We interrupt our tour of Old England to give you a breath of fresh sea air from New England!  Last weekend I skipped town, packed up the hubby, and headed north to visit my little brother Dan on Block Island, RI.  Dan has lived on Block Island since November of 2009 – he’s the reporter (yes, the only full-time reporter) for the local newspaper, The Block Island Times.  (By the way, check out the newspaper and his blog, and you’ll see that writing runs in the family.)  Hubby and I have been itching to visit since he moved to the island, but the stars finally aligned – by which I mean I could get out of work and there were no hurricanes – last weekend.  I can’t believe it took so long!  Hubby and I loooooooved Block Island and we’re already wondering when we could go back.  Here are some favorite snaps from the trip…

Windblown hubby rides the ferry.

Everywhere on the island there were these stacks of rocks.  We couldn’t figure out what it meant.  Anyone know?  My money’s on aliens.  Stacked rocks > crop circles.

Dan scales a sand dune.

Hubs and bro… what could they be talking about?  Probably planning to ditch me so they can go watch football and play video games.  Sorry, boys, you won’t get rid of me that easily!

The South East Light… rather an easier hike than the North Light. 

Sailboat spotting at the Cut in the Great Salt Pond.

Boats, boats, as far as the eye can see. 

Until we meet again, Block Island.  Until we meet again…

Had a bit of fun with my photo editing software and wanted to share the results.  I like the slightly washed-out, vintagey tones.  It’s very different from the riot of color that the Arles market actually was, but it makes me feel a little bit like I’m reading Peter Mayle, looking at the Provence of 20 years ago.  A bientot!

The Lake District is one of the most beautiful parts of England.  I don’t say this lightly.  England has an embarrassment of riches where natural beauty is concerned.  But the Lakes were particularly awe-inspiring.  We went to the northern Lake District, which has largely escaped Wordsworth and Beatrix Potter mania.  Based outside of Keswick, in September, we saw plenty of other tourists – but mostly Brits, a few Dutch, and no Americans.  I will always hold the Lake District close to my heart, because it was there that I learned two important lessons: (1) a pot of tea after a rainy hike is the best thing ever; and (2) I like scones.  (Laugh if you will, but it was in a Keswick tearoom that I bit into a warm, soft, flaky cream scone and discovered that scones are actually not made of chalk.  Who knew?)

Castlerigg stone circle – as old as Stonehenge, but you can still walk right up to the stones and touch them.  (I tried to go back in time a la Outlander, but no joy.)

Druids totally wore L.L. Bean rain jackets, right?

A white-knuckled car hike over Whinlatter Pass outside Keswick.

Puddle-splashing around Buttermere, a small and ridiculously beautiful lake outside Keswick.

Sure, we got soaked to the bone, but it was nothing a pot of tea couldn’t remedy.  And after we had warmed up, the sun was out – miracle! – so we headed over to…

Derwentwater, the biggest lake of the northern Lake District.  Keswick perches on its shore.  We were amazed at how unspoiled the Lake District was, for a place that has been a tourist attraction for generations.  We can’t wait to go back… but hopefully we get a bit luckier with weather the next time we hike Buttermere.

As our upcoming trip to England draws nearer, I’m finding it harder and harder to contain my excitement.  You see, as much as I loved our trip to France, I’m an Anglophile at heart.  And while I can’t wait for the new discoveries that I’m sure to make on this next trip, I’m feeling a bit nostalgic for some of the parts of England that we loved when we visited back in 2008.  So I thought I’d share some of those pics with you, since they pre-date this little blog.  We started our journey in York, so that’s where I’ll begin my recaps.

First stop – the pub, obviously.  We hadn’t slept since D.C.  Hubby wanted ale and I wanted mushy peas.  (Hubby has his priorities straight; I might not.)  So we hit up Ye Olde Starre Inne – York’s oldest pub.  The mushy peas were glorious.  I can’t speak for the ale. 

