Bus Woes, The Cotswolds, London . . . And Oh, Yeah--School!

More bus drama!  The week before last I was waiting, early as usual, to cross the street to my bus stop when I saw my bus approaching--way too early.  Fortunately, the bus stopped at the bus stop for some reason (either because the driver noticed me frantically waving him down from across the street or because he was early and had to wait) and when traffic subsided, I darted across the street.  As I got right in front of the bus, the driver started moving forward!  I actually hit the bus with my hand (like that was going to stop it!) and shouted at the driver to stop.  When he did and I boarded I said to him, "Didn't you see me there right in front of your bus??!!  The turban-clad man just sort of clucked and shook his head at me disdainfully.  I showed him my pass and whispered something angrily under my breath as I stumbled my way to find a seat when the bus lurched forward.  And as if that wasn't enough of a traumatic experience, a few days later I waited for my 7:30 a.m. bus that never came!  I was fed up as I stomped back home and called yet another expensive taxi to take me to work.  I called the bus company and talked to no less than FIVE different people and departments about the problems.  I first filed a complaint about the man who tried to run me over, and then I tried to get to the bottom of why the other bus never showed up.  One lady told me that that route had been re-routed due to road work through November.  When I spoke to the SUPERVISOR OF BUSES (or whatever his title is), he didn't know anything about that and told me he would investigate the matter and get back to me.  Which he did.  (Jean, the school secretary, had answered his phone call back and told him that the American teacher at the school didn't think too much of English customer service!  And, I'm afraid she's correct.)  Anyway, the supervisor told me that there must have been some confusion on the bus driver's part as to whether or not the route was closed and that the route was in fact not closed and that he was sorry for any inconvenience and to call him in future if need be.  Fortunately, Sharon, my head teacher (principal) had put out an S.O.S. email to neighboring schools asking if anyone lived near me, and I heard back from a teacher from the school right next door.  I now have a ride to school in the mornings!  I'll miss riding the bus, but I'm sure I'll get over it.

This past week was busy, brutal, and beautiful.  Last weekend I traveled to the Cotswolds with Karen, a teaching assistant and parent at the school who generously gave up a Saturday to show me what I (and probably most Americans) think of as iconic England.  We drove an hour and a half or so through the beautiful English countryside to spend the day in two Cotswold villages, Bourton-on-the-Water and  Broadway (which I contend is just not a proper Cotswold name).  The Cotswolds is a region encompassing a few counties such as Gloucestershire, Wiltshire, Oxfordshire, and Warwickshire.  (I think there are a few more.)  I learned that the suffix "shire" means county.  It's pronounced "shur".  As you wind through this enchanting area of England, you pass through the charming little fairytale villages that define the region.  The two we spent the day in were the stuff of paintings and postcards.  A tree-lined river divides one side of Bourton-on-the-Water from the other, and both villages are characterized by cobblestone streets and the "cotswold stone" cottages and shops with their English gardens, window boxes bursting with flowers, and ages-old tiled rooves that we imagine when we think of England.  I was on the lookout for thatched-roof cottages and only saw one.  I understand that those are hard to maintain because it is sort of a dying craft.  Sigh.  Nevertheless, the villages that have lived in my imagination since I was a child were right there in front of my eyes.  It was another wonderful day in jolly old England.

And then Monday came and it was back to work.  As I let 30 enthusiastic children in the door, one of my little ones announced that she had gotten me some rocks when she was at the seashore over the weekend, and that her mom would bring them when she picked her up at the end of the day.  I told her that I was glad because I liked to collect rocks and shells when I was at the beach, too!  Well, she and her mom came up to me at the end of day and handed me a huge stick of colorfully striped candy.  Her mom told me that her sweet daughter had said, "I'll bet Mrs. Montoya has never had rock from the beach before," which is what this candy stick is called.  All the kids know about the "rock" that you get when you go to the shore.  And now, so does Mrs. Montoya.

There is one very precocious little boy in reception (equivalent to kindergarten) that has stolen my heart.  Every time he sees me he points out to someone quite loudly that " 'er's from America!"

