Sunday, October 3, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Flickr
Hey everyone! I've just started trying to focus my energy on re-organizing a lot of the content I keep on my computer. I've now got a feed and have started uploading my photos to Flickr. Here is a link to the Flickr.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/29342388@N02/
Enjoy!
http://www.flickr.com/photos/29342388@N02/
Enjoy!
Monday, May 17, 2010
A Journey into the Past - April 28, 2010
A journey into the past…
Alright folks, I’m finally recovered enough to start writing this blog. These last days I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’m going to combine my family history research here along with the regular travel type blog you are used to. I just don’t feel like writing it twice and it was an integral part of the journey. So, here goes :
As most of you have already heard, five days before we were set to fly off to England, the Icelandic Vocano erupted, spewing an ash cloud which brought down all flights to a standstill in Europe. Our flight was supposed to leave from Lyon to Gatwick on Sunday night, April 18th. We of course started hearing about the UK flight closures on Thursday. We had the pleasure of sitting in our own home while it destroyed our travel plans, but it was nonetheless a difficult wait to see if there may be a re-opening so we could fly. After watching and reading every possible notice, on Saturday we decided to enact Plan B. Plan B was to drive to Caen (a seven hour drive north) and then to sail the English channel overnight (another seven hours) and then arrive in Portsmouth Harbor, England at 6 :30 A.M. on Monday morning. So, thankfully we were able to book our seats online for the ferry. Turns out when we actually sailed, there were a thousand fellow travellers and we were lucky to have assigned seating. Most people had booked after there were no seats left and ended up sleeping in hallways and such.
So, our flight was finally cancelled Sunday morning. At 7 A.M. I requested a refund from easyjet and we packed the car and set off for Caen. The drive was long but beautiful because in the Spring the fields of Colza are in bloom all over. Colza is a plant cultivated for oil and it has a bright yellow flower. We drove through the regions Beaujolais, Dijon, Macon, Auxerre, Bourgogne (Burgundy), Ile de France (Paris)and Normandy. Basically bisecting France from south to north. We arrived in Caen/Ouistreham around 3 P.M. and checked out the ferry dock. It was what Stephane and I like to call , « Le Clusterfuck ». There were several displaced travellers whose flights had been cancelled, now boarding the mid-day ferry. We decided to get out of there pretty quickly after asking a guy where we should park upon our return from Omaha Beach. He said there was no pay parking anywhere in Caen and our vehicle would be safe just about anywhere we could get a spot. So, we headed out down the coast in search of the American Cemetery at Omaha Beach, and one of the landing sites for Allied invasion during the second World War. We got to the site only 45 minutes before closing. We headed down the hill to see the beach and also the cemetery. It’s pretty astounding when you stand there and look down at the beach, which has been repilcated in movies and see all of the graves of the soldiers. I took anly as many pictures and video as my time allowed. Then we grabbed a bite to eat and set off back to find parking at the ferry.
The guy we had asked about parking said we should show back up fairly early in order to check in, so we returned around P.M. for a six hour wait until he ferry disembarked. A lot of it was annoying, but we met a nice drunken Austrian woman who was waiting with her family. While I desperately tried to avoid having wine spilled on me, I listened to their horror story about being trapped in Austria on a skiing trip, and taking trains and buses to get back to Caen for days, in order to get home to England, where they lived now. Finally, it came time to board the huge ferry and be on our way. Our seats were comfortable (kind of) but I still had a hard time sleeping. At one point, after everyone was asleep, I got down behind our seats and crashed on the floor for about three hours of uncomfortable shut eye. I was exhausted by the time we reached port at 6 :30 A.M.
As we were docking I got to see the Isle of Wight, which is where some of my ancestors are from. And in fact, back in those days, they had to come off the island to baptize their children. Portsmouth was where they baptized five of their children although I didn’t know where and we only had time to grab a quick breakfast before heading out by train to Horley, England. This is where some of my Butcher ancestors lived. At Ten A.M. we pulled into Horley after a train ride where we saw a lot of the southern English countryside including lots of rabbits and pheasants from the windows. Beautiful !
We called Peter Cox, one of the Horley Historians for a tour of the two places the Butcher’s were known to have lived in Horley. He drove us to, and walked us down the street where they appeared on the 1861 and 1871 England Census. Now, on the census, the road was still « New Road » and offered no street address. However, at the time, there were only five houses on the block, so he showed those to us as the only possibilities they could have lived. The road is now called Lumley Road. This is the original reason I had contacted the historical society in Horley, to try and pinpoint « New Road » as it may be known now. Peter was generous enough to offer to take us on a tour at that time. So, after walking Lumley Road with him and hearing all sorts of stuff about Horley history, he then took us to the other place they were known to live in the 1851 census. A place called « Cinderfield ». In the census there were shown to be five families (including the Butchers) at the location. Now it is just one cottage. We went to the gate and introduced ourselves to the woman living there. At first she was a bit wary of three straingers pulling up, but once she realized we weren’t selling anything, she promptly let us through the gate and gave us a personal tour of the grounds and the cottage. Her and husband were both very nice and had also done some research into the history of the home. They too, had in fact, found several families living at « Cinderfield » in all the previous censuses they looked at. So, we all came to the same conclusion that there had been outerlying buildings on the property where other families lived. So, that being said, it’s unlikely the Butchers actually lived in this particular cottage on the property but at least we still got to see what it looked like inside and had the opportunity to meet the current owners. The man who lived at this property was named George Butcher. His occupation was a « Jobbing Gardener » and I couldn’t help but think he may have helped to cultivate some of the plants growing on this property. His wife eventually gave birth to Albert Butcher, my Great Great Grandfather, whose son was the immigrant who brought the line into Rensselaer County, New York.
After the tour and before heading out of Horley, Peter took us to the oldest church in Horley and we walked the grounds and the really old and neat church graveyard, just for fun. I knew none of my relatives were buried there because eventually they moved to Kent where George went from being a gardener to being a Methodist Evangelist Preacher who had ties to the Wesleyan Society, one of the earliest Methodist sects. But since I’m obsessed with graveyards, I still was thrilled. Unfortunately, we did not have time for a trip to East Grinstead, where the Butchers were originally from, as we had an appointment to keep that afternoon in London. So, Peter dropped us off at the train station and we gave hima little thank you gift and were on our way to Victoria Station in London. We bought our Oyster cards for the Tube and set off towards our hotel in Islington Burough, which is in the North of London. We stayed at a bed and breakfast called « Charlie’s Hotel ». Fitting I thought, since it’s both my father and brother’s name, and after all this was a trip into my family history as well as my honeymoon. After checking in, Stephane decided to stay behind at the hotel while I went off for a tour of St. Luke’s Old Street church in downtown London. I can understand as we were both exhausted from the travel already. But I wanted to keep this appointment.
