Sand + Snow

Our Cozy Cube covered in snow.
It's been an uncharacteristically cold and snowy winter in the UK. In fact, Cambridge had its first white Christmas in almost half a century as a result of a pre-Christmas snowstorm: a whole 7 inches. While this is nothing compared to past winters spent in Virginia (or -dare we even mention- Massachusetts), any accumulation of snow in the UK that consists of more than a flurry is cause for a Snow Day.
Snowy branches against the morning sky.
Currently in the midst of our second significant snowfall (3 inches and counting) in nearly as many weeks, we find ourselves "snowed in" at home and, of course, slightly amused by the UK's inexperience (and incompetence) in the snow department. Will is taking the opportunity to work from home in our cozy (and warmer than his office) cube. Jackie, who would normally be in London today if the city wasn't shut down because of the weather, is reading, relaxing, and oh yes reviewing a 700+ page law textbook for her internship (at least she finds the material exciting!).

A well-traveled path along The Backs.
View over The Cam from Garrett Hostel Bridge.
Gardens at Trinity Hall
As much as we enjoy a good Snow Day, however, when it comes to snow vs sand, beach vs mountains, for us, sun, sea, and sand win hands down. When living on an island in the North Atlantic, where sunny days, temperatures above 80, and even excursions to the seaside are rare, the preference of one over the other becomes even stronger. Of course it doesn't help remembering that this time LAST year we were in South Florida. At the beach. Probably right at this moment. Beeeeaaaach.

The photo is relevant. Promise
Anyway, though the rocky shore and cool (read: freezing) water might not make it ideal for swimming, we have visited several lovely beaches across the UK during our 2 1/2 years here. Our favorite little seaside town, Southwold, in Suffolk is also home to Will's favorite English brewery (Note that I said English; his fav British brewery is on the Isle of Skye in Scotland aka the mostbeautifulpleaceintheworld. Keep this in mind should you ever visit these places. Try some beer, then buy some for Will. He'll pay you back. Promise.). Back in October (yes, we've kept this photos from you that long), we took a daytrip with our friends J + C to visit the brewery, as well as the beach (fish + chips were also involved).

See?
Beach Huts
Will At: the beach!
Whether you are partial to the sand or the snow, enjoy these few photos from Southwold (hint: clicking the post title takes you to the Flickr album), and, of course, from snowy Cambridge. Stay warm; summer is only a few months away!

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The Great Summer Omnibus Post Part I: Scotland

Photos
So, after having said in September that we were sorry for not updating more frequently, it looks like we proceeded to get even more busy. Oops. Will has been working late nights and early morning to try and finish up the project faster. Jackie has been working part-time for a research office at the University and commuting to London twice-a-week for an internship. Add in Sunday School and Bible Study and the weeks begin to roll. Now, suddenly, we find ourselves in middle December, in damp, dark, and cold, and thinking fondly of our warm summer trips. What better time, then, to update you all on those adventures.

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Scotland

It had been our full intent to give a complete and detailed update of our time in Scotland. Suffice to say, we got bogged down in the details, the masses of photos (over 500!) and the memories of what was our most enjoyable vacation, yet.
There's no other way to say it: we love Scotland. It wasn't even on our short-list of places to visit yet, like Man On Fire it's come out of nowhere to shock us with its awesomeness. England has national pride; there's no doubt about that. But, one wonders how much is born out of jealousy directed towards her more naturally handsome Northern sister. Our first trip to this "far-greener country" was in December 2007. We had stayed with friends over Christmas and Boxing Day, but then we caught the express train to Edinburgh because it stopped in Peterborough. Despite the cold (extremely) and wet (this is Britain, don't forget), we loved the city's strong, Georgian architecture and its little alcoves. More than that, the food was beyond compare. We knew that there was more to this country and we wanted to see it. Trouble was, we couldn't drive and that is the only way to get around Scotland.
Enter 2009. We decide in January that our big trip, our second anniversary, was going to be a Highlands Roadtrip. For Will, this meant learning to drive. Lots of breakfasts spent pouring over the Highway Code, several lessons with an instructor, fake parking spaces made of cones, and the incomparable generosity of family and one of the world's better drivers (at least, in his opinion) was now qualified to drive not just on the right, but the left as well. A tune-up trip to Devon (to adjust to the tiny-windy roads) and it was time to head out into the vast verge of Scotland.

