'Leed' the way

One hundred and ninety miles.

Or three hundred and six kilometers. Each way.

That's the distance Mr R and I traveled to spend the weekend with A&S, right up north in Leeds. We drove. Rather Mr R did and I navigated through the M40 and the neverending M1.

It took us about five hours each way and that's no mean feat. I'm exhausted just thinking of it.

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We set out on Friday evening, maps and directions in hand, overnight bags in the boot, warm clothes stocked up along with emergency supplies in case we get stranded. Enduring five hours of never ending motorways, fog, pile-ups due to roadworks and accidents, we finally enter Leeds around 2300. The very very confusing City Centre Loop takes us for a spin and we have to call A&S for directions, but finally we make it, very pleased with ourselves for having done it.
Leeds is an unremarkable city, like many others I guess. It might have its features, but there were none that I could see out of the sixth floor apartment where we were. It's an industrial city and all you can see is brownstone buildings, skyscrapers and chimney stacks. There is no clue that we are only some miles away from the lovely Yorkshire Dales.

We decided to spend Saturday in York, which was about 20 minutes away by road. After a late breakfast (we went to sleep after 2, what did we expect?!), the four of us piled into our car and wound our way out of the city heading North.

York is a breath of fresh air after the grimness of Leeds. The city reminds me at times, of Zurich. The cobblestones, narrow alleyways and tiny buildings all leaning into each other transport us back into medieval times. It's the Japanese and Indian tourists who give away the century.

I had heard so much about the York Minster that it was the only item on my agenda. I was not disappointed. Mr R and I took a guided tour while A&S, who had been there already, wandered about in The Shambles.

The cathedral is immense and is the second seat of power after Canterbury. The new Archbishop of York is England's first African born Archbishop and we were told of how his recent inauguration had traditional African dances and music. That must have been quite a change for the pomp and splendor loving English. Times are a'changing.

The tour took us through the splendid hall, now devoid of chairs for a few weeks. The chairs are stored under the floor at such times! The stained glass windows date back to the 1300s , as do some of the other work. It is an incredible piece of ornate Gothic architecture.

At 2.30 pm, bells rang to announce a minute of prayer. A priest came up to the pulpit and spoke to the visitors reminding us that this was a place of prayer and worship and we should remind ourselves of that fact always. How true that was! As tourists and history-gatherers we often tend to look at a place from a different eye. We look at windows and carvings and gilded ceilings, forgetting that this is where God is worshipped. This was a living place of prayer and I was glad to be reminded of the fact. I wish more churches and cathedrals did that. The priest also prayed for the victims of the Egyptian ferry disaster. It was touching to have a moment like that, in a remarkable setting .

We cut our tour short and joined A&S in a French restaurant - Cafe Rouge - in the Shambles for a very satisfying lunch. Post lunch we wandered back to the car, picking up crepes to munch on. The crepes are dosas impersonating as French food. The only difference is in the filling. Mr R had apple & cinnamon while A&S chose chocolate-cream and bananofee (banana and toffee) fillings. I bet if they tried our potato recipe, they would have a riot at the stall.

Back home, S had a brainwave and took us out in the freezing evening, to ice-skate! The open air rink is a temporary setting kept alive until March. Long queues waited patiently to buy the £7 tickets and collect our skates. Except for S, the three of us had never skated before and we were nervous yet looking forward to it, not knowing what to expect. It looked easy enough :)

Easy?! The moment I stepped onto the ice, I held onto the rail for dear life. It's very hard to keep your balance the first time. Balancing on those boots and picking up the motion is not easy. I was the first to fall and gave up soon after. Mr R and the rest kept on bravely though, crawling their way around the perimeter of the rink, artfully dodging the 450 odd people who were on the rink at the same time. It was a good experience, no doubt and I know Mr R is raring to go for another time. This, according to him, was the highlight of the trip and worth the long drive.

We were on our way back on Sunday afternoon after a late brunch of aloo parathas and raita. Yummy!

In all, except for the long drive, it was a good weekend. Next time (if there is one!) we go by train!