So, if you had seen my posting about St. Luke’s, you would already know that this is where 9 members of my family were baptized in the 1800’s and also it is no longer a church, but an education center, rehearsal hall and venue for the London Symphony Orchestra. As the church was derelict for a number of years, with no roof, the LSO bought and rebuilt the church into what it is today. The family whose children were baptized here were the Mackmins. In Rensselaer County, Albert James Butcher, the immigrant I spoke of before, married Florence Alice Mackmin and brought the two families together in my family tree. The immigrant in this family was George Theophilus Mackmin. He was Florence’s grandfather and he was on of the children baptized in this church. His father John Joseph Sumner Mackmin had two wives, Frances Anna and Amelia. Two of the four children from his first marriage were baptized here and all of his children with Amelia, as well. This was quite an experience for me. Robert Gent, who is the events planner at the LSO St. Luke’s, took the time out of his busy day to give me a one hour tour of the location. We discussed family history, the history of the church and the current goings on in St. Luke’s. It was a pleasure and he had several photgraphs to show me of what the church looked like during the renovation.
After our tour, I took a walk down to Finsbury, about eight blocks to the south to see where the Mackmins lived and were buried. I took a walk down Tabernacle Street, which used to be Tabernacle Walk and Tabernacle Row, back in Old England. Differant family members had lived at 31, 48 and 51 Tabernacle Row for a number of years during the 1800’s. I photgraphed all of the addresses and then headed off to Bunhill Fields (a short distance away) where some of the Mackmins are buried. I was slightly disheartened because it was clear I would never find them in this graveyard. First of all, most of the stones are unreadable. Secondly, this is a non-conformist burial ground, and the non-conformists did not believe in marking their graves with a stone. Adding to this is the fact that when I wrote to the Parks department, who now runs this burial ground as a city park, to inquire about the burials, they told me some graves were seven deep and only the top body would have been on the stone. Anyway, I visited it and paid my general respects to the family buried here. Here is a list of the burials in Bunhill Fields.
Amelia Eliza 10w Jan 1837 (a child of John Joseph Sumner Mackmin and Amlia Dore)
Ann 35 May 1811 (JJSM’s Mother)
Augustus 1 May 1831 (a child of JJSM and Amelia Dore)
Elizabeth 62 Jul 1846 (JJSM’s Step Mother)
Frances Anna 33 Nov 1825 (JJSM’s first wife)
Frederick 4m Aug 1827 (a child of JJSM and Amelia Dore)
John Sumner 73 Apr 1849 (JJSM’s Father)
Mary Ann 7m Jun 1808 (I do not know who this is, and do not think it’s a relation)
After visiting Bunhill Fields, I grabbed some dinner for Steph and I and headed back to the hotel. We ate and passed out at 8 o’clock.
In the morning, Stephane and I ate the heart attack English breakfast at the hotel and headed into Soho to pick up some books he had ordered online at a bookstore named Foyle’s. We then took a short stroll around Soho, which is also the theater district. Then we headed out to Westminster, to Abbey Road studios. You cant’ get in, obviously, but I got some shots of the outside and the street where I think the cover of the Beatles album, Abbey Road, was taken. While the visit wasn’t all that exciting, I couldn’t help being thrilled that I was anywhere near this place, being that both The Beatles and Pink Floyd had both recorded here. After Abbey Road, we headed down to Green Park and then to Buckingham Palace for the changing of the guard, which happens at 11 :30. Yet another bad scene. So many people and police on horseback telling you to not block the gates. However, even if it was a mess, we still got to see the changing of the guard. From there we headed down to Grovesnor Park to wait for our tour bus to pick us up and take us to Stonehenge.
Around 1 :30 we were picked up for the two hour drive to Wiltshire to see Stonehenge. On the ride, the loudest people were the Americans ! Not me, of course, but it was clear this may be why people in Europe can’t stand us. :)
They drove me crazy the entire trip and it was freezing on the bus. Finally we made it to the site. I’m sorry to say, it’s very much a tourist location now. I got the pictures and visited, but I was a little disheartened by the feel of it all. It seemed very canned and not so spiritual of a place anymore. I did bury something of mine out there, in the outskirts of the large circle, just so I could feel a part of it. You can’t get anywhere near the actual monument, which makes sense. I would have liked to walk among the stones, but I understand preserving the sanctity of the place. I just wished everyone would go away and I could take a moment to just feel the energy of the place. Sadly, there was no way that was happening. So, in turn, I bought my Stonehenge magnet at the shop selling everything Stonehengish outside the gate and Stephane and I proceeded to steal a better seat for the bus ride home. Since we still had some daylight left, we decided to disembark the bus at Hyde Park. Hyde Park is where Floyd last played together on stage at the Live 8, and also performed several free concerts back in the day. Also several bands you know and may love have played here over the years. The Who did their , « The Kids are Alright » video here, which is horribly lip syncned. They also played several times here back in the day.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=siVodkpxhac
Not only was it beautiful, but it does hold a lot of Rock and Roll live concert history. I was thrilled to be there and to watch a beautiful sunset before heading out for a late dinner with Steph across the street. After dinner we headed back to Charlie’s and went to bed.
In the morning, we headed out to visit the churches that my family were wither baptized or married at. We also stopped by two places to get photgraphs for a distant cousin of mine in Canada. He is a descendant of JJSM’s first wife, Frances Anna. Our first stop was St. Giles without Cripplegate church. This was a stop for Shaun, my distant cousin. It was where one of his relatives was baptized (I believe). It actually was a very cool place to visit because it is right next to the Old London Wall. There are still pieces of the wall nearby and I guess this church stood very close to the inside border of the original Old England. Plus, there were some pretty neat waterways nearby. It was a cool little oasis in the middle of one of the busiest sections of London.
Our next stop was Christchurch Newgate/Greyfriar’s where John Joseph Sumner Mackmin (JJSM) and Amelia Dore were married on March 25, 1826. The old church was destroyed in WWII bomb raids and the tower was the only thing left standing. The church part is a few walls left. From there we visited St. Sepulchre without Newgate. This is the church where JJSM married his first wife, Frances Anna. I went here for Shaun because it is a ten minute walk from the other one. What’s also interesting about this church is that John Smith, the guy Pochahontas saved from the Indians, is buried here. I did not see is grave because it’s probably inside and I couldn’t get inside any of the churches. Also, this church is known for it’s bells, which would toll in time with the criminals being executed at the Old Bailey Courthouse, which is directly across the street. I also got some pictures of that on our way down to the church where JJSM was baptized in 1775, St. Benet , Paul’s Wharf church. Turns out this is known as the Welsh church of London. I’m not sure if that’s significant. As far as I know this family orginally comes from Scotland. Anyway, since this is directly next to the Thames River and what’s known as the Millenium Bridge, we decided to take a stroll over the footbridge to the replicated Globe Theater on the other side. We decided not to go inside because the ticket cost too much just to go inside a fake Globe Theater. We had lunch by the Thames and then headed back over to the Tube station. From there we visited St. Botolph Aldgate Church, where JJSM’s parents, John Mackmin and Elizabeth Sumner were married on November 21, 1771. This church is still standing and in great condition. It’s also right next to the Gherkin, a huge pickle shaped building in London (see pics). Then we headed back to the hotel for a brief siesta before heading out to Abney Park cemetery in Stoke Newington to try and find the burials of the other Mackmins.