We started and ended our trip in that glorious city of which we have written so much: Edinburgh. Since we were spending quite a bit of money on B and B's at nicer locales, we opted to do something that neither one of us has every done: we stayed in a hostel. We figured it would be one night, we could get a private room, and hey, it was £50/night. What could possibly go wrong? First of all, let's get one thing straight. Neither one of us are "silver-spooners." Yes, we are middle, if not upper-middle class, but we won't turn our noses up at anything if it's given to us. However, our lives are mean enough as is. The ability to travel, and to travel well, is highly important to us. Thus, hostels have never made much sense to us. Perhaps we could "get more for our money," but really, we would not enjoy it nearly as much. We're quite happy to cook for ourselves, and not go out during the year, if it means that we can eat without guilt or sacrifice when we travel. It's just being prudent. So, we quickly found that the "hostel crowd" is not our crowd.
Let's just say, it wasn't a great night's sleep. Concurrent with our arrival in the Scottish capitol was the beginning of the largest clan gathering since the 19th century. It was being billed as the "Scottish Homecomings" in the United States, meaning who else but Sean Connery could sell it. So, our convenient hostel, located right at the foot of the Castle Mount, was within earshot of the dress rehearsal for the massive opening ceremonies. It's hard to describe in text the disorientation we felt as we struggled to fall asleep to the sounds of tribal drums and an overbearing director shouting "If you are running in a circle, then you should be running NOW!" There was some interesting singing, as well, but perhaps that was just us praying for daylight.
Fast-forwarding to the next morning, we picked up our microscopic rental car from Edinburgh Waverley station. After getting lost for about an hour trying to get out of the city--Edinburgh is in the process of destroying all its streets by installing tram rails--we made it onto the motorway and off to our first destination: the Falkirk Wheel. It's big, it moves boats, it runs on the electrical power of a hairdryer. To an engineer this is still magic.
To get a grip on Scottish weather, picture wintertime, wherever you are. See something gray? Now turn down the brightness by about 12%, throw in some high winds, and rain that comes from every direction. This is roughly the description that you will receive from 98% of all Englishmen and 99.5% of all Scotsmen. Bizarrely, the further North and West we went from Edinburgh, the better the weather was getting. By the time we made it North of Glasgow (...nothing to see here...) we were already getting sunshine. We took some wonderful pictures of Loch Lomond, the largest loch in Scotland, from a roadside lay-by. The jet-skier was a total bonus.

Our first port-of-call was the Victorian fishing village of Oban. Famous in the UK for producing whisky, Oban was once a popular resort for the merchants and aristocrats coming from Edinburgh and other points southward. Nowadays, it is still popular, though a tad past prime. Nevertheless, it has managed to avoid the ubiquitous kitsch and tat of the English seaside (our favorite little Southwold, excepted, of course). Having walked around for 15 minutes, we'd pretty much seen all there was to see in Oban, but that was just fine by us.
We stayed at Dun-na-Mara, a charmingly renovated house with its own private beach looking out to the Isle of Jura and Isle of Mull. This particular B&B sported wonderful minimalist design and a tranquil atmosphere that literally stripped all the stress of our Edinburgh adventure away. We had a gorgeous sunny dinner picnic on the rocky beach (albeit, in high winds, of course) and were generally loving life.
At this point, we weren't quite in the Highlands. Yet, we were already finding how difficult it would be to get around the countryside. While you might be inclined to think this was due to caravans being pulled slowly by elderly people in Kias (since most of the time this is the case), in fact it was because of the countryside itself. Every parking place along the way was an opportunity to take a picture of some hillock, some loch, or some other gorgeous piece of Earth. It was astounding to be surrounded by such beauty, having just come from the fenland.
We stopped off for the afternoon in the resort town of Inveraray. Its uniformly white Georgian buildings were quaint, if the town itself was a bit quiet. Inveraray is famous for being the seat of the Dukes of Argyll, notable for gifting the world with the diamond-patterned knit sweater and socks. It also lies on Loch Fyne, a wealthy fishing loch.
Oh the fish. Will was never much for seafood living in the US. Scotland, though, has changed him forever. Everything, and we mean everything is locally-sourced, fresh, caught that morning. More on that, though, when we get to the best part of the trip.

