Due to a hectic couple of months, I have severely neglected this blog, which serves to chronicle my time in the United Kingdom and abroad. So, I will attempt a summary of the past few months.
The month of February kicked-off with the Superbowl. Since I am a devout Brown's fan, the game mattered very little to me, but I wanted to share the experience with the other student's from around the world. I feel like making people watch the Super Bowl is similar to how soccer is pushed-upon American's who travel out side the U.S. I look at it as a cultural retribution of sorts rather than an exchange. In hosting the party, I tried to give people the full experience including tailgating delicacies such as meatball subs, nachos, and barbecue. True to form, we even had 3 inches of snowfall the night before the game. I found an online stream of the game complete with American commercials (the affiliate was out of Arkansas of all places). All in all, 30-40 people attended the night, but only 15 people made it to the end as the game finished around 3:30 am. Most left still confused about the intricate rules but with an appreciation for tailgate style foods.
Given the number of deadlines during the period, my available free time has dwindled. In early February, I began writing on my second paper, which examined the governance of the fishing sector in developing countries. This topic of course heralds back to my interest in maritime security, yet it had little if any reference to this all-important, yet often ignored dimension of development. While I did intend to take up Carnival in Venice, Italy, the paper proved to be more work than I expected, so I had to delay the trip. By the end of February, I was in need of an escape and a short respite.
The last weekend in February (24-26), my friend Stephen, another U.S. Naval Officer studying at Oxford, drove over to Cambridge and we departed on Friday morning for Bruges, Belgium. While I initially planned on taking the Eurostar (the passenger train which runs through the Chunnel connecting the UK to France), Stephen offered to drive, which proved to be a short, yet amazing adventure. We traveled south from Cambridge around the beltway of London and onto Folkestone. Here, we entered the line to pass through security. given the high volume, the border security was waving cars into parking spaces in order to validate passports and travel documents. However, we were confused by the signalling and drove straight through border security without presenting our passports or getting them stamped. While I was concerned, the border authority was not and we slipped through the porous borders of the EU without notice. Soon, we entered a double-decker train and were on our way to France. This ride was anti-climatic. The train car had only one window and the Chunnel is a dark and cavernous tunnel so one cannot enjoy this incredible work of engineering.
Upon entering France, we proceeded north to Dunkerque, or Dunkirk for us English-types. Being a lover of food, I decided to try my hand at some steak tartare, a meat dish made from finely minced raw beef. Given my carnivorous desires, I enjoyed the meal quite well without any ill-effects. After lunch, we wound through the convoluted streets of Dunkirk in search of the beaches, where over 7 days in May and June of 1940, 338,226 allied troops were evacuated from the continent. I first learned about Dunkirk as a young boy when my grandfather delivered the documentary/propaganda films entitled: Why We Fight. These films produced by the War Department in 1942 chronicled the early death-struggle with fascism and the lead-up to American intervention in World War II. I remember vividly the tree lined roads with abandoned equipment, weaponry, machinery, and mechanized vehicles and the sign by the road which read: "Dunkerque." Today, Dunkirk is quite different from in 1940. The city is relatively modern and the beach is severely eroded. Beyond some relics of the German's fortress Europe, the only remnant of the evacuation is a marble memorial which reads: "To the glorious memory of the pilots, mariners, and soldiers of the French and Allied armies who sacrificed themselves in the Battle of Dunkirk, May–June 1940." Of course, the inscription is in French and discounts the British contribution to the evacuation in both choice of language (French versus English) and in diction (allied versus British).
We then began the 90-minute drive to Bruges across the stunning, French countryside. Bruges is located in Flanders, the Flemish region of Belgium. It is linked to the North Sea via a series of Napoleonic-era canals. The city itself is surrounded and is crisscrossed with canals, which served as an ample substitute for my cancelled trip to Venice. Given that we packed light, our first stop was at a local pub to sample the fine selection of Belgian beers, which boast an alcohol content of between 8% and 15%. Afterwards, we found a convenient hotel which served breakfast and strolled around during the evening enjoying an intermixing of delicious, rich Belgian Chocolate and beer, simultaneously. The city is filled with narrow cobblestone roads and horse drawn carriages replace the typical taxi service. After a few stressful weeks, this proved a welcome relief. We rose early and helped ourselves to a wonderful breakfast spread at the hotel before departing for a cycle shop to rent bikes.
Given our propensity for adventure, we rented two bicycles for the day with the intention of riding along the canals to the Netherlands. While this may seem daunting, the distance is only about 15 km or 9 miles along the aforementioned tree-lined canals. Upon renting the bikes, we worked our way out of the city and into the countryside. The canals serve as both a form of irrigation and drainage for the extensive farm lands around Bruges. They extend mile upon mile. The old tow-path has been converted to a cycle path and it was well-occupied. The scenery is breath-taking, yet almost entirely man-made. On our way, we stopped in Damme, which was a neat town along the canal, boasting an amazing church, which had the feel of being both preserved, yet overcome by nature. Past Damme, we headed toward Sluis, Netherlands. We unknowingly passed into the Netherlands as the line of demarcation is not clearly defined. Upon arriving in Sluis, we locked our bikes and strolled around the market village, which appear seamlessly out of the countryside. Given that shopping did not really inspire either one of us, we departed, failing to procure a map. Evidently, the tourist center is closed for 1.5 hours each day for lunch. Since we recalled vaguely the map at the bike shop, we decided the most reasonable thing to do would be to bike to the North Sea and the city of Knokke-Heist, Belgium.
