Reeves Family Travels: Days 29-32: The Cotswolds

The "Wrong" Side of the Road

Right turn. Think wide. Really wide. Look left. Wait, or is that, "right?" Hug the right line.

These are the phrases I repeated in my mind for the first 24 hours of driving in England.

As I planned our trip, one of things that gave me a little anxiety was the thought of making a right or left turn as I drove on the "wrong" side of the road, and in the "wrong" side of the car in England.

We left London after we attended church at the Hyde Park Ward. We were in two cars, as our group of ten wouldn't fit into one van. Siri was leading me, and I was leading my Dad. Driving in an unfamiliar, big, congested city is complex enough. Driving on the right side of the car, while shifting with my left hand, on the left side of the road, made this that much more challenging.

Swinging wide for a right turn is not the only challenge; understanding where the left side of your car is often an even greater challenge. You're just not used to there being four feet of space between you and the left side of the vehicle.

Consequently, it's easy to drive down the freeway with the left side of your car drifting into the lane to the left. I didn't realize how bad I was doing that until I looked into my rear view mirror and saw my dad, who was following me, and whose left tires were a god two feet into the the lane to the left of this. It's No wonder that nobody was passing is to our left: they were frightened by the Americans who seemingly couldn't make up their minds about which lane to be in.

I was able to avoid any major catastrophes while driving (even though I did take a few right turns into the head-on traffic). My dad wasn't so lucky.

Our plan was to stop over at Oxford to see Christs Church college (more on that later) on our way to our English countryside destination of Broadway in the Cotswolds. As we took our final left into Oxford Dad, still unaccustomed to the amount of space to his left while driving on the right side of the car, clipped a curb with his left front tire--at about 20 mph. The tire blew upon impact.

No problem. We'll have that tire changed in no time.

However, there was a problem. The car we had rented form Europcar (the european version of National Car Rental) didn't come with a spare. They tried to suggest it was due to fuel economy. Yeah, right. Since when does the car rental agency care how much their customers pay in gas. I suspect that they just don't want tourist changing tires.

Nearly 7 hours later, a tow truck arrived to tow Mom and Dad to Heathrow Airport (about an hour or so back toward London). How's that speedy roadside service? Needless to say, our Oxford plans were shot, but we vowed to return another day, which we did. Mom and Dad hopped in the tow truck (the "lorie") and we stuffed eight people into our 7 passenger car and headed toward the Cotswolds. By the time they were able to get a new a new car at Heathrow, it was 11:30 p.m. and I advised them not to try to make the 2 hour drive to the Cotswolds that evening, and to get a room at Heathrow instead.

The scene just outside of Oxford, while we waited for seven hours, for customer-little-service Europcar to send Roadside assistance. We passed the time by playing cards, napping, reading, and take Abby potty 16 times.

The 7 hour delay was not all lost time, and in fact, the blow-out just might have been the act of divine intervention. By the time the tow truck driver gave my Mom (whom my friends affectionately refer to as the "Red Head") a hug to say goodbye (this woman truly is huggable), she had been through the entire plan of salvation, and had committed the good old chap to receive the LDS missionaries.

This was not an isolated event. It is part of our LDS doctrine to be evangelistic and to spread the word about truths that we have come to cherish and that have brought us intellectual, emotional, and spiritual unity. Mom has taken the slogan every member a missionary and burned into her soul. In the most natural of ways, she was frequently having deep doctrinal discussions with people from Venice to Paris.

In Oxford (which we eventually visited a few days after our blow-out), she got the email and physical address of a born-again Christian sitting next to her on a bench. Within five minutes, the two were reading verses in Revelation about the War in Heaven, our doctrine of the pre-existence--that we existed before we came to earth, and that we made a conscious choice to be here. Mom got her address as well before parting, and the woman also agreed to receive the missionaries. Perhaps one my favorite of Mom's missionary moments on the trip was her matter-of-fact statement to the rest of us, after spending 10 minutes in line with a woman from South Africa at the top of the Eiffel tower, that "she believes in the Holy Trinity." Seriously, who gleans that kind of information so naturally and less-intrusively while standing in a line with hundreds of other people noisily milling about? The following may help explain it: Mom began talking to this woman when she happened to notice that the woman was carrying a folded-up baby stroller with one arm, and a toddler in the other. Mom saw that a stranger needed help, and offered it. I, who was standing next to woman as well, didn't notice her. Mom did.

