The Road to Diamond, Day 330: A Grand Gallery and A Hidden Hotel

0

October 23, 2025, Dublin- The status of churches and cathedrals in Ireland, in terms of denomination, often needs a scorecard. Some great buildings are under the Church of Ireland. Others are under the Roman Catholic Church. One parish, St. Audoen’s, has one of each. (The Protestant building is under renovation.)

Into the morass of denominational turmoil, in the mid-19th Century, stepped the figures of al-Bab and Baha’ullah, Whose birthdays, close together on the Badi (Persian Lunar) calendar, we Baha’is celebrate in back-to-back Holy Days. The concept of Progressive Revelation explains the differences among the Faiths of the past and offers a way for those of all Faiths to reconcile.

Our observance of the Birth of Baha’ullah took place in the cafe of the National Gallery of Ireland. The arts are celebrated and honoured in the Baha’i traditions. So, in an environment of splendour, some 25 of us sat and discussed various topics of interest. Following the celebration, which of course included a slice of cake and beverage, of one’s choosing, some of us went to enjoy other rooms of the Gallery.

National Gallery of Ireland

The paintings I found of interest included John Lavery’s “Her First Communion”, Jan De Beer’s “The Flight Into Egypt”, Adam Pankraz Ferg’s “A Landscape with Figures and Horses”, Jack B. Yeats’ “Above the Fair”. None of these may be shown outside the Gallery, save on its website. Thus, there are no photos, even with watermarks.

Upon leaving the National Gallery, I headed to Dublinia, a museum dedicated to the interaction between Celts, Vikings and Norman French, over the centuries, in the development of the city.

Viking information, at Dublinia

As we learned in Reykjavik, and further in Stockholm, the word Viking most likely refers to one who lives near or comes from an area near, a vik– a bay or cove. Over time, it came to mean anyone who came to the British Isles or mainland Europe, from Scandinavia or Denmark.

Here is the basic truth about the founding of Dublin.

Origin of modern Dublin

The Vikings found two Celtic settlements in the area, one on each bank of the River Liffey.

Ath Cliath (u-thuh clee uh) and Duiblinn (dove-lin).
Interior of a simple peasant hut, during Viking rule
A street scene, in 14th Century Dublin
Looking down from the steps to St. Michael’s Tower, Dublinia

Looking at my watch, it did not seem wise to go up the steps to St. Michael’s Tower, as I normally would. There was a meeting with an old Baha’i friend, at a hotel across town, in a relatively short time. Iveah Gardens Hotel was shown to me as being at a major intersection in central Dublin, except that the people who worked at that location had never heard of it. They directed me westward, towards “a big building, that you can’t miss”. In other words, they couldn’t find it on their GPS, either.

I eventually did find an Iveah Court, an apartment building. The guard there thought it was back towards where I had just been, “but in any case, just walk straight, no turns”. Two inquiries later, I came upon Iveah Garden Hotel. It is indeed an elegant place, but is discretely signed. The young lady for whom Penny and I were mentors, in the 2000s, had grown into an elegant and well-spoken teacher of the French language, the promulgation of which was one of her principal reasons for being in Dublin. We got to catch up on the course of our respective lives, for twenty minutes in the hotel tea shop and fifteen minutes walking towards her work site.

Bidding farewell to C, I headed down Cameron Street, towards Temple Bar. I found Ne Zha, an intriguing Asian tapas cafe, which normally requires reservations. The owner found a stool, on which I could sit by the kitchen and observe the chefs at work. It was a fabulous small dinner that ensued.

Tomorrow, I bid farewell to Dublin and to Ireland, with its cousin to the northeast on my radar screen.

The Road to Diamond, Day 329, Part II: A Sacred Triangle

0

October 22, 2025, Dublin- In any given new city, my wont is to wander a bit, usually towards a spire, dome or other prominent landmark-and sometimes off to a nearby spot that captures my attention.

After leaving Peace Park, that meant heading towards St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Knowing that it had closed to visitors for the day, I still wanted to get a sense of the exterior and the ambiance of the cathedral close. This was the deanery of one of 17th-18th Century Ireland’s most fascinating thinkers: Jonathan Swift. His satire was brought to me, early on. I treasured reading “Gulliver’s Travels”, when I was nine. I discussed “A Modest Proposal” with a cousin, when I was twelve. His admirers were the original “Swifties”.

