Here's the third part of my travel diary, pared down to a manageable length.
Friday, May 30 –
This is the only full day I get to spend in England on this trip, and I have booked a tour that takes in Winsor Castle, Stonehenge, and Bath. Unfortunately the publicized hotel pick-up does not include my hotel, so I have to make my own way into downtown London. I've been told a taxi there and back would run around a hundred pounds (that’s in the neighborhood of $200 and more than the price of the entire tour!). The only alternative is public transportation: the city bus and the train. I'm assured it's all very simple. OK. I’m a grown-up. I can do this. So, I double the time I was told it will take and set off early in the morning on my adventure.
Back to the airport and down to the subway station I go. The man at the ticket booth tells me I need to take the Piccadilly Line halfway, get off, transfer to the District Line and ride that to Victoria Station. Once on the train, I'm surprised to discover that much of the “underground” is actually not underground, affording a more scenic trip to London than I had expected (although most of my attention is taken by the colorful people collecting around me). I narrowly avoid making a fatal error when I change trains and, to my own surprise, I emerge at Victoria station with enough time left to walk to the tour company ... if only I knew which way to go. Once again, total strangers eventually points me in the right direction and I arrive with ten minutes to spare.
The first news I hear is that our visit to Winsor Castle has been cancelled; the Queen apparently doesn’t feel like having company today. Hampton Court Palace is substituted. And it is indeed impressive – vast, manicured gardens; bricked courtyards with clock towers; a chapel with the most exquisite ceiling; rooms and staircases designed and decorated sparing no expense. My overriding thought, however, is that Henry VIII (and most of his seven wives, presumably) walked these very halls long before me.
Next, our group reassembles on the bus to set off for Stonehenge. It is a gray day, much the same as I left behind in Seattle. And the countryside doesn’t look that foreign to me either - richly green open fields, low rolling hills, birch and other mostly-deciduous trees. It reminds me a lot of western Oregon. We lunch at the Stonehenge Inn and then tour the monument itself. This place has never held any particular fascination for me, but even so, I feel a certain awe as I walk around it. If it was built in an attempt to honor a primitive idea of God, I can respect that. If not, I can at least appreciate the engineering feat required to move and erect the enormous stones with manpower alone.
Now, on to Bath! This is the real reason I signed up for the tour. I want to see for myself the places Jane Austen mentioned in her books, to walk on the cobbled streets she knew so well. I crane my neck and catch a glimpse of the Pultney Street Bridge over the Avon as we come in to town: the first "check" on my list of must-sees. The bus parks behind the Abbey, and our guide instructs us when we need to be back aboard. I want to scream in protest. There's nowhere near enough time for all I had hoped to do! I hurry through the Roman Baths, finding out what I can about how the place looked in 1800 (check) from the on-site guides. The Pump-room (check) looks just the same as it would have then. I sample the mineral water served at the bar (check), which is very warm but not nearly as redolent with sulfur as I expected. Next, I cross the churchyard for a quick tour of the Abbey (check). I gape at the soaring ceiling, take in the magnificent stained glass windows on all sides, and pause in a pew for a prayerful moment before reluctantly moving on.
With a glance at my watch, I decide to head in the direction of the Royal Crescent. Along the way, I have the presence of mind to turn and look for Beechan Cliff (check), which peaks over the tops of the Georgian-style buildings. I luckily stumble across the Jane Austen Center (check) on my way up Gay Street. Wishing I had an hour to spend, I pop in just long enough to purchase a couple books. A little further up the street, I enter into The Circus (check), a circle of connected town houses in three segments with a large green in the center. I wonder if the same trees stood there in Jane Austen’s day. Exiting the Circus to the left, the Royal Crescent (check) finally comes into view with its expansive front lawn and famed gravel walk (check, check). I admire the view, take a few pictures, and then turn to run for the bus. My feelings are mixed as we drive away, heading back to London. Although it's heartbreaking to leave when there's so much more I want to see, I'm glad I came and amazed how much I've been able to take in.
