Canterbury Tales Part I: Getting There
January 17, 2006 at 5:13 Last Saturday, the alarm went off before 5 a.m. so we could drag ourselves out the door, catch a bus at 5:40 a.m. and grab an early ferry leaving from Calais, France, taking us to Dover, England. We were on our way to Canterbury.
Books, water bottles, snacks. We had it all packed up the night before. I slept most of the way to Calais, waking in time to join the other travelers queued up at immigration to fill out forms and present passports and Belgian ID cards before boarding the ferry and being allowed into the UK.
The guy checking our passports and paperwork asked us casually what we were planning to see in Canterbury. The perky E-Man says, “Everything!” and I can’t resist adding, “Actually, we heard there’s a Starbucks in Canterbury and we’re going to England for the coffee!” (Ha, ha, ha! Aren’t we a witty bunch!)
The immigration guy didn’t laugh. He didn’t really smile. So I said in a more serious tone, “We’ll visit the cathedral, of course....”
“Won’t take all day to do that. Canterbury is a small place…” His voice trails off. I thought his response was strange but didn’t have a chance to reply as he declared, “Next!”
It wasn’t until I was back on the bus that I realized what an ass I’d been. When he asked what we were going to do in Canterbury, he wasn’t making friendly conversation, he was asking an official “immigration” question. Good grief, no wonder he gave us a cold eye and long look when popped off with flippant answers!
It was still dark when we got onto the ferry, the newest member of the fleet from SeaFrance. Modern and colorful, it had seven levels and was decorated in bright colors. Nearly everything was lime green, tomato red, purple or white. The eye-popping interior eliminated the need for caffeine—well almost.
We went upstairs to the cafeteria to grab some breakfast and were standing in line when the engines were started. The floor, the walls, everything around us started vibrating. The stacks of dishes, glasses, and bottled drinks all rattled and shook as if we were caught in an earthquake. It was quite unnerving—I could feel the vibrations resonating in my bones.
The cafeteria offered a traditional French breakfast of yogurt, croissant, and coffee as well as a traditional English breakfast of what appeared to American eyes to be nearly raw sunny side up eggs, undercooked bacon, and grayish sausage. Altogether now: Yum! We sided with the French on this one. Bon appetit!
As we ate breakfast, seated in lime green upholstered chairs in a room with red walls, we saw the sun rising over the water, always a memorable scene no matter where you are in the world. I moved to the outside decks briefly, watching the quality of light on the water change as the sun peeked above the horizon and then floated slowly into full view.
Adjacent to the cafeteria was a Kid’s Play Zone, a big play room with padded walls and equipment as well as a TV. Ah, to have one of these at home. I think we’d enjoy the padded walls as much as A and E-Grrrl did. They parked themselves there for most of the trip. What can I say, you can take your kids across the water but you can’t make them look at it!
On the floor below us was a collection of stores, selling duty-free chocolates, fragrances, designer makeup, and typical drugstore-type items. The ferry was so large, it was easy to forget I was on a boat. When the floor would pitch suddenly beneath my feet, my stomach would lurch and I’d be embarrassed to be staggering around like a drunk.
About an hour after we boarded, the famed white cliffs of Dover came into view on the horizon of the English Channel. Once again I stepped out onto the deck to enjoy the view. The cliffs, which seemed bright white at a distance, became beige and then tan as we moved closer to Dover and then finally docked, with Dover castle high above us.
As the bus rolled through the countryside for the 30-minute ride to Canterbury, I drank in the scenery—rolling green hills, brick and stone farmhouses, and sheep everywhere. It looked remarkably like Virginia, and I felt a tug at my heartstrings, a deep desire to get out of the bus and hike the hills and inhale the earthy smell of the fields. Not today. Today belonged to the city. The countryside would have to wait for another trip.
Copyright 2006 Veronica McCabe Deschambault. All rights reserved.
January 17, 2006
Reader Comments (6)
Most of us 'Traditional English' never touch it - we just use it to bait the 'visitors' ;-D
I'm ashamed to say I don't think I've ever been to Canterbury! <blush>
What a great outing. I took an entire semester of Chaucer in college so it was all Canterbury Tales, all the time.
P.S. You rock my wrrrld.