From our base in Edinburgh, it's hard to resist a side trip to England, which we agree to do on a weekday, when we think traffic will be less chaotic and the seaside less crowded.
From Edinburgh, we take the A1 to England, and, after a while, we are left with a bit of a conundrum: just when exactly do we reach England? Have we reached it? Will there be a 'welcome' or a 'piss off' sign? With Liebi navigating, I still don't have a clue when we have reached England, although evidence-and eventually our destination-suggest we clearly have.
Our first stop is Alnwick, site of the famous castle and actual filming location for the Harry Potter movies' Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Curiously enough, we do not visit the castle, and luckily, Axl doesn't exist on it. Our plan was to visit two small English towns, contrary to our original plan of visiting a northern English city like Newcastle. Alnwick seems to fit the bill. We park outside of town and walk the mile or so to the market's square in the middle of town. On the way there, we pass pubs and stores for antiques and other arts and crafts. We have our lunch at a pub, where I have brie with strawberry jam (to die for) and an Eggplant Parmesan.
A small English town doesn't differ greatly from one in Germany, come to think of it. There are independent stores, chain stores, pubs, banks and realtors, loads of realtors. We are in Northumberland, which seems to be one of the less densely populated counties of England, which is also reflected by the real estate prices. When we leave Alnwick, we need to stop outside of town for a gorgeous photo opp of Alnwick Castle, and how it hovers in the background of the picturesque wide meadows of sheep grazing along the river Aln.
What's conspicuous about England and Northumberland so far are the thousands of sheep dotting the meadows. Liebi remarks that this is a haven for sheep, as they all look happy and well fed. What would be a hell for sheep? Hint: countries that celebrate the Eid al-Adha or Eid el-Kebir. Here's looking at you, Morocco. We are also absolutely amazed by the scores and scores of roadkills on Northumberland's roads, primarily birds that go unidentified, although they look like pheasants or grouses, from the size and looks of them.
From Alnwick, we take the narrow country road toward the North Sea and Bamburgh, a charming little village on the Northumberland coast. Again a huge, gorgeous castle, again we choose to forego it in favor of something else, in this case the beach. More gorgeous photo opportunities, like Bamburgh Castle stoically sitting on the coast. The weather is warm for the first time since we've reached Britain, so people go to the seaside, which makes perfect sense. A ball from a group of students comes wobbling in my direction. I take a quizzical look at it and identify it as the oval, non-pointy rugby ball. I toss it back to the students.
The beach is a gorgeous place and not crowded at all, although plenty of Brits have put two and two together and decide that a warm day is best spent right here. Right they are. The wind is crisp, but fails to knock the pleasant warm vibe out of the air.
On the horizon are islands in the sea, each of them featuring a lighthouse, from the looks of things.
On our way back, Liebi proclaims that she gets a heavy feeling from Scotland. It has nothing to do with the weather, she promises, there is just a tenseness that disappears the moment we reach England and returns once we're back in Scottish territory. A letdown in a former Scotch-Irish life, perhaps?
One final addendum here: as we reach Scotland, there are several warm welcomes proclaimed on billboards. Welcome to Scotland, along with the flag featuring St. Andrew's cross. In our rearview mirror, we discover that the welcome is not reciprocated by England. C'mon, England. Get your game on. The crown jewels alone won't get the tourist dollars and euros. Your move.
From Edinburgh, we take the A1 to England, and, after a while, we are left with a bit of a conundrum: just when exactly do we reach England? Have we reached it? Will there be a 'welcome' or a 'piss off' sign? With Liebi navigating, I still don't have a clue when we have reached England, although evidence-and eventually our destination-suggest we clearly have.
Our first stop is Alnwick, site of the famous castle and actual filming location for the Harry Potter movies' Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Curiously enough, we do not visit the castle, and luckily, Axl doesn't exist on it. Our plan was to visit two small English towns, contrary to our original plan of visiting a northern English city like Newcastle. Alnwick seems to fit the bill. We park outside of town and walk the mile or so to the market's square in the middle of town. On the way there, we pass pubs and stores for antiques and other arts and crafts. We have our lunch at a pub, where I have brie with strawberry jam (to die for) and an Eggplant Parmesan.
A small English town doesn't differ greatly from one in Germany, come to think of it. There are independent stores, chain stores, pubs, banks and realtors, loads of realtors. We are in Northumberland, which seems to be one of the less densely populated counties of England, which is also reflected by the real estate prices. When we leave Alnwick, we need to stop outside of town for a gorgeous photo opp of Alnwick Castle, and how it hovers in the background of the picturesque wide meadows of sheep grazing along the river Aln.
What's conspicuous about England and Northumberland so far are the thousands of sheep dotting the meadows. Liebi remarks that this is a haven for sheep, as they all look happy and well fed. What would be a hell for sheep? Hint: countries that celebrate the Eid al-Adha or Eid el-Kebir. Here's looking at you, Morocco. We are also absolutely amazed by the scores and scores of roadkills on Northumberland's roads, primarily birds that go unidentified, although they look like pheasants or grouses, from the size and looks of them.
From Alnwick, we take the narrow country road toward the North Sea and Bamburgh, a charming little village on the Northumberland coast. Again a huge, gorgeous castle, again we choose to forego it in favor of something else, in this case the beach. More gorgeous photo opportunities, like Bamburgh Castle stoically sitting on the coast. The weather is warm for the first time since we've reached Britain, so people go to the seaside, which makes perfect sense. A ball from a group of students comes wobbling in my direction. I take a quizzical look at it and identify it as the oval, non-pointy rugby ball. I toss it back to the students.
The beach is a gorgeous place and not crowded at all, although plenty of Brits have put two and two together and decide that a warm day is best spent right here. Right they are. The wind is crisp, but fails to knock the pleasant warm vibe out of the air.
On the horizon are islands in the sea, each of them featuring a lighthouse, from the looks of things.
On our way back, Liebi proclaims that she gets a heavy feeling from Scotland. It has nothing to do with the weather, she promises, there is just a tenseness that disappears the moment we reach England and returns once we're back in Scottish territory. A letdown in a former Scotch-Irish life, perhaps?
One final addendum here: as we reach Scotland, there are several warm welcomes proclaimed on billboards. Welcome to Scotland, along with the flag featuring St. Andrew's cross. In our rearview mirror, we discover that the welcome is not reciprocated by England. C'mon, England. Get your game on. The crown jewels alone won't get the tourist dollars and euros. Your move.
