As we pulled into the station at St Erth, after a lovely five hour train ride b,from London, we were surrounded by a gathering of purple, blue, yellow and pink wildflowers. We schlepped our luggage up the stairs and over the tracks to board the train that would take us to St Ives on the Cornish coast.
The town of St. Ives perches over the Atlantic Ocean, gazing out over the cliffs like an expectant wife patiently awaiting her seafarer husband's return. Ancient stone churches and rocky promontories dot the cliff trail that overlooks the icy cold azure water below. "Too many beautiful photo opps," complains KO as he expertly snaps his 2000 th snapshot. So as not to languish in one spot for too long, I am forced to enlist drastic measures and threaten to take away his beloved electronics and newest passion, the veggie pasty, to prompt KO to move along. We do linger at the aged stone church over the cliffs, taking in the majestic sea as it changes from cerulean blue to turquoise blue to royal blue.
The Little Leaf Bed and Breakfast is our home for the next three nights. The young proprietors, Lee and Dan, are escapees from London and have recently welcomed an adorable baby girl named Darcy. We are immediately welcomed to a cozy table with a stunning view and before we know it, a steaming pot of tea and lovely ginger cookies are placed before us and Lee is offering her touring hints. Our spacious room dwarfs our London dwelling and it is wonderful to spread out and relax.
Breakfast here is a traditional English one, veggie style. We receive veggie sausages, hash browns, granola with soy milk, fresh fruit, baked beans, brown toast, grilled tomatoes, tea, and especially for us, greens. If we don't watch it we may need a wheelbarrow to cart our indulged bodies home.! Sadly we miss pancakes and waffles which are only offered on weekends. Lee greets us cheerily each morning with the energy of an Everready Bunny, popping between her challenging duties as innkeeper and new nursing mother.
This welcome respite from the rest of our jam packed schedule affords us the opportunity to have some fascinating thought provoking conversations. While listening to the lilting sounds of a flute, base and acoustic guitar in a pub, strolling on the sea wall path or indulging in delectable afternoon tea, we chat endlessly. We marvel at the Brit's growing awareness and consciousness for its peoples' health( no GMOS, no high fructose corn syrup, less artificial additives, and clean cosmetics), the high value placed on bigger is better and excess in the States, the benefits and drawbacks of small town life, the fate of the independent book store in an Amazon age, and humorous names for the pelicans we meet.
KO and I have figured out a way to make a killing in the stock market. Every single person in the UK ingests Heinz Baked Beans for breakfast on a daily basis. We are thinking of selling all our Kuzu and putting the cash in Heinz!
The quaint English language spoken here is charming and unique to our uncultured ears. Expressions like lift (elevator), loo ( toilet), mind the gap ( for don't fall to sudden death on the third rail), cheers ( Bon Appetit), brilliant ( good job), and have you gone mad ( for have you gone bonkers) continue to enchant us. The accents seem to differ based on region and social class. Viewing " Bridget Jones Diary" last night we noticed Colin Firth's educated private school cadence, while in parts of London the sound is more guttural Cockney and here in Cornwall the sing spongy tone is more apparent. Next to the British we sound like uncultured language heathens. Our hostess shared that while visiting San Francisco she saw one careless driver cut off another driver. The wronged party screamed, "Asshole." Lee exclaimed, "We 're in America. It's just like the movies!"
The second half of this blog follows.....
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