Our time in England ended much as it began – at our friend Kate’s house, sitting by the fire, drinking wine and chatting. Kate and I started at Capital One Europe the same week, so we had our welcoming party together and quickly became friends. She had Andrea and me over for a BBQ almost as soon as we arrived, and her friendliness and warm welcome went further than she will ever know in helping us make Nottingham our home. Thank you again Kate, we will no doubt see you again soon.
Two final orders of business in Nottingham before we left – a pint at Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem (oldest pub in England, opened in 1091), and lunch at Brown Bettys. It’s a small family operation – Mom, Dad, and 2 sons. I haven’t been in 6 months, Andrea hasn’t been in 14 months, but incredibly they remembered my “usual” sandwich order. It was a fantastic farewell to Nottingham.
We flew to France in the evening, 45 minutes in the air from Nottingham to Dinard. It really is incredible how compact Europe is. From London, 45 minutes in the air will get you to Paris, Brussels, Amsterdam, Edinburgh, Cologne, or Dublin. A 90 minute flight gets you to the fjords of Norway, the French Riviera, or the Swiss Alps. But these short hops lull you in to a false sense of security. Two weeks of driving in the UK undid every bit of my 15 years of American driving, and all of the sudden what should be the familiar side of the road felt anything but. In the morning we went to the grocery store – we couldn’t find bottled water, we couldn’t find plastic utensils or napkins (for car snacks), and the bananas we tried to purchase had to be weighed in the fruit section rather than at the checkout. So we left them behind, and ended up with a single small bag of hot and spicy tortilla chips. I’m in France, gastronomic capital of the Earth, and I’m eating tortilla chips for breakfast. Welcome to the joie de vivre.
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