Thursday, July 22, 2010
Wroxham, Norfolk Broads

I was excited when I awoke this morning as I’ve wanted to visit the Norfolk Broads for years. Trouble is, they’re located in the midst of nowhere–which makes it impossible to get to by public transport. So I was grateful when my friend Amy offered to spend the day with me, which included chauffeuring me to the network of rivers and lakes that make up the famous waterways.

We arrived at Wroxham along animal-studded country roads from Gorleston-in-Sea in about 40 minutes. Wroxham is considered the entry to the Broads and it was strange to suddenly see a congregation of folks when for miles on end no one was in sight. The River Bure passes through the picturesque village that features a clutch of bridges, some old-fashioned and made of stone, others designed in the manner of the Hudson River’s Verrazano Bridge with slim metal cables. Swans dotted the waters and came close to the shore for tidbits. We parked at Roy’s, a famous department store that touts itself as “the world’s largest village store.”

Because the best way to see the Broads is by boat, I suggested to Amy that we rent one. Believing that we’d be required to pilot our own boat for the entire day, she understandably balked at the notion. When I reassured her that I had no more than a couple of hours in mind, she banished all thoughts of possible sea-sickness from her mind and fell in stride with my designs. So, off we headed to Broads Tours to book the 2.00 pm tour on the Vintage Broadlands, a steamship-like ferry–similar to the ones that huffed and puffed on the Mississippi in Huck Finn’s days–and headed off for lunch.

Though I’d breakfasted fairly well, the drive through open fields and pasture had whetted my appetite for some hearty country ‘fayre’ and we found sustenance in Hotel Wroxham’s Carvery that was a real steal at 5.95 pounds. We spent the next hour on a table by the water watching watercraft zip in and out of the Broads as we feasted on roast turkey and roast beef with all the fixin’s–read Yorkshire puds, roasted spuds and a number of crisply cooked veggies–parsnips, carrots, cauliflower–oh and loads of gravy and horseradish sauce. It wasn’t really very tasty but it was substantial and with the sun shining down on a gorgeous day, there really wasn’t anything major to complain about.

Well satiated, we headed for the Broads Tours’ parking lot where we boarded our ferry and set off to the welcome cheers of our skipper who doubled up as a guide. For the next hour and a half, he kept us enthralled with his monologue on the history of the Broads and how they came to be created–they are, in fact, the UK’s largest man-made attraction. The Broads National Park is a network of waterways that were cut into the earth by thousands of local inhabitants for about two hundred years in the Middle Ages. Their objective was to draw out peat, a cheap and very reliable fuel. So plentifully was peat to be found in the area that it was exported to Europe where it was well-renowned. However, two centuries of hacking into the earth finally took its toll on the land and when the shallow water table began seeping upwards, it flooded the channels carved out in the peat ‘fields’. The end result is the collection of canal-like waterways that abound today in bird life. It was mainly to go ‘birding’ (bird-watching in American) that I was in the Broads.

And I wasn’t disappointed. Bird life is abundant and our feathered friends seemed well accustomed to the dozens of craft that skim the waters. They swim exceptionally close to the boats allowing ornithologists abundant opportunities to pursue their hobby. Amy and I exclaimed over the cute thatched roof cottages that were perched along the banks and at the families of coots we saw everywhere. I now understand the expression “as bald as a coot”–coots are black birds with white patches in the middle of their foreheads which make them seem as if they are bald. In addition to coots, we saw ducks, mallards, teals, white and the very rare black swans, herons, geese and a bunch of other unusual birds with whose names I am not familiar. The waters were calm and so clean that water-lilies grew in the vast expanses of Wroxham and Salford Broads over which our boat skimmed. We could not have asked for a nicer day or more pleasant temperatures.

All too soon, we had to stop messin’ about on the river and into the car we scrambled just as fat raindrops pelted us. We drove at top speed towards Norwich and the University of East Anglia where Amy wanted to take me so that I could see the permanent collection of the Sainsbury Center for Visual Arts, one of the smallest but most significant private collections in this part of the UK. What was even more significant to me than the art works themsevles was the fact that the building was designed by Sir Norman Foster with whose work I am familiar (he designed Wobbly Bridge as well as the City Hall Building in London–which Prince Charles infamously described as being “a carbuncle on the face of the city!”) Be that as it may, this building, with its exposed metal work on its two sides, set a Modernist trend that has been endlessly imitated by other contemporary architects.