Leaving Oban (and the lawyerly named county of Argyll & Bute) we made our way northward in dense fog and mist into the Highland Council. We decided to drive through Glen Coe, based on the recommendation of friends. Despite (do we even have to mention the high winds?) wind and rain, we were amazed at the rising peaks, the green glens, and the waterfalls. There were waterfalls coming down literally every hillside. As we made it out of that sad, but brilliant valley, it started to sun up. We stopped off for lunch just outside of Fort William (ha ha), the gateway to the Highlands. At this point we were still a little over 100 miles south and East of our ultimate destination: the Isle of Skye.

In The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe the Narnians speak of Aslan with great reverence and fear. Despite his being a lion (and that being quite a scary thing for a beaver), there is no question that Aslan is more beautiful, more wonderful, more amazing than anything the Pevensey children have ever seen. When they finally meet Aslan, they understand that the hyperbole was not exaggeration at all. Rarely is anything in reality that good. When it comes to people, the face-to-face encounter often brings out their more human characteristics. When it comes to places, different people have different preferences.

When we mentioned that we were going to Skye, no one, not a single person at all had a single bad word to say. In fact, almost all people described it as being one of--if not the--most beautiful place on Earth they have ever been. Once or twice, you think this is just a narrow thing. Five or six times, though, and you make it the hinge of your trip. Despite a typically harried timetable (we only had 10 days) we planned to spend three days on Skye.

One drives to Skye by first driving through Lochalsh; a rugged, beautiful, rural country in the Western Highlands. The queues of traffic that we had followed on the run up to Fort William had all but dispersed. It was now us, some scattered sheep, and Dutch motorcyclists doing at least 120 MPH. Before Skye, we stopped at one of the most photographed landmarks in Britain: Eileen Donan castle. Famous for its place in The Highlander, Eileen Donan is the seat of Clan MacRae and was a family home up until the 1980s. It sits on its own small island surrounded by gorgeous Highland vistas.

When we arrived at the Skye bridge (a white elephant project of the 1970s) in Kyle of Lochalsh, we were all tense with excitement. Crossing over, though, led to a brief moment of panic for Will as the first road sign he saw was posted in Scots-Gaels. Thankfully, all the signs on Skye are (eventually) bilingual. In the rest of Scotland, the average amount of spoken Gaelic is down around 20-30% now. On the Hebridean islands, however, the rate is as high as 70%. Hence, we were now into some fiercely Scottish lands.
Our home for our three days on Skye was Tigh-an-Dochais (tie-an-doh-chess, Gaelic: "house of hope"), a modern B and B sat on the bay in the town of Harrapool. Our host, Neil, is now one of our favorite people in the world. Not only does Neil make his own yogurt, but he was an invaluable source of information about the entirety of Skye. Every day began with a 45 minute conversation with Neil about our plans, what was good about them, and what we might consider doing differently. Oh yeah, Neil can cook a mean breakfast too. He also will give you a ziploc bag for your muffins (home baked!) if you don't eat it with breakfast!

Skye is a hiker's paradise. Only 30 miles at the span, Skye has a disproportionately large ridge of mountains dividing it through the middle. The Cuillin Range, as they are called, create microclimate zones around the island. Hence, each peninsula has its own unique floral character. Harrapool, in the Southeast of the island where we were staying was flat and low-lying with scrub plants. Further to the North (across the Cuillin), we found it to remind us quite a bit of high prairie and the West Country. To the West, it was practically tropical with palm trees and sandy beaches. Now, this is not to imply that the temperatures fit the places (they didn't) but the lighting, the look, the feel. All of that was right. It was as if the whole world was pulled together in miniature on Skye.

