Back to Britain, Part 13
Rainy
day of rest in St. Ives
June
10-25, 2003 (Updated Dec. 5, 2003)
By
Lewis Nolan
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Sunday, June 22, 2003 – In St. Ives
Glynis O’Shea, our
charming hostess and co-owner of the Trewinnard Private Hotel in St. Ives, was
her usual, sunny self as she served breakfast. The Trewinnard prides itself on
its food and the breakfast is smashingly good. Guests have a wide range of
choices, ranging from the traditional English breakfast foods to the lighter
selections preferred by many Americans.
The food was excellent in
every way. It was beautifully served on pretty plates placed on starched, white
tablecloths. The breakfast room was snug and cheerful. Midway through the meal,
hotel co-owner and cook Ken Maidmint would pop out of the kitchen to ask if
everything was all right. To a chorus of affirmations, he unfailingly grinned
and exclaimed, “Jolly good” before ducking back into the kitchen to work his
magic on the stove and oven.
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| View of St. Ives harbor from Trewinnard Hotel |
| Click Colored Type to Enlarge Photo |
I stayed with three slices
of ham, two freshly baked, hard rolls and a Diet Coke. Betty tried several
dishes during our five-night stay, including Ken’s wonderful croissants, bacon,
toast and either coffee or genuine English tea. The bacon served at the
Trewinnard is like Irish bacon, a cut we don’t see back home. It looks like a
small piece of the pork loin with a tail of American bacon on it. It tastes
saltier than either American or Irish bacon.
Betty and I noted that
several hotel guests opted for what Glynis called “a proper breakfast.” That is
the full, English morning meal that includes bacon, a plump sausage, fried
eggs, hash browns, baked beans, lots of buttered toast with jam and a pot of
hot tea. Several varieties of English tea are available. Several big eaters had
all that plus dry cereal, fruit and juice from a buffet table.
I envied their ability to
eat that way. I could – and did – for too many years. I paid the price. I now
eat fairly light meals and much smaller portions than I would like due to
concerns about blood pressure, cholesterol and excess weight. I’ve been
fighting the battle of the bulge since I stopped swimming competitively after my
freshman year of college. I’m not alone. Recent obesity statistics showed that
65 percent of Americans are overweight.
In desperation, I went on
the Atkins low carbohydrate diet beginning last August. I lost more than 50
pounds. More importantly, my blood pressure, triglyceride and other blood
chemistry readings are back in the normal zone for the first time in years.
Staying on Atkins was a real challenge in England. The British don’t seem to
have the endemic obesity problem that many Americans face. Their diet is heavy
with fats and carbs. I saw no low carb food shops or selections of Atkins
products in any of the stores we visited.
In the absence of the
soybean-based bread products sold in the U.S., I did allow myself a modest
amount of real bread plus a few potatoes here and there. Other than a tiny
taste or two of Betty’s desserts, I steered clear of sugar products. I did
splurge with a daily pint of lager or ale; none of the low-carb beers like
Miller Lite are sold in Britain.
Sugar and white flour are
all but forbidden to serious Atkins dieters. Fortunately, the considerable
amount of walking we did during two weeks in England kept my weight gain to
less than five pounds. The damage could have been much worse. The Atkins
promoters warn that astounding amounts of weight gain are likely ahead for
dieters who go back to their former eating patterns.
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| Betty on harbor promenade at low tide |
| Click Colored Type to Enlarge Photo |
The English seem to do a
lot more walking than do Americans. The ancient cities and ancient towns are
not made for car commuting. People walk as part of their everyday lives - to
the bus stop, tube station, shops and pubs. Walking vacations are quite
popular. Property owners are required by law to permit walkers to pass through
on the many trails and routes that crisscross England. It is possible to walk clear
across the country on one popular path that has attracts hikers from around the
world. Accommodations are never more than a day apart.
Most visitors seem to come
to St. Ives from England. It’s out of the way from the major population centers
of Great Britain and has no airport. St. Ives is a six-hour drive from the
heart of London. It is an all-day train ride from Paddington Station there.
London is an overnight flight from anywhere in America – 6 to 9 hours from
Eastern and Midwestern cities and more from the West Coast. So an American who
wants to vacation in St. Ives will probably want to overnight in London, Paris
or other international city before going on to southwest Cornwall. I think one
has to count on two days of travel each way, a daunting obstacle to visiting
St. Ives unless they are already in Britain anyway.
We were only the second
visitors from America to stay at the Trewinnard so far this year. We didn’t
meet nor recognize any other Americans during our six days in Cornwall. Because
of our manner, our clothing or our accents, people instantly sized us up as
“yanks.” Everybody seemed to be glad to talk to us and proved to be friendly
and helpful. Evidently the famous British “reserve” goes on holiday at vacation
spots.
