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  Whatever this adventure would hold moving forward, there was no better way to start it than that…just like Grammy would have.

  Chapter 2- Abroad

  The summer of my sixteenth birthday found me at my grandparent’s house, as usual. But, unlike the other visits, this year I was required to bring a passport.

  Grammy and I had traveled together many times and it was always an experience. Whether an overnight trip or a week-long excursion, there was hardly a minute wasted. Many people called what she did vacationing, but my definition of vacationing included some sort of relaxation. The structure and schedule of our trips began even before we left- with the packing.

  “Muriel, after lunch tomorrow, we will pack for our trip,” Grammy instructed, practically squealing with delight.

  The morning sun had barely starting rising, so there would be no excitement from me this early. Being sixteen, there were only complaints and resistance available in my head, but it was even too early in the day for those.

  “What do you want to do first?” Grammy asked.

  Bless her heart. She’s making me feel like I have some say in our schedule when we both know there is already a minute-by-minute itinerary in print.

  “I don’t know,” I humored her. “Can I see the outline of events?”

  This was meant to be a sarcastic statement, but my wit was lost on her, as she pulled out a piece of paper from the dresser drawer. She stood there with the paper, waiting for me to move to a less horizontal position off my pillow. I flung the covers off.

  “I’ll look at it in a second,” I told her. “I have to pee.”

  “Why do you say things like that?” she asked, frustrated with my use of the word pee.

  “Because you told me urinate sounded crass,” I answered. “Listen, it’s one or the other because that is what’s going down…literally.” I smiled at my own joke.

  There were a great many ways in which I took after my Grammy, but my potty talk was definitely from my dad. She preferred me saying that I needed to use the restroom. In actuality, I always said that- when Grammy wasn’t around.

  The plan after returning from the bathroom was to get right back under those warm covers, for some more shuteye. When I came back into the room, the bed had already been made. There was also a suitcase on her bed and mine. Hers was full.

  “When did you pack?” I asked her.

  “Last week,” she informed me, with a big smile.

  I was infuriated by the way she attempted to manipulate my morning and impress all this planning on me, but her single-mindedness was also adorable.

  “Good morning, Grammy,” I said, smiling. The salutation was meant to shame her into starting the day over…with a proper greeting. She knew exactly what I was doing because this was straight from her playbook. She squinted at me, and begrudgingly returned the sentiment. I smiled, feeling a small victory had been won.

  She handed me the itinerary which was loaded with dates, times and places. It was overwhelming just to look at. “Grammy,” I said, attempting to hand the paper back, “I’ll just follow you around.”

  “That’s your copy,” she said. “You keep it. I have one and so does your grandfather. He likes to know where I am on different days.”

  That wasn’t true. Gramps was only concerned with her return date. He wanted to make sure he could tidy up before she arrived…evict any familial houseguests…do some laundry. He even started a day or two early because she had been known to get everything accomplished on her itinerary ahead of schedule. I imagine her trips could be considered a vacation of sorts for Gramps.

  “O.K., so we’re going to be gone for ten days,” she explained. “We do not want to check-in any baggage on the flight because that just takes up extra time. So, everything needs to go in our carry on.”

  “That’s not a lot of clothing, Grammy,” I observed.

  “Sure it is,” she corrected. “The first lesson I need to teach you is about underwear.”

  We both looked at each other. She was peering over her glasses, being very serious. My reaction to that statement was trying to keep a straight face. We both started laughing.

  “That sounded silly,” she admitted, “but you are going to learn something. For ten days, we will need four pairs of undies.”

  “That is some bad math, right there, Grammy,” I commented. “For ten days, we will need ten pairs of undies.” I raised my eyebrows and held up both hands so she could see all my fingers- just in case she needed a visual aid.

  Her brow furrowed. “Just hush, pay attention and learn something,” she demanded, sounding a little frustrated. “When is the last time you traveled out of the country?”

