In the Walt Disney movie Peter Pan, pixie dust stirred up from the fairy Tinker Bell’s wings, fueled by “happy thoughts”, allows Peter’s friends to fly away from London on magical adventures. Considered by those who know me to be the quintessential Peter Pan and never short on happy thoughts, I found myself in the English capital yearning for my own adventure far away from the hustle and bustle of the city center. If only I could find some pixie dust.
Although I had visited London on business travel many years ago, 
it was possibly the shortest stopover ever. I arrived late evening, took a cab directly from Heathrow to a restaurant on the banks of the River Thames to enjoy some Beef Wellington with one of my clients, then went to my hotel to sleep, wrestled with my jetlag to wake-up and meet with another one of my clients for a traditional English breakfast at the Hawksmoor Guildhall before I headed back to the airport and off to Frankfurt for a late afternoon meeting with Deutsche Bank. I was in and out of the country in a little over 12 hours, and I did it without wings. Such was my old life, packing as much in to my work day as humanly possible, always believing the more seeds one plants the more chance for something new and wonderful to sprout.
But I had turned a new leaf embarking on my “radical sabbatical”, 
doing my best to slow my life down, taking my focus off of the almighty dollar to be present and conscious and drink up everything each moment has to offer. Remembering the sage advice one of my fellow sales colleagues who was coming to the end of her working career when I was just beginning mine had given me several decades earlier: their biggest regret was traveling the world and never taking the time to explore. They would land in one city after another for a client meeting, jump in a cab to get to the hotel, to sleep, wake up and prep, cab to the meeting, and once the meeting was done to return to the airport and fly home.
Feeling blessed to be uncoupled from a job, the only responsibility I had now was to myself and to truly explore these new destinations. My three days in Ireland was short yet expeditious, and here I was with a brand new land and all its wonder at my fingertips, blessed with this opportunity to pause from the real world to drink up all these different countries had to offer, wander with wonder, mix with the locals, and make as many lifelong memories as possible.
My first order of business – to understand exactly where I was. Admittedly confused about the difference between Great Britain and the United Kingdom and England and Wales and the British Isles, I was looking forward to what would surely prove to be not only a geography lesson but also one rich in history. Come to find out, The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland refers to the political union forged between four individual countries: England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland. The UK is a sovereign state, but the nations that make it up are also countries in their own right. And from 1801 to 1922 the UK also included all of Ireland. For us parochial Americans, the best analogy would be that the UK is much like the USA, the four countries it is comprised of are equivalent to our individual states.
The flight from Dublin to Gatwick Airport in London was around €30.00 ($34.06 USD) and took all of 90 minutes from takeoff to landing. Crazy how inexpensive it is to fly around Europe, thinking if I ever was to relocate to the EU, 
without a doubt I would spend every weekend and free moment exploring new countries. For the same cost of a one-way bus ticket from Boston to NYC you can purchase round trip air travel from one European metropolis to another. The thought of that inspires the wanderlust in me for sure.
Landing at LGW 30 miles due south of London, this would be the northernmost point of my travels in England or Great Britain or whatever it’s called. And true to form, it was wet and cold with the sporadic downpour of rain. With a hunger to see as much of Europe as possible but an equal desire to chase the most temperate weather available in September, I decided to limit my explorations to the southern coastal areas and prayed the rain would dissipate. After a warm welcome from the car rental agent and their help finding my Vauxhall Insignia with right hand drive, I put my wipers on intermittent and headed out of the airport parking lot. First stop – an Old English Inn to spend the night on the outskirts of Glastonbury.
This English town wasn’t new to me and daybreak brought with it a clear blue sky drenched in sunshine. Glastonbury is often compared to my current home in Boulder, Colorado – a patchouli oil and incense fragranced hippy-land, the perfect mix of natural beauty, breathtaking vistas, spirituality, counterculture and good vibrations. It is also home to the Glastonbury Music Festival, a 5-day celebration, offering up the best bands, dance, comedy, theatre, circus and cabaret acts from around the globe. It boasts to be the largest greenfield festival in the world with upwards of 175,000 people attending annually. Unfortunately, timing was off as the festival took place three months earlier, missing my chance to catch Coldplay headlining. But there was lots to explore and do in this hipster town, beginning with my quest to chase the legend of King Arthur.
