Jetlag = me acting like a complete fool. And a bird shat on me.
Technically it missed my head by a mere inch and landed on the handle of my luggage, which I was laboriously carrying up one set of stairs and down another in order to switch trains. I swear that thing is getting heavier by the minute and I’m not looking forward to pulling it through any more streets. I was actually going through the content of it in my head, wondering if I could leave a few things behind. And I don’t think it helped that I just bought a sweater, two books, a pair of flip flops and some trinkets.
But I jump too far ahead. Yesterday after arriving, my jetlagged brain really had some fun with me and looking back I have to cringe at the memory. It all started out so innocently. We arrived at our destination on a three-coach train that made the loudest rumbling noises whilst chunking along on the 10-minute commute. Confused about which direction to head upon our arrival, we asked the train station personnel for assistance. We had a choice: walk through the parking lot and backtrack a few minutes to get to the hotel. Or go straight up a small path and climb about 30 steps, since the hotel is pretty much just right above us. The man giving us the directions looked at us and with some concern in his voice he asked: “I don’t know if you manage 30 steps, but it is quicker.” I looked at him, then at the path and then back at him and said: “Only one way to find out”…We arrived at the hotel reception covered in sweat, heart pounding in our ears and I was very close to passing out, but we made it!
Everyone at the hotel was professional and very friendly, the room was cozy and quiet. It promised to be a perfect spa retreat weekend.
After dipping our feet in the Atlantic Ocean, a tradition my mom likes to keep whenever the opportunity arises, we went to get some dinner. I could feel my brain slowly shutting down as the friendly waiter handed us the menu and asked how we were doing. The words he spoke only registered in my brain as gibberish and all I could muster was a plastered-on smile, nodding my head, probably looking like a complete idiot as I asked the same question three times over before I could make sense of the words. The food was delicious. Fish and chips, with the fish being so fresh, juicy and subtle, I wondered if there was something wrong with it. I got so concerned about the freshness of the fish, I became very worked up about it and mentally prepared myself to wake up the next morning with food poisoning. Nuts? Absolutely.
Personally, I had a wonderful sleep, a great breakfast and was curious to see what this town had to offer. Sadly, my mom’s luggage was still missing and somewhere on route to us, at least that’s what the courier service kept telling her. Therefore, we needed to head into town, so she could buy something to wear. While she was trying on clothes I talked to a few locals, hoping to get some tips on where to eat dinner and have tea. The recommended teashop was perfect with their menu of Cornish cream tea, which included a plain scone, clotted cream, jam and a pot of tea. Mrs C urged us to try the Cornish clotted cream, raving about its wonderful taste and texture. I always thought clotted cream looked like the type of cream one puts in their coffee, only this one containing lumps (like the way dairy turns when it gets old and rancid). How wrong I was. It was creamy, silky smooth, without much of the typical dairy flavour, but had a faint hint of whipping cream taste to it. I was in food heaven!
The suggestion for dinner wasn’t so great and after a day of walking around town, asking reception another three times, if my mom’s luggage had finally turned up (it hadn’t), and taking a swim in the hotel pool, we were looking forward to the best spot in town to get fish and chips; I mean even the locals go there to eat. The fish was dry and the chips soggy. Too bad.
Over the last three days I kept asking myself why I thought doing 40 minutes of intense yoga, including multiple push ups, would be such a great idea right before leaving on a trip that would require me to carry a heavy suitcase upstairs and then back downstairs, only to carry it back upstairs. My arms were on fire and because of the constant strain, the bicep muscle in my right arm became slightly inflamed and painful to touch and flex. Desperate for some relief I swam 10 laps in the pool and did stretches while sitting in the hot tub. Clearly, it’s not recommended to do vigorous exercise before embarking on a trip.
The weather gods were on our side on our second and last full day in St. Ives. The wind was still a bit cool, but the sun made frequent appearances and made our walk to the next town very pleasant. I find it remarkable how quickly the weather, especially the temperature changes here. One minute it is rather balmy and the next the cold wind from the open sea can chill one to the bone and I was happy to head back to the hotel after visiting two galleries and buying more little surprises for a few people back home. And that’s when the food feasting really began: 5pm cream tea with huge scones and more clotted cream and jam than I’m willing to admit, tea and champagne, all enjoyed over one and a half hours. Then a quick dip in the pool, followed by fish and chips at 8pm. That night when I was getting ready for bed my stomach was sticking out so much, I looked like I had swallowed a basketball.
I have to say, St. Ives is a beautiful little spot along the coast, with lots of foot paths and evidence of their long history showing everywhere. Like in the middle of the bustling town centre, there was a small stone church, built from 1410 until 1430, with its little graveyard still maintained to this day. The gardener told us to go around back for a nice view of the grass with the sea in the background. It also had what looked like a little path made up of old headstones, some of them dating back to 1790, from what we could still read of their engravings.
Some of you may dismiss the next paragraph as humbug or tricks of the mind caused by lack of sleep or too much food. Either way, humour me for a few moments:
We took a quick walk down to the beach after dinner, hoping it would help digest the large amounts of food we ate in the previous four hours. Being Saturday and the middle of April, the wedding season was just beginning and our hotel was hosting a wedding that very night, so lots of noise, lots of people walking to and from their rooms and the kitchen working overtime. While lying in bed I could hear the faint beat of the bass until about midnight with guests moving about until shortly after. It should have been quiet after that, but there were strange noises coming not from outside but from inside our own room. The hotel is an older building with extensive renovations just completed. Nevertheless, the floor boards still groan when walking on them. That very same noise I could hear for hours during the night and there were also little knocking/tapping noises that sounded too close to come from outside. I kept sitting up in bed, checking if some drunk wedding guest had made it into our room, but nothing. Then I noticed the bathroom door making funny clicking noises. I remember closing it before going to bed and I thought perhaps opening it an inch would help. When I got to the door it was already open. This morning as my mom put on her boots she found a black hair elastic in her boot. I brought two on the trip, a black one and a blue one, both were packed away in my suitcase. I believe we may have had a trickster spirit visiting us last night.
With the morning came again the very loud and almost consistent calls of seagulls, which are huge compared to the ones I know from back home. And with huge I mean bigger than some lapdogs; beaks that are at least an inch long; hungry, well fed beasts that snatch food out of people’s hands.
We are on our way to destination number 3. We forgot to pack a few snacks and hope they come around with the food trolley soon, because we are starving. Everyone around is eating their own packed lunch and my stomach is eating itself right now…
