Wimbledon. That holiest of holies. I was enthralled by it before I ever even picked up a racquet. And once I became a tennis player, it became even more attractive. It is what the Louvre is to art lovers; the America’s Cup to sailors. Loaded with history and tradition and pomp and pageantry, it has remained a constant in an ever-changing game.
Attending all four of tennis’ major tournaments (U.S. Open, Australian Open, Roland Garros, and Wimbledon) wasn’t a particular goal of mine until I decided that I wanted to go to Wimbledon for my 40th birthday, after having been to the U.S. Open several times (New York being an easy trip for us). As it turned out, getting to the Australian Open in 2005 turned out to be more do-able than Wimbledon, mostly because of the expense. Wimbledon would have to be put off for a while, if only to wrap our brain around the cost of obtaining guaranteed tickets (as opposed to flying across the Atlantic, queueing up and maybe getting in). But with two down, and Wimbledon on the horizon, we decided to tag a trip to Paris and Roland Garros on to our barge trip last spring. If all went according to plan, I would complete my spectator Grand Slam before my 50th birthday.
At the US Open, the Australian Open, and Roland Garros.
Wimbledon was the raison d’etre of our trip to Europe this summer. And once we’d committed to going to Europe, adding another dream trip of mine – sailing in Croatia – was an easy decision. Having finished our sail and saying goodbye to Pat and Emily, who would luxuriate for a few more days at a beach resort, we spent a day in the historic city of Split before flying back to London for the main event.
Much of Split is an everyday business/industrial/port city. But the old core of the city, where we stayed in the boutique Marmont Hotel, is extraordinary.
Once we finally figured out how to get there, the Hotel Marmont was easy to find by looking for the red wall.
Perched along the Adriatic Sea, Split’s city center is a palace and military garrison built by Roman emperor Diocletian in the fourth century.
Living spaces, hotels, shops (including the curiously omnipresent opticians’ shops), restaurants, churches, and bars are woven in and among the ruins of the palace. It makes for a stunningly lovely scene, an oddly harmonious juxtaposition of past and present along the water.
Like the rest of Croatia’s ancient towns that we visited, the narrow alleys and passages are NOT car friendly.
After flying back to London from Split via Zagreb, we said our farewells to Skip and Harriet.
Hey guys! What’s our next adventure?
And we settled into our hotel in Mayfair.
Our hotel, the Athenaeum, had one of those cool “living walls.”
We used our convenient perch on Piccadilly Street to undertake more exploration of London on foot.
Finally, on our last full day in London, we headed to Wimbledon, to enjoy the first day, via tube. We were not alone, as there were crowds of people making their way to the grounds. Luckily, we had upped our style game a bit – I was wearing a skirt and jacket – because people dress up for Wimbledon. We saw many young women fully decked out in dresses or skirts with jackets, heels and – yes, most surprisingly because it was warm and sunny – panty hose (the Kate Middleton Effect?); many men wore blazers and ties. This is the reverence this event seems to require.
We made it!
One of Wimbledon’s traditions is that the prior year’s champion always plays on Centre Court on the first day. Thus, by purchasing Day 1 tickets, we were guaranteed to see Novak Djokovic play. And, he played masterfully, presaging the play that would win him the title this year.
As a bonus, we also got to see former champion Maria Sharapova play.
Aside from seeing some of the biggest names in the game on court, we gawked at the royal box (didn’t recognize anyone) and the players’ box (yes, that was Boris Becker), and marveled at the beauty and perfection of the lawn and the grounds. As we wandered the grounds, we bumped into a few players leaving or going to their courts (Jelena Jankovic, Urszula Radwanska), as well as legends of the game (Mats Wilander).
We had Pimm’s Cups, as one does. The flowers on the grounds all hew to the Wimbledon color scheme of purple and green (as does the afghan I took to college, but that’s another story).
Now that I’ve completed my personal Grand Slam, I need to start plotting what’s next….