Friday, May 30 –
This is the only full day I get to spend in England on this trip, and I have booked a tour that takes in Winsor Castle, Stonehenge, and Bath. Unfortunately the publicized hotel pick-up does not include my hotel, so I have to make my own way into downtown London. I've been told a taxi there and back would run around a hundred pounds (that’s in the neighborhood of $200 and more than the price of the entire tour!). The only alternative is public transportation: the city bus and the train. I'm assured it's all very simple. OK. I’m a grown-up. I can do this. So, I double the time I was told it will take and set off early in the morning on my adventure.
Back to the airport and down to the subway station I go. The man at the ticket booth tells me I need to take the Piccadilly Line halfway, get off, transfer to the District Line and ride that to Victoria Station. Once on the train, I'm surprised to discover that much of the “underground” is actually not underground, affording a more scenic trip to London than I had expected (although most of my attention is taken by the colorful people collecting around me). I narrowly avoid making a fatal error when I change trains and, to my own surprise, I emerge at Victoria station with enough time left to walk to the tour company ... if only I knew which way to go. Once again, total strangers eventually points me in the right direction and I arrive with ten minutes to spare.
The first news I hear is that our visit to Winsor Castle has been cancelled; the Queen apparently doesn’t feel like having company today. Hampton Court Palace is substituted. And it is indeed impressive – vast, manicured gardens; bricked courtyards with clock towers; a chapel with the most exquisite ceiling; rooms and staircases designed and decorated sparing no expense. My overriding thought, however, is that Henry VIII (and most of his seven wives, presumably) walked these very halls long before me.
Next, our group reassembles on the bus to set off for Stonehenge. It is a gray day, much the same as I left behind in Seattle. And the countryside doesn’t look that foreign to me either - richly green open fields, low rolling hills, birch and other mostly-deciduous trees. It reminds me a lot of western Oregon. We lunch at the Stonehenge Inn and then tour the monument itself. This place has never held any particular fascination for me, but even so, I feel a certain awe as I walk around it. If it was built in an attempt to honor a primitive idea of God, I can respect that. If not, I can at least appreciate the engineering feat required to move and erect the enormous stones with manpower alone.
Now, on to Bath! This is the real reason I signed up for the tour. I want to see for myself the places Jane Austen mentioned in her books, to walk on the cobbled streets she knew so well. I crane my neck and catch a glimpse of the Pultney Street Bridge over the Avon as we come in to town: the first "check" on my list of must-sees. The bus parks behind the Abbey, and our guide instructs us when we need to be back aboard. I want to scream in protest. There's nowhere near enough time for all I had hoped to do! I hurry through the Roman Baths, finding out what I can about how the place looked in 1800 (check) from the on-site guides. The Pump-room (check) looks just the same as it would have then. I sample the mineral water served at the bar (check), which is very warm but not nearly as redolent with sulfur as I expected. Next, I cross the churchyard for a quick tour of the Abbey (check). I gape at the soaring ceiling, take in the magnificent stained glass windows on all sides, and pause in a pew for a prayerful moment before reluctantly moving on.
With a glance at my watch, I decide to head in the direction of the Royal Crescent. Along the way, I have the presence of mind to turn and look for Beechan Cliff (check), which peaks over the tops of the Georgian-style buildings. I luckily stumble across the Jane Austen Center (check) on my way up Gay Street. Wishing I had an hour to spend, I pop in just long enough to purchase a couple books. A little further up the street, I enter into The Circus (check), a circle of connected town houses in three segments with a large green in the center. I wonder if the same trees stood there in Jane Austen’s day. Exiting the Circus to the left, the Royal Crescent (check) finally comes into view with its expansive front lawn and famed gravel walk (check, check). I admire the view, take a few pictures, and then turn to run for the bus. My feelings are mixed as we drive away, heading back to London. Although it's heartbreaking to leave when there's so much more I want to see, I'm glad I came and amazed how much I've been able to take in.
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