout.

View of London from atop St. Paul’s Cathedral

  • You don’t get ice in your water at dinner. They like to serve it room temperature, so you gotta ask for ice, ice baby.
  • They have potato chips of every flavor imaginable.
  • A co-worker from England convinced me before my trip that I should take the double decker bus tour to get the lay of the land during my first couple of days and you know what? Best. Advice. Ever. (Yes, snobs, she was right.)
  • Edinburgh is only a 5 and 1/2 hour train ride from London and that’s how close I was to Steve.
  • Sometimes it’s okay to walk away from previous travel plans. Sure, I didn’t hike the Alps, but if I did, I would have missed London as well as a big part in the next chapter of my life.

London

London

Tower Bridge in London

Find out what happens in the next chapter.