Mom is a helper. She's purely authentic and genuine (so much so that she's a terrible liar and has a hard time keeping a secret). She is what she believes. I suspect that is why she so naturally and non-offensively can speak to anyone about the gospel of Jesus Christ.

The Cotswolds

After our 7 hour delay in Oxford, we arrived late in the evening in Broadway, one of the many uncannily charming and beautiful Cotswolds towns. We stayed at a delightful Bed and Breakfast called "Cowley House" with our gracious hosts Peter and Joan. The house was built in phases, the oldest of which is about 400 years old. There aren't necessarily any "sites" in the Cotwolds. The place itself is a site. It's thatched roofs, narrow lanes lined with all-stone row-houses built between the 14th and 18th centuries, all set amongst rolling, green and yellow hills, made this area as picturesque and charming as any countryside we saw in Italy. It is simply stunning.

The Cotswolds' region boasts a collection of towns, all of which have a similar yet unique charm. We drove through many of them, snapping mental and real photos at the eye candy unfolding before us. The region is conveniently located about 2 hours from London, an hour from Oxford, 30 minutes from, Statford upon Avon (where were we able to see the Royal Shakespeare Company perform Hamlet--more on that in a minute), and 45 minutes from Blenheim Palace (a truly palatial estate that makes Downton Abbey look like a single-wide in a trailer park).

As mentioned, everyone (but Abby and Lisa) went to see Hamlet in Stratford upon Avon, performed by the world's premier Shakespeare production company. Hamlet, which is deep, long, and rather heavy, probably wouldn't have been my first choice of Shakespeare's to take the family to, but that's all that was playing the night we could go.

The kids loved it, however. Despite the difficulty of the language, the acting and production was so superb that we could all follow along. There were a few moments during the play when I had to explain to Emma (my 11 year old) what was happening, something that the "gentleman" in front of me didn't care for, and he made it crystal clear during the intermission that he came to watch the play. I wasn't gracious, mostly because I knew that our whisperings were mouth-to-ear and not particularly loud. I reminded him that Emma was here to enjoy the play too, and he ought to chose to do so as well. Needless to say, I was not able to give him a pass-along card at the end of the play.

After four days in the Broadway in the Cotswolds, we drove to Bristol for our $49 EasyJet flight to Paris. Fittingly, it was on the fourth of July that we, a band of 10 Americans, declared our independence and with the help of France, left England.

Our stay in the Cotswolds, as was England itself, was a joy. I know I keep saying this, but England is definitely a place to which I hope to return soon. Pictures of the stay here are below. Good night.

I didn't take any pictures this good. Found it online, but this is a typical Cotswolds scene.

Another rip-off form the webt, but this is another common sight

This B&B, next to ours, was built in the 14th century.

The gang on the main drag, High Street, in Broadway. This photo was taken outside of the Lygon Arms hotel, where King Charles I stayed in 1651, shortly before his defeat and beheading the anti-monarchists led by Oliver Cromwell.

Also on High Street

Emma in front of the Broadway Tower

The view from our B&B bedroom window

A few from above Chipping Camden, showing the rolling, green hills of the Cotswolds, dotted with little villages like this one.

This parish church, which you won't find in any guidebooks, was showed to our by our B&B host, Peter. It was the local church of the ancestors of George Washington.

Inside this church, the Washington Family Crest adornes this tomb. I suspect that it is not a coincidence that it contains stars and stripes.

Three generations of Reeves on Broadway

The dining hall at Christs Church, of which a replica was made for the filming of the dining hall in Harry Potter's Hogwarts.

Near the visitor's entrance to Christs Church College at Oxford. Oxford is a University in a more loose sense than an American university. It actually consists of 38 independent, self-sufficient colleges, to which most students apply directly.

More Christs Church

The college has not only produced many famous Brits, including 13 prime ministers, and Alice In Wonderland's Lewis Carroll, it was the site of the filming if some Harry Potter). Some of Harry Potter was filmed on these same steps.

Sam and Emma at the Tom Quad at Christs Church.

The grounds at Blenheim Palace, which was a gift from Queen Ann to General John Churchill, ancestor of Winston, to express gratitude for beating the French at a pivotal battle in 1704 that kept France from dominating most of Europe. Some suggest that we might be speaking French right now if it weren't for this victory. All the pictures below are of the palace and its grounds.