Sorry for leaving you all on a cliffhanger, the ferry didn't actually take two weeks to get us from France to England. Things went so smoothly after we reached the UK that it seems we've been here longer than the two weeks it's actually been. But as that's no excuse, let's get you all caught up.
The day we took the ferry was huge for me. There have been two events I've been planning for since we first dreamt up this idea in NY: Getting Winry on a plane and then getting her on the ferry. Hours of research was conducted to prepare her for those hurdles and after we made the first jump, all my anxiety concentrated on this one Tuesday.
I plotted out a strict schedule for the morning and getting to the ferry on time, including all relevant activities for preparing Winry. Our day started at 7am. For a ferry that left at noon. Sorry Zach. We flew through everything on my list since I added an extra 30 minutes to every activity and ended up at the ferry before any other passengers. We took the time checking ourselves in and filling out our cards for crossing the border. Up next was Winry and all my months of work.
I handed over her shiny new EU pet passport (yes, she's an official traveler!) and pulled her out of her carrier so that they could scan her microchip. Apparently they don't get many footpassengers bringing dogs because another ferry employee came over to help the lady currently checking us in. They both worked on filling out some paperwork while they spoke some french about "le chien" over their walkie talkies. It seemed like an eternity before they finally set down the passport and the lady said "I'm sorry, your dog can't get on the ferry." Trying to keep my calm, I questioned her decision only to be informed that Winry didn't have her -insert french word here- vaccination. The extra employee translated it as her "tick treatment". Well let me tell you just as I told them, according to England's DERFA website Winry didn't need a tick treatment to enter the UK. This back and forth about needing the -french word- vaccination that was or wasn't a tick treatment went until the extra employee leaned in and flipped over a page in her pet passport. "Oh, here it is! She has the vaccination."
I had to sit quietly for a few minutes after that one, just to settle the knot in my stomach.
Finally we were told Winry would have to stay in a kennel in the garage during the crossing. Not ideal, but we had planned ahead with a peanut butter filled Kong, multiple toys, and Zach's jacket for comforting smells. We reminded ourselves that it was either four hours alone on that ferry or she could have stayed behind in the US for nine months. If Winry understood English and was capable of making her own decisions, I think she would have chose the former too. The trip was thankfully uneventful though I had daydreams of Winry escaping her confinements and running all over the ferry searching for us, chased closely by ferry employees. Benny Hill style, of course (we were going to England). When we were taken down to the garage to retrieve her, we even found that someone had tried to feed her a few dog treats by popping them in her kennel. I imagined Winry thinking "yeah thanks for the gesture, but where are my parents?!"
It was clear that the day had taken a lot out of us when we finally got to our hotel in Brighton. We checked in, went straight out to pick up burritos from a Mexican shop we'd seen on the way, and then straight back into our room to enjoy some free English television. Half a burrito in me and cuddled up with Winry under the covers, Zach tried to warn me that if I took a nap at 8pm I wouldn't sleep through the night. "I'll take my chances," I mumbled and then we both passed out until 7am the next day.
Next up was our car share to bring us to the Wildsmiths. Ride sharing is huge over in Europe, so we thought using it in an English speaking country would be the best time to give it the ole college try. We used the website Blablacar (which has seriously amazing customer service) and rode from the coast all the way to the Wolverhampton. Our driver had just bought a small sailboat that he was transporting from one coast to the other, so the ride took quite a bit longer than expected and we embarrassingly showed up extremely late to the Wildsmith's door. So late I won't repeat it here.
The Wildsmith's are the amazing Debbie and Gary and their two sons Alex and Ross, who were so extremely kind to take us in for three days when we were desperate for a place to stay. That panicked night before the ferry also included a panicked search to find somewhere to stay for the few nights in the UK before our Scotland host was ready for us. Pet friendly hotels were costing an arm and a tail and Couchsurfing has never really worked for us. In a desperate attempt to skip wandering the streets at night, we reached out to the Wildsmiths who we're petsitting for in July. Debbie's reply was a beautifully simple response of "come xx" and a day later we were greeted with warm lasagna and olive bread. A generous greeting for two nomads and a rascal pup who had shown up far too late on their doorstep.
Debbie and I had been trading pictures and stories of our lives back and forth over Google+, so that warm feeling of being home was immediate. Over the course of the next three days we were made to feel even more comfortable and welcomed, though that's just as much to do with Debbie and Gary being spectacular hosts as it does with them being genuinely interesting people to converse with. The same goes for their boys Alex and Ross, 18 and 17 respectively, as we spent over two hours dining out one night as we had all gotten so wrapped into a conversation about each person's movie tastes. Winry, as usual, settled right in with the Wildsmith dog pack of Coco, Max and Mr. Pabs. Expect some adorable pictures of the four of them in the future. We've spent weeks and months getting attached to people over the duration of our trip but this attachment was so quick we spent most of our time on the train to Scotland repeating "I miss the Wildsmiths" and "Oh god, I can't wait until July" in an infinite loop of sadness and then joy.
As is custom with our longer host stays, we've fallen into the routine of our daily work, so there's no adventures to report just yet. Scotland is genuinely beautiful with its rolling hills and lush green fields, but terribly cold here in May so when we do venture outside we go out looking like marshmallows. Yet we are happy and healthy, and most of all, avoiding haggis.
Miss you all terribly,
H W Z