The seat of the Church of Ireland was the second point in what turned out to be a triangular route. Here are some scenes of the exterior and of St. Patrick’s Park.

Main fountain, St. Patrick’s Park, Dublin
North face, St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Dublin (above and below)
Bridge between Towers, St. Patrick’s Cathedral
West face (front) of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Dublin

I will return here some day and look into the interior of the great cathedral. For now, my quest turned a bit westward in Wood Quay, and past 18th Century row houses near St. Patrick’s Close.

Row houses of Davies Place, Dublin (above and below). There was an election scheduled for Friday, thus the signs for Polling Place.
St. Nicholas Church, Francis Street, Dublin. This little gem is tucked away, behind a secure gate.
Church of St. Augustine and St. John (aka John’s Lane Church, Dublin. It is a Catholic Church, with the highest steeple in Ireland.
St. Audoen’s Church. This is the third point on the triangular route I took today. It was built in the late Twelfth Century and named for St. Ouen, a Norman French cleric. St. Audoen’s also served as the west gate to Dublin and was the last gate still intact in the 20th Century. Today, it serves Polish Catholics.
West Wall of Dublin, near St. Audoen’s Church (Above and below)
St. Audoen’s Church, behind linden trees
The Singing Hollow, St. Audoen’s Park, Dublin. Anyone who puts their head in the hollow and makes a noise, will hear it amplified.
Child’s drawing of a medieval nun, St. Audoen’s Park
West Gate of Dublin

Walking back towards Temple Bar, I passed Dublin City Hall. Of course, all business was finished for the day, but it still stood in stately pose.

Dublin City Hall

Molly Malone stood selling cockles and mussels, by Dublin Castle.

Statue of maiden selling wares, near Dublin Castle

It was a tad late, so I found Tapped, a small pub that serves a small variety of comfort food sandwiches, and whose main line is, of course, beer. I stuck with my N/A beverage and got decent service from the lone young lady who was zipping around the floor and taking the best care she could of the sizable crowd of rowdies. Cajun Chicken took care of my appetite.

Tomorrow will be another very full day-Birth of Baha’ullah celebration at the National Gallery of Ireland, a visit to Dublinia- a museum of city history, focused on the Vikings and a reunion with an old Baha’i friend from our Phoenix years.

The Road to Diamond, Day 314: Back Across A Calm Border

0

October 7, 2025, Zagreb- The bus conductor pretended to be livid, shouting in Serbian: “Five minutes means five minutes!”, as I came back from seven minutes in a supermarket queue. Some things are more essential than others, and as he well knew, no one cuts in front of a mother and two children, with a modest basket of groceries. No one does that, anywhere in the world.

The driver shrugged his shoulders and made up the two lost minutes, once we were back on the highway. We didn’t stop again until the Croatian border. There, with two buses ahead of us, we sat for ten minutes. Then, we go out, and were exited by the Bosnian border police, got back on the bus, waited until our time to re-enter Croatia, and got back off the bus. We retrieved our luggage from the storage bins and fell in line again.

A pleasant, business-like young woman stamped everyone’s passport, checked to see that the bins were empty then joined her two colleagues in the baggage inspection room. We were especially selected for the spot check, because there were a few people on board from countries which were being watched by Europol. The U. S. is not among those countries, but I have nothing to hide, regardless. The passport stamper checked my bags, educating herself about American dietary supplements in the process. I was glad to oblige. I would proudly claim that woman as a daughter, the way she dove into her tasks and joined her teammates without being told.

The rest of the way was quiet, the conductor, who was now the driver, maneuvered his way through Zagreb’s rush hour traffic-hardly Los Angeles or Berlin, but a slowdown nonetheless. The first driver got off the bus at a truck stop and the rest of us went to the now familiar West Zagreb Terminal. From there, I caught a tram to near the Mickey Mouse Apartment-a variation on Alora-Heart of Zagreb, except the apartment was on the fourth floor, instead of in the basement. It was of similar size to Alora, and was across the hall from Mini-Suite, which had Madame Mouse on the front door. This start-up apartment business seems to be unique to Zagreb, but it’s a nice idea, even if it wouldn’t work for all travelers.