Glastonbury is known for its ancient and medieval sites, many rich in myth. 
It is considered to be the cradle of Christianity in England, and legend has it that King Arthur along with his wife Guinevere are buried in the center of the town on the grounds of Glastonbury Abbey. The Abbey ruins are expansive, the remains of a cathedral, monastery and all of its supporting structures dating to the 7th century provide a wonderful way to spend one’s morning walking its grounds. And for only £8.25 ($10.58 USD) it was quite a bargain. For those who are seeking to see actual artifacts, next to the Abbey, the centuries-old Glastonbury Tribunal has a museum with large collection of Iron Age memorabilia.
The centerpiece of Glastonbury is the Tor. New to me, a “Tor” or a castle koppie or kopje, is a large free-standing rock outcrop that rises abruptly from the surrounding smooth and gentle slopes of a rounded hill summit. Resembling a big candle on a birthday cake, all that remains of the medieval church ruins that sit at the top of the Tor in Glastonbury are the tower. And the crest of the hill overlooks the town of Glastonbury on one side with the marshy Somerset Levels on the other, providing a superb natural viewpoint. It’s a solid cardio workout to climb the stairs to the top, but well worth the effort. A favorite destination of tourists and locals alike, the Tor is a great place to quiet oneself as you take in the unending vistas of the sprawling English countryside that surround you for as far as the eye can see in every direction.
Walking back from the Tor to town, you come across the Chalice Well. 
Also called the Red or Blood Spring due to the reddish hue of the water which is caused by the presence of ferrous oxide hat that becomes oxidized at the surface. The waters are warm and said to possess healing attributes, the reason so many come here on pilgrimage. Sitting in silence next to the springs one can feel this is truly a special place. Christian mythology suggests that Chalice Well marks the site where Joseph of Arimathea placed the chalice that had caught the drops of Christ’s blood at the Crucifixion, linking the Well to the wealth of speculation surrounding the existence of the Holy Grail. The reddish coloring is said to represent the nails the Cross that Jesus died on rusting, something to ponder as you wash the well water over your hands.
This location is often featured in Welsh and Irish mythology as a gateway to the spirit world, 
portrayed as a symbol of the female aspect of deity with the male symbolized by the Tor. Complete with lavish gardens and many places to sit and reflect, it is a wonderful spot to turn one’s thoughts inward and be still in the moment. Frequent events are held on the grounds of Chalice Well to include annual celebrations for the winter and summer solstices, World Peace Day, Easter, Michaelmas and Samhain (Halloween).
This little market town of Glastonbury with a population of 8,000 is considered to be the pagan and occult center of England, and also boasts it’s aquarian heritage which apparently started back in 1970 when the music festival began. The town itself is quite unique and has a mystical air about it. Rows of colorful shops, both in terms of their facade paint as well as their provisions, line the streets providing everything from crystals to tarot card readings to high tea service to all manners of freshly made meat hand pies. I also was told fairies were aplenty, retreating to their home under Glastonbury Tor when spied by the curious. Apparently, in recent years the fey folk have abandoned their reclusive existence and with the LGBT population are now ‘out and proud’.
Purchasing a bottle of pixie dust at The Witchcraft Emporium I threw a pinch 
of it over my shoulder as directed, told it will make my wildest dreams come true. My tummy rumbling, the fairy dust worked it’s magic as I found the most delicious lamb and rosemary hand pie. While enjoying this late afternoon snack, my server was busy explaining Britain’s most famous pie recipes – Cornish Pasty and a Beef Wellington – are not even called pies, yet both involve a filling wrapped in pastry. And to add to the confusion, two other traditional favorite dishes, the shepherd and cottage pies, don’t even have pastry at all. Pondering that thought, I made my way back to my rental car.
The day’s meanderings around Glastonbury had me floating on cloud nine, dreamy thoughts about this truly magical little town dancing around my head and a grin ear-to-ear that was here to stay. Headed south-west to the Cornwall coast, it was time to shift from King Arthur birthplace to Merlin’s Cave. Pixie dust and happy thoughts in hand, my little English adventure was well underway.