  She had me there. This would be my first trip out of the U.S. I was excited, but had always hoped my first trip abroad would be to a warm island, brimming with sandy beaches.

  “You’re right. I have never traveled like this,” I conceded. Then, waving my arm like a game show hostess, I said, “Continue your panty lesson.”

  “You only take four pair of underwear whether you are going on a trip for a week or a month,” she explained. “One is being worn, one is drying, one is dirty and I throw in an extra just for good measure. She grabbed a pair of her underwear out of her neatly-packed suitcase and continued, “You want to roll them up because they take up less space in the suitcase. This trick works for socks and bras too.”

  “This is all incredibly riveting, Grammy, but can I go get some cereal?” I asked.

  “That’s right, you haven’t eaten yet,” she remembered. “Of course. Let’s get you some breakfast.”

  Eating my cereal was meant to be a solitary event, but Grammy was on a roll.

  “Now, when we get to London, I want to show you some women from our history,” she announced.

  I chewed my cereal quickly, perhaps swallowing too early in my haste to scold Grammy. “This better not be some sort of Oris field trip,” I told her. “Not interested. Not wasting my time. And, if need be- not going! I can stay here with Gramps and enjoy the county fair.”

  “You are so stubborn!” Grammy whined, as she left the kitchen.

  Gramps had walked in the door just in time to hear the last part of our conversation. He just gave me a look, wondering if he should go right back outside.

  “Don’t worry, Gramps, she was just informing me that I’m stubborn,” I told him.

  “Hmm, there is no commentary that would bode well for me in this situation,” he said.

  “I’m telling Grammy that you used the word bode…maybe commentary, too,” I threatened, with a big smile.

  He shook his head and smiled back. He knew my threat was a hollow one.

  “Your grandmother has spent a lot of time planning this trip,” Gramps informed me. “Don’t you go giving her a hard time. Show some respect and gratitude.”

  “Yes, sir,” I responded, sincerely. Gramps very rarely scolded me, so there was no doubt that it was deserved. He didn’t tell me how to fold my britches, but he let me know when I was getting too big for them.

  “And I heard you talking about staying for the fair. No more of that nonsense!” he demanded. “That trip cost a heap of money. It won’t be going to waste.”

  “I’m sorry, Gramps,” I apologized. He nodded his head one time. That was the signal that this conversation was over and everything was resolved.

  “Besides,” he started, “a couple of years ago everyone was very uncomfortable with the way you and Little Jed were getting along.”

  “I haven’t thought of him in so long,” I remarked. “How is he? Did he have a boy or a girl?” I asked.

  “Neither,” Gramps said.

  I waited impatiently for some sort of explanation, but he didn’t offer one.

  “Gramps,” I yelped, “what happened?”

  “Nothing happened…the baby wasn’t his,” he shared. “Something about the blood types not matching- he was very relieved.”

  After finishing my cereal, I went back to t
he bedroom to smooth things over with Grammy. Once we were getting along again, I explained how grateful I was for everything she had done for me during my life. And that this trip was something to be especially grateful for. It was special- too special to ruin with Oris history.

  She reluctantly agreed and we talked about all the grand things we would see. Grammy had been there many times, but she planned excursions she hadn’t taken before. She wanted us to share some of the same experiences for the first time.

  Days passed and, before we knew it, we were leaving for our trip the next day. We were giggling as we laid our heads down on our pillows for the night. Grammy reminded me that our heads would soon be resting on another pillow, in another country. I barely slept a wink.

  The next morning, Grammy must have noticed how tired I was. She preferred being chauffeured around, but she drove every mile of the two hour trip to the airport. Once we arrived, the car was parked and we went in search of our gate.

  The excitement snuck up on me. When we reached our gate, I peeked at the itinerary. We had one layover, but our first out-of-country landing was in London.

  “How long is the flight to London, Grammy?” I asked, wanting to be there already.