Turns out, we found none of them. The place is so overgrown and we eventually found the sections they were buried in but found no stones . I had written the cemetery trust a few weeks before going and never heard back from them…until the night after we got back searching through like crazy and finding nothing. Turns out, only one grave was marked. That of Shepherdess Mary (a daughter of JJSM and his first wife, Frances Anna) , her husband and one other family member. They included a picture of the grave for me. Would have been great to know there was no other markers, PRIOR to searching for three hours in underbrush, for nothing. Regardless of actually finding anything here, it was an interesting experience. Seems the lack of upkeep has made it a hangout for all sorts of people, including now being a local pick up spot for the gay community. I saw several men and no women except me and one other woman with a family. I was starting to think it may be a gay hangout and then I was assured when I saw two men together, one zipping up his pants behind a tree and some headstones. Doesn’t bother me, just an interesting side note. We also, on our way out, saw a huge fire someone had set near the old Chapel, since derelict. It was not controlled and seemed to be burning itself out fast. We searched for someone to tell and founf no one. Later on that day, when I finally recieved the late email from the cemetery trust , I told them about it, in case they needed to check it out.
We headed back to the hotel with a dinner of fish and chips, wrote out our postcards before passing out after another long day. In the morning, I was having a cig before breakfast on the front steps of the hotel. I saw what looked like a dog passing behind the bushes. Turns out, it was a fox. He came around near the opening to the front walk, peeked at me and then took off. He stayed for only about Five seconds, but for me, the experience was super cool. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a fox up close and never in such a residential area.
This being our last day at the hotel, we ate and handed in our keys and set off for the Islington Local History Center for an appointment at Ten. Stephane read in the library while I met the local historian. Seems that I had more information than her regarding the family, so it went pretty quickly. It was kind of a let down because they claimed to have several pictures indexed by street and I thought they may have some photos of Tabrnacle Street back in the day. The earliest pictures they had were in 1973. It looked exaclty the same as it did today. They also did not have any other information to help me. My next stop was the London Metro Archives, which is a few blocks away. Stephane stayed behind at the library to read while I researched some genealogy there. I found the internment record books for Bunhill Fields, which didn’t give me too much more information on the burials than I already had, but a little. In about 1860, JJSM started listing his occupation as a Linen Draper AND an Undertaker. Prior to that on the census, he was only known as a Linen Draper. I was always confused by this becuase Undertaker could have meant someone who « undertook » special requests, say in a tailoring capacity. Another distant cousin of mine also thought this to be the case. But it turns out he actually was an Undertaker, in the sense we know that term to mean now. In fact, on the Bunhill Fields Internment records, the last column lists the « Undertaker’s name and Address » for the burial of the person. Turns out, JJSM was not only an undertaker, but undertook and prepared, not only his father’s body for burial, but also his three young children who died before the age of two. Sad, but I guess he knew he could take the most care and probably did not trust those things to anyone else, seeing as he knew the trade. Still, pretty sad when you think about it. Other than that, the only other information I found was three fire insurande policies from the 1800’s , for a relative on my Mom’s side of the family. His name was William Wright and he was a Confectioner and Baker. I thought it was pretty cool to see the insured contents of his home, which included, silver tableware, musical instruments and glass stemware. His estate total was £1200 in two policies and £900 in an earlier policy. So the candy and confection business must have been good to him. I think it’s pretty cool that I have an ancestor who held the same trade as myself (when I worked that is).
:)
After that we sat in Green Park together after lunch just waiting for our train back to Portsmouth Harbor to head home. After the lazy afternoon in the park, we walked passed Buckingham Palace again and down to Victoria station and headed out of London, by train, to start our long journey back home. We sailed again overnight on the Channel and drove seven hours to get home in the morning.
Now, you can see why I need a few days of rest before writing this blog.
Overall, it was a long bunch of travelling, followed by long days of walking all over London. However, despite the fact every day we were truly exhausted, we did everything we had planned to do, regardless of the situation regarding the Volcanic ash. I can’t express to you in words how much it meant to me to visit these places and to tour around where ancestor’s of mine lived, married, gave birth and died. Thanks to Stephane for allowing our honeymoon to really be all about what I wanted to do. We had some romantic moments amidst all the running around, but I won’t be blogging about that.
;)
Alright folks, I’m finally recovered enough to start writing this blog. These last days I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’m going to combine my family history research here along with the regular travel type blog you are used to. I just don’t feel like writing it twice and it was an integral part of the journey. So, here goes :
As most of you have already heard, five days before we were set to fly off to England, the Icelandic Vocano erupted, spewing an ash cloud which brought down all flights to a standstill in Europe. Our flight was supposed to leave from Lyon to Gatwick on Sunday night, April 18th. We of course started hearing about the UK flight closures on Thursday. We had the pleasure of sitting in our own home while it destroyed our travel plans, but it was nonetheless a difficult wait to see if there may be a re-opening so we could fly. After watching and reading every possible notice, on Saturday we decided to enact Plan B. Plan B was to drive to Caen (a seven hour drive north) and then to sail the English channel overnight (another seven hours) and then arrive in Portsmouth Harbor, England at 6 :30 A.M. on Monday morning. So, thankfully we were able to book our seats online for the ferry. Turns out when we actually sailed, there were a thousand fellow travellers and we were lucky to have assigned seating. Most people had booked after there were no seats left and ended up sleeping in hallways and such.