Inside, the permanent collection is a small and very eclectic one. The works on display belong to Lord Sainsbury who bequeathed his collection to the university. He had a marked fondness for certain modern abstract artists as was evident by the many works of Picasso, Francis Bacon and Modigliani that were recurrent. In addition, the collection comprises small to medium sized pieces (mainly sculptural) from exotic corners of the world such as Papua, New Guinea, Hawaii, Peru and Benin. They are superbly curated and very interestingly showcased. It doesn’t take more than a hour to see these works which are free to visitors. I kept wishing that more people would take advantage of viewing this fascinating collection.

Back en route home, we stopped at Tesco’s for groceries for our evening meal and settled for spinach and ricotta cheese ravioli with Jamie Oliver’s Pasta Sauce with Chilli which had a nice bite to it. I made up a salad with rocket using lemon vinaigrette as a dressing and by the time I had eaten my last morsel, I was stuffed and ready to hit the sack.

Tomorrow will be a long day as I journey to London to start the next segment of my English holiday.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Walsingham, Norfolk

One of my primary objectives in returning to the UK was to make a pilgrimage to the Shrine of Our Lady in Walsingham, one of the most fervent Catholic pockets in England. After a muesli breakfast (how great to feast again on Tesco’s Finest Fruit and Nut Muesli with Total Greek yogurt and a touch of honey), we set out with Amy behind the wheel across Norfolk to arrive at Walsingham where the famous Shrine is located.

What a charming little village it turned out to be! And what a swell backdrop for a reunion with my dear friends, Bishop Michael and wife Cynthia Colclough who drove from Hunstanton to meet me. One really cheery cuppa later, in a cute local tea room, where we caught up on everything that’s happened in our lives in the past 2 months since I last saw them in Southport, and we were ready to launch upon our pilgrimage. Michael was an able guide (he’s been leading pilgrims to Walsingham for years–it was, in fact, how he met Cynthia eons ago–she was a Catholic pilgrim on one of his Anglican retreats) as he led us to the Russian Orthodox Church dedicated to St. Seraphim and then to the Roman Catholic Church of the Assumption which is the local Catholic parish. He led us in prayer at the first venue and in the Angelus when the bells rang, mid-morning, at the second.

The next stop was the Anglican Church at Walsingham, set in beautiful perennial gardens with an olive tree allee before we entered the Lady Chapel where at 12. 30 pm, he said a special private mass just for us–I have never felt more privileged! Just imagine the joy of being in this ancient place where medieval Lady Richeldis had a vision telling her to build a shrine dedicated to the Holy Family in the year 1042. She obeyed and the spot became a place of Christian pilgrimage. known as ‘England’s Nazareth’. Imagine again…this happened before the Norman Conquest of England (1066)! How many pilgrim feet have trod these grounds, I wondered, over the centuries–from one millennium to the next! Six kings of England had made the pilgrimage to this spot including Henry VIII whose faith was so enormous that the Vatican gave him the title of the Defender of the Faith–until he razed the church and the adjoining abbey to the ground in 1538 during the Dissolution of the Monasteries. The church remained in ruins until the early 20th century when it was rebuilt to function again as a center for pilgrimage. Michael himself has been coming to this spot since the age of ten!

Michael had asked us to write down our own special intentions which he brought up to the altar and read during Mass–it was deeply moving. I thanked him, of course, as Amy dissolved into tears. She was so touched by the Holy Spirit and so grateful that she had dedicated the day to spiritual renewal with me.

Lunch was a buffet affair at the Refectory which was filled with almost 200 Welsh pilgrims who had taken over the place. We ate Chicken in a White Sauce with Leeks and Potatoes and Red Cabbage and Corn with a small Bakewell Tart for dessert. And I thought pilgrims were only fed bread and water! Just kidding! After lunch, we lingered for a while in the gardens where I returned Llew’s call–my phone had actually rung during Mass but I quickly silenced it! He caught up with the Colcloughs on the phone before we continued our pilgrimage.

Next stop was the Sprinkling at 2. 30pm where a wonderful aged priest led us in prayer, explained the significance of the Holy Well that had been found during the modern renovations of the church in the early 20th century. Many miracles and much healing has been known to take place, explained Cynthia, through the power of the holy water. The priest gave each one of us a ladle from which we drank of the water before he placed the rest in our fists so we could anoint ourselves and parts of our bodies that needed healing. Cynthia and Michael also filled bottles of water for Amy and me and sent us home with them.

