The Course at the Henley Royal Regatta
The weekend of July 5-7 was a spectacular one for British sports. The Henley Royal Regatta took place. The British and Irish Lions beat Australia in their three test series (the first Lions win since beating South Africa in 1997). And perhaps best known of all, Andy Murray became the first Briton to win the Gentlemen’s Singles in Wimbledon since Fred Perry won in 1936. Having arrived in the United Kingdom on July 5th and stayed with a good friend, I got to experience all of this in a very English sort of way.
As I mentioned in other posts, I arrived in London on July 5 after my layover in Copenhagen. It was a long journey, and sadly, the immigration line took forever. I then took the Tube into the city, which took quite a long time as well, leading me to not arrive in Maida Vale, where my friend lives in the city, until much later than anticipated. To make things worse, my phone, which usually works abroad, is simply not allowing me to roam here, so I had no good way for calling him. When I finally made it to his flat in Maida Vale, he’d left. I wasn’t quite sure what to do, but I thought I’d find a hostel and figure things out the next day. I was disappointed, because we were to go to Henley on Saturday (the next day), and I thought I’d miss it. As I was walking down the street, however, with my backpack on my back and rolling my suitcase along, some people asked me if I needed directions (and I indeed believe that I must have looked quite lost). I quickly told them my predicament, and they offered me a cell phone. I quickly accepted, called my friend, and thankfully he was still down the street at Paddington Station waiting to catch a train out to the countryside where his parents live (I was supposed to come with). I thanked the people on the street (who turned out to be Spaniards—I gave them my card), and cabbed over to Paddington.
It was incredibly nice of my friend to wait—he was on his way home to see his family and watch the Wimbledon semi-finals on TV, in which Mr. Murray was playing. In any case, we made the next train, and were quickly winding our way through the English countryside to Newbury, Berkshire, which is close to where his parents have their home. We took a cab from the station, and soon were pulling up at their beautiful house. Located on a horse farm, it’s a quintessentially English place (at least from my American perspective), and his family were so charming and welcoming. His parents have the same names as mine, which is an incredible coincidence. His sister and his cousin were also there, and an aunt and uncle. I can’t say enough how lovely and nice they were to me. We had a nice time watching some of Mr. Murray’s game, and then went to dinner on their patio. The conversation was fun and lively, and afterwards we sat by the fire and chatted until midnight. By that time, I was entirely exhausted despite a quick second wind I’d gotten.
At 8:00 the next morning we were ready to head out to Henley. Henley is an annual rowing event that has been taking place since 1839. It’s always the first week of July (Wednesday through Sunday), and is close to the charming village of Henley-on-Thames. My friend had hired a car to take us there and get us back (as this is an all day, alcohol involving event), and he, his cousin, his sister, and I all piled into the car. We stopped along the way to get some cash, and then off we went. When we got there, it was much, much larger than I expected. There were thousands of people there, and I can only describe it as being similar to our American county fairs, just fancier. I say fancier because lots of people, including us, wear hats, blazers, slacks, and dress shoes. It was quite the event. Tents dotted the course selling food, clothes, hats, and of course drinks. It was about 9:45 when we arrived, and we made our way to a tent one of my friend’s friends knew had a TV. The TV was important, because at 11:00, the British and Irish Lions were playing their third test against Australia in their once-every-four-years pairing.
If, like me, you know little about rugby, for the Lions are a rugby team, do not despair. I didn’t know much about it either, and in fact had never heard of the Lions. In short, every four years a team of the best rugby players from the British Isles (that is, England, Ireland (north and south), Scotland, and Wales) is created, and they tour the world playing Australia, South Africa, and other teams. While it may sound like a dream team, the Lions had not won one of these since 1997, when they defeated South Africa. This game on that Saturday morning was the third of three, with the Lions winning the first game and Australia the second, so tensions were high.
When we sat down, we found my friend’s friends, all of whom were fabulously nice. We ended up with a table right by the TV, mostly because one of them had arrived quite early and sat there. In short, they were the best seats, and even for a non-rugby connoisseur without a horse in the race like me, the game was quite enjoyable. It consists of two, 40 minute halves and a half time. We got some food (as we hadn’t had breakfast), lots of water (well, I did), and settled in to watch. A group of Australians ended up sitting right by us, which was interesting as the cheers from the crowd were quite divided and marked. In any case, the Lions led the entire time, with Australia closing the gap to within a few points in the second half. In the end, the score wasn’t even close, with the Lions winning 41 to 16.
The Thames at Henley-on-Thames
After the game we made our way to the starting line of the regatta course (which, theoretically, we were there to watch—it quickly became apparent it’s more of a social thing, which I didn’t mind one bit). There were a few tables there (as many of the places to sit you had to pay an entry fee for), and some food. We had some ice cream, and got a few (actually more than a few) pitchers of Pimm’s, a sort of English sangria. Made mostly from gin, spices, and fruit, it’s quite good, although you don’t realize how strong it is until it’s too late. We saw a couple of the races start, including a team from Harvard University. The course is a rather long one from what I gather, at over 2,000 meters (two kilometers), and it was a hot, hot day (in fact, it’s been a hot few weeks since I arrived–I’ve gotten, quite literally, an English tan).