You don’t visit York without spending some quality time at the Minster.  It was astoundingly beautiful both inside and out and was hubby’s favorite cathedral of the entire trip.  (I liked Westminster Abbey because I’m a history booknerd.  But York Minster was a very close second.)

Inside the Minster – gorgeous carvings.  I loved the light-filled nave.

York Minster choir stalls – pic snapped for my father-in-law and sisters-in-law, who either have in the past or currently belong to Episcopalian church choirs.  Hubby and I were lucky enough to catch an Evensong at York Minster and it was one of the highlights of the trip.

A walk around the Minster reveals… FLYING BUTTRESSES!  Oh yes, I went there.  Holla back, A.P. European History!

Walking through the medieval York streets, we stumbled upon this guy.  Anyone know what it meant to have a devil above your shop door?  In medieval times, the devil was a sign that the shop below was a printer.

Clifford’s Tower – site of a mob riot in 1190.  Okay, history lesson over for the day.

St. Mary’s Abbey.  Ah, York, how we loved visiting you.  Even though your ghost tour did give us nightmares.  Gorgeous medieval streets, a stunning cathedral, great food… it was a perfect low-key but still breathtaking place to start off our U.K. adventure.

I waited a long time to take this picture... The Eiffel Tower, Paris, France

It’s probably safe to say that if you know me outside of the cyber world, or even if you’ve been reading this blog for awhile, you know that I love to travel.  One of the great joys of my life is seeing new places and experiencing new things.  I’ve been lucky in that I’ve traveled to some fantastic places, even at a young age.  My parents took my brother and me on awesome vacations and made it possible for me to participate in an exchange program in Germany when I was 16, which was the beginning of my love for international travel.

Old Man of Storr, Isle of Skye, Scotland

Why do I travel?  It’s more than just being able to take a cool picture and tell my friends and family, “Dudes, you would not believe how big the Eiffel Tower is!”  I think it’s vital to our humanity.  I think it’s something we all need to do.  I think we need to see for ourselves that there are other perspectives, other ways of living and being… and they are totally valid.  We have to step out of our comfort zones.  We have to connect to those who are different from us.  We have to search, and appreciate.  I can’t imagine not doing those things.

Loch Ness, Scotland

Hubby and I have been married more than five years, and we’ve traveled as much as we can with two busy lawyer schedules.  Together we’ve gone to the Bahamas – twice – to Canada, Mexico, England, Scotland, California, Texas, and France.  My family constantly asks me: where next?  At the moment, we’re planning a return visit to England, to catch some of the must-sees in the south that we missed when we traveled through the north of the country in 2008.  And after that, who knows?  I’m lucky that hubby shares my need to get out there and see things.

Ancient Walls, Le Crestet, Provence, France

I’ll tell you a story.  My grandpapa passed in 2008.  The spring before he died, hubby and I visited my grandparents on Long Island.  Grandpapa wanted to drive past the famous forsythias.  We cruised down the road, appreciating the riot of yellow flowers and he told us that he had driven past the forsythias every spring for many years.  He and my grandmother had traveled the world together.  Once, they met Harry Truman.  From the driver’s seat, Grandpapa reflected, “Gee, I’ve had a lot of fun.”  Someday I want to look back on my life and say the same thing: “I’ve had a lot of fun.”

Hubs and Messy in front of Notre-Dame, Paris, France

I’d be lying if I said that travel was always easy and seamless.  I’ve dealt with my share of delayed and canceled flights, bad weather and creepy hotels.  But I’m never sorry I went.  Case in point: on our epic trip to the UK, hubby and I planned a hike in the northern Lake District, outside of Keswick.  We waited for that hike for a long time.  On the day we planned it, good old Blighty hit us with rain, mud and mist.  We went out anyway.  We flew halfway around the world for that hike, and a little mud wasn’t going to stop us.  It was one of the coldest, wettest, best days of my life.

