Snapshots:

Out of the frying pan and into the fire:

I complained about hordes of teenagers in Oxford, now I worry about hordes of seniors in Rye. Going from roving packs of hormonally charged adolescence in one part of England to hormonally challenged mature adults in another can be very confusing.

The major problem is not with the age of my fellow tourist, but rather what it makes me confront. I look at the people in Rye and I wonder do I look as deceased to them as they do to me. Walkers, canes and people holding on to others for support, and more importantly, moving slowly and with great care is the order of the day. I think that, as I look around, all of these guys look fifteen to twenty years older then me. But that can’t be. If they were that old they would be dead. And while some of them look several years past the “use by date” they are still moving around. And, like the teenagers, getting in my way.

I go back to the hotel and spend several minutes looking in the mirror trying to decide if I look older than I did when I was in high school. The answer, of course, is yes, but how about college. Well, yes that too. The marriages seem years ago and I must admit I do look older than I did in my wedding photos.

How about Grad school? I went back to get my MFA at CalArts as a “mature student.” I was older than any of my classmates by as much as 25 years. But, they all treated me like a peer and I certainly felt like one. When I look at the class graduation photo I really don’t look that much older than the rest of my group.

What happened? Am I so into self-deception that I think that all around me is growing old, but I, “young Kenn” could never let that happen to me? I look in the mirror and I look at them and I think “No, by cracky, I’ll never let that happen to me. I will never let myself look that old even when I get there twenty to thirty years from now.”

I’m not really thinking about plastic surgery, but of course, that is an option.

Rye:

Other than old people Rye is a pretty nice place. A small village that dates back before time started, it used to be a seaport, five hundred years ago. This is where the Trafalgar fleet was located. However, some rivers filled with silt and a couple of other land shifting changes and the sea is now two or three miles away.

This used to be a hill top town surrounded by the rivers Rother, Brede, Tillingham and the sea. There medieval cobblestone streets, you know how much I love those, and really postcard buildings. There are photo opportunities every way you turn or look. Watch for the coming page in “Traveling with Kenn.”

One of the great things about going to a town that goes back centuries in history, is that it has a history. The church is from the 12th century and the Ypres Tower was built in 1249. Which just about predates the plumbing in my hotel by 150 years.


The George in Rye

Actually the hotel is in pretty good shape for a place that was opened in 1575. This fall they are planning to do a bit of an up-date which will be to the bathrooms and the electrical. I am pushing for hot-spots but I’m not holding my breath.

On a door next to the bar is a placard that lists the owners of the hotel down from the beginning. My favorite was the landlord in 1779 called Desper Rumens. According to the current manager one of his descendants still comes to the hotel each year for holiday. How’s that for stick-to-it-ness?