The day had started a bit less organized. Sarajevo is a larger city than one might think, and there is a world of difference between the Old Town and the modern downtown, which looks pretty standard. No one near the Miljacka River bank knew where the bus station was, but a bartender (open at 8:30 a.m.) said it was too far to walk. I caught a tram, advised by a university student, and a woman who had just taken her kids to school, that it was eight stops ahead. A young woman from Germany joined me in the luggage pile section, and we power-walked together to the bus terminal, doing a 10-minute walk in 7. She sat and waited for her bus, and I caught mine outside, leaving my Bosnian Mark coins with a destitute young man who stood, forlorn, on the platform.

Here are some scenes of the day.

Sacred Heart Cathedral, downtown Sarajevo
Miljacka River, Sarajevo
Outside Visoko, Bosnia
Bosna Bucha River, north of Visoko
Bosna Bucha River, near Zenica (Zeneesa). That town had the supermarket at the bus station.

Safely in Mickey Mouse Apartment, I bid all a good night. Tomorrow, it’s off to Salzburg, probably via Slovenia.

The Road to Diamond, Day 329, Part I: The Cat, The Rat and The Cathedral

0

October 22, 2025, Dublin- The story is as old as mammals themselves: A pest is pursued by its primary predator, and tries to escape into a safe haven. The only problem is, the hiding place is big enough for the pursuer as well. In the end, neither got out.

Christ Church Cathedral is one of three major houses of worship in Dublin. It was the only one of the three that I was able to enter and wander its two accessible floors. Time and the flow only allow for a little on any given day. St. Patrick’s Cathedral and St. Audoen’s Church offered glimpses of their exteriors and closes. The interiors will wait for another time.

I spent last night in the company of fellow Baha’is, at our Faith’s National Centre, in Ballsbridge on the near South Side. We celebrated the Birth of al-Bab which, as readers may remember, occurs back-to-back with the celebration of the Birth of Baha’ullah. It is these Holy Days which give me the reason to stay in one place for 2-3 days, and what finer place is there than the capital of the Irish Republic, with its spirit of independent investigation and expression of truth.

Christ Church Cathedral lies almost due west of stately Dublin Castle, the old seat of the British Viceroys. These two were the focus of today’s walkabout, once I set out from Abigail’s Hostel, a bit north of them in Temple Bar, across from the River Liffey. This is the heart of Dublin and, despite their association with colonialism and the Reformation, Castle and Cathedral are reflective of the fierceness of Irish spirit.

A Temple Bar scene, Dublin

I began at the Castle, and its adjacent Chapel.

North Arch, Dublin Castle
Dublin Castle (Above and below)
Chapel Royal, east of Dublin Castle
Grand Hallway, Dublin Castle

The Presidents of Ireland have their portraits hung here, as did the Viceroys of the British regime before them. Thus has the Irish nation made use of a building that was once the symbol of subjugation.

The first Irish President I remember from childhood was Eamon de Valera. He was one of the few remaining heroes of the Easter Rising (1916) and was also a celebrated figure among the Irish of eastern Massachusetts, New York, Chicago and elsewhere in North America.

Eamon de Valera, President of Ireland from 1959-1973.
Mary Robinson, first female President of Ireland (1990-97)

After going through the crown rooms of the Castle, it was time to go to the Cathedral. A short five minute walk found me at the entrance to Christ Church, seat of the Church of Ireland.

Foyer, Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin
Nave, Christ Church Cathedral (above and below)
Nave and transept, Christ Church Cathedral
Tiled floor, Nave of Christ Church Cathedral
Tiled floor of the south chapel, Christ Church Cathedral
Altar and sanctuary, South Chapel, Christ Church Cathedral
Great organ, Christ Church Cathedral
A scene from the Crypt, Christ Church Cathedral (above and below)

This brings us to the titular cat and rat. The two were found, mummified, inside the great organ. They are now framed and placed next to the Crypt toilets.

Two errant adversaries

Once I left the Crypt, lighter figures greeted me.

Millennium Child, Peace Park, Dublin
Peace Park, Dublin
Peace Park, Dublin

With that, my attentions were drawn to the exterior and close of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, about which more in the next post.

