York--Old York

At one point in this trip, I mentioned something I'd done in New York, and a granddaughter piped up and said, "...but this is OLD York..." And indeed, it was.

Old York is about as far as you can get from New York, I must admit. Both have rivers, but, given the choice, I'd rather walk along the Ouse (pronounced "ooze") than the Hudson. And while I haven't yet taken a walk along the Highline, I think walking along the old walls of this York is more conducive to the imagination.

Upon rendezvousing with Kay and Paul and the girls, our first jaunt was to Clifford's Tower, barely a five minute walk away from our hotel. I'm still not sure what its original purpose was, but it was up on a hill and had stairs to climb and a walkway around the top, and, above all, a gift shop to be explored. Just the antidote for a long train ride.

The next day, having picked up our rental car, we took off for Castle Howard--another Treasure House of Britain (of which Hatfield House had been one.) It proved relatively easy to find, and while I eschewed the house tour, the gardens were worth the price of admission. The roses, particularly, were fabulous, though we were told they were past their prime. All I know is that they perfumed the entire garden, and that I haven't had that experience in recent years. Have newer roses lost their scent? Or is it just me, the city-dweller, who has lost the experience of being in a rose garden?

The next day, we caught up with the Calverts, former neighbors who were in the York area visiting daughter Katie, son-in-law Rob, and their precious grandson. The kids ran around the Museum Garden--not too far from the York Minster, where we had toured and explored earlier in the day. Audrey was captivated by Monty--and vice versa. Claire meanwhile enjoyed the luxury of playing 'only grandchild' while her sister lavished her 'big sister' attention on someone else for a change. We had lunch at a cafe on the riverbank and caught up all round in one lovely afternoon. After our goodbyes, we took a cruise down the river and heard a bit of history before we left the boat not far from our hotel. I must admit, I was more enamored of the sit-down aspect of the tour than by the history and highlights of the Ouze River.

Somewhere in there, we also visited the Jorvik Viking Centre, remembered from our previous trip to York, when Kay and Sarah were much younger. The Disney-esque ride was still there (only instead of 'It's a Small World' playing incessantly, think Viking dirt and primitive trades and huts and market--sights and sounds and even smells provided for the full Viking village experience. The high point for the girls was the re-creation of an authentic Viking outhouse with a rather large Viking ensconced therein, creating some of the aforementioned smells.

Now, I'm not sure exactly when it was, but at one point Kay and I and the girls were walking back to the hotel and encountered one of the numerous ice cream trucks that populated the parks and riverbanks. In spite of Kay's warning, we got 'ice cream' for all. How bad could it be? It's ice cream, after all. No. It's not. It is a cold marshmallow fluff-type substance with a brown waxy stick embedded in its center. This thing is called chocolate flake. It's nasty. Beware these vendors.

On to Durham and Dundee...

We'd decided to stop at Durham on our way to Dundee, as JC had the need to see the cathedral there. So we booked an overnight stop, and visited the cathedral, which is indeed beautiful. More to come...