With so much bad feeling
in Europe about the American-led invasion of Iraq, I had been apprehensive of
confrontations during our stay in England. Many Brits are vehemently opposed to
their Prime Minister Tony Blair’s deployment of troops to Iraq in support of
the U.S. But we saw nothing but welcomes and good cheery. Betty and I are both
outgoing and don’t hesitate to strike up conversations with strangers. We were
probably something of a curiosity in this out-of-the-way village.
Like in America, many
Brits have their favorite vacation spots and return to the same place year
after year. We met one older couple that had been coming to the Trewinnard for
a week’s vacation for nine straight years.
The Trewinnard’s breakfast
room is small enough to encourage cross-table chatting. We soon learned that
this couple’s daily routine started with a proper English breakfast. Another
regular was an 85-year-old widower named Bob, in residence for three weeks and
a hit with Glynis. He stayed out late every night playing pool. Other hotel
guests we became acquainted with included:
·
A couple and his sister
from the tiny country of Luxemburg. They had brought his Mercedes Benz over on
the train through the Chunnel, which he said cost more than a rental car would
have. Multilingual and well-traveled throughout Europe and part of the U.S.,
the threesome were obviously educated and prosperous. Their English was heavy
with a German accent, but we had no problem communicating and we enjoyed
swapping travel tips with them.
 |
| Lewis by St. Ives harbor at high tide |
| Click Colored Type to Enlarge Photo |
·
An English couple whose
thick, Cornish accents made them harder to understand than the Luxemburgers.
They gave us good advice about the sights along the coast south of St. Ives.
We are a few weeks ahead
of the peak tourist season in St. Ives. In July and August, vehicular traffic
is routed around the town center’s narrow, cobblestone lanes that pass for
streets. Nonetheless, the hot spots of trendy shops and fabulous views of the
harbor drew crowds of people to the old section of town. Even in the shoulder
season of June, established restaurants require advance reservations, or
“bookings” as they are called here, for prime time dining.
After all the walking up
and down the hills and steps at the Eden Project yesterday, my left knee was
swollen and painful when I arose today. So I took some anti-inflammatory
medication and decided to rest and catch up on my travel journal this morning.
Betty – ever the dynamo – was determined to do our laundry. She loaded our
dirty clothes into a large suitcase equipped with rollers, then pulled it a few
hundred yards to a coin-operated laundry down the hill from the Trewinnard.
There, she visited with several local women and learned a lot about St. Ives
that isn’t in the guidebooks.
Once she returned, we
walked a different route to the harbor that offered an easier grade and no
steep stairs. We had a tasty lunch of takeout food, eaten on a comfortable
bench at harbor side. Betty went for a traditional Cornish pasty and I had a crabmeat
sandwich, served on a crusty Italian roll. The crab pickers of St. Ives must
know something the crab pickers of South Alabama don’t know. The fresh crab was
delicious and did not have a single scrap of cartilage or shell.
This day had started out
cloudy. As the day progressed, mist turned to rain. We postponed our plans to
take a driving loop along the coast in favor of spending a relaxing afternoon
in the Trewinnard’s comfy, guest lounge. From time to time we looked up from
our books to look at the harbor through the large bay windows. Hanging over the
harbor and coastline were low clouds, dark with rain. We also enjoyed watching
the townsfolk and vacationers trudge by in their rain gear. I’ve never seen so
many young women with tattoos and multi-colored hair as I did in St. Ives.
We walked into the town
center for dinner in the pub-restaurant at the Queen’s Hotel. I had some
freshly caught mackerel. Betty went for the cod and chips served with “mushy
peas,” a strange dish that is bright green and looks like a slow-moving portion
of split pea soup. The food was good but the service was excruciatingly slow.
Clearly the focus is on the liquid side of the business. It took 35 minutes to
get a slice of apple pie with Cornish clotted butter.
My knee felt better
because of anti-inflammatory medication and a day of rest. So we walked around
the harbor to the pier that serves commercial fishing boats. A chilly wind blew
in from the dark sea as dusk fell. To landward, the lights from the town
marched up the hillsides. We watched a late-arriving fisherman carry box after box
of mackerel from his boat to the back of his SUV. I did not envy him the duty
of scampering up the wet, slimy steps of the pier with heavy, wooden boxes of
fish.
That night, we watched the
James Bond movie “Tomorrow Never Dies” on the telly in our room. Actress Judy
Dench – named a Dame of the British Empire by the Queen in honor of her work –
played the spymaster role of M. Unlike Sir Sean Connery, the actor who played
007 in this movie – Pierce Brosnan – has yet to be knighted.
Knight or not, it was a
great movie and a relaxing night in St. Ives.
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