  “Well, I think we have one layover, but the itinerary has the landing time of the flight,” she told me. “What does yours say?”

  I scanned the beginning of the itinerary until I saw the time. I announced, “Tomorrow at 7 a.m.” There was a pause, and then I asked, “Is that right?”

  “Sounds about right,” she agreed. “We need to try and get some sleep on the way there so the time change won’t affect us when we land. There are lots of sights to see.”

  Grammy wasn’t kidding. The itinerary was chock-full. There were asterisks by certain tours or sights. The notations were for alternate plans if needed. She put them there in case we had extra time, but every minute was accounted for.

  Our seat numbers were called over the airport PA system and we boarded the plane. It wasn’t long before we were on our connecting flight. I couldn’t tell how long the flight took or if the food tasted good because I slept the entire time.

  When we arrived in London, we were met by a finely dressed gentleman, holding up a sign that read: Ms. Muriel. I thought it quite the coincidence until the man smiled at my Grammy and took her bag from her.

  “Good day, Ms. Muriel,” he said to Grammy. “Traveling light as usual, I see.”

  “Not really, Henry,” she corrected. Grammy stopped and turned to me. “This is my granddaughter, Muriel. She will be with me on this trip.”

  “Oh!” he said, surprised. He took my bag from me and bowed. “It is a great honor to meet you, Ms. Muriel. Your grandmother has always traveled alone. Please forgive my oversight.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Henry,” I replied. “And don’t worry about it- totally no biggie.”

  He looked at me, confused. But, being a gentleman, my vernacular was not questioned. We proceeded to the car, which was a beauty. When we started off towards the hotel, driving on the left side of the road was very stressful. Having recently earned my driver’s license, it just seemed wrong.

  “How long will it take to get to the hotel?” I wondered.

  “Only about a half an hour,” Grammy said.

  “There will be a hot English fry ready for you both upon your arrival,” Henry announced.

  That was good news because my stomach was growling. “What’s an English fry, Grammy?” I whispered.

  “It’s a name for a hearty English breakfast,” she informed me. “And, we’ll only be having one while we’re here if we want to live a long, healthy life.” Both Grammy and Henry laughed. I figured I’d find out what the chuckles were about later.

  The half hour to the hotel was nothing compared to the hours of travel we already had under our belt. Most of the scenery was lost on me because I couldn’t get over the fact that Henry was driving on the wrong side of the road.

  Driving through the streets on the outskirts of London, however, it was apparent that we were in a different country. Even the road signs were foreign. The buildings were a strange mix of very old and new. When we pulled up to the hotel, it was gorgeous. My first thought was that I would be underdressed for the entire trip. Grammy always had really nice pants suits, worn with a scarf or a necklace. My attire was more reminiscent of the American bum.

  Henry retrieved our bags from the trunk. He handed Grammy her room key, and asked if there was anything else he could do for us. The answer was no, but Grammy said we would see him tomorrow for the trip out to Stonehenge.

  “We can take our bags from here, Henry,” Grammy told him. She traded him the bags for a tip, tapping him on the shoulder before we left. I smiled and followed Grammy. The huge sign above the doorway read Brown’s Hotel. She had obviously been here before because a couple of staff members greeted her by name.

  “How often do you come here, Grammy?” I wondered.

  “Once a year,” she answered.

  We got on the elevator and rose to the fifth and highest floor of the hotel. The room was absolutely gorgeous. The décor was not screwed to the wall or minimalistic at all, like in other places we’ve stayed. Whatever I expected…it was nothing like this.

  “This suite has two bedrooms, so you pick which one you’d like,” Grammy smiled.

  “I smell like an ashtray from the plane ride,” I said. “It’s not like the smoke just stays in the smoking section. I would like to take a shower and then eat breakfast.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Grammy agreed.