So, our flight was finally cancelled Sunday morning. At 7 A.M. I requested a refund from easyjet and we packed the car and set off for Caen. The drive was long but beautiful because in the Spring the fields of Colza are in bloom all over. Colza is a plant cultivated for oil and it has a bright yellow flower. We drove through the regions Beaujolais, Dijon, Macon, Auxerre, Bourgogne (Burgundy), Ile de France (Paris)and Normandy. Basically bisecting France from south to north. We arrived in Caen/Ouistreham around 3 P.M. and checked out the ferry dock. It was what Stephane and I like to call , « Le Clusterfuck ». There were several displaced travellers whose flights had been cancelled, now boarding the mid-day ferry. We decided to get out of there pretty quickly after asking a guy where we should park upon our return from Omaha Beach. He said there was no pay parking anywhere in Caen and our vehicle would be safe just about anywhere we could get a spot. So, we headed out down the coast in search of the American Cemetery at Omaha Beach, and one of the landing sites for Allied invasion during the second World War. We got to the site only 45 minutes before closing. We headed down the hill to see the beach and also the cemetery. It’s pretty astounding when you stand there and look down at the beach, which has been repilcated in movies and see all of the graves of the soldiers. I took anly as many pictures and video as my time allowed. Then we grabbed a bite to eat and set off back to find parking at the ferry.
The guy we had asked about parking said we should show back up fairly early in order to check in, so we returned around P.M. for a six hour wait until he ferry disembarked. A lot of it was annoying, but we met a nice drunken Austrian woman who was waiting with her family. While I desperately tried to avoid having wine spilled on me, I listened to their horror story about being trapped in Austria on a skiing trip, and taking trains and buses to get back to Caen for days, in order to get home to England, where they lived now. Finally, it came time to board the huge ferry and be on our way. Our seats were comfortable (kind of) but I still had a hard time sleeping. At one point, after everyone was asleep, I got down behind our seats and crashed on the floor for about three hours of uncomfortable shut eye. I was exhausted by the time we reached port at 6 :30 A.M.
As we were docking I got to see the Isle of Wight, which is where some of my ancestors are from. And in fact, back in those days, they had to come off the island to baptize their children. Portsmouth was where they baptized five of their children although I didn’t know where and we only had time to grab a quick breakfast before heading out by train to Horley, England. This is where some of my Butcher ancestors lived. At Ten A.M. we pulled into Horley after a train ride where we saw a lot of the southern English countryside including lots of rabbits and pheasants from the windows. Beautiful !
We called Peter Cox, one of the Horley Historians for a tour of the two places the Butcher’s were known to have lived in Horley. He drove us to, and walked us down the street where they appeared on the 1861 and 1871 England Census. Now, on the census, the road was still « New Road » and offered no street address. However, at the time, there were only five houses on the block, so he showed those to us as the only possibilities they could have lived. The road is now called Lumley Road. This is the original reason I had contacted the historical society in Horley, to try and pinpoint « New Road » as it may be known now. Peter was generous enough to offer to take us on a tour at that time. So, after walking Lumley Road with him and hearing all sorts of stuff about Horley history, he then took us to the other place they were known to live in the 1851 census. A place called « Cinderfield ». In the census there were shown to be five families (including the Butchers) at the location. Now it is just one cottage. We went to the gate and introduced ourselves to the woman living there. At first she was a bit wary of three straingers pulling up, but once she realized we weren’t selling anything, she promptly let us through the gate and gave us a personal tour of the grounds and the cottage. Her and husband were both very nice and had also done some research into the history of the home. They too, had in fact, found several families living at « Cinderfield » in all the previous censuses they looked at. So, we all came to the same conclusion that there had been outerlying buildings on the property where other families lived. So, that being said, it’s unlikely the Butchers actually lived in this particular cottage on the property but at least we still got to see what it looked like inside and had the opportunity to meet the current owners. The man who lived at this property was named George Butcher. His occupation was a « Jobbing Gardener » and I couldn’t help but think he may have helped to cultivate some of the plants growing on this property. His wife eventually gave birth to Albert Butcher, my Great Great Grandfather, whose son was the immigrant who brought the line into Rensselaer County, New York.
After the tour and before heading out of Horley, Peter took us to the oldest church in Horley and we walked the grounds and the really old and neat church graveyard, just for fun. I knew none of my relatives were buried there because eventually they moved to Kent where George went from being a gardener to being a Methodist Evangelist Preacher who had ties to the Wesleyan Society, one of the earliest Methodist sects. But since I’m obsessed with graveyards, I still was thrilled. Unfortunately, we did not have time for a trip to East Grinstead, where the Butchers were originally from, as we had an appointment to keep that afternoon in London. So, Peter dropped us off at the train station and we gave hima little thank you gift and were on our way to Victoria Station in London. We bought our Oyster cards for the Tube and set off towards our hotel in Islington Burough, which is in the North of London. We stayed at a bed and breakfast called « Charlie’s Hotel ». Fitting I thought, since it’s both my father and brother’s name, and after all this was a trip into my family history as well as my honeymoon. After checking in, Stephane decided to stay behind at the hotel while I went off for a tour of St. Luke’s Old Street church in downtown London. I can understand as we were both exhausted from the travel already. But I wanted to keep this appointment.
So, if you had seen my posting about St. Luke’s, you would already know that this is where 9 members of my family were baptized in the 1800’s and also it is no longer a church, but an education center, rehearsal hall and venue for the London Symphony Orchestra. As the church was derelict for a number of years, with no roof, the LSO bought and rebuilt the church into what it is today. The family whose children were baptized here were the Mackmins. In Rensselaer County, Albert James Butcher, the immigrant I spoke of before, married Florence Alice Mackmin and brought the two families together in my family tree. The immigrant in this family was George Theophilus Mackmin. He was Florence’s grandfather and he was on of the children baptized in this church. His father John Joseph Sumner Mackmin had two wives, Frances Anna and Amelia. Two of the four children from his first marriage were baptized here and all of his children with Amelia, as well. This was quite an experience for me. Robert Gent, who is the events planner at the LSO St. Luke’s, took the time out of his busy day to give me a one hour tour of the location. We discussed family history, the history of the church and the current goings on in St. Luke’s. It was a pleasure and he had several photgraphs to show me of what the church looked like during the renovation.
After our tour, I took a walk down to Finsbury, about eight blocks to the south to see where the Mackmins lived and were buried. I took a walk down Tabernacle Street, which used to be Tabernacle Walk and Tabernacle Row, back in Old England. Differant family members had lived at 31, 48 and 51 Tabernacle Row for a number of years during the 1800’s. I photgraphed all of the addresses and then headed off to Bunhill Fields (a short distance away) where some of the Mackmins are buried. I was slightly disheartened because it was clear I would never find them in this graveyard. First of all, most of the stones are unreadable. Secondly, this is a non-conformist burial ground, and the non-conformists did not believe in marking their graves with a stone. Adding to this is the fact that when I wrote to the Parks department, who now runs this burial ground as a city park, to inquire about the burials, they told me some graves were seven deep and only the top body would have been on the stone. Anyway, I visited it and paid my general respects to the family buried here. Here is a list of the burials in Bunhill Fields.