The Road to Diamond, Day 328: An Ancient Surprise

2

October 21, 2025, Dublin- The two ladies, ecstatic at seeing one another after an apparently long time, began excitedly chatting as the bus left Rosslare, for central Wexford. They were mirrors of my mother, and two of her three sisters.

I know that my grandfather’s family left this part of Ireland for Germany, sometime in the late 15th or early 16th century. That information was passed to me as a child, by my eldest maternal aunt, who looked exactly like the silver-blonde haired woman holding court on the bus. The other two ladies could have been Mom and her closest sister, when they were in their forties. I have long felt a bond with the Irish, and with Celts in general, without really knowing why-until today.

Once in Wexford, I had about an hour to while away, until the train to Dublin was ready to leave. So, with bag and baggage, I walked about Redmond Square and the West Side Cultural District. Here are some scenes from this town that, in an ancient surprise, was likely the ancestral home of the Cooks, who became the Kusch family, once in Germany.

Redmond Obelisk, Wexford
A broader view of Redmond Square, Wexford

The Redmond family brought the train to Wexford and drained marshland, to make the area fit for human habitation.

West Gate, Old Wexford
West Wall, Wexford (above and below)
The “Sheriff Street Bull” of Old Wexford. Ironically, the sculpture by John Behan is titled after Sheriff Street, Dublin, which is where he grew up. There is another replica, I’m told, in Galway, western Ireland. John was fascinated with bulls, which he likened to the Irish male, who felt forced to move away or to return to an uncertain future. That may well have been the case with my Cook forebear, off to Germany to seek his fortune, in the days of the Hanseatic League.
Statue of Irish Wolfhound, Westgate, Wexford
Nicky Rackford, a legendary Irish Hurler, who hailed from Wexford. Hurling is an ancient Gaelic sport, akin in many ways to Gaelic football. It is described more fully here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hurling
Ruins of Selskar Abbey, an Augustinian monastery of the 12th Century. (Above and below)
The indomitable Irish women, celebrated in Westgate, Wexford

It was time to board the train, so I left things like the John F. Kennedy Arboretum for another time. I did get a few glimpses of Muir Eirann (Irish Sea) from the train, between Wexford and Dublin.

Irish Sea, south of Arklow
Irish horses, enjoying life by the sea
North end of inlet, above Wexford
Avoca River, near Wicklow
Foliage, outside Wicklow
River Vartry, near Wicklow
Rainbow above Irish Sea
Wicklow Head
Wicklow
Irish Lights Building, Dun Laoghire (pronounced dun leary)

At long last, we arrived at Connolly Station.

River Liffey, from Connolly Station

To my Cook relatives, your song resonates through the centuries. To my Connolly relatives (on my Dad’s side), this station is named for your distant cousin, an Irish national hero-but you knew that.

The Road to Diamond, Day 327: Across an Emerald Sea

0

October 20, 2025, Rosslare, Ireland- It had slipped my mind, the location of Ocean Lab Cafe-a function of “landmark bleed” (my term), where two places that are close to one another while still some distance apart, become adjacent in my mind. So, my friend Sian and I walked to the grocer, looking for the cafe. As we learned, Ocean Lab Cafe is on the berm that is closer to Goodwick Jetty. The grocer is off the street below. I had been to both, yesterday, while a bit tired from the day’s journey-thus, the landmark bleed.

No matter, we sat and enjoyed hot tea, with no crumpets, as it was mid-morning, and I had enjoyed a full Irish breakfast at Rose & Crown, prior to meeting Sian in the foyer of the guest house. We walked a short bit along the beach, both savouring the salt air and very pleasant clear sky. Ocean Lab is a small aquarium and oceanographic education centre for local children. It also offers Welsh products for visitors, so I purchased a box of tea bags and a tin of chai, each produced locally.

Our meeting lasted about two hours, then it was time for me to head towards the ferry to Ireland. Sian drove me as far as the ferry entrance. I then had to walk around a few barriers, to what turned out to be the Fishguard Harbour Train Station. I was the last one through the chute, but no matter-I was still five minutes shy of the gate closing, and that was only to board the bus to the ship. As it happened, we had to go back and pick up all the people who had been inside the priority visitors’ lounge. We ended up leaving well in time.