Tuesday and Wednesday were Parents Nights.  In our school back home kids have the last Thursday and Friday of October off while we schedule parents for 20-minute parent-teacher conferences.  That looks a little different here.  After teaching all day, we met parents at tables set up in the hall (gym/cafeteria) for five minutes each!  Five minutes!  Someone mentioned the term "speed dating"--and that's sort of what it felt like!  But, I have to say that it was very nice to finally get to meet the parents and touch base with them.  However, by Wednesday evening's conferences I was pretty wiped out because I went to a play with Eileen on Tuesday night after my last conference.  We went to Wolverhampton to a beautiful old theatre called The Grand and saw a British play called Journey's End that was about life in the trenches during World War 1.  It was very long with lots of talking and no action plus British references, words and phrases that were lost on me.  But the ending was very powerful and left both of us weeping (mostly Eileen).

One day I was teaching a lesson when all of a sudden I heard some shouting coming from outside on the street.  I got it quiet in the room and asked Eileen what it was and she said, "Oh, that's the scrap man."  This is a man who wanders around neighborhoods collecting old metal pots, furniture, stoves, anything metal, shouting, "ANY OLD IRON?" and then blows a horn.  It just reminded me of when I was a child in Georgia and the vegetable man would come rattling up the street in my grandmother's neighborhood selling his produce.  It's like being in a different time and place.  I just love stuff like that!




They call them "sausage dogs" here.



Father Paul and Benji

A grandma and her chicken



The highlight of the week was the Blessing of the Animals.  This is a very sweet religious tradition where parents and grandparents bring in their family pets and animals to be blessed by the parish priest.  At the end of the day, all the children lined up around the playground with their parents and four-legged friends on the other side (including, of course, Father Paul's Benji).  Each class memorized and recited an apropos poem (ours was Hurt No Living Thing by Christina Rossetti), and there was singing and laughter as impatient dogs strained at their leashes and hamsters crawled around their cages.  There was even a chicken. Then Father Paul talked of being kind to all creatures great and small and proceeded to bless all in attendance.



Tudor whimsy



The week ended with a trip to London!  My head teacher, Sharon accompanied me Friday on the train to London for a reception at the U.S. Embassy for the American Fulbright teachers to the UK and their heads or mentors.  We arrived in London early in the morning and the reception didn't start until the afternoon, so the two of us enjoyed a day of exploring Covent Garden and the surrounding area.  That afternoon it was wonderful seeing colleagues and friends once again.  We communicate online often, but there was definitely an air of excitement in the room when everyone was together sharing their experiences and making plans to visit one another.  A time for bonding, for sure!  The reception was great and we were made to feel very special. We got to meet with prior UK Fulbright teachers (some of whom I'd recognized from a You Tube video I'd come across last year while researching the program) with whom we got to swap "war stories".  Later that night it was pub grub and a hunger for sharing more stories.  Sharon joined us for dinner and then left on Saturday while the Fulbrighters met for a day of discussions and seminars at the British Embassy.




Portobello Market signs

 

After the seminar we splintered into groups doing different things and made a plan to meet for dinner.  A couple of other teachers and I headed to Portabello Market in Notting Hill (remember the movie with Hugh Grant and What's-Her-Name?).  That's one place my daughter Lauren and I didn't get to when we were in London two years ago, and since I love the movie, I've always wanted to see the place.  So we made our way on the tube to Notting Hill and found the market which is the mother of all outdoor markets, stretching probably a mile in length!  It was crowded (as all of London is), but oh so inviting as we passed street vendor after street vendor selling antiques (yum!), silver, fabrics, clothing (of questionable origin), Persian rugs, foods, fruits and vegetables, --EVERYTHING!  Not to mention the hundreds of shops along the way as well.  A shopper's paradise!  And I walked out the other end without spending a dime!  (Or, should I say, a ten-pence.)  Sometimes it's just more fun to look.  And less expensive.

The plan was to meet up with the others at Leicester Square in front of the M&Ms store (yes, there is a whole store/amusement place that is a mecca for M&Ms lovers) to decide where to go for dinner.  One of the teachers I was with teaches physics at Eaton College, the boarding school that Prince William and Prince Harry attended (how cool is that!!) and lives in nearby Windsor, so she headed home on a train.  When Chris and I finally made it to Leicester Square we were 30 minutes late because on weekends some of the underground lines close for maintainance, and so you have to figure out alternative routes to take.  We didn't see the others, so we decided to look for a place to have dinner.  Italian sounded good, and we spotted a little Italian place on the square where we could sit outside and watch the gajillians of people walking by.  As we neared the restaurant, we noticed our friends already sitting there!  So we joined them and had fun sharing more of our experiences and finding comfort in the fact that we were all facing similar issues.  What a remarkable group of people this is, I was thinking to myself, and how grateful I felt to be a part of this very special group of like-minded, passionate and adventerous educators who have completely turned their lives upside-down.  I think we have bonded as a group, and even more so since this meeting in London.  Kumbaya.