Amelia Eliza 10w Jan 1837 (a child of John Joseph Sumner Mackmin and Amlia Dore)
Ann 35 May 1811 (JJSM’s Mother)
Augustus 1 May 1831 (a child of JJSM and Amelia Dore)
Elizabeth 62 Jul 1846 (JJSM’s Step Mother)
Frances Anna 33 Nov 1825 (JJSM’s first wife)
Frederick 4m Aug 1827 (a child of JJSM and Amelia Dore)
John Sumner 73 Apr 1849 (JJSM’s Father)
Mary Ann 7m Jun 1808 (I do not know who this is, and do not think it’s a relation)
After visiting Bunhill Fields, I grabbed some dinner for Steph and I and headed back to the hotel. We ate and passed out at 8 o’clock.
In the morning, Stephane and I ate the heart attack English breakfast at the hotel and headed into Soho to pick up some books he had ordered online at a bookstore named Foyle’s. We then took a short stroll around Soho, which is also the theater district. Then we headed out to Westminster, to Abbey Road studios. You cant’ get in, obviously, but I got some shots of the outside and the street where I think the cover of the Beatles album, Abbey Road, was taken. While the visit wasn’t all that exciting, I couldn’t help being thrilled that I was anywhere near this place, being that both The Beatles and Pink Floyd had both recorded here. After Abbey Road, we headed down to Green Park and then to Buckingham Palace for the changing of the guard, which happens at 11 :30. Yet another bad scene. So many people and police on horseback telling you to not block the gates. However, even if it was a mess, we still got to see the changing of the guard. From there we headed down to Grovesnor Park to wait for our tour bus to pick us up and take us to Stonehenge.
Around 1 :30 we were picked up for the two hour drive to Wiltshire to see Stonehenge. On the ride, the loudest people were the Americans ! Not me, of course, but it was clear this may be why people in Europe can’t stand us. :)
They drove me crazy the entire trip and it was freezing on the bus. Finally we made it to the site. I’m sorry to say, it’s very much a tourist location now. I got the pictures and visited, but I was a little disheartened by the feel of it all. It seemed very canned and not so spiritual of a place anymore. I did bury something of mine out there, in the outskirts of the large circle, just so I could feel a part of it. You can’t get anywhere near the actual monument, which makes sense. I would have liked to walk among the stones, but I understand preserving the sanctity of the place. I just wished everyone would go away and I could take a moment to just feel the energy of the place. Sadly, there was no way that was happening. So, in turn, I bought my Stonehenge magnet at the shop selling everything Stonehengish outside the gate and Stephane and I proceeded to steal a better seat for the bus ride home. Since we still had some daylight left, we decided to disembark the bus at Hyde Park. Hyde Park is where Floyd last played together on stage at the Live 8, and also performed several free concerts back in the day. Also several bands you know and may love have played here over the years. The Who did their , « The Kids are Alright » video here, which is horribly lip syncned. They also played several times here back in the day.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=siVodkpxhac
Not only was it beautiful, but it does hold a lot of Rock and Roll live concert history. I was thrilled to be there and to watch a beautiful sunset before heading out for a late dinner with Steph across the street. After dinner we headed back to Charlie’s and went to bed.
In the morning, we headed out to visit the churches that my family were wither baptized or married at. We also stopped by two places to get photgraphs for a distant cousin of mine in Canada. He is a descendant of JJSM’s first wife, Frances Anna. Our first stop was St. Giles without Cripplegate church. This was a stop for Shaun, my distant cousin. It was where one of his relatives was baptized (I believe). It actually was a very cool place to visit because it is right next to the Old London Wall. There are still pieces of the wall nearby and I guess this church stood very close to the inside border of the original Old England. Plus, there were some pretty neat waterways nearby. It was a cool little oasis in the middle of one of the busiest sections of London.
Our next stop was Christchurch Newgate/Greyfriar’s where John Joseph Sumner Mackmin (JJSM) and Amelia Dore were married on March 25, 1826. The old church was destroyed in WWII bomb raids and the tower was the only thing left standing. The church part is a few walls left. From there we visited St. Sepulchre without Newgate. This is the church where JJSM married his first wife, Frances Anna. I went here for Shaun because it is a ten minute walk from the other one. What’s also interesting about this church is that John Smith, the guy Pochahontas saved from the Indians, is buried here. I did not see is grave because it’s probably inside and I couldn’t get inside any of the churches. Also, this church is known for it’s bells, which would toll in time with the criminals being executed at the Old Bailey Courthouse, which is directly across the street. I also got some pictures of that on our way down to the church where JJSM was baptized in 1775, St. Benet , Paul’s Wharf church. Turns out this is known as the Welsh church of London. I’m not sure if that’s significant. As far as I know this family orginally comes from Scotland. Anyway, since this is directly next to the Thames River and what’s known as the Millenium Bridge, we decided to take a stroll over the footbridge to the replicated Globe Theater on the other side. We decided not to go inside because the ticket cost too much just to go inside a fake Globe Theater. We had lunch by the Thames and then headed back over to the Tube station. From there we visited St. Botolph Aldgate Church, where JJSM’s parents, John Mackmin and Elizabeth Sumner were married on November 21, 1771. This church is still standing and in great condition. It’s also right next to the Gherkin, a huge pickle shaped building in London (see pics). Then we headed back to the hotel for a brief siesta before heading out to Abney Park cemetery in Stoke Newington to try and find the burials of the other Mackmins.
Turns out, we found none of them. The place is so overgrown and we eventually found the sections they were buried in but found no stones . I had written the cemetery trust a few weeks before going and never heard back from them…until the night after we got back searching through like crazy and finding nothing. Turns out, only one grave was marked. That of Shepherdess Mary (a daughter of JJSM and his first wife, Frances Anna) , her husband and one other family member. They included a picture of the grave for me. Would have been great to know there was no other markers, PRIOR to searching for three hours in underbrush, for nothing. Regardless of actually finding anything here, it was an interesting experience. Seems the lack of upkeep has made it a hangout for all sorts of people, including now being a local pick up spot for the gay community. I saw several men and no women except me and one other woman with a family. I was starting to think it may be a gay hangout and then I was assured when I saw two men together, one zipping up his pants behind a tree and some headstones. Doesn’t bother me, just an interesting side note. We also, on our way out, saw a huge fire someone had set near the old Chapel, since derelict. It was not controlled and seemed to be burning itself out fast. We searched for someone to tell and founf no one. Later on that day, when I finally recieved the late email from the cemetery trust , I told them about it, in case they needed to check it out.
