Moving on from the tip of Cornwall towards the north coast and the east I had a whole day of traveling with some longer breaks. With the help of Helen I had managed to find buses that would take me to the village where I had a hostel booked, and I would get to spend some time in the village of Padstow, famous for its food and especially fish and seafood. Some famous chef called Rick Stein had moved there and opened what seemed to be an empire of fish restaurants in different varieties and levels. I could only afford the fish and chips place, that was by the water and very popular with guests. It felt a bit like a McDonald’s with a bit fancier meals and ingredients. Not being very found of the fried fish with batter on it I choose grilled mackerel with garlic mayo, and that was very tasty.
Padstow was a little frightening. It was totally packed with tourists, and it felt like everything was there as a display for the visitors rather then there for the locals. It is great if they can live of their local businesses but it just all got a bit too commercial. The food theme was very obvious in the actual village itself, with fudge shops, bakeries selling Cornish pasties (pies with meet and vegetables or cheese and vegetables) or other sweets and cakes every where, all packed with tourists. It all looked and smelled delicious, but again, too much. I took some rounds in the streets, bought some fudge (it was buttery-sweet-melting in the mouth-I just want to eat more-delicious), and then escaped back to the bus stop to wait for the bus to Wadebridge.
The buses in this side of Cornwall did not like the gas pedal any less then they did in the west. Then little green buses was speeding up the hills and around corners as if it was a roller coaster. My fellow, mostly elderly passengers didn’t seem to mind. I started to think that maybe the bus driver was on kamikaze mission to kill of some of the country’s older population who refused to give it up naturally. Luckily we all survived. On the bus I also got to discover that the English are not always so polite. A woman got on asking the driver to speed up so that she would make it to her connection. Some older lady interfered and said that he did the best he could or something. The woman started yelling at her, saying she wasn’t talking to her, and that she should mind her own business, and ”I have been living here 22 years mind you”. I almost thought they would start banging at each other with the handbags.
Wadebridge was a cute unfussy market town, with much more locals and every day life going on. It also felt quite food oriented, and had some nice cafes, bread shops and so on to check out. I bought locally grown vegetables to make dinner at the hostel and had a really nice cream tea at a place called Manna Tearoom. It was a gluten free scone (made from rice flour I think) with plum jam that wasn’t over sweet, some delicious cheese, butter, pear and grapes. Very tasty and not as heavy as the regular scones with clotted cream and jam.
Content and happy that the buses had matched so well and that I had got to see some nice places on the way I got on the last bus that would take me to Boscastle.