Our favorite location on Skye was, without a doubt, Talisker Bay. One gets to Talisker by driving through the village of Corbost (home of Talisker Whisky Distillery. Do you even have to ask?) on a well-maintained single-track road. Rather than driving down into the town, you bear up onto the hills above and onto a very rural single track. Keep going for about 10-15 minutes through sheep-filled grassland until things start going downhill again and the road ends. There's a small cul-de-sac at the end of the road. If there is parking then you can go, otherwise, you're at a loss for private parking. Leaving the road, you walk for a mile through someone's private property past a gigantic Edwardian farmhouse. Passing the farmhouse on the farm road, the sheep are grazing up and down the impossibly steep hill off to the left and an expanse of cultivated fields runs down literally to the end of the Earth where there is a bay. Surrounded by high cliffs and filled with volcanic black sands, we believe that Talisker Bay is a piece of heaven here on Earth. We could stay for only a moment (it was about 45 minutes), but it hurt to leave because we knew we were somewhere beautiful.

As much as we enjoyed Neil's breakfasts, the food on Skye as a whole was wonderful. Being an island, things still have to be brought in. However, being a part of the Hebrides, Skye benefits from a fishing tradition. Hence, when we got seafood gumbo (yes! Seafood gumbo!) the majority of the seafood had been fished out of the bay across the road that morning. It doesn't get much more fresh than that. The most unique dining experience was absolutely dinner at The Three Chimneys. Although located at the opposite end of Skye from our B&B, and in a tiny village accessible only by single track, Three Chimneys is a luxury B&B with a world-famous restaurant. The food and service were easily the match of anything we've had in London or anywhere else. Jackie is still craving some hot marmalade pudding. That meal alone will be enough to draw us back to Skye one last time.

When the sad, though inevitable, day arrived for us to depart, we drove largely in the same direction from which we had come. However, this being the Highlands, we knew that we had to at least see Loch Ness. We did. It was a beautiful sunny day. We didn't stop. After ricocheting off Inverness, we piloted the Bonnie Blue southwards and into the pastoral Speyside region. We spent only a short time near the Spey, but we enjoyed the distillery tours. It is fascinating to visit a large operation (like Glenfiddich) who still insist on using traditional methods, while a smaller producer (like Aberlour) uses the most modern production techniques. Both manage to make a good dram.

Following our Bacchanalian stop off in Speyside, we crossed the Cairngorm Mountains and returned to Edinburgh. Of note was how we still managed to get lost, but were able to get to the train station by driving up the Royal Mile. Once central, it seems, the traffic seems to disappear.

The pictures of Scotland tell the story better than this writer ever could.  It is, after all, a picturesque country, rather than one given to description. We could lavish hyperbole on the scenery, heap praise on the local food, or go on for hours about the people and how welcoming and relaxing a country it is. It would do none of it justice. Instead, this understated, wet, plucky little country to the North of a much more-heralded brother can continue to awe and inspire all who visit, no matter what we may say.

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Devon: God's Country

Click here for Devon photos, or scroll down to 'snapshots' on the right-hand side of the page.
Ever since Streetcar came into our lives (see our Windsor post), we've been waiting for the opportunity to visit some of the more remote areas of England that are only practically accessible by car. Despite the blessings of useful rail travel, our scope for taking weekend trips was limited mostly to London and a handful of other cities, only. So, with summer growing closer and closer, we decided to do what any self-respecting Englishmen would do: head to the West Country!