We headed back to the hotel with a dinner of fish and chips, wrote out our postcards before passing out after another long day. In the morning, I was having a cig before breakfast on the front steps of the hotel. I saw what looked like a dog passing behind the bushes. Turns out, it was a fox. He came around near the opening to the front walk, peeked at me and then took off. He stayed for only about Five seconds, but for me, the experience was super cool. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a fox up close and never in such a residential area.
This being our last day at the hotel, we ate and handed in our keys and set off for the Islington Local History Center for an appointment at Ten. Stephane read in the library while I met the local historian. Seems that I had more information than her regarding the family, so it went pretty quickly. It was kind of a let down because they claimed to have several pictures indexed by street and I thought they may have some photos of Tabrnacle Street back in the day. The earliest pictures they had were in 1973. It looked exaclty the same as it did today. They also did not have any other information to help me. My next stop was the London Metro Archives, which is a few blocks away. Stephane stayed behind at the library to read while I researched some genealogy there. I found the internment record books for Bunhill Fields, which didn’t give me too much more information on the burials than I already had, but a little. In about 1860, JJSM started listing his occupation as a Linen Draper AND an Undertaker. Prior to that on the census, he was only known as a Linen Draper. I was always confused by this becuase Undertaker could have meant someone who « undertook » special requests, say in a tailoring capacity. Another distant cousin of mine also thought this to be the case. But it turns out he actually was an Undertaker, in the sense we know that term to mean now. In fact, on the Bunhill Fields Internment records, the last column lists the « Undertaker’s name and Address » for the burial of the person. Turns out, JJSM was not only an undertaker, but undertook and prepared, not only his father’s body for burial, but also his three young children who died before the age of two. Sad, but I guess he knew he could take the most care and probably did not trust those things to anyone else, seeing as he knew the trade. Still, pretty sad when you think about it. Other than that, the only other information I found was three fire insurande policies from the 1800’s , for a relative on my Mom’s side of the family. His name was William Wright and he was a Confectioner and Baker. I thought it was pretty cool to see the insured contents of his home, which included, silver tableware, musical instruments and glass stemware. His estate total was £1200 in two policies and £900 in an earlier policy. So the candy and confection business must have been good to him. I think it’s pretty cool that I have an ancestor who held the same trade as myself (when I worked that is).
:)
After that we sat in Green Park together after lunch just waiting for our train back to Portsmouth Harbor to head home. After the lazy afternoon in the park, we walked passed Buckingham Palace again and down to Victoria station and headed out of London, by train, to start our long journey back home. We sailed again overnight on the Channel and drove seven hours to get home in the morning.
Now, you can see why I need a few days of rest before writing this blog.
Overall, it was a long bunch of travelling, followed by long days of walking all over London. However, despite the fact every day we were truly exhausted, we did everything we had planned to do, regardless of the situation regarding the Volcanic ash. I can’t express to you in words how much it meant to me to visit these places and to tour around where ancestor’s of mine lived, married, gave birth and died. Thanks to Stephane for allowing our honeymoon to really be all about what I wanted to do. We had some romantic moments amidst all the running around, but I won’t be blogging about that.
;)
Crazy Germans, Immigration and Stravinsky - February 23, 2010
Alright, haven't written in a while so I thought I'd catch you guys up. On January 12th I flew back to France with my Visa finally in hand. This was the next step to obtaining a Carte de Sejour which is like a residence permit. I applied at the immigration office upon my return and had to wait a month for my appointment but I went the other day and I am now in posession of the Carte de Sejour. Finally! I have to attend two more day long classes. One on "Life in France" and one on the "Government in France" and also I will begin to attend free French lessons on a path towards obtaining a French Language Diploma. This is good because I'm not all that good about doing my Rosetta Stone. I've come a long way though and I think they will assess me at a higher level than absolute beginner. In the meantime, Steph and I took a trip to the Black Forest in Germany. It's actually right over the border into Germany. It took us five hours and we crossed the Rhein river. Which was nothing to write about, at least where we crossed it. I booked our hotel online in a city called Furtwangen. A small mountain city in the Southern middle of the forest. It was a pretty scary drive for me because the roads were high and covered in snow. Anyone who has ever driven in a car with me in those conditions will know just how annoying that must have been for Steph. But alas, despite my constant whining we made it safely to our hotel in Furtwangen. All of the traffic lights were out in the town but it didn't matter since we only saw about five cars driving in town. We made it inside and checked in. They told us that we had arrived in time for the Fastnacht festival, which they described as a Carnivale. We saw several very large German men, and a few German women dressed up and wandering the streets with instruments. While Stephane was parking the car, I watched them at one of the pubs down the street and they were playing "Tequila". Funny shit to hear Germans singing Tequila. Anyway, we checked in and found that there was a parade being shown on TV in our room. Apparently, since this was such a small town, it didn't have too much going on. But on the TV they were in a much larger city and we watched several Germans in lots of costumes: cows, penguins, dogs, cats, tigers, bears, pigs, bees and other "court" type outfits. I eventually looked it up online and found it was the celebration (similar to mardi gras) where the townspeople chased the Winter spirits from the town and brought in the coming of Spring. Directly translated "Fastnacht" is something like Fast Night. The time before lent when you eat all the fat, because you'll be fasting or something. Well, here in this town though, it was merely another reason to get drunk and party. In the hotel lobby that night they hosted a party for the people. We went down for a drink and found several large German men (and one manly looking German woman) singing and drinking in the restaurant. This is an old school hotel. Something you can imagine being in a story about travelling through the forest, in need of lodging , and finding a warm, dimly lit hotel/restaurant to eat, drink and sleep. Very cool. Well, they were very loud, as you can imagine (see video) and eventually we retired back to the room. I had packed us enough food so we had a dinner in the hotel room while watching the Olympics in German and eating at the window (in our underwear) overlooking the town and forest. We also had picked up some "Kirschtorte" which you know better as Black forest Cake. Yum! In the morning, we had a breakfast in the hotel of various charcuterie, including Black Forest ham, cheeses and really excellent coffee. Then we headed out on a mission to the see what is called the tallest waterfall in Germany (not true, BTW, because I googled it). Anyway, Triberg Falls. We found an entrance to the falls that was unfortunately blocked off. And since my paranoid ass didn't want to take the hill marked 12% grade, down to the other entrance, we did not see the Falls. We took two different short hikes though, through the forest and enjoyed the rest of our time in there. I took a couple videos, you can check them out and also a few shots in the Albums. Not too many though because you can only take so many pictures of the snowy forest before it gets downright boring. We returned home that day but it took considerably longer because we decided to cut off part of the highway driving (toll roads) and hit the countryside. Ugh, I think it took seven hours. But finally we arrived home tired from the car ride and the hikes through the forest.
This past Thursday we attended a concert, which was a gift from Steph's parents for Christmas. The Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra playing some selections from Bruckner and Stravinsky. First part was Stravinsky's " Le Sacre du Printemps" or the "Consecration of Spring".