From there, we meandered back down the river to the beginning. It was packed. The pathway between the tents and the river is relatively narrow, so there were often bottlenecks where you couldn’t quite squeeze through. We made it back to the beginning though, and walked around the outside a little. One of my friend’s friends was meeting his old rowing group from university, and rest of us were just enjoying the time. At some point we decided to walk back up the course, to where we’d started the day. After what felt like a long walk (it was about 5:00 pm at this point, so we’d been there, and walking, quite a while) we were back, and sat down to more Pimm’s (or a version thereof), water, and conversation. At some point a boat with a number of Elvises (yes you read that right) came by–it was quite a sight.
We ended the day in town, at a pub in Henley-on-Thames. To be entirely honest I can’t remember what the name was, but it was pleasant, with a small courtyard in the back. We had some more drinks (you’re seeing pattern here?), chatted, and at 10:00 pm, when the driver picked us up, we headed back to my friend’s parent’s place. We all crashed in the car.
The next day, Sunday the 7th, we got up early, but not too early. The jet lag was really getting me, and while I could sleep fine through the night, I was exhausted, especially after the long, busy, hot day at Henley. Once ready, we headed up to “the club”, a series of cabin type houses on a nice little lake. Besides being able to do a number of water sports on the lake (I’ll tell you about riding the “wing” in a moment), there are also tennis courts and other such amenities. My friend and I rode with his dad, who I really liked and had a number of long conversations with on politics and international affairs. He told me all about the towns we drove through, the highways, the Roman roads in Britain, and was a spectacular bank of knowledge. When we arrived at their place, one of these cabins, we settled in, and then my friend, his sister, his cousin, and I went off to ride the “wing”. The wing is an inflatable device that three to four people can lie on at once. You attach a rope to it, which is then tied to a motorboat that pulls you around. With the right turns and enough wind under it, you can have quite a lot of fun trying to stay on. It was a blast. I’d never done it before, and I can say that it was fabulous. We did that for a while, and then my friend’s sister went for a ski before we all headed back for lunch at their place.
My friend’s mother is an excellent cook, and between her skills and the meat on the grill we had a fabulous lunch. I was also introduced to elderflower wine, a refreshing, slightly alcoholic, and sweet drink characteristic of England. It’s really very, very good, especially on a hot day like the one we had that Sunday. After lunch, most of them went in to watch Mr. Murray play in the final, while my friend’s dad and I stayed on their deck and talked, the sun, the breeze, and the view of the lake to keep us company. It was a wonderful talk that I felt set me up to be ready for Oxford and all the international stuff I’d been neglecting for years.
The game, however, went on. Mr. Murray played Novak Djokovic, a Serb, who was somewhat favored to win. Mr. Murray won the first set 6-4 in a closely fought series of games, and won the second set by 7-5. He was picking up momentum at the end of the second set, however, and quickly won the first two games of the third set (as a side note, in Wimbledon you play to no more than five sets). The British commentators were already calling it for him. By this time, my friend’s dad and I had made our way inside and were watching with as much anticipation as David Cameron (the Prime Minister) had sitting in the stands. Even I got excited—and I’m neither British or into tennis. Although Mr. Murray was ahead 2-0 in the third set, Mr. Djokovic quickly gained steam, and pulled ahead 4-2. The final two games were intense. Mr. Murray barely won the fifth game, and then it came down to the sixth and final game. Mr. Murray began winning the first points, and had a 40-0 advantage. But then Mr. Djokovic pulled back up, and suddenly he had come up to 40-A. They went back and forth three times, with Mr. Murray bringing it back down to 40-40, and Mr. Djokovic again gaining an advantage, until finally Mr. Murray got the advantage, and got the last point, which was riveting.
In short, watching a Briton win Wimbledon while here with British friends was fabulous. After we finished, my friend’s sister and cousin drove him and I to the train station at Swindon, which is not particularly nice, and we said our goodbyes. My friend and I hopped on a train, and then I had to get off quickly and switch trains. When I finally arrived in Oxford I caught a cab to New College’s Porter’s Lodge, and then checked into my room. Without knowing what the schedule was (as I’d missed Sunday’s orientation), I went out for a stroll and was lucky enough to run into the GW Law professor who runs the GW side of things here, and then found some people I know or sort of knew.
And that’s it. That’s how I spent the first 48 hours in the U.K. It was intense. It was long. But oh was it worth it. All I can do is thank my friend and his family for such a wonderful first weekend. I hope to be able to reciprocate sometime in Mexico. The Oxford program here has been wonderful, and I’ll write more on it soon (and on Bill Spectre’s Ghost Trails, which are hauntingly funny). For now, enjoy the other posts if you haven’t! I didn’t take too many pictures at Henley, so I don’t have many to post. We were busy. But I’ll take more from now on!
A View 