In general, the 'West Country' includes the counties of Gloucestershire, Somerset, Devon, Cornwall, and others. Devon and Cornwall, in particular, are known as the 'holiday' counties because of their natural splendor, rural attractions, and sandy beaches. Knowing that we would only have a limited amount of time, we narrowed the scope of our visit to North Devon on the recommendation of one of Will's co-workers (whose family is familiar with the area). We chose this area because of its proximity to the coast (so we could see some sea) and to Exmoor National Park; a heavily forested wilderness.
Although neither one of us has ever been an avid hiker, we decided to change the game a little this time and experience the scenery. As you will see in our picture gallery, we were not disappointed. Coming from a place as flat as Indiana, Devon was exceedingly breathtaking. Impossibly steep gorges breaking down hundreds of feet into the sea; windswept hillocks teeming with sheep and cows; tractors, tractors, and more tractors. As Will's colleague warned us, time slows down in Devon. It did; we loved it. We started off at the village of Combe Martin with it's craggy bay and high hills. Following that, we drove to Braunton where we had fish and chips at Squire's (Award Winning!) fish restaurant. Having had a five hour drive from Cambridge, we had a picnic dinner in our room and called it an early night. The following day we headed East into Exmoor and the twin towns of Lynton and Lynmouth. From Lynton we walked along the precipitous South West Coast Path to the Valley of Rocks where we took our pictures with some mountain goats. We then came back towards town and walked down the (very) steep cliff into Lynmouth. From Lynmouth, we walked up the river into the National Trust's Exmoor property, Watersmeet. Like something out of a Stanley Kubrick movie, Watersmeet is a little house cum tea room in the middle of the woods. Only in England. After all that walking, we fortified ourselves with some delicious homemade pasties in Lynmouth, nearly killed ourselves walking back up into Lynton (the Victorians were smarter than us. They built a railway). From there we drove across the county to Hartland Point Lighthouse where we saw yet more, unique landscape.
This trip was also the first major test of Will's new UK license, as, on occasion, we had to turn down a single track or two. Nevertheless, everyone is fairly courteous about it and you just have to not be in much of a rush to get anywhere. In many ways, this trip was a tune-up for our big, Second Anniversary trip to Scotland; where, undoubtedly, we will be doing lots of single-track, rural driving. Of a brief technical note, we were driving a nearly brand-new VW Polo BlueMotion. In our 780 miles worth of driving we used 12.5 gallons of gas (approx.). You do the math. Note as well: Devon is NOT flat highway driving.

Oh and the food! We could go on and on. On our last night, we drove to Winsford, Somerset; a small village down, of course, a single track (we were stopped by shepherds so their flocks could cross! AND we forded a stream!). There, we had dinner in the Royal Oak Inn, a lovely old pub now gastropub. A gastropub is a place with a pub atmosphere (old furniture, wood paneling, beer) but gourmet food (wine, appetizers that aren't potato chips, no mushy peas). Will had a delicious meal of Winsford Lamb (yes, some relatives of the very same sheep we saw, perhaps!) and Jackie had an excellent vegetable dish.

We stayed at a lovely B&B called Bowden Farm. Our hosts were friendly and very hospitable. We're still getting used to the idea of a bed and breakfast; you're not quite a houseguest, but you're not quite staying in a hotel. It's kind of like Keanu Reeves; is he acting or isn't he? It's certainly more enjoyable. We're staying in B&B's throughout our time in Scotland so we should professional at it by the end of July.

Devon was an interesting trip. It was our first trip out into a place of natural beauty since moving to Europe, really. While we did more or less what we could in the area we stayed, we definitely felt like we could have stayed longer or, better yet, that we could go back.

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Summertime

Roses at Wychfield.
We're off to the West Country tomorrow for a weekend exploring the coasts and moors of Devon. Be back Sunday afternoon with stories and photos. Until then, here are few pictures taken last weekend as we celebrated the arrival of English summer with a trip out to The Plough.

Ready to go.

Jackie wanted to take some photos first.
Rural.
The Footpath.
Did we mention that The Plough is a gastropub? Oh yes.
Signs of an English Summer: Pimms + Limonade.

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Hamburg, Hamburg über Alles!

Hamburg Snapshots
Herzlich wilkommen aus der Blog Hoos In Cambridge! We've just returned from our second trip to Europe (because, of course, England is not in Europe). This time we visited der Freie und Hansestadt Hamburg. For those of you who are not so Deustche inclined, Hamburg is a both 'free' and 'Hanseatic' city; of which its denizens are very, very proud. Our neighbors from last year have together spent the last eight years in Hamburg, with one being a native of the city. However, a change of employment is forcing them to move to the aesthetically barren city of Berlin. As a result, we made it a priority to visit them before this move to experience this great and, of course, freie city.