  I carried my bag to a bedroom. It wasn’t necessary for me to compare the rooms, they must be equally nice. The one I chose had a sliding glass door that opened to the outside. The bed looked inviting, but until this smoke smell was gone- it wouldn’t be touched.

  “Hey, Grammy, what are we doing today?” I inquired. “I’m not sure what to wear. The clothes I brought are not that fancy.”

  “Just wear something presentable,” she suggested. “We can also shop a little while we’re here. The Burlington Arcade is just down the street.”

  “English people buy clothes at an arcade?” I asked, bewildered.

  Grammy laughed, “No, honey. It’s a beautiful shopping area under a glass ceiling. It’s been around since the early 1800’s.”

  Shopping wouldn’t receive any argument from me. A couple of new outfits would be lovely. There were only two collared shirts in my bag that looked dressier that the other t-shirts. I grabbed one and a pair of tan pants. If Grammy wasn’t happy with the selection, she wouldn’t be shy about letting me know.

  It felt like a new day after showering, but my energy was low and breakfast was my next order of business. There were two domed plates on the table, which peaked my curiosity because of the laughter in the car.

  After lifting the dome, it was apparent why only one of these should be consumed during our trip. This English fry consisted of: 2 fried eggs, sausages, bacon, mushrooms, baked beans, hash browns, toast and a half of a tomato (as if a whole one may be too much color or nutrition on the plate). There were also some black, unidentifiable round things.

  Grammy and I did our best to honor the English fry, but we were no match for the monstrous meal. I saved a little of the toast and a piece of sausage for later. We had a refrigerator in the room, so why not?

  “I don’t know about you, but I would like to go for a walk,” Grammy said. “We are scheduled for a tour around noon, but we have a couple of hours.”

  “Sounds good,” I agreed.

  When we got outside, Grammy went into tour-guide mode. “This is a borough of London called Westminster, and we are staying in an area known as Mayfair,” she explained. “It used to be full of homes, but as you can see- many of them have been converted into businesses.”

  After a few minutes of walking, we came to a little oasis of park called Berkeley Square. There were benches all around the path where people could sit, but most of them remained vacant.<
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  “This square has a lot of residential spots, but some have been converted into businesses, too,” Grammy informed. “Winston Churchill lived here in Berkeley Square in number 48, and number 50 is said to be haunted. Let’s walk over to catch the bus. It will take us down near Big Ben, and you can’t come to London without seeing that! It’s the biggest tourist trap around.”

  Grammy may have tired of the most popular sights, but that was something I wanted to see. Big Ben was always on TV shows or in movies, and it seemed the symbol of England. We arrived in the Westminster area after a very short bus ride. There were throngs of people milling about. Could anything else be expected? It was summer and we were at the number one sight in all of England.

  “We can go on a tour in a second,” Grammy said. “I want to show you something over here.”

  We walked toward a statue. There were a few people around it, taking pictures. The closer we came, the more my insides began to churn. I didn’t know who this woman in the statue was, but she looked powerful and focused. On each side of her were two younger women, maybe her daughters.

  “This is the statue of Boudica and her Daughters,” Grammy said.

  The statue was better seen at a slight distance, but I walked around it to see every angle available. My eyes filled with unexplainable tears, as my stomach continued to rumble. It would be easy to blame the English fry for my stomach’s twists and turns, but this feeling was more like watching a scene in a movie with suspenseful music playing in the background.

  Grammy was very patient while I paced around the statue. After a time she announced, “We have to go now, Muriel, but we can come back, if you’d like.”

  “No. I’m ready,” I said, trying to minimize my attraction to the bronze sculpture.

  We walked a short distance to where the tour started for the House of Parliament, also known as the Palace of Westminster. It was a very long tour, with tons of information and gorgeous rooms. I only retained two facts: When the clock tower was built, it was the tallest secular building in the world. And, in the House of Commons, there is no eating or drinking- with one exception. The gentleman in charge of reading the budget statement may consume alcohol. That little factoid was amusing, so it stuck.