Crossing the border with Belgium, we found a travel agent's shop and hoped to procure a localmap. Unfortunately, no local maps were to be had. So, we procured hand written directions. On our way along a country highway, a car whipped into the shoulder of the road in front of us. The man started yelling and pointing down the road. Stephen and I were unsure of his intent. He spoke only Flemish. We shrugged our shoulders and calculated how to escape this maniac. We wondered what we did that was wrong. His wife soon joined the conversation and she pointed and in broken English said: "Passport...wallet." I checked my pocket. My passport was gone. I realized that these kind strangers had watched it fall from my pocket and decided to stop and let me know. We thanked them graciously and turned back to begin the search. Fortunately, the passport was recovered.
We continued our journey to Knokke-Heist where we cycled along the central boulevard to the seaside. Here, we discovered the wonderful sand dunes and sand bars which line the coast of the North Sea. To the south, a tremendous wind farm lined the coast. A lone chair sat on the beach, so I dramatically posed for a humorous shot in a chair which was obviously too small. After our exploration of the beach (it excluded the water as the temperature was only in the 50's), we decided to enjoy some refreshment at a seaside cafe. Keeping with tradition, we re-hydrated with some more Belgian beer. After, we began our cycle ride back to Bruges, which took us partially through the countryside and partially along more canals. In total, we biked about 35 miles on our touring bicycles. Evidently, one can ride along the edge of the North Sea throughout the Netherlands, which may be a future trip.
Back in Bruges, we warmed by a fire in a cafe. Here, we discovered not only delectable Belgian waffles, but also 1-Liter Belgian beers. Tired and worn from our journey, we retired early. In the morning, we rose and enjoyed another massive breakfast, which was included with the room. After purchasing chocolates en masse and strolling a large swathe of the city on a quiet Sunday morning, we departed Bruges for Calais. I imagined the place, which served as the gateway to France in novels such as The Scarlet Pimpernel, A Tale of Two Cities, The Three Musketeers, and Around the World in 80 Days, to be filled with historically preserved areas. The city is vastly different from these depictions and my expectations.
On our way, we met the French customs authority which regularly pulls over individuals as they transit along the coast. Once again, we were confused by their signalling. When they pulled in front of us, no less than four hands appeared out the window, waving in multiple directions. This time, we followed the customs car and the van that they were simultaneously pulling over. Once stopped, we were told to get out of the car. We smartly presented our military ids, which made the stop quick and efficient. The van was overstocked with a family moving and the customs agents were intent on searching it for contraband. I felt bad for the family as the van was literally packed wall to wall and everything had to be unpacked. The stop was yet another fun and entertaining experience for us, yet not for the van.
Upon arriving in Calais, we parked an began our exploration. While Calais has some redeeming history, the city was violated by both Allied and German bombings during World War II, leaving it a visage of its old self. We climbed the central clock tower and discovered a unique city from a design perspective, which blended historical fortifications and modern constructs. The history of Calais is well-worth a quick read as it is quite unique. It includes periods of not only French rule, but also English and German rule. It serves as a traditional fishing port. The inner harbor is filled with small fishing vessels. Along the docks, worn and torn nets are piled for removal. The simplicity and the artisanal nature of fishing is juxtaposed against the huge ferries which connect Calais to Dover. For dinner, we enjoyed the local delicacy of mussels and fritas (real French Fries) before departing for the Chunnel.
Upon reaching border security, we were stopped. The border agent became confused. My friend Stephen did not have the official student visa while my passport did. The UK border agent inadvertently swapped our passports and became quite angry as "my" passport did not have a student visa and would not scan into the registry. Stephen tried to explain that it was his passport, which is quite old, and that he had military orders which exempted him from the visa. However, the border security official was confused. He was convinced that I had been skirting visa regulations. Once he examined the photos at our request, he finally realized his error. As a principal lesson from this trip, I discovered the importance of having your documents in order and keeping your documents in your pocket! We returned without further occurrence to Cambridge. I felt both refreshed and reloaded for the weeks to come.
On February 27, I attended the King's Lynne Rotary Club for another speaking event. The gathering was an evening meeting, which proved to be quite a journey. Firstly, I had difficulties procuring a train ticket, which forced me to miss my train. Thus, I was late arriving at the meeting. Fortunately, my host Rotarian, Ian Mason, was flexible. We arrived at the golf course venue after a short drive. I ate quickly and was soon presenting. The Club is relatively younger than previous clubs. Like so many towns, King's Lynn has multiple Rotary Clubs, which I think is relatively uncommon in Rotary District 6650. The town in itself is interesting as it has a blend of fishing, agriculture, and chemical industries. It sits almost due north of London and Cambridge with easy access to the North Sea. To some degree, the town has de-industrialized, but regeneration is a top-priority. Per usual, my time discussing issues with the club seemed limited as I had to catch the last train back to Cambridge. I find that each visit is usually too short. I would enjoy returning to King's Lynn to explore the city as I only experienced the periphery.
In the weeks that followed, I prepared for the arrival of my fiance, Taylor, who was coming to visit for her Spring Break. Whenever she visits, I inevitably make capital improvements to my abode. This trip included the hanging of a clock in the living room and a mirror in the bathroom. This trip afforded the opportunity to show her the Cambridge tradition of formal hall, which is a scholarly dinner held on Friday evenings at Clare College. While I still had lectures, Taylor and I did manage to sneak away for the day to the town of Ely, which lies to the northeast of Cambridge. The town is a day trip paradise for Cambridge students who can go to such places as the Ely Cathedral and the boyhood home of Oliver Cromwell. As you stroll through the common pasture-land, you can look back across the meadow at the massive cathedral which appears disproportionately sized in relation to the size of the city. While I would classify it as a town, Ely is classified as a city because of the old English custom of designating cities based on the existence of cathedrals. The town's name is derived from the popularity of eel fishing. The city is actually an island and is part of the fertile flood plane known as the Fens, which was drained for agricultural purposes. In all, the town is quintessentially English. As we sat at lunch, we wondered if the students at the King's School, a preparatory school, appreciated the magnificence of it all. Given my schedule, Taylor also got to explore the city of Cambridge herself and experience the wide-range of scenes as I worked and attended lectures. With her departure, I began preparation for my upcoming exams for my course entitled: Rural Environment: Planning, Policy, and Approaches, which I hope will give me a comparative perspective by which to engage rural issues in the U.S.
My preparation was inter-spaced with a trip to the Newmarket Rotary Club on March 20. The town is almost due east of Cambridge in Suffolk County. The town has a rich history of thoroughbred racing and claims to be the global center of horse racing. The approach to the town appears like something out of National Velvet, the 1944 classic with Elizabeth Taylor and Mickey Rooney. The road near the common heath, a shrubland habitat found on mainly low quality acidic soils, characterised by open, low growing woody vegetation, is lined with massive and fertile hedges. Each day the heath is filled with horses, permitted to run from the stables which surround the perimeter. The town is home to 50 plus stables and 3,000 race horses, which account for an estimated 1/3 of jobs in the town. It sports two large race courses: The Rowley Mile and July Course. The town also includes a massive horse arena for trading and showing. The Club was filled with a wide-variety of professions and welcomed me back to take in some horse racing in July. It would be silly to pass on this opportunity.
The final weekend in March permitted a unique opportunity to take a trip out to Norwich (pronounced Nor-itch) to meet with local Rotary Club and the other Rotary Ambassadorial Scholars in District 1080 as well as Rotary Peace Fellows. The event was put-on by Hilary King who organized the entire weekend of activities and who tirelessly attends to the administrative work associated with hosting Rotary Ambassadors. While we only had a short presentation, the highlight of the evening included a wonderful train ride to Norwich with my fellow Ambassadorial Scholars, Jacob and Russ. While we are all at Cambridge, our schedules are such that we often do not get together, which is a shame. The evening was capped with a second dessert with Russ and I's host Rotarians Mr. and Mrs. Jarrold. We enjoyed a wonderful trifle made by Mrs. Jarrold and wine from her home near the Mosel River in Germany. The Jarrold's were the most gracious and humble hosts. Mr. Jarrold informed us that he worked in the printing business and we assumed that he had a small shop. The next morning before our pre-arranged tour, we discovered that he is the owner of Jarrolds, the largest independent department store in the UK. The company has been around since the 1770's and moved to Norwich in 1823. The store takes up an entire city block and includes three restaurants! We were pleasantly surprised. His humility was unending. During our tour, we traveled around the many sites in the downtown area rich with history and filled with no less than 40 different churches, many of which are now used commercially (e.g. puppet theaters and karate studios). While many departed after lunch, Jacob, Russ, and I spent the remainder of the day with Mr. Jarrold, a man of the city who knew the story of each building and each street. Norwich is Mr. Jarrold's city. By the end of the day, we were all quite fatigued. Mr. Jarrold, in his late seventies, remarked: "I hope that I have not tired you out." He did. The City is definitely on the list of places that I will take my parents when they visit.
The following day I departed for the United States and Ohio. While I did not get to the Kinsman Rotary meeting, I did get to spend a tremendous amount of time with my fiance, my little niece, and the rest of my family. I also was fortunate to spend Easter at home with my family. I feel truly blessed to be able to do so as I know that my trips home for holidays may be limited in the years to come as I transition back to the Navy. I have since returned to Cambridge, completed an exam, and am now revising (i.e. studying in the English vernacular) for the upcoming terminal exams.