Into the car we went, to the next stop on the Mile Long Pilgrim’s Way to the Slipper Chapel. This was the spot at which pilgrims left their slippers so that they could walk the last mile to Richeldis’ shrine barefooted. Modern-day pilgrims (mainly from Wales) were on their own feet (but with footwear on) as our cars followed the narrow winding pathway to the ancient church. This spot too, deeply active during the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, fell into disuse after the Reformation. However, in 1934, it was re-dedicated as the National Catholic Shrine of the UK and once again, became an active center of Catholic pilgrimage. We prayed and lit candles at the old shrine–beautifully refurbished–before we entered the modern church (which reminded me very much of the churches in Canada in terms of architectural design) where we arrived just in time for Benediction and Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament at the special service being conducted for the Welsh pilgrims. So there we were, Amy and I, and the Colcloughs, joining in a special prayer for Wales!

By then, it was almost 4 pm. Our entire day of Christian worship had passed by in a jiffy but it was easily one of the most fulfilling days of my life. The serenity and calm of the space, the setting (in the midst of the North Norfolk countryside) where wild flowers (Queen Anne’s Lace and vivid red poppies) lined the narrow roads was rejuvenating. I imagined medieval pilgrims (a la Chaucer’s motley lot) making their way on foot and on horseback through those winding lanes. My Dad would be delighted to know that I found a leaflet in The Shrine Shop that taught me how to say the Rosary–in Bombay, he always leads and we follow…but I have never learned the Mysteries of the Rosary or on which days you recite them. Hopefully, I will now walk along Southport Beach and recite my rosary.

It was time to get into Amy’s car and follow the Colcloughs to Wells-Next-The-Sea, a seaside village on a North Norfolk inlet that leads to the North Sea. We were there in less than 12 minutes past lovely calming countryside and fallow fields. England seems not to have had enough rain–everything looks brown and dry unlike the lush green fields I remember from many summer country holidays. Past the busy street we went to get to the waterfront where we enjoyed watching little boys crabbing–they had loads of crabs squirming in their pails–the bait they used, they informed me, was smoky bacon (yummy!) and bits of live whelk! Past the ice-cream and fish n chip shops we walked before I nipped into one for a magnet to add to our collection! It was a slice of English summer life that I observed while seated on the quay–colorful boats bobbed on the waters, people walked with bulging picnic bags towards their waiting vessels. To simply people-watch was a delight on a day that had been gifted to us from heaven–it was simply gorgeous.

Our return south to Gorleston took us along the coast to Cromer where we passed by village after village whose walls and houses were constructed of the typical Norfolk flint stone–each had a truly distinctive appearance. Flowers spilled out of hanging baskets and containers in village front gardens where the gravel was also composed of flint stone. Fred and Wilma would have felt very much at home in North Norfolk!

I told Amy I would treat her to dinner in Norwich and Lonely Planet recommended St. Benedict’s Restaurant on St. Benedict’s Road. We took a month of Sundays to find the street (as Amy is unfamiliar with Norwich) and the one-way system in England’s larger cities and towns would be the death of any driver! Still, when we finally got there, we settled down to drinks (pear juice for Amy, Bulmer’s cider for me) before we decided to have the 3-course prix fixe menu. In a very modern, very chic space, we feasted on Crab, Avocado and Beetroot Salad (divine…plus I couldn’t leave Norfolk without tasting some of it’s famed seafood), Grilled Swordfish with Potato Gnocchi and Balsamic Onions and an even more divine Gooseberry Fool. I simply had to taste English gooseberries (they are tart and had almost disappeared from English supermarkets as I was told picking them had proven to be too time-consuming and laborious, but they seem to be making a come back). The fool was layered in a small glass jar with stewed whole gooseberries and crumbled ginger nut biscuits–lovely combination of tart and spice made the dessert (sorry, pudding) unforgettable! We were stuffed when we left about 9. 30 pm and returned home to Gorleston close to 11. oo pm. I fell asleep in the car on the way back as jet lag got the better of me.

Tomorrow I hope to explore Norwich…and its many churches, castle and cathedral…and, of course, I hope, its thrift stores!

Monday, July 19, 2010,
London-Norfolk

Though much remains the same, much has changed. My cell phone number, for instance. Though phone was fully charged and voucher was purchased first thing this morning at the corner Sainsbury that I remembered so well, I could not top up. Turns out your SIM card expires if not used for 3 months. Had to purchase new SIM card but could only do that once I arrived in Norfolk…Bummer!