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rite_of_Spring
Stephane read the program to me (it was in French) and he told me that this particular selection of his, was like an ode to Nature (pagans all over) and was meant to be the antithesis of normal orchestral music format. It was meant to have less design and more of the feel of nature. Well apparently, when it was first performed in Paris , people called the police because people in the audience rioted. It was crazy.
Next part was Anton Bruckner's "Wagner Symphony"
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Symphony_No._3_(Bruckner)
Much more normal musical composition and style.
Since the concert I've been focused on choosing a guitar, buying a guitar and learning the guitar. I have not yet received my guitar in the post, but Steph showed me some stuff on the bass and I've been mentally learning online, while I wait, rather impatiently for mine to come. I'm also awaiting my letter from immigration which will direct me to a school for French language.
Hope you enjoyed this update.
This past Thursday we attended a concert, which was a gift from Steph's parents for Christmas. The Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra playing some selections from Bruckner and Stravinsky. First part was Stravinsky's " Le Sacre du Printemps" or the "Consecration of Spring".
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rite_of_Spring
Stephane read the program to me (it was in French) and he told me that this particular selection of his, was like an ode to Nature (pagans all over) and was meant to be the antithesis of normal orchestral music format. It was meant to have less design and more of the feel of nature. Well apparently, when it was first performed in Paris , people called the police because people in the audience rioted. It was crazy.
Next part was Anton Bruckner's "Wagner Symphony"
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Symphony_No._3_(Bruckner)
Much more normal musical composition and style.
Since the concert I've been focused on choosing a guitar, buying a guitar and learning the guitar. I have not yet received my guitar in the post, but Steph showed me some stuff on the bass and I've been mentally learning online, while I wait, rather impatiently for mine to come. I'm also awaiting my letter from immigration which will direct me to a school for French language.
Hope you enjoyed this update.
A day in the Life - January 12, 2010
So, as many of you know I left Newark , NJ on Monday around 5:45 pm to fly back to Europe. I had booked a flight through Geneva, Switzerland because it was cheaper and closer to my house in France. When I picked up my visa AFTER making the trip plans they told me to make sure I got an entrance stamp upon my return to France. Of course, when they said this I worried because since the Schengen agreement (which releases almost all border control between the countries in the European Union) I knew there were less border officers to come by. The plan was to fly into Geneva and hop a train to Lyon. There is a border control checkpoint in the train station down it's own little seperate hallway because Geneva is a major port of entrance into France. In all my time coming back and forth, borders were a huge deal. Mostly, trying to avoid them was what I was doing. Well of course this time, when I wanted and needed a border stamp, there was no one to be found at the border in the train station. Everything up to this point went fine. Of course, the very last thing on a list of about a hundred things I did in the last three weeks, did not work out. I did not make the first train even though I was on time, because I was busy searching for an immigration officer. I knew I didn't want to just leave and enter France without this stamp so I decided to have a croissant, two huge coffees and several cigs. Besides , Stephane was lecturing until after ten anyway. Turns out my computer was low on batteries so I could only try to call him until my battery went dead. I just wanted to try to figure it out before I left. I was freezing and exhausted and couldn't get a hold of him. I decided to just take the next train into Lyon and say the hell with it. I have an entrance stamp into Geneva and I also have the validated train ticket from Geneva to Lyon. Stephane is going to call this afternoon to the immigration office to find out if this is good enough. I mean clearly, I entered France, I just don't have a stamp to prove it. If they say I need a stamp, Steph and I will drive to Geneva tomorrow, cross the border in our car, turn around and demand an entrance stamp. Ugh! Finally boarding the train I erupted into tears. I'll chalk it up to stress, PMS, utter exhaustion from jetlag and potential frostbite on my toes. I was a sniveling mess. The Frenchies were all staring at me. Whatever, I had had enough. Finally I regained my composure and the feeling in my toes and enjoyed the beautiful landscape of snowy Alps Switzerland. Of course I had left Stephane a message at home to pick me up when the train arrived. Luckily he had stopped home after lecture to check messages and was there to meet me. I broke into tears again because all the stress of everything came bubbling up to the surface. So he lugged all my crap to the car while I blubbered and complained and he drove me home. He had food and presents waiting for me. I'm so happy to be home. It was also bittersweet because seeing my friends when I was home and having to say goodbye for real this time was really difficult. I mean this visa gives me the right to be here now. My next planned trip is not until August. Six whole interrupted months in France. Even then the trip is likely to be short as Stephane will likely be with me and we will stay for a couple of weeks, if that. So, I sit, still exhausted, sad for leaving and happy to be back. Smoking cigs while wrapped up in a warm blanket with my kitty by my side and writing this to all of you. Stephane had to go back to work for the afternoon. I told him it was likely I'd be sleeping when he returned. So that's all for now. I'll let everyone know what happens with the stamp and the immigration office.
*snore*
*snore*
2010, The year we make contact - January 3, 2010
I figured my birthday was as good a day as any to write a note about what's been going on in my life. As most of you already know, for the past 15 months, I've been going back and forth from here to France. Originally I had applied for a visa but was denied and was forced into tourist status. This means I could be in France for three months, then I had to return to my native soil for another three months before I could return. Except for the one time I snuck into France through Geneva, Switzerland for a month, this is how it's been for these fifteen months. Well, finally Stephane proposed and we were married at the beginning of December. Of course, being that I was still officially on tourist status, I was forced to leave my husband after only ten days of being married to return to the states to get my papers in order. I arrived on December 15th. First order of business was to change the name on my passport to my married name. Had I not done this first, I would have my visa in my maiden name. So, three days after I got here I sent that out, paid them a lot of fucking money to have it expedited, and started the waiting game. In the meantime, I had my license renewed in my married name, with the intent of tranferring it to a French license upon my return to France. Fuck you DMV! I'm free of a lifetime of dealing with you! Also, a French license is good until you die. We should really enact this amazing idea. License for life. I was in New London, CT for the first week I was home and then travelled to New York to see my family for Christmas. I ate cookies, talked to my Dad about football and hunting and just relaxed. Christmas was nice. I got to see my brother Chris (who gave me an awesome camera) , my aunts and uncle, my cousin and my great aunt Pearl, who is 60 years older than me. She's still kicking and is an amazingly funny individual. On the day after Christmas, I got my new passport in the mail and promptly made the appointment for the visa. I awoke at 4 AM Monday morning and travelled to NYC by train to make a 9:30 appt. Everything went fairly smoothly and they told me to return to collect my visa in a week's time. It's still not in hand yet, so I'm trying not to get too excited, but everything should work out. After I was done with my appt, I visited the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I was only there about an hour. I've been there several times and after going to the Louvre several times I was quite bored. Plus they STILL do not have the "Great Wave off Kanagawa" on display. Same as last time. I made my way back downtown for a two hour wait inside Penn Station. Finally making it home around 6:30 PM, I showered off the scents of the city and crashed like I have never crashed before. A few days later I travelled back here to New London, CT in time for some more snow. Here I am waiting for the weather to hold off long enough for me to make it to Boston to visit with Philly before I go. I fly out January 11th back to France by way of Geneva again, although this time, I'll have a visa. I'm very much looking forward to being back with my husband and eventually planning our London Honeymoon. I'm glad I've been able to spend time with my friends here in the states and my family. Those of you I couldn't see, I apologize. It's just not possible to see everyone, everytime. Special thanks go out to Raquel, who let me use her car for over a week to go back home to NY. Life saver. A heartfelt thank you goes out to Shawn , who helped me run around a bit when I arrived in New London and also thanks for the fantastically warm and pretty black trenchcoat you gave me. Thank you my friend. Thanks to Terry for booking me that awesome room in the city my first night home. I never wanted to leave. I got to see the Ruddy's, who I will never go so long without seeing again. Thanks for always being so open to me and still being part of my life, even after all this time (it's been 13 years). Thanks to Lolo and Allo (and Krissy) for opening your home to me and also for the birthday dinner and cake. Yum! And thanks for taping Ghosthunters on the DVR for me to watch when I come back here.
I'm thinking that's it for now, as I'm tired and want to go to sleep. Looking forward to Boston and perhaps seeing Jenny Frey before I head out. I'm so excited to be able to go back to France for good now and to throw down my thick American roots in the French soil.
Happy New Year!
I'm thinking that's it for now, as I'm tired and want to go to sleep. Looking forward to Boston and perhaps seeing Jenny Frey before I head out. I'm so excited to be able to go back to France for good now and to throw down my thick American roots in the French soil.
Happy New Year!
Final weeks in the States and my return to France - September 17, 2009
So , I left New London on Labor day and travelled by train to Boston for three nights. Philly and I made a bunch of yummy food (like usual) and also we went to Walden Pond. I had no idea where Walden pond was. I only knew it from hearing about Henry David Thoreau and even that knowledge was brief. So, we strapped Sylvie to Philly's chest and went out for a hike. We had packed our lunch and had a nice little picnic by the lake in the shadow of some trees near the original site of HDT's cabin. We continued our hike and saw a bunch of fish, swimmer's and also some cute chipmunks and frogs. It was perfect weather and both of us regretted not bringing our swimsuits. So, after three nights of eating and visiting, I boarded the train to Albany. I took a rather indirect route on the "Lake shore limited" Amtrak. It really was a beautiful ride through the woods of Massachusetts and into Rensselaer county NY. I was picked up by my step mom Sandi for three nights in Albany. I got to see my brother Christopher twice which is always a pleasure. I also saw Julie and Julia at Crossgates mall. Finally! I'd been meaning to see it the entire time I was home. I'm now obsessed with Julia Child and plan to get her cookbook and cook my way through it. I also bought her autobiography, which I'm now reading. Also I decided while in Albany to gauge out my first earring hole. I just love all these cute wooden earrings I see and I started the process. I went to Spaulding on Central Ave and picked up my first set of gauges. I went with 16 gauge at first and popped them into my ears. They were quite tight at first but I should be able to move up a gauge within about another week. I also decided I would go back to Lark Street tattoo for some work on my wave tattoo. I went in, had a consult with the guy and booked an appointment for saturday night at 5. Tirns out this guy is a dope and made my appointment for Sunday when I was already going to be gone. I didn't realize this until I looked at the card right before the appointment. So, I ended up finding a place called "Hooligan tattoo" in Latham near Hoffman's. I talked with this guy Travis on the phone and told him what happened and he took me right away. I just wanted work on the shading part of the tattoo so I figured anyone could do it. Turns out he charged me 50 bucks less than Lark would have and he was nice and did a good job on the tattoo. I recommend him if you need a tattoo. Shading hurt like a bitch and I was definately feeling exhausted after the tattoo. I just went home and my brother Chris came over. Next day, I left to head downstate by bus to see my friend Terry. Terryis an old friend of my Mom's and a truly awesome individual (Hi Terry). Terry and I had some dinner at a nice restaurant in the lovely riverside town of Newburgh, NY (LOL) and then headed back to her house for some RnR. We awoke in the morning and had a relaxing breakfast and then drove up to the original site of the Woodstock Music Festival, forty years ago. It turns out the museum was closed because of stupid winter hours and so we could just go to the monument. The monument overlooks the hillside where the original stage was. Really cool to actually be there where something so unique happened. Terry said she had seen some shows there and so they now have regular music events there. Which is neat. So we just drove around the site a bit and then headed back to her place for some yummy Turkey Chili and then she drove me down to stay a night in a hotel near the JFK airport. I spent my last night chilling with Shawn, who came down to visit me in the city. He brought me a huge bag of popcorn to take with me, which was awesome. So, I said my final goodbyes and in the afternoon I headed off to JFK to get rid of all my heavy shit for a short period of time. I made my weight limit which is totally amazing! No extra luggage fees! woo hoo! Travel back to Paris was very nice. I had a seatmate who was a very nice lady and we chatted throughout the flight. Pretty good airline food and a swift flight, which ended up arriving half an hour early to Paris. I arrived in Paris at dawn on a foggy morning. I had an easy time getting through customs and retrieving my baggage and settled down for a three hour wait for my train to Lyon. I got to practice some of my French, sort of, because it seemed everyone was asking me for help. I couldn't really help any of them becasue my French is not that good, but it's nice to know I no longer look like I have no idea what's going on! LOL I hopped the train just after 9 to head for Lyon. I arrived in quick fashion on the fast bullet train to find Stephane smiling and waiting just outside my train car! We hugged and kissed for about ten minutes and then headed home. So, I've just been getting settled and finding it nice to be home and pet my kitty, who still wants nothing to do with me unless I have food. Good to know some things never change. When I got home, I ate some lunch and then passed out for several hours until a late dinner, then again went to sleep around 10 to find myself wide awake at 3 AM. Gotta love that fucking jetlag! So, today is Steph's birthday and so we will go out for a birthday dinner of sushi and find a yummy cake at Les Halles of Paul Bocuse, which is right across the street. That's the plan.
Happy to be back home in France but sorry to say goodbye to all my friends in the states, for now. Don't worry, you'll never get rid of me completely! ;)
Happy to be back home in France but sorry to say goodbye to all my friends in the states, for now. Don't worry, you'll never get rid of me completely! ;)
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