Nicola Mawson
London - “How was England?” It's the question everyone asks when I get back to sunny SA.
“Cold, wet and expensive” is my standard response. And it is just that.
Yet, for all the rain – seeing as it was spring – it was far more than cold and wet – although it remained costly no matter where I went.
I went over to London on a work trip and tacked a few days leave onto the end so I could visit family in Kent, which is to the south-east of London.
It was an amazing experience. England is a country steeped in history and the parts I was fortunate to see still had much of that history intact. Unlike SA, there were rolling fields of green, with grazing cows, horses, sheep and even llamas. That surprised me, I thought they were from South America.
The green was quite a difference to the usual vista of brown fields laid low thanks to the worst drought in SA in recorded history – at least a century - that I usually see at home.
Leaving London was in itself a bit of an experience. I caught a bus with all my luggage – it wasn’t fun running after a red bus with a 20kg bag in my wake – and was promptly fined because I wanted to pay with money instead of a travel card.
The train was easier; they take real money at stations. But goodness, you want to try to work out which platform you need when you’re not accustomed to public transport that goes in more than two directions.
It wasn’t long before the train had left London, and images that could have come from East Enders had ceased flashing past the window.
(I did see Big Ben, Trafalgar Square and Buckingham Palace, albeit fleetingly.)
Once you get into the countryside, there are rolling fields and daffodils, and quaint homes and pubs and everything you would imagine from reading mystery books set in England.
The train station was a few short miles – yup, still imperial over there – away from the village of Hawkhurst. Not much has changed since I was last there10 years ago, although the Spar is gone, replaced by another chain, and there is a move afoot to tear down beautiful old churches and turn them into developments.
It’s safe to walk around at night, although it was hardly bustling. And everybody knows everybody else’s business.
Maidstone is about the largest shopping centre outside of Hawkhurst, and about a45-minute drive, depending on traffic. When we went, on a Friday, it was chock-a-block with shoppers; and there is every sort of shop you could want, including Pound Land, which became my favourite given the exchange rate.
But, whatever you do, don’t speed, and don’t litter, and don’t catch a train without a ticket – the English actually enforce the law over there – as I was warned.
If Maidstone is a bit too busy, there’s Cranbrook, which is the next closest thing to a shopping village nearby Hawkhurst, and this is the quintessential England we all imagine.
It even has a White Horse Inn – perhaps best known in Joburg for being a club of ill repute in Randburg, although this one was a typical English pub. I’m told the tax on booze is slowly killing the tradition of a few jars at the pub, which strikes me as rather sad.
A visit to the south-east of England would not be complete without a trip to historical Canterbury – home to Chaucer’s famous Canterbury Tales. And a cathedral that somehow survived bombing during World War 2. Much of the city was laid low, but there are still parts that remain and date back centuries.
The cathedral itself is a masterpiece, and its history dates back to 597 AD, according to the pamphlet.
Yet, Canterbury itself is now really a tourist trap, and yobs trick unsuspecting French tourists seeking to buy drugs into alleys and rob them blind. Thankfully, they only use knives, and my distinction as South African meant they avoided me politely.
Canterbury itself is rather small, unless you count the ‘new’ areas that were built after the war. Yet, depending on the weather, it’s possible to get either a historical river trip, or a more peaceful boat ride in what resembles a gondola.
I loved it.
Sadly, all too soon, it was time to head home: a train ride, two tubes later (thanks to everyone who pointed me in the right direction and rescued my luggage from the self-closing exit gates), I was at Heathrow.
Go again? You bet. But not with the exchange rate being what it is.
IOL
*Nicola Mawson was in the UK courtesy of Huawei for its P9 launch.