2013-08-15 Plymouth

The day I’ve been anxiously waiting for! Woo-hoo!!! Plymouth Rock, Sir Francis Drake, Plymouth Hoe, Drake’s Island; these are all things that I was looking forward to. I was sorely disappointed.

The day was misty and foggy, around 64 degrees, and there was a LONG wait for the tender. We were supposed to leave on the bus at 10:30 but didn’t get on it until 10:55.

We drove to Cotehele (pronounced “coat-heel”) and spent 2 hours looking around the castle, grabbing a snack in the café, wandering around the grounds, and just generally spending way too much time on something that didn’t relate at all to what I wanted to see.

I do not know why but everywhere we have gone, there have been bees. I must be a magnet for them because it seems like I could never totally get away from them. We could be sitting inside a restaurant and I could have a bee buzzing around me. But I had a good laugh at this café concerning a bee.

A man and woman walked up to the picnic table where Ed and I were sitting, waiting on Stu and Dena. The man said “Let’s sit here.” The woman got all bent out of shape, saying no, that there were wasps buzzing around the table. “I think they are yellow jackets and I’m not sitting there.” I wanted to yell at her that they were bees and they had been buzzing around an open jar of jam, until the waitress took the jam away.

Later, in the back of the bus, I heard her telling others about all the yellow jackets buzzing around that place and how nervous it made her feel. Geez! The only reason there were bees, besides the open jar of jam, was that they had the garden center right next to the café and were advertising plants that attract bees. How funny! This is the reason most foreigners think that Americans are pretty dumb.

Anyway, on the way back to the ship, we drove by Plymouth Hoe and the Citadel, and the tour guide pointed out Drake’s Island. We stopped by Plymouth Rock and got to take pictures and then it was back to the ship we went. This picture of a street really gives you a perspective on how narrow the original streets were.

I wish we had gone to Buckland Abbey, the home of Sir Francis Drake, instead of the estate of someone who had no connection that I could find to America. Yes, it was fascinating to see but I just didn’t have a lot of interest in it. I would’ve enjoyed showing Ed Drake’s Drum and the estate of an ancestor. No, he was not a direct descendant of Sir Francis, but of one of his brothers, who also lived at the estate and worked for Sir Francis. It just means that Ed, Drake and I will have to go back to tour Buckland Abbey in the future.


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