We were blessed in many ways this trip: the company of good friends, excellent food, beautiful scenery, and the most beautiful spring that Northern Germany has seen in a very long time. For the four days of our visit it was sunny with a high of 75ºF (at least). Couple this gorgeous weather to the maritime culture around us and we might as well have been on the Riviera, rather than the Baltic Sea.
This was a trip of significant firsts, as well. Not only was it Will's first 'official' trip to Germany (the day trip from across the Dutch border to Warner Brothers Oberhausen in 1999 does not count), but it was also our first trip on Ryanair; Europe's low cost airline. In spite of all the horror stories we were told, we had a pleasant experience traveling with Ryanair (with a website like that, how could you not trust them). If you go in with no expectations, it is easy to be pleasantly surprised. We knew that we would be flying into Flüghafen Lübeck and not Hamburg. Lübeck aiport is, in fact, an airfield. When disembarking, there is not gate; you walk straight up to the plane. It all hearkens back to a more romantic age of air travel. Lübeck is located about 70km (44 miles) from central Hamburg. This is about the same distance as from London to Cambridge. Furthermore, it also gave us the opportunity to visit Lübeck, which is itself eine Hansestadt and one with a beautiful, historic city center. Lübeck is also home of Niederegger Marzipan; easily the best marzipan in the world. It was the first time in our European travels that we visited a city where the churches are really what are worth visiting. Of note, Lübeck is the largest UNESCO World Heritage Site in Germany; the entire city being a conserved zone.

Following Lübeck, we drove up to the Baltic Sea coast. On arriving, we were told we could either walk along the seaside in the town of Travemunde or we could go to 'the other side' where the beach was less built-up. Always game for the more rural experience, we hopped the ferry across the river and onto the other side. We found a path up to the sunny, if sparsely peopled beach. As we walked along, our friends told us that this beach was, in fact, a part of the former GDR. Hence, we made it to a formerly Communist-occupied country on this trip! It was exciting, in a silly way, but also interesting to learn about how the beach used to be when we were children. While West Germans were able to walk within a few yards of the wall (which, by the way, ran from the beach into the sea), citizens of the GDR were not allowed within several kilometers of the beach. Hence, all the farms and little villages we drove past to get to the beach, that were no more than a stone's throw from a gorgeous, Baltic seaside, could not go there. After sitting for awhile, we decided it was time to make our way back to Hamburg.

Our first impressions of Hamburg were mixed. It is a city largely constructed in the 1950s; for obvious and very tragic reasons. Hence, the further out from the center of Hamburg, the less attractive it is. On closer inspection, one finds great beauty in this city, though one longs for what it might have been. Hamburg is a city of canals, much like Venice or Amsterdam (though not quite so wet as either). At its heart lies the Alster Lake. The Alster is, in fact, a river, but a wide and slow moving river. Its circumference is formed by lush parkland and beautiful 19th century homes. Hamburg is, and reaching back for several hundred years, has been a wealthy city. It's wealth is, naturally, in its port. Oddly enough, despite the beauty of the Alsterpark, the majority of tourists in Hamburg found the port to be the attraction of Hamburg.
The highlight of our trip was that we were traveling on Easter weekend; a big deal in Hamburg. Of particular note is the performance of Brahms’ Ein deustches requiem at the Hamburg Laeiszhalle. If you weren’t aware, classical music is very popular in Germany; particularly Hamburg. Hamburg is the home of Deustche Grammophon (DG is classical music, boom!), the world’s most famous classical music label. So, naturally, we were expecting a high quality music experience.
Most requiems have an organ overture preceding the choral arrangement; the Brahms does not. However, to preserve ‘tradition’, this performance of the requiem would have an organ overture. Usually, these overtures are a bit, well… how can you say it… boring. They are sleep-inducing. Nevertheless, as the maestro settled in at the organ we fully expected to be asleep until the first choral crescendo… and then it happened. At first we thought it was an unfortunate fault with the sound system. No, we were not so lucky. As we are no longer in the classical age of music but in fact the ‘postmodern’ age or whatever it should be called, we were witness to the performance of a modern organ overture. The organist was playing a chorale on the organ, overlaid with samples of white noise and other… well, noise that he controlled with a DJ-style sampler. I probably would not have cared if the samples were interesting. However, there did not seem to be much to them except noise. Usually when something like this comes on the radio we tend to change the station. However, we were in this for the full ride. Having never been forced to listen to such music before, we realized that it does, in some fashion, have intrinsic music value. Before you throw tomatoes, hear us out. Most classical music, and music in general tries to cultivate either happiness or sadness. Modern music just tries to inspire more varied feelings: anger, frustration, or confusion, for example. At times it was clear he was just trying to be ‘shocking’ for the sake of it, but the fact that it got us thinking is certainly something. The requiem itself was much more traditional and very powerful. A familiar and encouraging range of Bible verses inspired it, hence its inclusion in Hamburg's Easter traditions.

