Two pleasant train journeys - broken up by approximately 3 minutes in Plymouth - brought us into St Austell a bit sooner than planned. We didn't spend much time in St Austell itself, heading out to Anchorage House for a 2-night stay. It certainly looked swanky on the website but even so we were initially quite overwhelmed by the sheer luxuriousness of it all, especially as we were staying in the swankiest of the swanky, complete with two levels and an open-plan bedroom/bathroom. Honeymoon or not, we couldn't help but think "woah... this is too good for the likes of us," so different was it to what we've been used to. It was everything promised, the kind of luxury we'll most likely never experience again - for one thing I could never really justify it to myself but for the honeymoon - but for 48 hours it was a curious thrill. The swimming pool was a particular delight, since I had it all to myself both times I went, carefully exercising my still-swollen leg, while the breakfast served was excellent, setting the standard for the rest of the holiday. Staying at Anchorage House was almost dizzying, like a particularly rich meal in a restaurant normally way beyond your paycheque, and made a fine start to the honeymoon-proper.
So, what to do there? In a word, Eden.
Eden Project, that is. It's the first thing people mention when you say you're going to Cornwall (the second is either pasties or cream teas, of which more later) and understandably so. A stunning achievement, encompassing geology, agriculture, art, biology and plenty more, the domes rising out of the Cornish landscape like the future we were promised in the 80's. It was plenty busy when we went, what with us choosing the very worst time of the week to go - ie early midweek, rainy day - but even so it wasn't a problem. The Rainforest Dome was pretty heaving with people, but not claustrophobically so, while the Mediterranean Dome was quite relaxed and quiet. While the Rainforest Dome is clearly the showstopper, immense plants rocketing up into the sky, waterfalls crashing down, I actually preferred the Mediterranean, the smaller scale allowing you to take your time, appreciate the details, get close up to the flowers, watch the cheekily tame birdlife winding up the staff. Outside was ace too, though most people were hiding indoors from the rain, with some very impressive sculptures rising up from the slopes and a kitchen garden that had us longing for a back garden of our own. As tourist attractions go, it's pretty much perfect, the equivalent of a David Attenborough nature documentary in educating through wonder and fascination, worth crossing the country for.
And for nosh? Our first evening there was spent, at the recommendation of our hosts, at Austells (in retrospect, our second evening should've been there too), a two-rosette restaurant that still kept things pretty relaxed. As luck would have it, we went on Pie Club night, a two-course meal at a very fair price, a smart move by the proprietors presumably to encourage repeat business from locals - if overheard conversations were anything to go by, it worked. The food was excellent, nicely simple and well done (I remember being particularly impressed by the creamed potatoes). The same, sadly, cannot be said for the following night when the lack of culinary options available to a carless couple became apparent. We ended up in a large pub restaurant between St Austell and Par, the Britannia Inn, and the sight of the menu gave me the fear, being a big list of unconnected dishes, most likely all from the freezer. Lack of options combined with growling tummies led us to the table against my instincts, and oh, my friends, it was ghastly. The food served was clearly done with quantity not quality in mind, no pleasure to be found in the whole meal (I took no photos and appear to have wiped the detailed memory of what particular dish I had, leaving only a general sense of UGH) and I left the place snarling at the sheer fuck-awful crapness of it all. More proof, if needed, that the longer the menu, the lower the expectations, and that just being in Cornwall was no guarantee of a decent meal.
However! Lest we end a honeymoon post on a culinary huff, it was while in St Austell that I tasted my first cream tea, and that's something worth celebrating. We'd walked back from Eden Project - the rain had stopped, the buses looked crammed and it was a pretty sweet stroll through rolling hills and tiny villages - and, having been in Cornwall for more than 24 hours, I felt the distinct need for scones. Initially we weren't too sure quite where to go, but Pine Lodge Gardens appeared on our strolls and we made our way straight to the Tearoom. A cream tea was duly ordered and received, followed by a moment's hesitation as I wondered which went first, the jam or the cream? A handy leaflet explained that while Devon would have the cream applied, then jam, in Cornwall it was jam first, so off I went. Just look at that! Calories be damned, it was sodding delicious, a fine start to my cream tea odyssey.
Next stop: St Ives...
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