After dinner, some of the group were going to various theatres to see a play.  A couple of the plays I would like to have seen were sold out, and there really wasn't another one I felt I just had to see, so three of us decided to walk around a bit and maybe find a pub with some live music.  We went back to the hotel to fetch jackets, but by then I wasn't feeling the pub idea so I opted out.  It was only 8:30 and, though I was tired, I decided to go for a walk.  I was in London for gosh sake, and I wanted to be "Londony" and walk around at night like I knew where I was going!  I really wanted to walk down to the River Thames which I knew had to be about two blocks or so north of the hotel, so I ventured across the street and found an alley with stairs leading down to what I thought could be the way to the river.  As I descended the stairway leading to God-Knows-Where I thought, "Here I am, in London.  In a dark alley.  Walking down sticky alley steps.  The voices of people on the bustling street above fading away.  Maybe this is a bad idea."  So I turned around and headed back up.  I figured the river idea would be better experienced in the light of day, so I tucked it away for the next morning.  I walked a bit more and found Charing Cross Station, so I went in to study the subway map on the wall to figure out the line I'd need to take to get me to my train station for my return home the next day.  It would be the Northern Line.  When Lauren and I were in London and getting around on the tube, those maps were nothing but colorful tangles of silly string to me, and I relied on my daughter's incredible sense of direction to get us to where we needed to go.  But now, I can actually read those maps and make sense of them!  There would be no need to call a taxi to get me to the station the next day.  I would make my OWN WAY on the Tube, the Underground, the subway.  Or maybe I would walk.

When I had accomplished that little exercise in self-empowerment I still felt like exploring.  The night air was Indian-summer warm and breezy and there was just this energy all around me that I suppose one can only sense in the big city.  So on I walked.  I determined that I really should stick to my usual M.O. of only walking a straight path so I wouldn't get lost, until I came to an interesting looking side street that beckoned me to enter.  It led me through to another little square with cute shops (all closed), pubs and cafes, when all of a sudden I noticed above the tree tops an arch of bright blue lights that, as I crept forward, turned into a massive circle of blue lights.  "Oh, my gosh!" I whispered right out loud.  This was the London Eye!  The London Eye is a huge farris wheel with egg-shaped glass cars.  The view from the top is supposed to be amazing.  I walked toward it and there was the River Thames!  I strolled along the riverwalk, marvelling at the river referenced by Shakespeare, the reflections of the moon and blue lights dancing on its murky surface.  I continued walking toward a bridge that crossed the river when in the distance I spied St. Paul's Cathedral, all aglow with the shadow of a smaller spired structure resting on its facade.  I walked up the stairs to the bridge and wandered across to the other side of the river.  When I looked back, there was Parliament and Big Ben uplit and bathed in moonlight.  Glorious!  I was seeing these gifts of man and nature for my second time, but they were no less wonderous.  I decided I would venture back the next morning with my camera to get some last-minute shots before heading back home to Wordsley.

True to form, I sort of lost my way back to the hotel and found myself at a large central square characterized by ornate statues, fountains and a huge ship-in-a-bottle that I recognized as Trafalgar Square (another oh-my-gosh moment)!  Even though I found it by accident, I was thrilled that I knew right where I was--even in the dark--and that I was successful in solo-navigating my way back to the hotel.  Sounds silly, but it was another little victory to me.

Sunday morning after my last breakfast together with Fulbright cohorts I headed out, camera-ready, to capture the images from the night before, a little less dramatic in daylight but no less awe inspiring.  I still had some time before I had to be back to check out of the hotel, so I wandered over to the National Gallery at Trafalgor Square for a quick peek at rooms full of portraits and paintings dating back to the 1200's by artists such as Vincent Van Gough, Leonardo Da Vinci, Cezanne, and Michelangelo.  I was surprised it was open on a Sunday morning.  So many treasures, too little time.  I'll have to return.  All art galleries and museums are free to visit except for the private ones.  Lucky London.

On my way back to the hotel, a family stopped me and asked for directions, and I was able to oblige them.  That felt good.  I took the tube to the Euston train station (all by myself--my daughter will be proud of me) and boarded the train for Wolverhampton where I would catch a bus home.  Between the subway and the bus, the bus is much scarier.