I decided to do something different this time-put my computer and journal in stowage and turn off my mobile phone. I enjoyed a full lunch, then sat and contemplated St. George’s Channel-the narrows of the Irish Sea, only nodding off for a short time, in mid-voyage. A few small children who were excited to look for whales, and a snoring man, the next table over, were there to break any monotony. The emerald sea was basically rather calm today, and the mood on board rather relaxed. We were in Rosslare in four hours and twenty minutes.

Irish customs and immigration checked the two American passports separately, but were a pleasant, jovial pair, thanking us for our cooperation. The rest of the bus riders faced a canine unit inspection, which turned up a couple of cans of English ale, and thankfully no drugs. We were let loose within ninety minutes. My transition from Europort to Home from Home Guest House did, however, entail a workaround past the usual tut-tutting from Spectrum, that I could not call my host without being connected to WiFi, and there was no connection at the port. A kind fellow passenger, who lives in Wexford, called my host and got directions. I found the bus that serves Rosslare, rode as far as Coast Hotel and voila, my host, Gemma, was waiting for me as I got off the bus.
“You’d never find the place, in this darkness”, she said, and we walked the five minutes to the apartment house. I was given a cozy and warm introduction to Irish lodging facilities, with the requisite bath tub (in the British Isles, a mere shower stall is frowned upon, though some hoteliers have little choice.) Gemma excused herself, and I headed back to Coast Hotel, for a dinner of fish and chips. The meal was more than ample, and I felt another nice day had passed.

The Road to Diamond, Day 326: On Jemima’s Jetty

0

October 19, 2025, Fishguard & Goodwick, Wales- In 1797, a group of French soldiers sailed from Camaret-sur-Mer, Brittany to an area near the port of Fishguard. Their orders were to invade Wales and destabilize Britain. The rather cockeyed scheme failed, largely due to the soldiers having been poorly trained. They spent their first hours in Wales getting drunk. When they became sober, they found themselves surrounded-by a group of local women, armed with pitchforks. The Welsh women were led by one Jemima Nicholas, who secured twelve of the soldiers by herself. The course of this invasion is chronicled on a remarkable piece of art: The Last Invasion Tapestry. https://lastinvasiontapestry.cymru/

I stood at the tip of the jetty where much of the action took place. It is not a steep path from the water’s edge up to the top of the jetty, but mooring at that part of Fishguard Harbour would require very detailed knowledge of the rocks and shoals. The Jacobin troops would not likely have had that knowledge, but the locals did then, and certainly do now. When the invaders arrived, the Welsh men were at the area now used as a ferry port for travel to Ireland, and the women were guarding the jetty. The uninvited guests had no chance.

I left Salisbury fairly early, catching what i thought would be a train to Bristol, then was prepared to catch a separate train to Cardiff, Swansea and on to Carmarthen and Goodwick. Lo and behold, the train on which I embarked was headed to Swansea, and would arrive there four hours earlier than the train for which I had a ticket. With the okay from two conductors en route, I stayed on the train, clear to Swansea.

The train ended at Swansea, a key crossroads, west of the Welsh capital of Cardiff. I had to use a replacement bus to go on to Carmarthen, and so had to exit the train area. A transit auditor looked at my ticket and gave a mild scolding about not waiting at Cardiff for the later train. He then looked at his watch, sighed and told me to just go to ticket control and have my ticket exchanged. That was done very easily and I joined the queue for the bus to Carmarthen.

This bus, which took the place of the train, due to work being done on the tracks, took us through rolling hill country, in land from the winding and rocky coast of southwest Wales. It is said that Carmarthen may be the oldest town in Wales, having been founded by the Romans, around 75 AD/CE. We did not have any time to look around, though, as the train to Fishguard & Goodwick was set to leave, eight minutes after the bus rolled in. Besides, on a Sunday, most places were closed.

Once the lightly-populated train got to Fishgaurd & Goodwick, I had about thirty minutes before check-in at Rose & Crown Inn. I was able to stow my bags in an unused room, then went down to look about the town. As I walked near the harbour, three local boys were listening to some techno pop, on a hand-held radio. One of the lads started doing a fist pump dance. I pumped my fist a bit, which got them giggling.