One more thing has changed–the No 8 bus from right outside my building on High Holborn, no longer plies to Victoria. I let a few of them pass right by me each going only as far as Oxford Circus before it occurred to me to ask the driver if the route had changed–it had! Double Bummer!

Then discovered I hadn’t enough money left on my Oystercard. I usually top that up at the Tube station at Heathrow…but since I enjoyed the luxury of a cab ride this time, I hadn’t the chance to do that..Triple Bummer! So off I went to the Chancery Lane Tube ticket window to top up my Oystercard before hauling my backpack and my butt into a Tube that was bursting at the seams with early morning commuters–it was hellish! Made the change at Oxford Street and took the Victoria Line to arrive at the coach station by the very skin of my teeth…though I’d left an hour earlier from Holborn!!! Good job I’d purchased a breakfast sandwich and a drink from Sainsbury while getting the Lebara top up voucher..or else I’d have been sitting and starving on the coach all the way to Norfolk! Phew!

Lovely ride again through Central London and the East End before we finally hit the motorway–it took a good hour to get out of London’s precincts! Atlas was very useful in helping me track my route. Was pleased to pass right by Epping Forest (had heard so much about it).

Made it to Norfolk with five minutes to spare. Amy, my friend from our childhood days in Bombay, was waiting to pick me up very far from the coach station as her car wasn’t allowed in. And with my old cell phone number dead, she couldn’t reach me–such moments of tension for both of us! After waiting for 10 minutes, I became pro-active and asked questions: where would someone wait if she were coming by car to pick me up, etc? We finally connected…Phew!

Drove briefly through Norwich before we headed straight for Great Yarmouth on the East Norfolk coast where she lives in a tiny beach-side hamlet called Gorleston-on-Sea (it’s pronounced Gaul-ston). Chatted nineteen to the dozen in her car before we arrived at her home–lovely view of the sea from her house (she is a real estate agent, so bagged the prize house on the block). One grand tour of house (very tiny but very English in decor) and garden (fresh strawberries ripening on the bushes!) later, we set out to sort out the issue of my phone.

I finally found a new Lebara SIM card on the waterfront at Great Yarmouth which is your typical English beach-side holiday hot spot with the works–horse buggies lined up to give rides, fish n chips, ice-cream, evening teas, amusement arcades (some really gigantic ugly tacky ones), a nice beach promenade though I did not see any donkeys on the beach–wondered if they’d been banned by animal activists…or maybe I simply couldn’t see them from the car as we zipped by.

Could not spend too much time there as we had priorities–like reassuring my parents and Chriselle in Bombay that I’d arrived safely in the UK. What relief when my phone was working again and I could reach out to the world. Sent my new phone number via email (after we got back home to Amy’s) to Llew (who promptly called me!) and Chriselle who was out having dinner with friends in Bombay.

Amy is one of those people who goes to a butcher for her meat, a fishmonger for her fish, a greengrocer for her produce, etc. She is known here by name as Mrs. Darby and everywhere we went she was recognized and hugged. And I thought Southport was a small place! She is also a health freak–we bought whole wheat pita pockets which we stuffed with ham for lunch. Dinner was pork vindaloo (recipe from a Sainsbury cookbook) was like no vindaloo I’d ever eaten. The fresh veggies stir fry Amy made for dinner was good with fresh strawberries for dessert and a huge helping of M&S Toffee and Pecan Meringue Roulade–a rather scrumptious dessert that I discovered late into my London stay and made certain I bought while we were still in Norwich in the morning! I’m really looking forward to eating all my best-remembered foods…

In the evening, we took a walk along Gorleston Beach which is a nice combination of pebbles and sand. I realized that I’d seen the entire Norfolk coast from our aircraft during descent into Heathrow as we’d crossed the North Sea from Holland. I also saw the Mouth of the Thames and the distinct Lowestoft Wind Turbine which was unmistakeable from the air and is only a few miles from where Amy lives. She informs me that it is called Gulliver.

It was a good quiet start to my UK stay. Tomorrow we will drive up to the North Norfolk coast where my Anglican bishop friend is saying the noon mass at the famous shrine of our Lady at Walsingham. I am going there on pilgrimage. After many years, I have some asking to do–and not just the thanking I have done for so long! So many people asked me to pray for them while I was in India (ageing parents, ageing aunts, sick cousins, troubled friends), I hope I will remember them all…

Jet lag hit me at 8 pm when it was well past midnight in India. I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow…