Heaven on Earth in St. Ives, Cornwall

 Heaven on Earth in St. Ives, Cornwall

There is no place on earth like St. Ives, Cornwall.  Located 5 hours by train from London's Paddington Station, it is a site to behold.  Everywhere you gaze is a photo opportunity.  Golden sand beaches melt into the sea which transitions from turquoise to royal blue and then dissolves into a cerulean sky.  Brightly colored flowers baskets of blue cornflowers, orange gerbera daisies, yellow nasturtium, Queen Anne's Lace, and purple pansies brighten every doorway and window box.  Cobbled walkways smoothed by age curve this way and that beckoning you to a secret path you can discover.
It could be the way to Smuggler's Arch, where, salt, tobacco and rum were brought after being pilfered from nearby ships.  Maybe you spy a blue door, denoting the home of a sailor, a black door of a miner or the green door of a farmer.  Perhaps you are on the route to Barbara Hepworth's home and sculpture garden.  She lived and died in St. Ives and one of her enormous sculptures stands in front of the U.N. In New York City.  Many artists have been drawn to this magical place because of the pink light that is cast on the town from the minerals in the sand and the clear blue unpolluted air and sky.  Known for mining and the gold, silver, tin and other materials found 2000 feet below the ground, St. Ives affected the Bronze Age and in the Third Century A.D. the town was trading tin with the Greeks.  Eventually it proved too expensive to extract the minerals and many miners were unemployed.  Their knowledge of the mines was so valuable that Mexico and other places ordered up 100 heads to come and help them. Hence, the term "headhunter" was born.   The miners' wives would prepare a turnover called a pasty for them to take into the mine.  It had a crimped edge and was filled with meats and vegetables for a hearty meal.  

There was toxic arsenic in the mine so they had their snack and threw the crimped edge away down the mine to ward off bad spirits.  This pasty became the empanada after these Cornish miners moved to Mexico.  There is the world's only Pasty Museum in Mexico!  The fisherman had a rich sea of pilchers, catching 90 million every year.  This oily, smelly fish permeated everything and is known to us as sardines.  When the mines closed, the fish stopped coming, and they think it was because the waters were no longer mineral rich.  Thankfully in 1934, the Holiday Pay Act was passed and St. Ives became a hub of tourism.  The railroads brought artists, vacationers and income to this oasis.  

The Little Leaf Bed and Breakfast, where we are lodging, is the home of Danny and Lee and their little girl.  They welcome guests with open arms and a broad smile and operate a spic and span establishment. Our vegetarian English breakfasts are delicious and so filling we can barely get hungry for lunch.  Lee and Danny also provide wonderful guidance on side trips from St Ives and restaurant suggestions.

One of the wonderful perks of a bed and breakfast is the people you meet from around the world. We were talking to a sweet and friendly young couple last night and it turned out they are from Hawaii. Next thing I knew, they were swapping high school names with KO and feeling that Aloha kinship!  Small world to find three Hawaiians in a bed and breakfast on the west coast of England.

We have discovered a vegetarian restaurant here called Spinacios.  My tummy was on the fritz last night from overindulging in scones, so I just opted for basmati rice, but KO enjoyed Sanbar, a split pea Dahl dish, with spinach and mustard greens.

 

The town bakeries boast gluten free and dairy free scones and pasties, so this part of the world is sensitive to food allergies, but they really fall down on greens.  Mostly we just see salad and mushy peas, with an occasional green bean, and loads of potatoes, mashed or in their jackets with toppings.  Fish and chips are popular.  Chips are fries and crisps are potato chips.  The bakery windows in St. Ives are mouthwatering.  Brimming with iced hot cross buns, lemon tea cakes, Eccles cakes and shortbread cookies, even the strongest of Macrobiotic women might have to indulge.  The cream tea with tall scones and strong tea is the tradition every afternoon and we have been embracing this practice with open arms.

So, it is with great melancholy that we bid farewell to Cornwall tomorrow and board the train for London.   We are discussing spending a week here next year and really getting the experience of mellowing out.  I hope you found this blog entertaining as I know I went on for quite awhile but I couldn't contain all the love I feel for this little slice of heaven on earth.