The jetty on which Jemima and her crew stood against the invasion force is now a place for locals to walk their dogs and for visitors to get in their steps.

Rose & Crown Inn, Goodwick
A fishing dog, at Goodwick Jetty
Fishguard Harbour, with Goodwick Jetty to the far right.
Goodwick Jetty, with Pembroke Peninsula to the south (above and below)
Fishguard Town, from Goodwick Jetty

My purpose in Goodwick is to meet a friend from Pembroke, tomorrow morning. This evening, though, I settled in at Rose & Crown. The young lady at desk had been working largely alone, all day, and looked exhausted. She nonetheless summoned cheerfulness and helped me get up to the room. The fresh crew at dinner time was also very pleasant and offered a plate of brisket with fried potatoes- great stuff!

This small introduction to Wales has given me a fine impression of the country within a country. Tomorrow morning, my friend from Pembroke and I will walk about the harbour area, just a bit, then head over to Ocean Lab Cafe, a Goodwick original.

The Road to Diamond, Day 325, Part II: Robe and Town in Salisbury

0

October 18, 2025, Salisbury, England- I arrived at Victoria Lodge, on Salisbury’s north side, a little after 3. The kindly, proper host’s intel said that the last bus to Stonehenge would leave the train station at 4. She was going by the summer schedule, which ended on September 30.
I thanked her, and realized that the afternoon was meant for Salisbury Cathedral, a place that was set aside for special study by my Art History professor, in 1973.

The Cathedral Church of the Blessed Virgin Mary was originally at a site now called Old Sarum, as was the community of Salisbury. Old Sarum is now an English Heritage property, a recognized and well-preserved historical site. The community moved two miles south, to its present location, in the early 13th Century (1220) and the new cathedral was completed by 1330. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salisbury_Cathedral

I walked about the Cathedral Close (area outside the church) first, then took in the magnificence of the use of light, which so enthralled Dr. Eichholz, back in the 1970s, that we spent nearly two weeks on various aspects of Salisbury Cathedral.

Salisbury Cathedral, full exterior
“Walking Madonna”, by Dame Elisabeth Frink, north lawn of Salisbury Cathedral
North face of Salisbury Cathedral
Stained glass of North Side, Salisbury Cathedral
Transept, Salisbury Cathedral (above and below)
Nave, Salisbury Cathedral
Ceiling, Salisbury Cathedral
Chancel, with choir in practice, Salisbury Cathedral
Bumping Stone, Salisbury Cathedral-at which a new initiate into the choristry has his or her head bumped on the stone seven times, whilst the chorus sings.
Stained glass, above Baptismal Font, Salisbury Cathedral
Altar, Salisbury Cathedral
Explanation of Magna Carta, Chapter House, Salisbury Cathedral. The original was brought to Salisbury by Elias of Dereham, who had been at Runnymede, in 1215, and was now supervisor of the initial construction of the Cathedral.

The docent in Chapter House explained the course of the Magna Carta’s being first signed by King John, then repudiated by him, with the connivance of Pope Innocent IV. It was this papal duplicity that set the wheels in motion for the English Reformation, which took place 300 years later.

West Gate (Church Gate), Salisbury Town
River Avon, with Cathedral spire in background.
River Avon, serving as a canal, center Salisbury
Clock Tower, Salisbury City Centre

The center of Salisbury was packed with visitors, and many dining venues were expected to be packed. I had an early dinner at Cote, a French-style cafe, then walked back to Victoria Lodge, the day having been more than full-even without Stonehenge.

The Road to Diamond,Day 325, Part I: Portsmouth’s Daylight

2

October 18, 2025, Portsmouth, England- Dawn came, the ravers and revelers had gone home and it was time to ready for another train ride. So, after the morning routine, I headed down to breakfast-greeted cheerfully, with a bit of wariness, by the Scottish hostess. It was a lovely full English spread, with bacon, scrambled eggs, grilled tomatoes and baked beans-along with the buffet standards- fresh vegetables and fruit, croissants and toasting bread, a few pastries, hot and cold beverages. It looked to be the last such buffet on this journey, so I took my time and enjoyed.