Buttermere, outside Keswick, Lake District, England

It’s a scary world out there.  On the radio, we’ve heard about earthquakes, meltdowns (nuclear and financial), revolutions.  That’s why we have to travel.  We have to reach out.  We have to learn how we’re different, and how we’re not different.  Please, go someplace that scares you.  I’m not talking about going somewhere dangerous.  I’m talking about putting yourself out there, for example, in a village where no one speaks your language.  Stumble across language barriers with your phrasebook clutched in your hand.  Shake it off if you get a dessert you weren’t expecting because you accidentally said “fromage blanc.”  (It’s insanely good, I know from experience.  Holla back, Burgundy!)  See how people reach out to you if you forget your ego at home and reach back.  See how they welcome you.

Thrilled to be here, sipping pastis in a sidewalk cafe, Vaison-La-Romaine, Provence, France

If you’re wondering where hubby and I are going on vacation this year, that ^ was a hint.  Here’s another:

That’s right, we’re going to England!  Yeah, we’re pretty psyched.

Hubby and I did an epic road trip through northern England and Scotland back in 2008.  In two weeks, we hit up York, Keswick (the Lake District), Oban, the Isle of Skye, Inverness and the Scottish Highlands, Edinburgh, and London.  It was a whirlwind and we had the time of our lives.  This time, we’ll be doing southern England, so we can catch the sights we missed on our first trip.  We’ll be starting our trip in Bath, then heading to Cornwall for a few days, back up to the Cotswolds (during which time we will take a day trip to Wales), and finally wrapping up with five glorious days in London.  London is the only repeat on this trip and when we were there in 2008, it was only for two days, so we felt extremely rushed.  We’d like our London experience to be like our Paris experience – we’d like to have enough time to see everything we want to see but still leave time for wandering, loafing, and sipping tea.

I think it’s safe to say we’re basically out of our minds with excitement to be going back.  Cheerio!

While we were in Paris, hubby and I stayed in a cute hotel off of Rue Cler, which was one of the prettiest, most picturesque corridors in the city.  First and foremost, Paris is a city of neighborhoods – much like D.C.  Hubs and I gave great thought to which neighborhood we wanted to make our home base for our five (awesome!) days in my new favorite city.  Our guidebook (Rick Steves, which I highly recommend) suggested Rue Cler among a few other neighborhoods, and we knew almost instantly it was for us.

Rue Cler is a little street located close to many of the major sights.  It is a neighborhood where locals actually live, and staying there, you can begin to feel what it might be like to be a Parisian.  You stop for your morning cafe creme at Cafe Rousillon…

Pick up some fromage, the smellier the better…

Check out the fresh catch at the seafood market…

Browse for produce (all so fresh, amazing!) at Top Halles corner market, an offshoot of the famous Les Halles superstore…

These strawberries were to die for.  Seriously.  Best strawberries ever.

And finally, you relax with an aperitif (kir royale, anyone?) in one of the little sidewalk cafes.  Tres magnifique!

Rue Cler was the perfect neighborhood for newbies to the Paris scene.  Hubby and I felt like locals, but we were a short walk or a hop, skip and a jump on the Metro away from the major tourist attractions we wanted to hit.  Perhaps the best thing about Rue Cler was that we were just a ten minute walk from the Eiffel Tower!  We made it a ritual to pick up a Rue Cler picnic for breakfast each morning (a fresh baguette from one of the boulangeries, a wedge of Brie from the fromagerie, a pint of strawberries from Les Halles, and cafe creme from Cafe Rousillon) and walk over to the Eiffel Tower to start our days in its shadow.  It was a very, very good way to welcome another morning in Paris.  And all possible thanks to the abundance of Rue Cler.

Paris.  The city of light, the most romantic place in the world.  Where to begin?

Eating Berthillon ice cream on Ile St. Louis.

Paris was basically everything I dreamed that it would be, and more.  The iconic images of Paris – the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Notre-Dame – were all even more spectacular in person than in pictures.  The people were warm, friendly and welcoming.  The art was beautiful.  The food was tremendous.  I think I’ll just let this city speak for itself in pictures…

If you haven’t been there, go.  Tell them messybaker sent you.  Bon voyage!