Dearest Rachel –
The thing about taking notes to tell you about while traveling is that I can either write about things to you or film them, but almost never both – and certainly not at the same time. I can show you what’s around us at a given moment, or (given time) tell you about it later, but it’s next to impossible to accomplish that concurrently. As a result, when there’s a flurry of activity, or when we’re out and about, it’s easier to film ourselves and get our reactions in the moment, rather than trying to type it all up. I don’t feel like I have time or inclination to tell you about the rest of our day in London after the weather cleared up, but I have a series of videos that cover much of what we did and where we went (as well as what we ate), so please feel free to enjoy those at your leisure.
Still, the process of filming videos poses its own set of challenges, as the momentary clips need to be stitched together (and the pauses and hiccups need to be edited out – I’ve discovered just how often I start a moment with a gratuitous “Well…”, for one thing). Thank heavens my computer serves as a portable editing booth for all that, and thus far, I think I have a decent handle on how to present my impressions of a given place without a script.
It’s not remotely polished, but it’s not meant to be. These are my (and Daniel’s, although since he’s not the one holding the camera, he’s not used to having a presence in front of it. Indeed, I’m not sure whether he even wants to develop one, to be honest) reactions in the moment, and while the worst of the tongue-trips and hesitations are clipped out, they’re as genuine as they can be. Life gives you but one take when you’re going through it, after all, so that’s what you’re getting to see.
So it was with this morning’s venture out to Heathrow to pick up our transport to the pier at Southampton. We had a deadline to deal with, so there was no time for second takes along the way. To be fair, there were moments when it didn’t seem like there was time for a first take, even – we didn’t bother describing our breakfast at the hotel, for instance, and Daniel viewed my frequent stops to open my camera and describe our situation with a mixture of amusement and impatience – but after having experienced one trip between Heathrow and the hotel, I thought we had budgeted more than enough time to get to the airport, so as to allow the occasional comment along the way.
Of course, once we were on the train – and more to the point, on the Piccadilly line – it wasn’t a matter of any hurry we could make; it was all on the train to ensure our arrival with sufficient time for us to make it to the airport. Granted once we got there – with just under a half-hour to spare – it was still up to us to hoof it to the appropriate terminal (3, but at the arrivals area rather than the departures; most of the people to be boarded on the coach were just flying in from wherever, rather than staying for a day in town), but that didn’t take nearly the amount of time we’d given ourselves, and still had left.
There was a minute or two of confusion when we didn’t see the folks with the cruise line placard – for a brief moment, we thought we’d beaten them there – but on further investigation of the area, we discovered that we hadn’t gone quite far enough into the arrivals waiting area; they were basically up at the door where travelers would be coming through after reclaiming their baggage from their flights. Once we checked in with the half-dozen staffers that were taking attendance of would-be passengers, we even got an extra fifteen or twenty minutes to pass before being loaded onto the bus.
Speaking of the bus, that’s where I’m writing this to you. I suppose I could try to edit the footage of the two of us as we made our way through streets, trains and airport, but there will be time enough once we’re on the ship (or maybe in the queue to board – I gave us until three this afternoon to check in, and we actually managed to get to the docks by noon, even if the coach took another fifteen minutes to work its way to our ship (and, in particular, unload our luggage, which required taking it to the opposite end of the ship from where most of the other passengers were dropped off).
As it is, there’s not much to comment about the M27 (at least, that’s what the road signs seem to indicate we’re on); it’s much like any interstate back home. It’s a little hillier than at home, with much more greenery on either side as opposed to concrete sound barriers, but we could see hills in Tennessee and greenery in Wisconsin. The only real difference is traffic heading the opposite direction is on our right, rather than our left, and we’ve seen that before in places like Japan. So it’s a good time to write you, and easier (and less battery-intensive) than editing footage, even though my setup is certainly portable enough for that.
I’ll try to give you a walk around the ship when we get the chance, but as we’ll have sea days between just about every port on this trip, there’ll be plenty of time for that to come. For now, I think I can just ask for you to keep an eye on us, and continue to wish us luck, as we’re going to need it yet.
Letters to Rachel 