After breakfast and devotions, it was time to see Portsmouth, on the morning after. There was no huge mess left over-the street crew had come early and was still out in force. I headed first, through the east end of Guildhall with the goal of the near waterfront.

Here are some scenes of a Portsmouth morning.

Triangular office building, Guildhall

Crossing the busy intersection, looking right, left and right again (It’s even written to do so, on the pavement), I walked past fields of young men practicing on the Rugby field-a Royal Navy facility. Portsmouth is RN headquarters, after all. At the end, there are the monuments to science and technology, with Spinnaker Tower to the right of the lower round building. Spinnaker is a place from which to get breathtaking views of Portsmouth, Southampton and the surrounding area. I had little time, though, before the scheduled train, so this was my look at the area.

Spinnaker Tower (center) and Science complex (round towers)
Street art (and “Sir Isaac Newton”) This rather offbeat focus on vision, and “sea aliens”, was at the entrance to the small wood that is in the background.

Heading back to IBIS, I retrieved my bags and started towards the train station. The majestic Guild Hall was no worse for the wear, after hosting many flirtatious youngsters and others, the previous night. It is now an event center, and does its job rather well.

Portsmouth Guildhall

Guildhall Square honours tradition.

Queen Victoria, Guildhall Square
Hampshire War Memorial

With that, I headed to the train station, expecting to board the train towards Salisbury. Yet, there was no train to Salisbury. Britrail has an occasional cancellation. This was one such. The Transit Officer explained what I would need to do to re-route, so about forty minutes later, I was on a train to Fareham, and from there to Southampton, where I changed trains again. The rigmarole meant that the train would arrive in Salisbury at 3 p.m. This meant that I would not be going to Stonehenge, as the last bus to that venerable site leaves at 2 p.m., during the “winter months”, which in tourism parlance include October.

This gave me more time to focus on Salisbury itself, and on its majestic Cathedral. More on them both, in the next post.

The Road to Diamond, Day 324, Part II: Across the English Channel

6

October17, 2025, Portsmouth, England- The instructions given me by the young man who worked maintenance for the city of Dieppe only revealed to me how often he has been on the far north side of his adopted city. I got in another good walk, thanks to the clarification I received from the middle-aged couple who had emerged from a cafe along my initial route.

I found the port city, about an hour northwest of Rouen to be struggling somewhat, trying to decide where to modernize and where to preserve. It can be an attractive city, especially if services between the Train Station and the Ferry Terminal, some 2 kilometers to the west, are better advertised. Right now, the shuttle is only promoted by a phone application. The question persists- What if phone service hits a dead zone? I have run into that situation with buses in one or two cities along the way, as well, though not in France.

Long story short, I did reach the ferry terminal, after a 30-minute walk. It is an austere, but still comfortable place, lying almost under the white chalk cliffs that are mirrors of the well-known cliffs of Dover. The charming purser was the first person to mention the shuttle to the train station-for those arriving from Newhaven, Nonetheless, if there were her counterpart at the train station, it would save a lot of difficulty for some of those in not so good shape.

Here are some views of Dieppe, from the train station to those white cliffs.

Old Customs House, Dieppe
Main fishing pier, Dieppe
White cliffs-of Dieppe (above and below)

Once on board the vessel, I went into a cabin-a new experience. Being able to catch up on writing, whilst on board a ship was an experience I’ve had on only one other occasion: The Tiger Cruise from Honolulu to San Diego, in 2014. I also slept for an hour or so. When curious about our progress towards England, I could monitor on this laptop. I did miss interaction with others, but managed to be among the crowd for the last 20 minutes of the voyage.

At the small port of Newhaven, it didn’t take much time to process into the United Kingdom, as customs and immigration are streamlined and train passengers are processed first, so as to not get stranded in the small town, with few lodging options. I was on the train to Brighton, then to Portsmouth, in short order.

Portsmouth on a Friday night is a revelation. The Guildhall District, where both the train station and IBIS Hotel are located, is also the home of University of Portsmouth. The club scene is especially lively tonight, but no one bothers the lone traveler walking with backpack and wheeled suitcase. They are all just having a great time and music fills the air. I’m happy to see it all.