After our requiem experience, we walked across the street into the Planten un Blomen, literally, the plant and flower park. From the park we then made our way down to the harbor to see this port in action. It really was shocking to see wall-to-wall people waiting to get on ferries to go and tour what appeared to be little more than an industrial complex. Let’s put it this way, you don’t see people lining up to go and tour Newport News. Since we had spent the majority of our morning wandering around, we stopped on the way home at ElbGold café; home of Europe's greatest chai tea, according to Jackie. They also make a pretty good cup of coffee.
That night we were treated to cocktails at the most unlikely sort of bar: a Caribbean-themed, better yet, Caribbean obsessed favorite hang out of our friends. The owner spends part of his year in Germany and part of his year touring the islands. He also wrote a travel guide; though our friend said that it maybe required some editing. Believe it or not, the guy was spot on and could probably make a daiquiri worthy of an island sunset.
The following day, we toured the Alsterpark and the inner-Alster, the old town square. The inner-Alster was like the Venice of Germany; there is no other way to describe it. Beautiful old buildings rise from the water; symbols of a great history and a time that most people have all but forgotten. You see the town hall and you realize that there is a pride in history here. However, the spire of the town hall rises only a few blocks from the spire of St. Nikolai; a reminder of the dangers of unbridled arrogance. On the lighter side, the Hotel Atlantic forms a recognizable part of the skyline; it was used in the filming of Tomorrow Never Dies. Spending a day around the Alster was a rare sort of luxury. Just relaxing for a late barbeque lunch of delicious German sausage was a memory that we’ll hold on to for the rest of our lives.

On Easter Sunday, we were able to go to church at the Anglican Church of Hamburg; a bit of history in its own right. The Anglican Church of Hamburg was the first Anglican church built in Europe outside of the UK. Following the morning mass, we went to St. Michaelis, the largest and most recognizable cathedral in Hamburg. We were unable to experience the fullness of this expression of the kaiser’s glory because it was entirely under renovation inside. However, it was impressively large and also unique from other churches we have been to. We also wanted to go to St. Nikolai, since it was not too far away.
While I have alluded to it several times in this E-mail, there is no point dancing around the subject any longer: the city of Hamburg was all but destroyed by the English during Operation Gomorrah (an apt name). The attack was an act of revenge for the German bombing of Coventry. While Hamburg was a large and active seaport, Coventry’s resources were solely in its beauty. When Coventry was bombed, the English went after a city of a similar sort. In one night, 40,000 Germans were killed in a firestorm that was perhaps more deadly than the more famous attack on Dresden. You see, most of Hamburg’s old buildings were still thatch-roofed. St. Nicolai is a memorial to those who lost their lives in the attack. It is the shell of the bombed-out cathedral whose spire still stands. It is a harrowing and gut-wrenching place to be. While Nazi Germany perpetrated some of the most heinous crimes against humanity that the world has ever known, the mass loss of life of any sort should never be something easily stomached.

Having been to the war memorial, to see Hamburg on a lighter note: a canoe down the canals. It was a relaxing and unique way to see the city. Firstly, one sees mostly back yards of houses. It seems that no matter how much money one may have, this may not stop one from putting horribly tacky lawn animals in their backyard; perhaps it just facilitates this. We managed to canoe just out into the Alster to once again take in the unique cityscape of the place.
Speaking of unique, we closed out the afternoon by stopping by the Literaturhaus Café; a café unlike any other that either one of us had ever been to. It was more like a Victorian lounge than a Starbuck’s. It is, as the name would suggest, a place for the discussion of literature. There were selections of books and magazines for patrons to take. Most of the other patrons were reading magazines and having earnest discussions. It was fascinating to see a café where real ideas were being exchanged, rather than the exchange of petty commerce or self-influence that seems to typify the modern interpretation of the business.

Hamburg was a thoroughly unique city to visit. While all cities have their qualities, I think we were most surprised by just how unique from our expectations that Hamburg was. Germany is often seen by Americans as the land of leiderhosen, ladies, sausage, and beer. And while we had our fill of sausage (even blood sausage, yikes), Hamburg is not ‘Disney World’ Germany. It has beautiful parks, gardens, homes, and canals. It also has poignant reminders of Germany’s ever-present past. Our friends are in the process of moving to Berlin, so it is unlikely that we will get back to Hamburg any time soon, if ever. We look forward to the opportunity to see another new city, but we will remember a far sunnier, far greener city that can be proud to be both Free and Hanseatic.

Until our next post,
Tschuss!

W & J

Hamburg Snapshots

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Spring Fever!

In photos.
(Escaping Cambridge for a couple of hours on a lovely first day of spring.)

Blue sky + Sunshine + Flowers

A simple stroll

along a familiar - and trustworthy - route

to a neighbouring village

and our favourite secret getaway destination.

Happy Spring!

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Respite//Rest//Renewal

Snowdrops on a sunny Saturday morning.
It snowed all week. The worst snow Britain had seen in 20 years.

And this week looks to be much of the same.

This past weekend, however, offered a brief respite from the snow, if not the cold. Saturday arrived bright and blue, Sunday as well. Though icy roads and illness forced us to cancel our original plans to attend a weekend away in Suffolk with 20s + 30s group from church, this past weekend also afforded us a much-needed chance to rest.

Blue sky.
And rest we did.

Footprints.
We rested physically and spiritually. We had no schedule, no commitments. We delighted in the opportunity to do nothing. We savored the freedom from the pressures of studying or working out. It was difficult at times to not feel lazy. We men are so susceptible to the lies of busy-ness and its illusion of purpose. Sometimes we just need to slow down.

Frozen flowers.
(Stop and smell the roses perhaps?)

The hope of spring.
Sometimes we just need to rest.

Warming up.
So we did.

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Snow

It's been snowing since Sunday afternoon. Cambridge has received a few inches, nothing we haven't seen before. However, since snow is very rare for England this qualifies as a blizzard. Here are some photos of the snow.

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Learning to Drive

As some of you may know, I'm learning how to drive, again. This means that I need to practice driving. Enter the Ford Mondeo. Our group has an experimental vehicle outside of the city, and the Mondeo is the car we use to get there. The guys were kind enough to let me borrow it. After spending an hour practicing parallel parking, 3-point turns, and reversing into parking spaces (seriously, we did), we drove out of Cambridge to Wimpole Hall. Wimpole Hall is a large estate and National Trust property. Enjoy the pictures; it definitely was one of the prettiest places we've visited (the weather certainly helped!)
- Will

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The First *Official* Family Visit

We at hoosincambridge love visitors. Whether family or friends, a trip planned months in advance or arranged last minute, we are always happy to have company and be able to share England with them. Since December, however, we had been eagerly awaiting The First *Official* Family Visit by Will's mom, stepdad, and brother Matt.



Though their trip has now come and gone, it was better than we could have imagined. We enjoyed two wonderful weekends with them -one in Cambridge and one in London- sharing some our favourite places/experiences, sightseeing, and just spending time together. A sampling of photos follow, however all photos from the visit can be found in the recently updated CAMBRIDGE and LONDON albums. Enjoy! and come visit :)

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Spring is Here!

Well, it *was* here. For 2 glorious weeks in late April/early May, we had 75+ degree weather, blue skies, and constant sunshine. Needless to say, we spent a lot of time outside; hanging out in the Wychfield gardens, taking long walks through the countryside, and -unfortunately- getting sunburned (Jackie). While we now have sunscreen, we no longer need it. Spring/summer has departed at present and the weather in Cambridge has returned to its standard 55 degrees and partly grey. Alas. Here's a sampling of our 'spring' pictures. To see the rest, visit the CAMBRIDGE album link on the right.

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